28 Feb 2025
February Journal | End of Pregnancy Round Two
Writing this during my second week of maternity leave, almost nine months pregnant and with a definite feeling of I’ve nearly made it.
I’m not sure if it’s the fact I have finally recovered from a brutal chest infection that started in the second week of January, or that finishing work has freed up some mental capacity, or that pregnancy hormones have finally decided to give me a break, but I have been more productive in the first week and half of maternity leave than I have been in the last nine months. I no longer need to lie to my midwife when she asks if I have everything sorted for the birth / have packed my hospital bag, baby’s clothes are hung up, I have washed approx. a million towels, filled the freezer with Cook meals, made a banana bread also to freeze, organised Alfie’s new bedroom and I’m not sure the house has ever been this tidy.
Everyone tells you to put your feet up when you start maternity, but I seem to be finally having that second trimester surge of energy people talk about. It’s four months too late but still, it’s giving me a reminder of what it may feel like to no longer be pregnant and I am here for it.
(Wary that some people will find any kind of complaining about pregnancy triggering so if that’s you, please stop reading now. I know I am very lucky to be in this position but I’m also going to be honest below about how I haven’t particularly loved the last few months.)
A lot of people told me it would be the case, but it really is true how your second pregnancy can kind of drift on by without the attention your first had. I have barely taken any bump shots, had to really think about it when someone has asked me how far along I am and have left any prep until the last minute (see above). When I met with my midwife to make a birth plan the first time round, I had a whole list of preferences written down. This time when she asked me what I wanted, I was like ‘errrrr, stay home, push baby out, eat pizza?’. I’ve had a new job and a toddler, there is no time to overthink.
Having said that, I have never not been aware that I’ve been pregnant because it has been a royal pain in my arse. At first, I thought the nausea was better because it wasn’t 24/7 like my first pregnancy, but then it just went on and on and fucking on. I was still gagging on eating an apple or throwing up at the smell of the food bin well into my second trimester. Then there was the iron deficiency and the trial and error of finding a supplement that didn’t make me feel even more nauseous. Then there was the crippling fatigue that had me barely able to function which continued well past 6 months. Then there was the fact that baby stayed solidly in the transverse position until I was nearly full term, prompting lots of 3am worry sessions about early hospital admissions, cord prolapses and c-sections. Then there was the pelvic girdle pain which some days had me struggling to walk up the stairs. Then the sciatic going down one side of my bum (quite literally a pain in the arse). And then, just as I thought I might be feeling a bit more normal, I caught a chest infection that I could not shake off. I know some women have it a lot worse and the most important thing is that I have had a normal pregnancy and healthy baby but good lord, I am over it. When people tell me to ‘enjoy every minute’, I have had to take some serious deep breaths and resist the urge to ask if they would enjoy the fact that their pelvic floor is under considerable strain, but it physically hurts your bones to walk the ten steps to the toilet.
And what is it about pregnancy/parenting that makes people so rude? Did I ask for your opinion? No. Are you going to tell me that you knew I was pregnant over Teams because I am supposedly carrying baby weight around my face? Apparently so. (True story – from a colleague I barely know.) The comments I have had from virtual strangers when I’ve told them I am having a second boy have never not surprised me with their levels of rudeness:
“Ah well never mind.”
“That’s a shame.”
“Well, that’s just as good”
“You can try for a girl next time.”
“Were you disappointed?”
“You must have wanted a girl.”
“You’ll try for a third so you can have a girl.” “I won’t, I don’t want more than two.” “Oh you will.” – that last one being from the nurse who was giving me my flu jab.
Not that it is anyone’s business, but I very much wanted a second boy, and I honestly think there is nothing ruder than suggesting I am in anyway disappointed by my unborn child. Would quite like some kind of prize for having not told any of these people to feck off.
