Actually I'm not sure what I thought it would be like.
But not like this anyhow.
One the
one hand I've totally embraced the idea, having all but entirely stopped going
to the gym the moment the baby was confirmed.
I can't
believe how massive I am already.
I know
this probably isn't helped by mainlining Twirls after most meals, but this
can't all be chocolate.
Bodies
must remember and just pop out. I think possibly more so with the unfit body variety where tummy
muscles aren't so evident.
After my
12 week scan someone asked me if I'd just had the 20 week one. I was delighted.
Obviously.
I'm out
of breath all the time. I only need to walk up a very slight incline and I'm
wheezing like a pervy crank caller.
And as if
that's not enough, I'm more tired than I've been in living memory. This is the
kind of tired where I could rest my eyes 'for a moment' on the bus to work and
wake up at the depo.
But the
flip side of it is there's no time to really think about being pregnant, or
consider that there's someone in there.
In fact
Nancy probably talks about the baby more than us.
She likes
to pull up my top and kiss my tummy and tell the baby she's its big sister.
She also
likes to smack my stomach as hard as she can, whilst pre-empting the apology
she'll have to give by saying 'it's not funny, is it mummy?', mid wallop.
When I
was pregnant with Nancy, she had a name. Pootle.
We talked
about 'it' most nights. How our life would change. What kind of parents we
might be. What it might look like.
I
religiously watched 'One Born Every Minute', trying to imagine what it would be
like when it was my turn, while crying my face off every time a new mum was
passed her newborn.
But this
time, and I feel dreadful saying this, I sometimes forget I'm pregnant.
Not
entirely, obviously.
There's
no way you can ignore a gut this massive.
I mean I
forget there's something actually growing in there.
A baby.
My baby.
I guess
this is what happens after your first child. Life continues. And you just get
on with it.
But I'm
going to try and make space in my head to think about this little guy and how
the three of us are going to become four.
Maybe
while having another cup of bloody decaf tea, and my third Twirl of the day.