Here I am, fat_mum. I call myself this as this is what I potentially now could be, given we decided while we were a bit drunk the other night that it really was time to get cracking, and make a baby. Properly, too.
So we’re a week in, and already I’ve a dull ache in my stomach. I’ve stopped drinking, I’ve bought Folic Acid (and started taking it), eaten tons of spinach (good for Folic Acid) and loads of fruit and vegetables, this whole new me looking after myself, while my body slowly bloats. I’m sure my boobs have grown.
Of course, all this behaviour could just be my mind working overtime. This dull ache in my stomach, maybe an early period? Maybe we’ll be at it like rabbits for months before something happens? It’s okay, anyway, as we bought a Pregnancy Testing kit last night.
I’ve found I can’t actually say the word “pregnant” very often – it makes me giggle. So instead I talk to my husband in the third person, calling him “Daddy” from time to time. Then he buries his head in a kind of “eeeek we might have done it” sort of way.
It’s not like we don’t want a baby – we both want children more than anything in the world – we’re just both terrible for spoilers, or finding out information way up front. Well, I am, anyway. Right now I’ve another two weeks before I’m due my period, and I just don’t know whether I am pregnant or not. I mean, I could be, or these feelings could all be psychological, couldn’t they?
Then my other issue. We’ve timed this badly, or well, depending on how you look at it. Supposing I am, well, then the baby could be born in September. That’s good for school – means the kid isn’t the small child in class, means she’s one of the first kids to have a birthday in the new school year! The downside of this is that I’ll be fat_mum all through the summer – though knowing the British summer, it’ll probably rain.
I do feel different this week though. I feel like I’m blooming. After less than a week you shouldn’t bloom, should you? Or do you? If you can, and I am, is it obvious? I look at people looking at me and think they know I am, before I know I am. This is the other thing, the secrecy. I mean, secrecy this far I’ve started a new Journal to write about it. Secrecy in that on Sunday morning I wanted to phone my mum and tell her we’re starting to go about trying for a baby. The sort of information nobody really wants to know, but you want to shout from the rooftops. It’s all a bit weird.
Oh, and finally, I was eating some lovely pasta today, and mid-way through, thought I was going to be sick. Obviously, if I am, morning sickness is way too soon, isn’t it? I wasn’t sick, but the first thing that sprung to mind was just that. Typical. My brain really is playing tricks on me…