People don’t want you to complain about pregnancy. Even writing the above has made me feel funny, like I should just delete it all and write something about how lucky I am. But this narrative that women should put up and shut up, grow a whole human and a new organ, move their pre-existence organs, expand their ribs, increase their blood flow by 50%, push a human head out of their vagina and act like it’s not happening, not affecting their physical and mental wellbeing is, quite frankly, bullshit. I can’t do it. I can’t pretend it hasn’t got to me at times. I can’t pretend I haven’t felt like a shit mother and partner. Can’t pretend I haven’t felt guilty at how much slack my husband has had to pick up to keep everything ticking along. Can’t pretend I haven’t felt unwell for nine months or that my performance at work hasn’t suffered.
But we are on the home stretch now, and this finally surge of feeling vaguely like myself again is much appreciated. I’ve gone from being desperate to no longer be pregnant to finally able to feel excited to meet my little man. Also, not going to lie, maternity leave without a baby is great. I watched a film in the afternoon the other day. A whole film in the middle of the day, without any interruptions. WHAT A TREAT.
See you on the other side lads.
Twenty Things I’ve Loved Lately
Squeezing in a new bookshelf into our living room. I really am going to have to start adopting a one-in-one-out policy in my personal library but squeezing in a little bit more space postpones that for a short while. Plus, bookshelves make me feel cosy and happy.
This cute little mushroom lamp that I bought for said new bookshelf.
This puttanesca-inspired tuna pasta bake recipe which we’ve made twice now and lasts us two days.
My dad and step-mum popping in for 24 hours.
Catching up with my friend Beth over a delicious flatbread.
The latest series of Unforgotten which we binged over a week.
33 years on the clock. Think I might be an actual grown up now but remains up for debate. Nice to receive birthday flowers, cookies and other goodies from loved ones on a grey Thursday in February.
My favourite ever birthday cake – Nigella’s Guinness cake never disappoints.
The most delicious birthday lunch at MJP @ The Shepherds, such a treat.
£3 bunches of tulips. Plus crocuses and daffodils appearing and blossom buds in the trees. I love how the end of February always gives off little signs that Spring is coming.
We celebrate our wedding anniversary these days, but Valentine’s Day marked 10 years since Gary and I got together. Can’t believe we’ve done a whole decade of life together already.
A lovely meal at Dishoom in Cambridge with my family. I don’t think I have ever had anything bad in a Dishoom, the food is always so good.
Book vouchers for my birthday. Trying to ignore the hole they are burning in my pocket so I can treat myself during mat leave.
A handful of days where the sun shone, and the temperature hit double digits. The difference it made to my mood and how much easier I found parenting was huge. Can’t wait for proper Spring.
Going to the cinema on a weekday afternoon – seriously, not working is great – to see Bridget Jones. Was not expecting to cry four times but there you have it.
Final scan for baby boy and getting to see his little face in 4D and his actual hair on the ultrasound.
Warmer weather meaning Alfie is happy to go to the park again (he refuses point blank when it is cold). Never thought I’d miss the playground but entertainment options for a toddler during the winter is already severely limited, let alone when he refuses to engage with slides and swings.
These small-batch banana chocolate muffins. Great for using up the lone brown banana hanging around on the side.
A tuberose candle from Habitat. Smells divine.
Alfie telling me about his day when we’re tucked up in bed together, just before he falls asleep. My heart cannot cope with the cuteness.
13 Sept 2024
August Journal | Mamma Mia, Here We Go Again
This is my way of telling you I’m pregnant again in case that wasn’t obvious.
I found out when we were on holiday in Devon. I was so incredibly bloated that I turned to Gary one evening and said ‘do you think I’m pregnant or I’ve just eaten a lot of cream teas?’. The answer was both, as it turns out. I would say we didn’t tell anyone straight away, but I’m pretty sure I inadvertently told the woman working in the local chemist when I came in three days in a row, first to buy a pregnancy test, second to buy folic acid, third to buy Gaviscon.
