I strongly recommend that you boycott this blog post right now if pregnancy and babies bore you. However, I know that when I was pregnant I read up to fifteen pregnancy blogs a day. They were my caffeine and I was addicted. Which is another reason I wanted to write my own story. I hope you enjoy it.
Ross and I decided that we were ready for a baby any time from September 2015, and low and behold, I fell pregnant in September 2015. I still to this day thank my lucky stars for allowing this to happen so easily. I know that for many, this isn’t the case and I am forever grateful.
Ross was coming round from a knee operation when I told him the good news. Well I hoped that the extremely faint, barely there, little pink line was good news. I told him anyway.
His reaction left little to be desired, but then again he was dosed up on general anesthetic and didn’t have a clue what day of the week it was. In hindsight, I probably could have waited for a more appropriate time to break the news. But then again, I never have been appropriate when it comes to anything slightly important. We decided there and then to keep the news a secret until we were 100% sure. By secret, I obviously mean that I had to tell my sisters over whats app.
The next couple of weeks went by, albeit extremely S L O W, but they passed and by week five we presented both of our mums with an apple pip wrapped in cotton wool, inside a cute trinket box. This pip represented the size of our little human. An apple pip. As expected both Nanna/ Grandma & Grandad to be, were over the moon. My mum (referred to as Nanna) however, was slightly worried that those pink lines were in fact figments of my imagination.
So where are we? Oh yes, week five. The week I started to get my first pregnancy symptom. No, not big swollen boobs, not darkened areolas (nipples) and not the urge to pee more often than usual… what I did get was a sign of what was about to come. Nausea. But at this point I was happy with anything as long as it was confirming that I was in fact, actually pregnant.
By week seven the nausea had ramped up by a million percent and it was unbearable. I remember laying in my bed (where I spent my life for the first 23 weeks) and Ross had his boys round playing fifa.
[The boys being round was a common thing these days as I was clearly no fun to be around. They must have thought that I was so rude, I couldn’t even muster up the energy to poke my head over the banister and say hello.]
One evening Ross was cooking them all a chicken stir fry and the smell of it sent me over the edge. And there it was, the start of my relationship with the toilet bowl. We became quite close over the next 23 weeks.
As I wasn’t yet at the so called “safe point” of pregnancy, we couldn’t explain to our friends and family the reason why I couldn’t attend nights out, dinners out and gym classes any more, things that were so normal for me to do pre-pregnancy. I felt like I was really secluding myself at this point and so badly wanted people to know the exciting truth.
* Pregnancy swag*
[this position was where Ross found me on numerous occasions]
I actually told my work that I was expecting at seven weeks, as for the first time in my life, I had to take time off work for sickness. Don’t get me wrong I have taken a day here and there for the common cold, but this was chunks of sickness. Luckily, they were extremely understanding and didn’t make me feel guilty for having time off.
My 26th birthday proved to be a tricky talking point where my friends were starting to guess something was up. We all sat in my lounge eating pizza in our pajamas whilst watching Romy and Michelles High School Reunion. The real clue was when I went into the kitchen to get a glass of Bucks Fizz and came out with a glass of orange squash. I quickly received a whats app message from one of my friends saying “you’re pregnant!” but I still didn’t come clean.
One evening at around 10 weeks pregnant I went to visit my friends new house for dinner, normally I would have made an excuse but I genuinely had run out of legitimate reasons. I managed to shower and make myself just about presentable when my friend text me saying she was outside to pick me up. Ten minutes and a bout of sickness later we were on our way. Once we arrived at her house I managed to look pretty convincing. That was up until she started cooking fajitas. BAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARF. Yep, I christened her brand new toilet. Awkard. But at least they finally knew the truth. To be honest it felt so nice being able to tell them and have them congratulate me. YAY I’M HAVING A BABY.
