Thursday 17 September 2015
I hadn’t really thought about the idea of enjoying pregnancy until last night when my brother-in-law asked me if I was (enjoying it.) To be honest, I even had to check what he meant…
However, with the idea that it could be enjoyable firmly planted in my mind and a bit longer to mull it over, I actually am (crappy, overly hormonal days aside) really quite loving it.
Comfortably in my second trimester I’m beyond the point of complete exhaustion and nausea. Instead I find myself in a place where I look forward to my weekly yoga or a nice long walk with the pooch. I’m still waiting for my pregnancy glow – unless a little bit of acne, permanent rosy cheeks from my elevated temperature and my uncontrollable hair are all a part of what defines: ‘glow’.
Despite having no idea how to respond (other than saying ‘thank you’ repeatedly, like some kind of moron.) I like it when I tell someone our news and they congratulate us. I even secretly like it when strangers check out my little bump and ask me when I’m due (though officially I’m offended at the fact they think I’m fat enough to ask me that.)
I like the excuse to buy new clothes. Even if they are like tents and I’ll only wear them for a few months. I love that I can wear some of the most comfortable (albeit ugly) underwear that I have ever owned. I like that I can plan and dream about baby things but that it’s far enough away that I don’t have to worry (yet) about actually giving birth. I love that I can get in bed whenever I like and not feel lazy (- hey it’s exhausting growing a baby dontcha know?) I have even grown to quite like the countdown to my next appointment or scan. And I especially like that I can justify spending money on myself (lashes, facial, massage) because let’s face it I need something to relieve the aches and make me look some semblance of human.
But by far my absolute favourite part of every day is somewhere just beyond 5 o’clock. I suspect this is a highlight for most people that work 9-5, but it’s not just because I get to go home to a husband that is addicted to feeling my bump, has changed his Twitter (@markfletcheruk) bio to our due date or will rub my feet while I’m sprawled out all over him on the sofa. Though there is all that too… But no, it’s largely because I know that the minute a good song comes on and I turn up the radio on my drive home, I’ll feel a lovely little kick from the inside as our tiny little baby starts having his or her daily boogie.
Right now all these little things mean I’m too busy enjoying it to care that I’ve got perma aches and pains, can’t stomach spicy food and I am not allowed to enjoy some of my most favourite treats like wine or cheese. I can even handle the emotional days where I cry at TV adverts (WHY, British Heart Foundation? WHY?!) or totally lose my temper over something irrational (sing the god damn national anthem Corbyn and have some respect!)
Infact I’ll happily admit that feeling a wriggle, a squirm or a dance from the inside makes me so excited that I can’t help but laugh hysterically to myself. Yes commuters of South Yorkshire, it’s me. The crazy lady you’ve seen giggling to herself behind the wheel of her crappy little Clio on her drive home.
I’m not a crazy commuter, I’m just pregnant!