Those first few weeks of pregnancy are just about getting through and that’s what I’ve been doing since the start of July, head down, trying not to throw up, trying not to fall asleep in public, trying not to worry too much about giving birth again or the realities of life with a three-year-old and a newborn. I’ve been more exhausted than my first pregnancy (but I’ve also had an iron deficiency and a toddler so that might explain it), the nausea has come in waves rather than being relentlessly 24/7 like before, but I’ve found myself gagging a lot more; my sense of smell has been so heightened, pretty much anything can set me off. Still, I thought it had been, on the whole, an improvement than with Alfie but the morning I threw up at the smell of the food bin made me wonder if I was clutching at straws and first trimesters are just crap all round.
None of my normal clothes fit, but I’m not really ready for maternity clothes. I think I managed to bypass this period last time because it was summer, and I just wore my usual floaty dresses with a bump peaking through. But we are entering into knitwear season and NONE OF MY JEANS WILL DO UP. As I write this, I’m wearing my roomiest pair of jeans with the hairband trick holding them together. Should I just resign myself to wearing leggings for the next few months?
The thing I have learned about second pregnancies is that they are more understated than the first. Absolutely no disrespect to this very-much-wanted second child but I’ve done this before, I know what’s coming. It’s still special but there’s less nervous anticipation and more resigned reality. I’m excited for the good bits but lack the naivety of how hard the hard bits will be, and I do kinda miss that blissful ignorance of the first time. There’s also less novelty; it’s less big news for me and others. When I got pregnant with Alfie, I had one friend with a baby. Now I’ve lost count of the amount of lil squish balls knocking about. The main reason this pregnancy will be less dramatic than the first though is because there is absolutely no chance whatsoever of baby making their grand entrance at Christmas. I’ll be able to tell people their birthday without one person saying the words ‘that must have been a lovely Christmas present for you’ and ain’t that a treat.
Sometimes I feel a little guilty that this baby doesn’t have all the hype of the first, but I also know how much they will benefit from having parents who have done this before. I can’t wait to put into practice all I have learnt with them. I can’t wait to hold a newborn again, to see whether they look like their brother. “I’m so broody,” I said to my friend the other day as a family with a newborn walked past. “It’s a good job!” she responded. In a way this pregnancy still feels very abstract, like we can’t quite believe we will be having another little munchkin to bring up.
As you can probably tell, we’re nervous, excited and all the emotions in between.
Little one will be arriving early Springtime.
25 Feb 2022
T'was The Night Before Christmas...
Yup, it’s Christmas Eve and I’m in labour. After a long, long time of saying that I did not mind when I had a baby as long as it wasn’t Christmas Day, I woke up on Christmas Eve morning, 11 days past my ‘due’ date, with mild period-like pains and the settling realisation that of course today would be the day it would start.
My third trimester of pregnancy was pretty uneventful. The heartburn and incessant weeing continued in full force, the pregnancy hormones caused some delightful excessive salvia and snoring in the final couple of weeks (has anyone ever mentioned how glamorous pregnancy is…?) and unsolicited advice from random people began to rear its head but on the whole, it was definitely the trimester I enjoyed the most. I felt like I was more into the swing of the whole experience, I enjoyed my bump and all those gorgeous kicks and felt like I was appreciating those final few weeks just the two of us (despite the swollen ankles and fingers causing my shoes and wedding rings to regularly get stuck…). I never expected baby to arrive on my supposed due date so felt pretty casual about it all when the day came and went but I soon learnt why some people choose to keep this date secret from others. Just a heads up if you have a pregnant friend right now who has gone past that somewhat-unlikely ‘due’ date, she’s already dealing with being heavily pregnant, stressful induction conversations with healthcare professionals and an abundance of ‘any news’ type messages. Don’t add to the stress. She is not going to forget to tell you that she birthed a baby. Seriously, it’s really not something you neglect to mention.
