I can’t eat WHAT?

Eighteen weeks today. I’ve had a few revelations and a few milestones, and am getting used to the chaos that is pregnancy. Have taken obligatory bump photo and been patted on the stomach by three different people. Here are some other facts:

  • I’ve gone up half a shoe size
  • I can’t sleep without a memory foam pillow stuffed between my knees
  • My fingernails and toenails are growing really fast
  • A close friend (who lives far away) told me my voice has gotten more high-pitched!
  • My hair is all thick – not shiny and beautiful like everyone said it would be though
  • The smell of cigarettes, even from a distance, makes me gag
  • Although I miss beer, when I do have a sip it usually tastes like paintstripper
  • I miss sushi
  • Instead of wanting to buy trinkets and bric a brac I desperately want to get rid of everything an live in a minimalist cube
  • I have become much more strict about food that’s out of date – no more cutting the mould off bread or cheese for me!
  • I can smell crime happening in other cities. Not quite, but my olfactory sensitivity is definitely heightened. Everything smells more intense, but mostly gross stuff like BO and peoples’ feet. Ugh.
  • My vitamins give me headaches, and I’ve got to drink at least 2L of water a day to stave off water retention and urinary infections.
  • Am frequently seized by urge to move house, quit job, buy a new car, go on last minute holiday to Disneyland and other mad stuff. Normal service is usually resumed after a cup of tea and a sit down.

Interesting developments indeed, and in general the whole experience is one of surprise, delight, dread and revulsion all at once. Sleep is precious, food tastes divine, days are flying by and physical comfort is a thing of the past.

People are lovely. Those who aren’t wagging their finger at me and telling me I can’t have a coffee (no beer, no runny cheese, no pate, no sushi, no funfairs, no steam room, no cuddling baby lambs, and you want to take caffeine away from me too? Fuck. Off.). People keep telling me I look great, which relieves my innate horror at my burgeoning waistline. Men are extremely chivalrous and I’ve barely carried a thing since I started to ‘show’. It’s a relief as the strain on my feet and back from all this malarkey has taken its toll already.

And as for stretchy hips, feet, back and shoulders – GAWD! I’d rather have a screaming baby keep me awake than a gammy hip flexor. No amount of memory foam will help calm a crying bairn, and it doesn’t do my hips any good either. The stretchiness of your ligaments during pregnancy is glossed over by the book-learning – no one said it’d be the worst thing about being up the duff! I’d actually swap it for the nausea I experienced every day from 8-12 weeks.

But there is so much comfort out there if you know where to look; friends with kids, friends without kids, my mum, Jamie, books, the internet (especially the fantastic babycenter app) – all put your mind at ease when a thought leaves you panic stricken: “heartburn! I can’t take any more!” met with gentle sympathy and advice to go and stock up on free Gaviscon from the NHS… I’m feeling the love for everyone who’s helped me out.

Will write again next time I’m at a real computer. In the meantime for posterity here is a photo of my bump.

17 weeks

17 weeks



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