Stop!...In the name of love

I really like this image and feel it's showing what I feel. By Sara K Byrne. She is very talented.

This week has been tough. Mainly because I have felt so incredibly emotional. It's ridiculous, I have never felt such a jumble of ups and downs, confusion and upset. Mixed with utter contentedness and happiness. I cling on to the latter. I know this is all probably normal, but I'm also trying to please a million people, tick off a million things and I'm just so tired. I want to know when someone can say, it's OK. You can stop now.

Slick

I think this oil is splendid. It's soft, not over the top, the scent is as calming as an enormous armchair for the mind and it helps to keep skin stretchy. Or as stretchy as it can be when there is a bowling ball inside of you. It's a treat, and a necessary one. I have used it throughout this pregnancy and am now a converted 'oil fan'.

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. 

Seasonal, baby

I have no objection to this gold Burberry baby snowsuit. When you are young, you can get away with it.

Yesterday I was sat cross-legged on a mat in a hall. I was there for my - much-loved - pregnancy yoga class and after too many hours sat on an uncomfortable chair by a desk at home, I was prepared for my vertebrae to be tweaked one by one, limbs stretched and mind relaxed. As a draft whistled under the door and through the room, curling up one side of a piece of paper, to use a cliche: it hit me.

Just a few weeks ago we were all sweltering in the balmy heat, rubbing our aching, swollen feet and celebrating the ferocious air con. And at the very beginning, when I started pregnancy yoga, it was utterly freezing. My fingers were blue from the winter's chill and I was layered with jumpers and a thick blanket during the relaxation exercises. Now it feels like it's getting a little bit autumnal. Not really (obviously), but the nights are starting to draw in a tad and after we had that blast of summer in July, mid-August seems... like its getting ready, preparing for colder times.

Now, I for one absolutely love autumn, for a whole variety of reasons. It's birthday season for myself and the man tiger, I adore autumn wear, LOVE it. Boots, new coats and knitwear. Glorious. The skies are pretty and red (sometimes), nature is golden and red ('tis), new starts can occur, berry liquors and apples scent the air and the summer sun is still warm on the skin.

But. That means I have gone through winter, spring and now nearly summer/autumn crossover. That's a whole year nearly, being pregnant. I know this makes sense, as nine months is nearly a year and I am nearly at nine months, so this... makes. sense. However, it feels surreal. A whole year has nearly passed, a year that I am conscious about, as I have felt every week - and yet it's whistled by and will soon be gone, like a wave washing in and then retreating. It feels like yesterday that we were in Cornwall, wrapped up against the January freeze, the morning sickness first hitting me like a rocket to my whole being. Lying on the sofa, unable to move, looking at food (apart from carbs) like it was alien fuel. Staring out to the sea. Still unsure that it was real.

Now, I have a baby thwacking me all day and all night. Making me have to sit further away from my desk, because it keeps hitting it. Yesterday, I saw and felt a little hand pop out. I'd not seen that before, it was a tiny little fist. I felt proud. It feels incredible and although I am now pretty uncomfortable (NIGHT TIME), I am cherishing this time, so close to my baby. Keeping it warm as the autumnal winds sweep over us.