Anyway, yes, Christmas Eve. I spent most of the day having period-like pains which weren’t exactly enjoyable but neither would I describe them as painful as such. I had a shower, lunch, a mosey around M&S for snacks I would never eat and watched a couple of Disney films (can’t believe I’d never seen Brave before) whilst chilling on the sofa and bouncing on the birth ball. Seeing no need to ruin Christmas plans until absolutely necessary, we headed over to my mum’s house in the evening for our traditional Christmas Eve picnic and Love Actually viewing. I continued bouncing on the ball whilst examining the presents under the tree (I am a child at Christmas) and my family all placed bets on what time baby would be born the next day (no one called it correctly although my mum wasn’t far off… mind you, she did used to be a midwife so you could claim she had an unfair advantage). I continued to do some bouncing, which then turned into swaying but it was only when the food was brought out and I realised that I didn’t want to eat any of it that I knew shit was about to get real. Me turn down food? Uh oh.
I think this was about half 6 in the evening and whilst the rest of the gang all stuffed their faces, my mum and I began pacing up and down the hallway whilst she was timing my contractions on her watch. Apart from throwing up the one bite of food I had attempted, this was relatively chill. I listened to Love Actually, refused to stop hugging a particular wall at one point and got to enjoy the benefits of Gary giving me non-stop back massages. There came a point where I decided I wanted to be at home so, after face planting the stairs for a while (dunno how I ended up there but gotta do what you gotta do), my mum and step-dad eventually got me in the car and drove us back. It’s a five-minute journey but it’s true what they say about how moving out of a calm location can slow things down; my contractions definitely paused for a few minutes when we got in the car.
When we made it to ours, I insisted that we only had the Christmas tree lights on and then draped myself across the sofa in a dramatic fashion. Things were really ramping up now and starting to get a little hazy for me but I remember my mum phoning my midwife and the birth centre, Gary giving my step-dad instructions about what needed putting in the car and my mum listening to baby’s heartbeat. At some point, my mum very gently suggested we needed to go and I insisted on going to the loo and changing into pyjamas which I did slower than the pace of a sloth whilst regularly pausing to grab the nearest wall and make strange mooing noises. I think it was probably obvious to everyone but me that we needed to get to the hospital now but I was physically incapable of moving any faster. It’s a forty-minute drive to our hospital but we knocked off a good ten minutes what with it being Christmas Eve and all. I can vaguely remember momentarily being aware of my surroundings and thinking how bloody surreal it was that I was on my knees in the back seat of a car that was speeding along a dark motorway in the pouring rain. Funnily enough, that is not normally how I spend Christmas Eve.
The hour after arriving at the hospital is something I’m still processing and deciding how I feel about. In hindsight, I would have probably been better staying at home which frustrates me at times. I didn’t find being in hospital a relaxing environment at all. I don’t doubt that it’s a very good hospital but there was an unlucky culmination of things - from the passive aggressive security guard unnecessarily reminding us of covid rules, an orderly trying to get me to sit in a wheelchair when I was physically incapable of doing so and a midwife who seemingly failed to grasp how far along I was in my labour – that caused me to get pretty stressed which in turn, caused baby to get stressed. We ended up being rushed from the birth centre upstairs to the delivery unit because of a dipping heart rate and meconium-stained waters. The emergency buzzer ended up being pulled and I came very close to having an episiotomy and forceps. Luckily, I pushed him out just before they could inject me. It’s hard to know what might have happened regardless as some of these things aren’t uncommon for quick births but I have a strong sense that a lot of the drama would have been avoided if I’d never left my sofa (incidentally, given that he made his grand entrance just over an hour after we got there, I have been strongly advised to have a home birth should we decide to go for a next time. The implication was very much ‘not sure you’d have made it if it was your second’ and no one wants to give birth on the side of the M11 do they?).
I did a hypnobirthing course during pregnancy and I found the breathing exercises and information on what happens to our bodies to be useful during labour. It helped me feel calm and informed pre-birth, and was based in both science and logic which really appealed to us both. What it didn’t prepare either of us for is the stress healthcare professionals can unintentionally cause or a fast labour where there was literally no time to grasp what was going on, let alone think things through and make an informed decision. Now able to look at preparing for childbirth from the other side, it feels to me like we almost have two extremes. Birth horror stories/portrayals told with far too much relish that (unintentionally or not) terrify women and a positive birthing movement that perhaps doesn’t always get across the realities of childbirth and of an understaffed and underfunded NHS, both of which are out of our control no matter how well we prepare. I personally would like to see more of a middle ground. Terrifying women is damaging, but so is telling them everything will be purely positive.
