Monday, 16 September 2013

Wrote this at five weeks

Log 1: Waiting
I thought I would publish this. I wrote it when it was thundering down with snow in January and I was just five weeks pregnant. I could tell no one, it was the best secret in the world. I'd known for barely over a week. Now here I am at nine months, a spring and a summer passed. 

I’m sitting here and I’ve nearly eaten the whole of my snack before writing a single word. Cucumber and humous. I’m trying, with a glint in the eye and a gently charging horse, to fill my body with goodness. As well as the copious chocolate, cravings for biscuits and cakes, there must be balance. This consciousness, has in turn led to some form of mild paranoia. I am concerned that I just bleached the bath and then had a bath. I can’t remember how thoroughly I rinsed the damn bath before I jumped in it. Who does that? I have also had to change the cat litter because he is on his home island, having sailed there in a 20 hour ordeal. I’m not supposed to do this. The only person I can ask is Dr *fear into your bones* Google, with his overzealous search engine of doom.

Do I sound annoyed? I’m not. In fact, I think I am probably happier than I have ever been.

I’ve had a weekend of thorough relaxation. I mean this in the way that I have done absolutely nothing. I am of course, blaming the snow dropping heavily and rendering the pavements unpassable. It’s like some kind of Western film out there. The way everyone is walking with caution, knees bent, legs apart. Apart from maybe friendlier, as unusual events make a person speak to their neighbour.

I chose to spend this weekend alone. I am possibly the biggest fan of alone time. I need the space to grasp my spirit again. I mean that quite literally too. Time alone, thinking of everything, then nothing, putting everything in its place, then thinking of the present and what I have and what utter thrills the future could bring. It’s like a magical feeling that spins around in my belly for a while, before releasing in a big joyful explosion. And even if I begin this time within melancholy’s grasp, the outcome after solitary time is always this life shuddering great big wink from my internal spirit, chugging away in there. And I thank it, because it’s what makes me who I am and I’ve learnt it’s probably a lot easier to like myself than not.

So, the reason why I am being a wannabe health freak and am ardently reading certain blogs, weeping into my iPad’s screen. Baby. That’s correct, a real life baby is sitting in my tummy and listening to the music I am playing, hearing me chat inanely to my cats and eating all that Cadbury’s with me. And cucumber of course. Here we both are, waiting patiently for the next seven weeks to pass by asquicklyasispossible.

I know, C knows, one of my friends accidentally guessed - girl can read my eyes, but no one else knows. Oh and two of the Drs know, because last week I had a scare. Awful. Another reason why I need the next seven weeks to go by fast. And I shouldn’t sit in bleach. I guess when the scare happened, I started to see this baby as a baby. My baby. Our baby.  Baby. Oops, meets overwhelming elation, meets fear, meets vomit.

In terms of being pregnant, symptoms include:-
-  Twinges in the baby area, guess my womb is rearranging the furniture for the long term, full time guest.
-  Sitting having a brooding chai tea latte today, I had the sudden feeling that I am going to vomit when an all in black faux glasses vixen next to me got delivered poached eggs. The horror.
-  Having to turn music down to be able to smell and see as whole heartedly as I believe I can, with my new sense superpowers.
-  Becoming thoroughly obsessed with TV shows I used to think were utter crap... and normally snivelling my way through the ‘acts of kindness’.
-  I literally want chocolate all the time, with no moments not desiring its ‘goodness’ (unless there are eggs around... even then, at a push I could).
-  FATTENING up. I am sure I am already.
-  Weird looking at all food (apart from chocolate) like it’s the most vile thing. Even at the silly little fancy looking Waitrose mini lunches I used to adore. I normally have to wait until 2pm and then I could devour an entire chocolate factory fruit and veg store.
-  Worry. I now worry more than I thought possible. I am worried and am trying to stop worrying. I am sending this baby... It's the 12 weeks thing.
-  Beautiful vibes.

When I found out:

He had just confirmed a new job and we’d booked a meal out a while ago, after receiving a voucher from a good friend for our birthdays. I’d taken a quick test before he had come home and saw nothing so (weirdly) popped it in a bag and forgot about it. Just about to get ready, mid gin, I looked at the stick again. Two lines. “Errr” - you can imagine the rest. Another test. Then another test, digital this time - expensive, but needed to see the actual word. It was confirmed. I was in shock, could barely eat a thing. Ecstatic little jumps from the spirit and me. So very excited.