OK, so now we can talk.
Kevin’s killed the link to the blog, so I can speak freely about the fact that I appear to be pregnant.
Just in these first few weeks, when we haven’t managed to tell everyone, and there’s a very faint risk of someone important stumbling across the information in the blog. Which wouldn’t do.
Once we’re public knowledge, we’ll put it back, so it’s not like it’s become an entirely pointless blog, is it?
I took the test on Sunday morning – before church, as it worked out – and very quickly got a pink spot. The sense of stunned disbelief remains with me, two and a half days later.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m delighted. Or at least, I will be, as soon as I can take it in. At the moment, that seems like it could be some years away, and the situation is bound to have developed by then.
As I said earlier, we were kind of trying, in a low-key, no-pressure sort of way. It turns out that everything my mum ever said about how easy getting pregnant is was true. I feel a little guilty – some people work so very hard at it, and I’m going to have a baby after very little effort whatsoever. Beyond the obvious, I mean.
There’s lots I’m afraid of, but I’m not afraid of being a mum. I want a family. This baby will be my oldest child, and I like the sound of that. All the key words give me goosebumps, though – pregnant, baby, my child, they make me shiver. They’re words other people use. Being pregnant is something other people do, and really not that often, relative to the non-pregnant population. I can only think of one other person in my entire social sphere who is currently pregnant (although it was rather more this time last year).
I’m finding it very difficult to describe how I feel, but I’ve felt it before – when I was about twelve, a rapidly developing adolescent, with physical and hormonal changes that I couldn’t begin to comprehend. Feeling like my body had suddenly become unfamiliar, and an uncomfortable place to be. But there’s no escaping the fact, even though I’m struggling to take it in: there is a person growing inside me.
Things I am afraid of:
- Ectopic pregnancy
- Some kind of foetal abnormality appearing in the scans and bloodtests and what-have-you
- Still birth
- Post-natal depression
- Not having enough money to stay at home with my baby
- It all turning out to be a mistake with a faulty pregnancy test
Apart from that – great, bring it on.
On Sunday night, we told my mum and my sister, and that made it feel more real. Just temporarily, it turned out, but they were excited, and asked questions; talking around the thing made it feel like it was really happening.
On Monday night, we told Kevin’s sister and her partner, and they did the same thing. Caroline seemed really excited, which is fab, and we talked loads about how made up Niamh’s going to be when we tell her. Not that she didn’t nearly work it out whilst we were there – some four-year-olds are just too bright for their own good.
I think it’s going to work that makes it all seem a bit odd. It’s FAR too early to go public at work – I want to choose my moment a little more carefully… However, going the whole day without even mentioning it makes me question whether it’s true or not. But it’ll become self-evident, soon enough, I should think.
I feel fine. I barely feel pregnant at all, actually. A have a vague awareness of something going on my lower abdomen (the interweb calls it “uterine discomfort”, and says it’s normal), and of getting both tired and hungry about twice as often as usual. A bit queasy, sometimes, but frankly, that’s as likely to be emotional as physical, and it’s not serious when it happens.
Today, we went to see my doctor, who was his usual, brisk self; he congratulated us, calculated a (fairly random, from what I can gather) due date of 13th September, filled in the Free Prescriptions form, and told me to book an appointment with the practice midwife. He didn’t even take my blood pressure, which she will presumably do at my appointment on Wednesday. I had the feeling that the form-filling was a patronising doctor response to loopy pregnant women not being reliable enough to do it themselves, but I don’t really mind.
He said that I would have one appointment a month with the practice midwife(s), one of the three of whom will almost certainly deliver my baby. My mum was impressed with that – in her day, hospital midwives and community midwives were two entirely separate breeds. I will also have two scans, one at or about 12 weeks, and one at or about 18 weeks. Barring problems, that’ll be the last I see of the Women’s Hospital until I go into labour (hmmm… had to change the L to lowercase… it’s not the same as Labour, is it?!).
At the weekend we plan to tell our particular friends from church. Kevin’s currently playing snooker with some of them, but he’s not allowed to announce without me, so he’ll just have to keep his mouth shut. I hope he can manage it…
There is a person growing inside me. A whole, unique person, with a personality, and a future. Isn’t that amazing?