I’m lucky enough to live in an area where they do continuity of care which meant I had the same midwife throughout my whole pregnancy and I was even more lucky that she was on call on Christmas Eve. I was so relieved when she elbowed her way into the delivery room; not only was she a familiar face but she actually took the time to properly speak to me and it meant she was the one who caught baby boy which I loved. He came out making such a racket that the paediatrician and bloke-with-resuscitation-machine that had been called in when the emergency buzzer was pulled immediately vacated the room without so much as a hello or goodbye (I literally didn’t know they’d been there until Gary told me later). It had all been so fast that I was genuinely surprised when a baby was plonked on my chest and immediately dug his fingernails into my boob. One of my favourite moments is my midwife excitedly going KATE IT’S STILL CHRISTMAS EVE after 9 months of listening to me saying any day but Christmas day. He left it to the last possible moment (we’re talking minutes) but is in fact, our little Christmas Eve baby.
He was put in a red hat which I, in my slightly delirious state, thought was Christmassy but was actually because he needed extra monitoring. However, the hospital gives little gifts to Christmas babies and so whilst he was having his first feed, I unwrapped a present that included a Christmas pudding hat and putting it on his little head may be the cutest thing I have ever seen. He had very dark hair and dark eyes so we thought my genes had won out but he has since turned into the absolute spitting image of his dad. Bloody cheek of it. You don’t need me to share pictures – imagine Gary’s mini-me and you’ve got it.
I finally got acquainted with some pain relief whilst I had stiches and then after a very long feed, bubba was weighed and Gary put his first nappy on. Also, it’s true what they say: the crap white-sliced-bread toast they bring you after birth really does taste like the best toast you’ve ever had. We were able to go back down to the birthing centre which meant we could have a room with a double bed – a dream. They suggested we tried to go to sleep but the idea of sleeping with that much adrenaline in me – my legs were physically shaking for a good couple of hours – and a brand-new baby sat next to me (IS HE BREATHING) was laughable. We had to be kept in for 12 hours for observation but it ended up being closer to 18 because it took what felt like an age for someone to come and discharge us. Weirdest Christmas Day of my life.
When we finally escaped, we ended up back at my mum’s at roughly the same time we’d arrived the night before just to complete the whole experience. My sister & her partner were waiting for us in the doorway grinning like Cheshire cats and Christmas dinner was in the oven.
12 Feb 2022
New Year, New Baby
Sitting down to write a blog post feels like something from
another lifetime right now and yet wow yes, hello, this is a comforting
familiarity. Except of course, I’m not ‘sitting down’ to type at my laptop as
usual; it’s 4am and I’m typing one-handed in the notes on my phone. The other
hand is trapped under a sleeping baby who is stretched out across my belly like
a purring cat. Am currently debating whether I risk trying to move him back to
his cot before circulation in my left arm is cut off completely. I feel life
with a baby would be even more challenging if I lost an arm but equally… he’s
asleep. Priorities ya know?
So yes, had a baby. I know. Feels bloody wild.
Our little munchkin made his grand entrance over the
Christmas period and since then we have been consumed by the emotional
rollercoaster that is life with a newborn baby. We’re trying to minimise his face appearing on the
internet for the time being so you will just have to take my
word for it when I say that is he is very, very cute (not that I’m biased in
the slightest…). You know me and my incessant need to document everything so no
doubt there will be further blog posts about the remainder of my pregnancy, a
very memorable Christmas and these intense newborn days but for my first blog
post of the year, we’ve got a bit of looking back / ahead to be doing. Quite
frankly, I feel off kilter if I don’t do this at the start of each year (ignore
the fact it’s February - everything takes longer to do right now).
It still blows my mind that in 2021 I grew an entire human
so it surprises me that I don’t feel like I have much to say about last year.
