Lunchtime blog - eight weeks and counting

It's just eight weeks til this baby is due.
I'm hoping for an early(ish) arrival. I mean I don't want her here now, I want her here when she is safe. Maybe at 38 weeks or 39... just NOT late. I could not handle late. (You just know she is soooooo going to be late, don't you?)
It's not that I'm particularly fed up of being pregnant. It's more that I'm fed up of carrying out a huge tummy, that moves, and kicks and stretches all the time, making me want to swear. And I'm so over the being sick. Had enough. Been sick for 30 weeks now. Surely that is enough sick for anyone's lifetime. And that's not mentioning the back ache and the heart burn.
Of course it's lovely to think that inside me a little miracle is growing and I am grateful for that - honestly I am. I just wish I did it with more grace.
I came to work today to discover both A: Sick on my top due to a last minute before leaving the house surprise vomit. (Yes, this pregnancy brings lots of feeling just dandy one minute, heaving into the loo the next surprises) and B: streaked make up due to my eyes watering during the surprise sick. When I checked in the bathroom mirror before leaving the house (already late for work as obviously I had not factored in the 10 minutes required for the surprise vomit session) it looked okay. When I arrived at work, it was a different matter. I've tried blending - I don't think it worked.
So I look (and fear I smell) just fecking rough. And still I'm supposed to have a smile on my face.

Well in some ways I do. I heard today that my gorgeously lovely best friend Vicki (who lives in Scotland and may or may not have a touch of the 'Daisy' about her) has booked to come and see me and madam mid March. In 10 weeks. JUST ten weeks. I cried happy tears.

Also I wrote last night, about 600 words building on the success of the previous night. I now hope to be back on track. But all the while aware than in 8 weeks time there will be a very big distraction to my writing. Eep!