Without boring everyone, my sickness started at week 7 and didn’t subside until about 23 weeks. And it wasn’t just morning sickness. It was every minute, of every hour, of every day, sickness. There was one point at 20 weeks pregnant where I weighed less than I did before I fell pregnant. I couldn’t hold down water for longer than five minutes and Ross very nearly took me to hospital. Luckily, I was prescribed metraclopramide over the phone and Ross picked it up for me from the pharmacy. Thankfully, this worked and I could start to see the light at the end of the tunnel. Suddenly a life that seemed so dark (I know that sounds so over the top and dramatic – but believe me – I couldn’t even brush my teeth without being sick) was no longer that bad and I could finally start to enjoy what was supposed to be the most magical time in my life.
I felt so guilty referring to my pregnancy in a negative way, I knew it was a blessing and I knew how lucky I was to be in this position.
Although the “safe point” in my pregnancy had passed, my plan to “announce” was to wait until Christmas Eve. I thought that this would be really special, but my impatience got the better of me and we ended up announcing to friends and family on the same day we put our Christmas decorations up. I really wanted to do it in a unique way that I hadn’t seen before, so after lots of intense research, I ordered three stockings from Not on the High Street and personalised them to say Mummy, Daddy & Baby.
The likes and comments soon came flooding in and I just remember beaming from ear to ear. Everyone was so lovely and leaving such wonderful comments of well wishes. I was finally enjoying being pregnant and I could finally look forward to the life ahead of me. Just Me, Ross and the baby.
It was around this time that my bump started to show, the moment every mumma waits for, when they finally look pregnant and no longer look like they’ve raided the cookie jar. I think Ross was getting sick of me asking him every morning “do I look pregnant yet?” “No dear” “oohhhhhhhhhh” and repeat.
How cute is that jumper by the way? I was so happy I got to refer to my little human as my Christmas pudding for the whole of the festive season.
Soon once the celebrations of Christmas and New year were out of the way, I started to think about planning our babymoon. Now I know a lot of people roll their eyes when they hear the word “babymoon”, but, I had seen other people taking them and I loved the sentiment behind them. If you are able to, why would you not want to take a little trip away together, just the two of you, before the baby arrives? I imagined parading my blossoming bump around on the beach in the Maldives, but realistically, unless I won the lottery, this wasn’t happening. In the end, the romantic in me decided to book a weekend break away in Paris, as a valentines present to Ross. We had such a wonderful time.
*Awkward pregnancy photo in front of the Eiffel Tower*
It was truly wonderful to spend our last holiday together as a family of two. The French were so accommodating and even congratulated me on the streets.
I was so lucky to be able to say that I had a fantastic third trimester. I had been warned that the third trimester is almost as bad as the first and I was really setting myself up for a fail. But, I am really happy to say that I didn’t have any bad symptoms on the home run. Ok, so I had a bit of a bad back while at work sitting at my desk, but I will take that any day over some of the stories I had heard. Did you know that some peoples feet grow a whole size? no thank you.
One of my best friends had a hen do in Cornwall which I must admit I was slightly apprehensive about, being the only pregnant one there, but I had the best time. There is something about being in a group of people drinking, I swear you can feel slightly under the influence even when you haven’t touched a drop. Maybe it was the fumes? Yeah anyway, it was really a lush weekend. I remember being able to use my tummy as a table for the first time. I had been longing to do this ever since Phoebe used her belly of triplets to hold her bowl of cereal. Spud any other F.R.I.E.N.D.S fans out there, how you doin?….
Another great thing about pregnancies is baby showers. Whoever invented them needs a pat on the back. My sister arranged mine and did an Alice in Wonderland theme which was super cute. Bump and I were so extremely spoilt and it was so lovely being able to show Ross everything that had been bought. If there was anything we hadn’t gotten yet, we had it now. I am still so grateful for everything we received.
So now that I have touched on the baby shower, there really isn’t that much left to say with regards to my pregnancy journey. The countdown was on, I had no more events planned and I was fully enjoying my maternity leave…
On the 6th June, (the day before my due date) our friends had come over for a curry and I was made to eat a chicken madras. A curry that I would never normally choose may I add. Around twenty minutes later I felt a weird sensation whilst bouncing on my exercise ball.
[To be continued…]