Whilst it was ultimately life changing for us, by the time lockdown had lifted
and I’d emerged out of the fog that was the first part of pregnancy, half the
year was already over. Aside from growing a baby, my parents moving to be near
us was a massive highlight, as was getting a proper holiday and renovating our
garden. But one of the main things to stand out was the slow return of all
those little days of joy that we lost during lockdown; weddings and weekends,
beach trips and date nights, cafes and bookshops. I hope all these things are here
to stay and we no longer have to live with the anxiety of uncertainty.
We are still adjusting to what life looks like with a baby
so currently don’t have grand plans for 2022 but here’s five things I’m looking
forward to this year:
Good health - it’s still a novelty to not have chronic
heartburn, to not have to wee every five minutes and to be out of the worst of
the post-birth recovery phase. I feel lighter when moving. Admittedly my
strength is at an all time low what with that post-birth core and several weeks
of mostly being sofa-bound under a feeding baby but I’m hoping that once we
start getting into more of a rhythm, I can start fitting some pilates and
longer walks into the day.
Feeling a bit more myself - can’t tell you how much I’m
enjoying no longer being in maternity leggings! After two years of lockdowns
and pregnancy, you could say I have felt discombobulated with my own body and
how to dress it. Whilst I am going to do a bit of shopping because suddenly
everything needs to be breastfeeding-friendly, I also want to put a conscious
effort into shopping my own wardrobe. I’m hoping I’ll slowly get back into
feeling myself, or at least this new version of myself.
To watch bubba grow - he literally changes everyday and it’s
going to be mind-blowing how much he will have changed by the end of the year.
These first few weeks have been tough but I’m always trying to remember that he
will never be this little again and enjoy the everyday joys. I can’t wait for the
milestones, the firsts and watching him meet the world.
Creative moments - it’s only in hindsight that I realise how
much my creativity was dampened during pregnancy. I’m not sure if it was the
huge physical or hormonal changes but things just weren’t sparking in the same
way. Since having the little one, despite the huge adjustment, sleep
deprivation, birth recovery etc, I feel like the desire to do all the things
that make my heart sing has stopped dozing and started stretching its legs. I’m
looking forward to the reading, writing, baking & photographing that I can
squeeze in during feeds, nap times and whenever else I get a moment!
To enjoy a gentle maternity leave - I’m lucky to have the
whole year off work and I’m determined to make the most of it in a gentle
fashion. To enjoy our first year as a family of three. I’m excited to finally
have the time and freedom to get well acquainted with the area we moved to two
years ago. Thanks to a generous gift from my parents, we are now National Trust
members so we are hoping to start making the most of that shortly. I’m looking
forward to time with loved ones, celebrating my 30th, days spent on the beach,
in the garden and pottering around town, day trips, perhaps our first family
holiday and plenty of little joyous day-to-day moments in this unique year.
Hope 2022 is treating you well dear reader.
7 Dec 2021
12 Random Reflections On Pregnancy
I mean, there are many things to say about pregnancy. It can have you feeling many different things all at the same time and no experience is the same. But these are some of my random reflections on the last nearly-nine months.
1/ I knew heartburn was a thing in pregnancy. Didn’t know it was so much of a thing that I should have bought shares in bloody Gaviscon.
2/ I’m still not over how much is put on due dates when there is essentially a five-week window in which a full-term baby can arrive and only about 5% come on that 40-week date. Blows my mind a little bit.
3/ Midwives really like asking you for a wee. Every time I leave for an appointment, it’s like keys, purse, mask, pot of urine. I have lived in fear of ruining a handbag with my own piss, which hasn’t really been an issue in life up until now.
4/ The narrative of trying to scare new parents-to-be about pregnancy, childbirth and the newborn days has really got to stop. There’s honesty and then there’s deliberately trying to invoke terror in someone in a vulnerable position. Not cool.
5/ We now calculate time in weeks and days but never months. Don’t know why this is confusing for you...
