I’m pregnant. Actually, really pregnant. When I told H that I thought I was, he didn’t quite believe me. In the airport on the way back home I determinedly hunted out a pregnancy test whilst he coolly took in episode # 7892 of ‘Nat thinks she is pregnant again’. As I rushed upstairs to FINALLY do the test he busied himself unpacking, clearly not expecting anything.
But when I saw the mystical two lines on my test and rushed bellowing downstairs, parading my precious evidence to him, I expected the tears and amazement that I have seen lots from new YouTube dads but I got none of that.Apparently one of the lines was faint. I rushed out to Sainsburys determined to get some concrete evidence and promptly peed on a clear blue test which tells you if you’re pregnant and when you conceived.
It was there, declaring that our baby was probably created very soon after our wedding.
I have to admit that I can’t even remember the number of times that I have thought I was pregnant, come to think of it, probably every single time I have done the deed despite the battleaxe of contraception that I have armoured myself with. When we got married we did not use any contraception for the first time ever, not knowing how long it would take us to conceive.
Since finding out I’ve been a busy bee.
We moved house over a year ago but I’ve finally signed up to a local doctor. Having to hobble over one hour away for an appointment is not a good look. I’ve told maternity services that I have a Wedding Night/ Honeymoon Bun in the oven so will soon have an appointment with my midwife and an ultrasound scam.
I’m six weeks pregnant; my app tells me that this means that our bubba is the size of a chocolate chip. I have a new respect and confidence in my body, look what it has done!!
Our bubba is due on 22nd January. This blog is going to detail my metamorphosis into motherhood.