“According to Aristotle, there is always a reason for everything that happens. Your experiences are designed to shape you, define you and, hopefully, grow you into the mightiest you possible.”

I’ve always clung to this idea that everything happens for a reason. This feeling is amplified this year by the misery that has become my ‘career’. I’m tired… I’m near defeat… and it’s not because of the kids. It’s never because of the kids. I gain an escape with my growing tummy, which has validated that all this is just meant to be… this is all happening for a reason. I convince myself that God is readying me for the new role that awaits in motherhood and to accept that work is secondary. I’ve definitely come to the conclusion that happiness and health should always be chosen over wealth… always! Lesson learnt, thanks…

A part of the already packed nursery

So the word is officially out. We personally share the news with our nearest and dearest, whilst everyone else finds out the old-fashioned way… Facebook. We’re inundated with well wishes and are spoilt with a bounty of infant paraphernalia. In the span of a few weeks we have accumulated a full nursery including a cot, change table, a pram, pregnancy books, along with baby toys, bottles, nappies and tiny clothes… and we haven’t even spent a cent yet. We might be able to make a profit here? Don’t be ridiculous… We are overawed by the love and generosity shown to us by family and friends.

My OCD is now in full swing as I continue to frantically ‘google’ every pregnancy symptom and possible conditions recorded. Hubby and I have also downloaded an app that updates us on the weekly growth and changes of our baby. We’re amazed at how quickly everything is formed. Pointing to the screen and then to my stomach, I’m amazed that that is growing in there. I am now an official pregnancy expert… I need a personalised shirt and sign… Didn’t you hear? pregnancy expert, right here!

I still have no clue about babies. I haven’t quite read that far yet… maybe I’m still in a bit of denial… As ‘they’ say, ignorance is bliss. I’m still terrified when someone tries to hand me a human baby… hey… just because I’m growing one doesn’t mean I want to hold yours. This is made worse by the fact that my day-to-day conversations have now been reduced to baby talk, and those in whom have never shown much interest in my wellbeing, are all of a sudden intrigued with how I’m feeling. Wow, I don’t think I asked, but please, tell me more about your fascinating birth story…. go on…. I’m so mean sometimes… in my head. So when’s this mystical maternal drive supposed to kick in?

All jokes aside, the initial fears of parenthood and being poor forever are diminishing and we’re excited for the new direction and possibilities that will come of this little life. Everything happens for a reason… right?

It’s time for the first antenatal appointment at the hospital. You know…the one where you have to go in by yourself and they interrogate you for a few hours about your lifestyle and living conditions. I remember feeling really nervous as the midwife and student-nurse quizzed me about my relationships and whether or not I’m a drug addict or a victim of abuse. It was reminiscent of the feeling you get while walking through customs at the airport… trying to not look guilty, even though you’ve done nothing wrong. Am I convincing them? No really… I’ve never done drugs and my husband’s fantastic… I have support… No, I don’t want to hurt myself... Just believe me, ok!  It’s so very sad that these questions are actually required… are standard… are reflective of real issues in real lives… and how easy it must be to lie about it.

My midwife was quite forward… a bit abrupt and confronting. I think she could sense my apprehension and complete lack of baby knowledge. Maybe she was just feeling high and mighty having a student watching her work her magic. Maybe it was just one of those days… either way, no hard feelings, Miss Nurse Lady… Before leaving I asked when I would be having my next scan. You know, that one everyone gets to share on Facebook for the big reveal. She scoffed at me. She responded with a sarcastic snarl; “scans are not so you can have a pretty picture of your baby”. I felt so stupid for asking and thought maybe she was a clairvoyant and could sense my ‘facebooking’ intentions. I murmur back “I just want to make sure it’s still there”. She didn’t even entertain the idea and mentioned something about wasting money and blah, blah, blah… With my history and age it seems to be an absurd inconvenience on the radiologist’s time and resources. Sorry for asking…I’m just a woman with a small brain…

I enquire with my beloved family doctor about this infamous scan everyone seems to have. He backed up the idea that it’s actually only for people considered ‘high-risk’ and is completely unnecessary for me. Ok… you’re the professionals. With my growing tummy and enduring sickness, we’ve given the all clear and go public with the news. Yes, we’re having a baby!

Beginning of the 2nd Trimester

I’ve always been health conscious. Not in a whimsical Crossfit-Paleo-Mega Cleanse kind of way. Just simply staying active and eating all foods in moderation. I consistently gymed or played some type of sport and regularly took my ‘vitamins’. I’d always imagined, before falling pregnant, that I’d be the ideal pregnant woman. My body is a temple that will be housing the future wellbeing of my unborn child. I will eat well and continue to exercise.  Oh… how I would scoff at those pregnant women eating McDonalds and guzzling Coca-Cola. Don’t you know your baby is eating that? You may as well be shoving a burger in your uterus! Would you give a newborn a bottle of coke? How disgusting! That child has no chance!

