Today was the first day a person asked me, “Are you… um…”
She gesticulated a big circle, and I laughed and said, “Yes, I am.”
To be fair, it was my son’s swimming teacher and a costume has nowhere to hide a rapidly expanding stomach. She confessed she thought I was before half term but didn’t want to ask just in case. She grinned the biggest grin, congratulated me and asked a couple of questions about due date and finding out the sex before she resumed teacher-role.
I felt so grateful. A normal conversation. Excitement.
Nothing about bleeding, loss, pain, fear or anything like that. When one of the other swimming mums in the changing room asked how far along I was, I found myself talking about how this baby had been hard to achieve – about how we’d been trying for such a long time. I spared her the details, but I realised: I want to talk. I want people to know about at least some of this journey. I never thought that was the case! It’s a form of self-acceptance. We struggled, and it’s part of who I am. I feel lighter for it. It’s okay. The separate strands of my mental self are coming together, weaving themselves back into a whole person. Not someone with horrible traumatic secrets, but a person with a rich, sometimes terribly sad, but overall a single, united history. I am who I am.
So, getting to the second trimester has been a HUGE thing. My fears of miscarriage are still very real and I worry about it every day. But I also find myself planning. Thinking about what we need to get, how the birth will go, we’ve even started talking about names. It feels REAL, at last.
We told the in-laws over the weekend, by telephone, and they were pleased, so now our families are all in the know.
I need to register with the midwife system, which I’ll try and do tomorrow.
All-in-all, it all seems to be a perfectly normal pregnancy. Still hard for me to believe.
Physically… eugh. It has not been easy. Weeks and weeks of nausea, followed by a nasty viral infection. Then, just as I was recovering, we spent a few nights camping and I have come down with the worst case of sinisitus I have ever had. I had a blocked nose for a week, and the cold nights in the tent pushed it into a full-blown infection. The pain in my head has been so severe that I truly believe sinisitus should be renamed Exploding Head Syndrome. I have resorted to taking paracetamol because I literally could not deal with the pain. I’ve had ice packs on my head and used a saline solution up my nose, but I think I just need to let this run its course. I had a cry the other day because 9 weeks of feeling like shit was really taking it’s toll.
Two days ago I started juicing again. My nausea is mild, but still present (STILL!), but I am starting to crave healthy food again, so it feels great to be back on the juice. I think juice is the answer to everything, as you know 😉
I’m also suffering very bad round ligament pain, specifically on the right. Much worse than I’ve ever had before – I was doubled over in pain after getting out of the car this morning. My boobs are massive on my fairly small body and very sore…. Could I moan any more??
It might sound bad, but in a weird masochistic way I love it all. My body is changing and protesting and stretching. I know I have time to rest and adapt and work with it, it just hasn’t been possible so far.
The hardest part is out of the way – what’s ahead is all about how healthy I want to make it.
I am desperately impatient to feel movement. I was about 16 weeks with my first, much later with my second (anterior placenta). Feeling movement will mean the end of relying on the doppler – and if course is one of the miraculous joys of pregnancy. Hopefully someday soon.
Apologies if this post is somewhat disjointed. It’s the end of half term and I’m in catch-up mode. I’m still tired and woozy from all the viral/cold stuff. Energy is just around the corner… almost there 🙂