Trimester one (in the moment)

So now I know that you are definitely real. I know this because of two reasons. The first is that because of my ‘scare’ at five weeks, I got to visit the early pregnancy clinic.

I think I will remember this forever. Charlie and I sat in the waiting room with the lights out. We stared at the non-identifiable blobs framed and mounted on the walls. It was before 9am, so the clinic wasn’t open. We had got there early as the doctor had told me it was a good idea to the day before. He was right. At 9.05am the waiting room was filled with a mixture of tightly wound faces, wringing hands, expressionless static behaviour and men popping off to the toilet. Not to mention those reading the enormous comments board, the aged toys wishing for Toy Story and the muttering midwives. I spent almost the entire time waiting thinking about my impending interview with a Springwatch presenter.

It didn’t take long to see the midwife and sonographer. A slather of gel, a quick shock and then there it was. Admittedly it was a blob. But it was also a vision of relief, elation and wonder. The blob was not unlike those paintings, but after pointing out the heartbeat, I realised it was my little blob. It had a heart, it was OK. It was real. Despite taking three pregnancy tests, I genuinely couldn’t believe what I saw. I resolved to try and not call it, ‘it’. It’s a baby. A baby. I interviewed the Springwatch presenter with my usual celeb-dazzle of butterflies, fluttering. Exaggerated, I am positive.

Good god, morning sickness. This is the other reason that has indicated in MASSIVE FLASHING LIGHTS, that I am pregnant. Though I love the kid, this is truly vile. Mixed with the exhaustion, you could push me with a feather and I’d fall down. The first week the sickness surfaced itself it hit me like a thousand rhinos. I was in Cornwall. Taking five of my 24 glorious holiday days. Suffice to say I spent a lot of it lying in bed catching up with Silent Witness, a programme I have never loved, but I’m fast learning that it’s all about The Series. I was recently given the boxset of The Killing series one and I could have wept at the feet of the gifter. During the week, I also walked along the beaches, meandered about and ate carbs. I told the kid it needs to like the sea, as its (might call it K-it aka Kit, for now I think – KIT’S) father is obsessed.

I’m touching wood as I type, but recently the morning sickness has been slightly less horrific. Perhaps it’s because I am back at work and busy. Plus I am never (TOUCH WOOD) actually sick, which helps. I just feel like gagging at the merest thought of eggs and jumping in an extraordinarily clean, white duvet is appealing at all times. Charlie has been frankly hilarious throughout Kit’s existence so far. I say hilarious, because otherwise I would batter him with cake. Par example: “Just think, every person that exists has had a mum that has probably been really sick, just like you. It’s life!”

Find out if the famous second trimester ‘glow’ is ignited next time. If not, I have iridescent creams and powders at the ready so I can look like Tinkerbell… at least.