How ignorant! How naïve! How stupid I was! Since early pregnancy, I have been plagued with such illness! I heave so hard that I can feel the capillaries in my face bursting… my eyes bulging… my bladder waiving… every morning… most afternoons… sick, sick, sick…  all. the. time. I have now mastered the art of vomiting and carry a plastic bag everywhere… I’ve learned how to spew discreetly in bathroom sinks and garden beds. I’m juggling nausea, constant UTIs and only truly feel awake for 6 hours of the day.

Vegetables make me gag. Salad? You’ve got to be kidding, right? All I can eat is icy poles, Sausage McMuffins and Cheese and Bacon rolls… actually, to be completely honest… anything that comes in a package, otherwise known as ‘junk heathen food’, can be mostly tolerated. Apparently ‘exercise’ can help nausea… yeah? Who came up with that brilliantly misleading fact? A man? I have to cancel my gym membership and go to bed early every afternoon just to escape the sick.  This is not how I had imagined my glowing pregnant body to respond. I’ve become everything I thought I wouldn’t be.

So, sister… (clause: *if you’re not at high-risk*)… eat that cheeseburger, indulge in that cake… yes! Do it! And while you do it, please ignore that judgemental, unenlightened twat giving you that look… and hopefully karma will get them, as it did me…

First Trimester Bump

At an estimated 8 weeks we are referred to have a dating scan to see when the little bundle is set to arrive. There on the screen we see a blob with a fast paced flicker. “There’s your baby and that’s the heart beat…” Hubby’s face is priceless. I’ve never seen such bewilderment, amazement or pride in his eyes before. There it is. It’s real. It’s true. It’s happening. No longer is it just a knowing. We now have solid evidence that something is actually growing in my belly.

There’s our baby in black and white with an anticipated arrival of the 17^th September 2012. We sit silently… transfixed… gazing at that screen. Hello Little One… 

8 weeks flickering heart beat

“As you do not know the path of the wind, or how the body is formed in a mother’s womb, so you cannot understand the work of God, the Maker of all things.” -Ecclesiastes 11:5

Now there’s a rule of thumb when it comes to sharing baby news. Everything has to be hush-hush for the first 12 weeks, as it’s known that 1 in 4 pregnancies result in miscarriage during this time. So as a social norm, to-be parents live in fear for the first three delicate months following conception worrying that sharing their news too early could lead to the chance of this unfortunate, yet usually natural, occurrence befalling upon them. And let’s be honest… no one really wants to have ‘that’ conversation, do we…

Move over Cake Boss. The culinary Queen has entered the building.

We decide, due to the above, we will only share the news with our families. It’s now Australia Day and I decide to announce our surprise in the most palatable of ways; cupcakes. Mum’s reaction was a succession of emotions beginning with confusion, disbelief and then resounding joy. Dad was clearly pleased, however, behind the big smile I could sense a sadness in his eyes that his baby girl had all of a sudden grown into a mummy-woman. Despite every father’s desperate cling to the possibility… no… it was not an immaculate conception.

“Food always taste better when eaten with family”

A blood test at the doctors confirms that I am in fact pregnant. I immediately start google-ing ‘creative’ ways to announce the news to hubby. I come across some ridiculous ideas that make me shudder. Seriously? Ok… I’ll make him a dinner that is baby themed; lamb, baby carrots, baby back ribs, apple juice.  Yeah…I’m pregnant and like to eat babies…

You’re going to be a dad!

Luckily hormones have not completely ruined my better judgement and I opt to buy the teeniest baby onesie I could find and hand it to him. That worked. He went white and had to sit down. I cried. He chanted something along the lines of, “it’s good, it’s good, it’s good”. Wow… our reckless early twenties have officially come to an end with this news. That holiday we booked to Samoa… cancelled. Time to save some money. As a temporary employee, I’m assessing any possibilities in attaining a permanent job before my career is completely ruined by the news of an impending child… sad I know, but true.

In the meantime, I’ve been frantically researching what this pregnancy thing is all about. I’m dumbfounded by the amount of things I can no longer eat due to ‘increased risks’. Pate, blue cheese, cured meats, poached eggs, sashimi, sushi, (salad!!!) are all off the menu. We attend a wedding a day before my birthday that served beautiful French themed hors d’oeuvres, in which only a few I was actually ‘permitted’ to consume. If I even dare put something forbidden near my mouth, surely the grounds would open and consume me, whilst trumpets would declare my unruliness. Oh the sacrifices have already come knocking! The summer heat in pounding and I feel hot, bothered, ill and I can’t yet tell any of my friends, who are baffled as to why we don’t continue ‘partying’ after the reception. We head back to our hotel, which had been booked earlier as a birthday treat, and we collapse. I’m now 25 and I’m not ready for this…God how I’m so not ready!