During my second trimester, and pretty much most of the third trimester, I loved being pregnant. Perhaps I was fortunate in that I never really felt tired, I didn’t gain a lot of additional weight, I wasn’t an emotional wreck (although others might disagree…) and generally just felt my usual self. However, for the first 15 weeks of my pregnancy, I hated every woman who had ever said they loved being pregnant. They’re all liars I thought.

Just rewinding at bit…I had quite a difficult start to my pregnancy. It took us a while to get that BFP, and so when we did finally get it, we were very cautious about celebrating until we were absolutely sure. But every time I did a test over the next few days, it kept showing the same thing and so eventually we believed it. A week later, I got what I thought was my period.

I wasn’t really phased by it to be honest. Maybe subconsciously I was expecting it. But then following a visit to the doctors, a referral to the EPU, a scan at 6 weeks detecting no heart beat, a scan at 7 weeks finding a heartbeat but also internal bleeding, a week of ordered bed rest (imagine having to explain that one to your boss with zero notice), and then finally a strong heartbeat and a growing fetus at the 8 week scan, everything was back on track.

And then the morning sickness hit me. And boy did it smack me in the face and knock me right out. It wasn’t the physical sickness that was the problem, it was the constant feeling of nausea. I felt like I was going to throw up ALL of the time. It was horrible. And I thought it would never end. I couldn’t eat anything and even water made me feel sick. I mean, how can anyone go off water, or drinking even?! For the next 8 weeks, I survived on toast (and it had to be white bread which I NEVER eat), and cheddar cheese sandwiches (again on the dreaded white bread). I ate so much cheese I’m surprised I haven’t gone off it. And to my complete disgust and embarrassment, do you know where I went to get my cheese sandwiches at lunch…Greggs!! I kid you not but they were the only ones I could stomach. Walking back into the office with my Greggs carrier bag which I actually PAID for was like doing the walk of shame. It was such a relief when I could finally explain why I had downgraded my lunch choice.

Work was hard. So hard. Meetings were worse. And travelling on the tube – lets not even go there. My bed time became 8pm (which to be fair isn’t too far off my normal old lady bed time), and not because I was tired, but trying to sleep was the only way to rid myself of that god awful feeling. And my face just looked so dull. Where is this ‘pregnancy glow’ I used to think. It’s all those women lying again.

And then one day it went. Just like that. I didn’t feel sick anymore. I’d survived. It took me a while to be able to eat properly again – I think I had the fear of the nausea coming back. But slowly, my palate returned by the time I hit 16 weeks, and just as well because I’d booked a babymoon to Hong Kong. Not sure they have a Greggs there…

Until next time,

Love S xx