I’ve drafted this post a million times over in my head but have been too fearful to commit it to type until now. But like the band aids I imagine I’ll become most familiar with over the coming years it’s time to rip this off and share the news.
We’re having a baby.
I’ve seen its arms and legs and tiny spine and really, really, small bladder so it must be real.
Oh dear lord WE’RE HAVING A BABY.
I’m not sure if anyone noticed or cared but I dropped off the face of the internet approximately 7 weeks ago. It was because of this little lemon. (Oh how quickly you become one of those people who measure their lives in weeks and baby in fruit.)
I found out I was pregnant rather unglamorously in a motel near the Silo Art Trail in country Vic. (Well that’s not the full story – you can find out more about how many tests it took me to believe something that is 99% accurate here!)
Although this baby was planned/hoped for I still went into total shock and a wee bit of denial when it was actually conceived. It took 3 pees on a stick and a blood test at the doctors before I started to believe it wasn’t just me going crazy. The confirmation from the doctor came at 5pm on a Friday, I flew to London at 10am the next morning. All I had time to do was pop into the chemist and buy a gazillion supplements and some nausea meds; my teeth chattering with shock as I wandered around the aisles like a ghoul at Halloween.
It turned out to be a sort of blessing to be busy for those first few weeks. Like most women, I felt hyper aware of the risk of miscarriage in the first trimester and my anxiety was soothed a little by the distraction of cruising around Europe with a great bunch of people.
(Shout out to XAmeliaX who sweetly photoshopped my gut out a shot after a gust of wind blew my skirt quite clearly against an expanding uterus!)
Mercifully, I only had a little nausea in the mornings while on the ship and I surprised myself by making it to most evening activities. (Yes, that’s right, I did a 12 day cruise booze-free – go me!)
When it came time to fly back to Melbourne, however, I was exactly 7 weeks pregnant and had to bid farewell to the old me. Clutching mum’s toilet bowl and turning my nose up at bacon is not how I usually like to prepare for the 27-hour journey – let’s just say that flight was an absolute treat I hope I never have to repeat.
(Thanks to the lady at Boots who handed out prescription bags in lieu of sick bags, just having 1 in every pocket helped ease tension a bit.)
When I recover from the trauma I’ll write some tips for flying with morning sickness, aside from, you know, DON’T DO IT.
Somehow, I made it home and that, dear friends, is where I remained for the next 7 weeks. I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve left the house in the last 2 months and each of those times involves gagging in shops, retching in streets and burping in front of glaring old ladies.
Whoever decided to call it ‘morning’ sickness is an absolute joker – my experience involved 24-hour nausea interspersed with puking, sleeping and staring at a wall as looking at a screen gave me motion sickness.
Working, eating, a holiday to Bali and being a normal human being were all cancelled as I began a cycle of sleep, puke, sleep, puke, repeat.
Emotionally I was a mess as you want so badly for the baby to be healthy while at the same time praying that this feeling will end. No one knows why you’re flaking as the baby is still your little secret and you want to be grateful to have conceived but are simultaneously asking yourself ‘what was I thinking?’ or worse ‘will it always be like this?’.
Happily, I have now reached week 14 and not only have we had the 12 week Nuchal Translucency scan and blood tests to confirm the baby is looking healthy but I’m also starting to go a couple of days without spewing in the sink or crying because Justin bought ‘the wrong bread’. (True story, not one I’m proud to repeat.)
I have utmost respect and empathy for women who go through Kate Middleton style hyperemesis gravidarum – even the name sounds gnarly. You, dear girls, are battlers of the highest degree.
The baby’s due date has an interesting story. I’m not a superstitious person but while travelling India earlier this year I sat down with a palm reader who popped up at our breakfast at the Taj Mahal. He told me I would have a baby by the end of the year and I remember doubting his maths as it was currently February and I was definitely not with child already. Fast forward a few months and a dating scan revealed our first little bubs is due on the 31st December 2018. It seems I may have taken his prophecy quite literally!
Although first and foremost a travel blogger I will be sharing some posts about the pregnancy as this site has always been about what’s going on with me personally and right now growing a kid is my biggest project. You can still expect all the usual travel advice and guides coming through as well as a pregnant/parent’s spin on subjects like flying. (Being one half of an Pommy/Aussie couple means there is no avoiding the long-haul for me!)
If you know of any blogs, books, podcasts etc that you think might help me swot up for this new challenge I’m all ears. Thanks as always for being here.