6/ The question I have been asked the most during pregnancy (aside from whether it’s a boy or a girl) is if I’ve had any weird cravings. It amuses me how disappointed people are when you say no. Even Gary seems slightly disappointed that he was never sent out to hunt for gherkins at 3am. I can only apologise.
7/ People really want to touch your bump. It’s like their hand is pulled towards the possibility of new life like a magnet. It’s cute when it’s your friends, less cute when it’s random drunk stranger at a wedding.
8/ The bigger I’ve got, the more off my spatial awareness has become. My error of judgement usually occurs in a café or restaurant when I think I can squeeze between two tables or past a waitress and then suddenly I’m pressing my unborn child into somebody’s face. My bad.
9/ I know it’s just a thing we say but the more it’s been said to me, the more bemused I’ve become by ‘sleep now, whilst you can’. Aside from the fact that I do not possess a magical power to bank my sleep hours for the future (don’t worry lads, got a full night’s sleep on 18th November 2018 so we’re all good), telling this pregnant woman to get a good night’s sleep will result in me detailing how many times I had to get up for a wee last night. You have only yourself to blame.
10/ Do you miss alcohol? Only when surrounded by drunk people and realising how annoying they are when you’re the solitary sober person. Brie on the other hand…. We will be reunited soon my love.
11/ I’ve been pretty lucky in that I’m still able to walk a few miles before needing to stop but my perception of how fast I’m walking is now somewhat off. I think I’m walking at my usual pace and then my Apple Watch asks me if I’ve ‘finished my workout’. Cheeky prick.
12/ Yeah Netflix is great and all but have you ever spent several hours watching your baby move in your belly? Never gets old.
20 Oct 2021
Pregnancy | The Second Trimester
27 Jul 2021
Pregnancy | The First Trimester
Whilst I (not-so) patiently wait for this second-trimester ‘glow’ I was promised and has yet to show (whenever you’re ready pal), I thought I might get down some first trimester thoughts before they disappear completely; it’s amazing how quickly the details start to fade.
I very much enjoy having this blog as my version of a scrapbook and am keen to keep documenting memories here, but I’ve not quite decided how much of the little one is going to be shared online (both before and after they are born) so there may be certain aspects of this that I’ll brush over - particularly around ‘trying’ for a baby because, quite frankly, there is such a thing as TMI when strangers and family members read this blog.
So, I found out I was pregnant early April time after spending the majority of Easter weekend lying on the sofa wondering why the heck I felt so tired. Peeing on a stick is neither glamorous nor as ‘movie’ like as those clear blue adverts would suggest and whilst I was certain that I wanted a baby, I mostly found the experience underwhelming. Partly because this wasn’t the first time we’d been here and partly because the implications of a positive pregnancy test are so huge, it was almost like my brain couldn’t catch up. So I simply looked at it and went ‘huh, interesting’, waved my (capped) pee-soaked stick in Gary’s face whilst he was chopping veg and then ate dinner in front of the telly.
We told my immediate family when I was six weeks, my friend Beth at seven weeks and then intended to keep it to ourselves until after the 12-week scan. However, there were a couple of occasions that forced our hand (hard to keep it secret when you're not drinking at your good friend's hen do) so a small handful of people found out earlier but otherwise, we mostly kept to our original plan!
They say the first three months are the worst but seeing as I’ve not yet experienced an entire pregnancy, I can’t really comment on that at the moment. My first few months of pregnancy, though, seemed to fulfil most of the cliches; relentless nausea, tiredness, heightened sense of smell, gagging inexplicably, bloating and a desire to hide in a duvet cocoon until it all passed. What I wasn’t expecting was how all of the above would make me feel like my personality and creativity were being sucked dry. My days essentially consisted of get through work, lie on the sofa all evening, go to bed. Repeat. If I hadn’t been so preoccupied with not throwing up and the fear of baby not sticking around, I would have been incredibly bored. I don’t think it helped that we were still in lockdown when that test popped up with a ‘pregnant’ and we were so done with being stuck at home. I just didn't feel like myself for a long time and, whilst I know it's perfectly normal, I will freely admit that I was wishing for it to pass.
