We drove to Broome, had a nice time relaxing. Really just letting it sink in a bit. Talking about names, about travel plans for the end of the year, about anything. It was really nice to chill out away from home and everyone else. As I thought about it and read a couple of books, a few of them were all "find a good obstetrcian" and I was like 'in Halls Creek!? You gotta be kidding me!' So I called my friend Karen, who's had 2 children whilst living in remote towns in the Kimberley, and she gave me the benefit of her experience. I needed a doctor's appointment, then the community midwife would take care of me for the rest of it.
So then when we returned, I got a doctor's appointment and it was confirmed. James called his parents who were more happy than he thought they'd be (but quite unsurprisingly to me). He was planning to tell them the next time they had one of their routine phone calls. I tried to encourage him to make that routine phone call sooner rather than later because news like this isn't something you just chuck in there: "oh yes, the chickens are doing well, had a lovely time in Broome, by the way, Kathryn's pregnant..."
Then, by about the Thursday of the 2nd week of holidays, the nausea started.
dun dun DUUUUUN!!!