I need to open with an important disclaimer: if you are feeling particularly nauseous, constitutionally fragile or emotionally sensitive then we have an awful lot in common, and perhaps this week’s post may not be for you right now. If you are keen to plough on regardless, then please do feel free to settle in with a mug of ginger tea and a suitable receptacle, just to be on the safe side. Going in? OK, my apologies in advance.

“Please attend with a moderately full bladder for this examination.” As a reasonably intelligent adult who pees several times a day and who has attended two previous pregnancy scans and a routine ultrasound, you would think I’d know how to do that by now, but no. What is moderately full? How much water is too much? What if I don’t drink enough? How long does it take to go through, anyway? What if I’m called early? But what if I’m called late? Oh, God.

I have just been to my first pregnancy yoga session and am basking in the afterglow. Pregnancy yoga was one of my absolute favourite things about being pregnant with my eldest and it felt like the most positive and wholesome way for me to make time for myself and connect with my baby.

After our scan we started to tell friends and family the news that we are expecting our second baby. We had confided in one or two people not long before the scan, which was largely due to unconcealable puking and my inability not to be a miserable bitch, both at their worst around weeks 9, 10 and 11. Luckily, these joyous side effects have died down a bit, and now that we know all is well it feels like a good time to share our exciting news.

I am currently parked up in a National Trust car park while my son naps in the car and I attempt to catch up on 26 unread whatsapp messages, reply to 5 out of date texts and write three blog entries. I am not sure this is what the National Trust had in mind when they sold me my membership but if this counts as making the most of the great British countryside then I’m all for it.

“So, the immune system tends to go out the window a bit during the second trimester”. My GP delivered this line to me, followed by a chuckle. I didn’t find it quite as funny as I sat there with my double eye infection, chest infection and tonsillitis. Hilarious. I’m feeling a bit run down this week to say the least.

“Ahhh, I can see a little willy sticking up! It’s a boy!” And so we are having another boy! All I could see was fuzz if I’m completely honest, but this only makes me respect the expertise of the sonographer even more. We’ve just had our 20 week scan and are delighted and relieved that all is going well.

Absolutely massive pants have completely saved me this week. Last week I was pretty much crippled with pelvic girdle pain, which arrived a few weeks ago just as my sickness stopped, and so felt like a double kick between the legs. I was pretty pissed off, trust me.

There isn’t much call to think about nipple cream before you have a baby, but advice from a friend on using the stuff before I had my first baby was some of the most helpful wisdom I received. During pregnancy, it can feel like there is so much to do, so much to buy, and so much to organise and it’s very easy to focus all your planning on the tiny human who hasn’t even arrived yet.

It has happened. Whilst getting changed for bed last night, I leant forwards without the support of my trusty maternity bra and my boobs met my belly. I was greeted by that warm and slightly clammy feeling of soft flesh on flesh, which as someone with a slightly less than well stocked rack, I don’t usually get.

Man, is it hot?! It is HOT! Just to clarify, we are in a heatwave. It is officially the warmest June day since 1976. OK, so hottest, coldest, wettest, driest, windiest, cloudiest (etc.) records aren’t that unusual in recent times, but we still love to make a big thing of them. And what is more, we Brits love a good moan and the chance to revel in the novelty of sunshine in whatever way we see fit.

This week I had to go for a glucose tolerance test as a check for gestational diabetes, which involved fasting, blood tests and quite a lot of waiting around. Less fun than a trip to the seaside but perhaps more fun than colonic irrigation.

This week I am auditioning for the role of Oscar the Grouch. I am starting to get major pangs of impatience and this is making me a bit of a nightmare to live with. After 29 weeks it feels like I have been pregnant for an eternity. In fact, have I ever not been pregnant? Surely I’ve done my time. Having to go another 11, or jeez, maybe 13 more weeks seems pretty unfathomable at the moment.

In general, I am a big fan of a foot rub, but when pregnant it is my catnip. If you want to get on side, offer me a foot massage. Well, maybe only if you’re a licensed professional, otherwise it might be a bit weird. If you’re not a licensed professional, vouchers for establishments employing licensed professionals would be gratefully received. Just saying.

My Google search terms this week have been as follows: “waters breaking early”; “what does amniotic fluid smell like?”; “week 32 discharge”; “wet knickers in late pregnancy”. It turns out, my waters haven’t broken early and it is indeed quite normal to leak wee in late pregnancy. Oh good.

Brace yourselves for a Theresa May style U turn. I have decided that a homebirth would be the best option for me this time. Cough. Yes, yes, I know this is a little surprising based on previous expressions of opinion. After my week 16 midwife appointment I got all arsey about having a big pink sticker on my notes saying: “You are recommended to have a homebirth”.

My son is two today and this is strangely and unexpectedly very emotional. I feel joyful and proud of the little human he is, reflective and nostalgic that he’s no longer a baby, and somewhat euphoric for actually keeping him alive for two whole years.

Cot built. Check. Car seat installed. Check. Baby clothes washed and folded away. Check. Preparing for birth course completed. Check. We have just done a brilliant birth preparation course with LushTums and already I am feeling a lot more calm and positive about what's to come.

This week I have been frantically nesting, feeling an overwhelming urge to get organised. I have been scouring the house, tackling tasks that have been on the to-do list since January (it’s now August), and generally exhibiting mild obsessive compulsive disorder.

We've done it. We're there. 37 weeks. We have reached the point of watermelon. There are no more fruit based analogies on offer. The baby is now considered "full term". He's cooked and just plumping up in there, using the time to rest and relax, watch movies, read magazines, brush up on his French.