Like with most things though: you do get through it. I know a lot of people worry about those first few weeks of pregnancy and I know some have it really rough but in my so-far-average-experience of pregnancy, a fair few of my worries turned out to be unfounded. I didn’t really enjoy those first few weeks and wished the nausea would let up for just.five.freaking.minutes. but neither did I spend all day everyday with my head in a toilet as I’d anticipated in some of my more pessimistic moments. Low points included lying on the bathroom floor at 2am, aggressively searching the supermarket for a packet of pickled onion monster munch, spotting in a public toilet at a beach in Norfolk, trying to pee into a tiny tube in a medical centre (why do they make them so small, WHY) and the sheer bloody amount of burping (which has yet to pass; I’ve basically accepted I am now Pumba).
High points included seeing our little blobby wriggling around and waving their arm stumps on an ultrasound screen at nine weeks, seeing the reactions of our family and friends, meeting my lovely midwife, marvelling at what my body is doing and being blown away by how much baby had grown when we saw them again at our 12-week scan.
My main learning so far? There is nothing remotely glamorous about pregnancy but it’s a bit of an adventure all the same. I know how lucky we are to be in this position and I cannot wait to meet our little one.
11 Jun 2021
Life Lately (+ Some News)
I think this may be the longest I have ever gone without writing, both online and off. There has been a lot going on and it has been somewhat all consuming. The past couple of weeks have felt like waking up and my mood has taken a dramatic lift. I’m tentatively dipping my toe back into a world where I feel vaguely human again so here’s a bit of an update to get started!
A teeny human
No point beating around the bush - there is a baby growing in my belly! This is the main reason why I feel like the past few months have passed in a bit of a daze; my life has been solely based on simply making it through to the end of the day without vomiting and trying to do so whilst working. By some miracle, I only took two days off sick and I have never been more grateful to be working from home. I can’t say I’ve enjoyed feeling so unwell and off kilter but I do feel like I’ve recently emerged out the other side and with the tentative return of my personality and normal eating habits has come the trickles of excitement for what’s ahead. I do plan to write about it all in more detail soon but for now, all being well, we’ll have a third member of our household by the end of the year!
Reunions
Oh how off my timing was. Just as restrictions lifted to allow us to see other humans again, morning sickness rolled in like a tidal wave of doom and for a while, it felt like lockdown continued just as it had been for the past 253 years which wasn’t exactly peachy for my mental health. But, am pleased to report that I have managed to be reunited with friends and family in more recent weeks and even more pleased to report that I didn’t throw up on them which would have been a great way to tell them how much I’d missed them after months apart I’m sure. I’ve been so keen to make up for lost time that almost every single weekend is now booked up throughout the summer and I am SO ready to fill my days with sunshine and all my favourite people around the country!
Writing
Before pregnancy sucked my creativity dry (it is slowly returning thank gawd), I had a bit of a flurry of submitting my work for a couple of things and the results provided me with a much-needed lil boost during long weeks of feeling like an actual slug. I won second prize in the Henshaw Press March short story competition and had an article published on Mish Mash Food – you can read them here and here.
Garden renovation
Whilst I’ve been lying in a heap mostly feeling sorry for myself, Gary (and my step-dad) has been working tirelessly on our garden renovation. Our outside space has been stripped bare and the ‘glow-up’ is in progress. There’s been an alarming amount of sand, an incident with a shed flying across a bypass and an introduction to the bugger that is bindweed but it is beginning to take place and I can’t wait to sit in it with a G&T in hand (non-alcoholic of course…).
Jabs & sunshine & happy thoughts
I know there’s a long way to go before we’re out of this pandemic, I know there’s a lot to still be concerned about, but with the sun shining, a sore recently-jabbed arm and plans in the diary, I feel more optimistic than I’ve done since March 2020 and I’m going to hold onto that feeling for as long as possible.
Hope you are healthy and happy dear reader! I am glad to be back in my lil online space and am looking forward to writing more soon.
Hey there!
