Thursdays now have a new meaning in my world. Every Thursday my weeks tick over closer to my EDD. For those of you not in the know, EDD stand for Expected Due Date. Of a baby. Eek!!
Yesterday, Thursday 16th November, I became 13 weeks pregnant and following a successful 12 week scan last weekend have been able to go ‘public’. So now that I am starting to tell people, how do I feel? People respond to my news: “Congratulations!”, “Such amazing news”, “You must be really excited”. Quite frankly I just feel horrendous. I can’t think beyond extreme tiredness, headaches, feeling sick, being sick, feeling sick from hunger, eating, feeling sick after eating, depression that I can’t fit in to any of my clothes, frustration that I can’t eloquently describe how I am actually feeling, feeling hungover constantly without clearly having drunk anything alcoholic for three months and a building anger of the fact that morning sickness has the very word ‘morning’ in its description. The term is libellous. Morning sickness is by no means at all restricted to the morning. But on a positive note I do congratulate myself if I manage to stay up later than 9pm at night. Something that has been somewhat of a challenge over the last 13 weeks. It is important to celebrate small successes when the bigger victories are not so easy to come by.
Alongside this every week I get closer to the ISB, that is the Impending Significant Birthday. Two days after my EDD I will be turning 40. Shh. I was intending to sit in a dark corner on the 25th May 2019 and gently rock. Now that my world has transformed in to talk of trimesters and the like I can’t imagine that my birthday plans will pan out as I was hoping. But I may at least have a distraction.
So, nearing 40, pregnant and at times emotional (by that I mean most of the time!). My weekly blog is hopefully going to entertain you, will reassure those of you who may also be resenting an ISB or hurtling towards an EDD and at the very least provide something other than BREXIT to read about over the next few weeks and months. The perfect BREXIT does not exist by the way. The country voted for a unicorn.
Back to the baby who we are calling BB (Baby Bear); the thing actually moved and waved at us during the scan. I didn’t cry or feel emotional, I think it was meant to, but it was reassuring to know that they are starting to train early. Their mum is a former old school number 8 rugby player, their dad a powerlifter. They will be involved in sport somewhere, somehow but the parental combination worries me immensely when I think that at some point the thing has to come out of me. My husband makes me feel petite and I am 5ft 10 and a size 16. Too much to hope that BB will be a manageable 7LBs I am sure! Anyway, that is 6 months away. I can put that to the back of my mind for now. So back to non-baby news: Unicorn Brexit, Jeremy Corbyn and his anorak – to be fair my Dad has always told me that if it is raining to make sure that I remember my anorak. Very sensible, I think. It was raining. Trump clearly does not have an anorak. This weekend sees more rugby action with England men taking on Japan and England women taking on Canada. I am sure it will be an English whitewash but everyone loves an underdog. Japan have shocked the world before so maybe they will ‘blossom’ again. I won’t be watching, I will be heading to a friend’s 50th birthday party hoping that I can make it past 9pm but happy that my own ISB is a whole ten years younger.
