Hey there,

It’s been a bloody long while since I’ve posted here. I started writing on this blog as a travel diary. Since returning home to sunny Leeds in 2016 I didn’t really feel like I had anything interesting to write about.

Not much has changed, other than we got married in July 2017, (we had the best day ever!) And then in March 2019 I found out I was pregnant!

Now I’ve made it to the summer holidays and I finally have a bit of free time I thought I’d start writing about my experience so far with being “with child” (there are so many cringe inducing expressions to so with being preggo – here is a short list of ones I can’t bear:

“With child” – just weird and it’s like being a Victorian.

“Expecting” – I don’t know why I hate this but it seems too posh and formal. It make’s me want to scream “expecting what!!!?”  The “What to expect when you’re expecting” book makes me want to punch myself in the face.

And:

“We’re pregnant” – fuck off, I’m the one with the baby. (by the way, Tom has never said this – he clearly knows I’d have him shot if he did)

Anyway, ranting aside. I just wanted to write my memories down because I feel like I’ll enjoy coming back to them once Bopley has arrived. (sorry if I’ve gone down cringe lane again – Bopley is what we call the baby. We aren’t going to find out the gender and calling the baby “it” feels off.

So I thought I’d go back to when I found out I was pregnant. We had been trying for about quite a few months, so I was well in the habit of weeing on all sorts of ovulation sticks. The bathroom was full of various pregnancy tests which I had to be careful to hide away as our loo is often frequented by my music students.

I was horribly ill with a chest infection that had been lingering for weeks, so I went to see the doctor who gave me some antibiotics. I asked if they were pregnancy safe as there was the tiniest chance I could be pregnant. The doctor said “no – best to wait and see if your period turns up.” So wait I did, and iller I became, until one morning I woke up at 4am feeling like hell on earth, barely able to breath. I thought to myself – “okay, time for a pregnancy test (you have to use the first wee of the day) – it’ll be negative (I’d done millions of the things) then I can take the antibiotics and start feeling better again.”

So there I was, sat on the loo at 4am, barely conscious. I think I just sat there with my eyes closed so I could get back to sleep afterwards. This was me:

Anyway. After a while I opened my bleary eyes and peaked at the test and this is what I saw…

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Yep – you’re probably  thinking the same thing I was – “Is that a line?!”

Plus I had the added dilemma – was that line dark enough to wake Tom up?

I decided to wake him up. He had no idea what was going on, didn’t realise I was up, or taking a test, plus I made him turn the light on and look at the test. You’re probably wondering why I didn’t just wait until the morning – but other than the fact that I was hysterical, the tests expire after a certain amount of time and you can’t read the results.

It was really hard, because we weren’t certain, and needed to do more tests. I didn’t sleep. We were heading to visit my family the next day but it was way too early for us to say anything. My brother and his wonderful girlfriend had just got engaged, so we celebrated with champagne. I had a few sips then left my glass – my family must have been like “WTF?!”

Anyway, over the next five days, I took five more pregnancy tests. And that little line got a tiny bit darker and I got a tiny bit more excited every day!

We decided to tell our parents and then wait until a few more weeks before telling anyone. The first person I told was Lottie, who was having a shit day… and i thought “well this will cheer her up!”

Then a few days later Rhiannon announced she was pregnant on Facebook, and I started manically messaging her “OMG!!! Amazing! Congratulations!!…. how are you feeling, how was the first trimester, have you been sick? have you got a bump??” To which she just replied “Heppy, are you pregnant?” BUSTED haha!

I downloaded an app and was delighted to discover what my baby looked like:

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I remember texting the photo to Lottie and being like “what the fuck is this?”

So a few close friends knew.

A horrid sicky feeling crept in which I can only describe as feeling like you have awful acid, and need to be sick and have a poo at the same time. I started wearing seabands which really helped. And spent a few weeks drinking ginger tea and subsisting on salt and vinegar pringles. The Easter holidays arrived at around week 8 of the pregnancy, and I spent two weeks pretty much feeling like death and falling asleep on the sofa. I was permanently thirsty. I would take two pints of water to bed with me at night, and finish them through the night and refill – mad! I was also very tired. This photo was taken around that time and sums up how I felt:

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I found it so weird feeling so ill, but for such a lovely reason. I was constantly terrified I’d be sick (amazingly, I never was, but constantly had plastic bags on my person in case of emergencies) Other lovely symptoms included getting gigantic sore boobs which were covered in veins, and a heightened sense of smell, making me storm out of my beloved local charity shops muttering “oh jesus christ the smell of BO is unbearable!”

Luckily, I had a few trips planned which made it easier, and kept me distracted. I had a wonderful weekend in Norway with Tom. It’s such a beautiful country. (Which makes spending a fiver on a bag of crisps bearable)

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We took lots of lovely photos, but this is the honest one.

I turned ten weeks pregnant whilst on a trip to Amsterdam with the girls. This photo is hilarious when you look closely:

Everyone is having a drink at the airport and I’m white as a ghost, sat there with my seabands on.

The train to the airport was dire. I sent a group text saying “SOS about to be sick in a pringles tube” – but alas, crisis averted.

The trip was really lovely, if a bit strange being the only sober person in Amsterdam of all places! The tulip fields were wonderful with a heightened sense of smell, but I remember really struggling to carry my bag around, and finding walking really tiring. We stayed in an airbnb with very steep stairs that terrified me, I kept imagining falling all the way down them in the middle of the night. I also really missed Tom that weekend. I have never missed anyone more in my life. I know that sounds dramatic, but I felt vulnerable and it was hard being away from him. I spent that period feeling quite nervous and desperate to make it to twelve weeks pregnant when you hit the alleged “safe period.” Never the less, it was still a lovely holiday. Here is my favourite pic from the weekend: my first sober night out!

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It was a dreamy night – we were in bed and served food – it was actually the perfect night out for a pregnant person! Here’s a photo from later on (sorry Linsey)

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A couple of weeks passed and it was the evening before the twelve week scan, which I was very nervous about. We were due to go and see Jon Ronson at Leeds town hall when BAM hello migraine from hell.

Worst. Migraine. Ever.

Isn’t stress so obvious in hindsight?

Anyway, I enjoyed the evening in the end, and barely slept a wink. Tom drove me to the hospital for the scan. We sat in the waiting room for what felt like an eternity. I remember saying to Tom “If they scan me and there’s nothing in there, you won’t think I’m crazy will you?”

You know how in films everyone always cries when they see their baby for the first time during the ultrasound? I was fully prepared – I had a bag full of tissues.

Instead, seeing Bopley whizzing around – firing off the walls with his/her feet just seemed so strange and surreal to me that I started laughing hysterically and the screen kept blurring because my tummy was shaking and they couldn’t see what was going on.

Tiny baby waves hello:

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I can’t wait to meet him/her in at the end of November/early December!

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