It’s been a bit radio silent from Prosecco Mum recently as I became Prosecco Wife and for the week, some may argue weeks, leading up to the big day I became Bridezilla; the day came and went as did our week long Honeymoon (New York…without child!) and now it’s all the ‘So, when are you going to give Sofia a sibling?’. Fuck off, we’re married now and so sex is going to be even less frequent. If that is at all possible. So, unless I’m Mary and the immaculate conception is about to take place, then right now the chances of me winning the lottery are probably higher.
But it did get me reminiscing on the stages of pregnancy, here’s my take on it.
- Month ‘two lines on a stick’: Wahooooo we finally hit the jackpot, I’m pregnant! Swiftly followed by ‘Fuck. We’re having a baby. Life over’.
- 0-12 weeks: Elation, panic, 12 weeks of ‘I’m on antibiotics so can’t drink’ scenarios. Feeling sick and trying to pull it off as hangovers to work colleagues. Or feeling completely normal and panicking that something tragic’s happened (and now dreading the scan) Go into Google overdrive of ‘What is normal in pregnancy? Should I be feeling sick? Am I pregnant?’ Slooooooowest 12 weeks ever. And what’s the point of the 8 week midwife check? They don’t even confirm if you’re actually pregnant. I could have just fantasised this whole two lines on a stick stage. Cue more worry.
- 12 weeks, scan day: aka sweaty palm and beating heart day. Sit in the plastic sweaty bum chairs looking around feeling like a coiled spring. Waaaaaa we get to see our baby soon. See other couples leave the sonographer’s room excitedly studying their black and white pics like its an exclusive banksy print. Name called oh god oh god something’s going to be wrong I don’t want to go…. Gel applied and screen on. Tears, there’s our little baby. Tears. All those months of unromantic bonking paid off! Float out of room. Wrap yourself in cotton wool.
- 12-20 weeks: Sit for the next longest time period to pass – 8 weeks. Give baby a nickname, breathe out, tell the world, think of some never-before-seen off the wall way to announce the news on Facebook, explain to your work colleagues you’re ‘finally getting out of this place going for a nine month holiday’.Hahaha
, we’ll see who’s laughing when they’re drinking a hot cup of tea in peace. (Clues in the word ‘hot’)
Examine ‘the bump’ daily front and side. Chart the progress through daily pics. Nope, still just look chubby. With new found burger nips.
Bumps out! The quest for maternity clothes begins.
(By the way my favourites for ‘normal’ and cheap and cheerful were New Look , Topshop and H&M) I definitely didn’t want any ‘Hands off my bump’ slogan tees. Give it a break, unless I’ve mistakenly swallowed a basketball it’s pretty obvious that there is a baby inside my ever expanding gut) I struggled to find clothes so I lived in one pair of jeans, one pair of work trousers, numerous vest tops and my normal long bum-hiding cardigans. Maternity wardrobe done.
- Week 20: The big day’s here! Is it a William or a Wilma? An Arthur or a Martha? Discuss different names, what you’d prefer (I wanted a boy, but apparently, sometimes you don’t always get what you want) then convince yourself that it’s all OK as long as its happy and healthy and actually the gender doesn’t matter. Pah, who am I kidding!
Cue more panic ‘something’s definitely going to be wrong this time’.Sweaty palms are back as you sit back on the sweaty bum chair making awkward eye contact with others nervously awaiting their gender fates. Name called, in we go……Please be a boy so daddy can take him to football on a Sunday.
Nervous chit chat and small talk whilst thinking please just get on and tell me what worries my life will bring in the teenage years. An amazing detailed scan, it looks like a person. Peanuts getting a personality! I’m imagining what it looks, whose personality it will take.
Lets go pink or blue shopping! Its obligatory after the big reveal right?
- Weeks 20 – 37: The flutters change from ‘think I need a fart’ to thuds and kicks. Magical. If not a little sick inducing at first. But overall, reassurance that baby is just fine in there tap dancing or footballer places already booked.Compare every week to a fruit or vegetable and search for more maternity clothes and bankrupt yourself filling a whole wardrobe of inappropriate baby clothes. (Tip: babygros, vests, nappies and wipes – you can never have enough. Forget the frilly, designer cashmere numbers. They will be vommed on within a second. SMP doesn’t allow for the luxury of dry cleaners. For you. Or baby.)
Plan a baby shower. One of the awkward events that I wish really didn’t exist in the UK. Who really wants to eat peanut butter smeared all over the gusset of a nappy?
Go on maternity leave and get nesting. (Does anyone seriously do that?!)
- Weeks 37 – Baby’s here: Longest wait ever, every single person you see around you have got newborns, you’re still waddling along like a massively overweight penguin, drinking raspberry leaf tea and bouncing on a gym ball, if you’re crazy maybe even having a bit of hows your father. Whilst remaining housebound. I definitely didn’t want to have my innards gushing all over the floor in a public arena.
- Labour: Well, that’s a blog in itself.
You think you worried a lot during pregnancy? That’s just the start of it. And sleepless nights.Happy conceiving all!