It’s round about now that I’m starting to realise how little time of my current life I have left. But just like how you can’t tell teenagers that school is actually the best years of their lives, I didn’t really listen or believe people when they said how pregnancy should be enjoyed because life will never be the same again. How can anyone enjoy waking up 4 times a night, rolling to the bathroom, and bringing up the evening’s pasta and tomato sauce. How could I enjoy the feeling of toast and Marmite making its way back up my throat as I’m on he phone to a client, having to abruptly end the conversation and rush to the toilets, and then quietly seat myself back at my desk like nothing is wrong. And how could I enjoy the realisation that the large amount of disposable income I currently have to spend on NARS tinted moisturiser, M&S salads at lunch time and another pair or black heeled ankle boots, will shortly be transferred into a ‘baby funds’ account to fund nappies, Sudocrem, baby-grows and muslin squares – whatever they are!
At 37 weeks pregnant, I have 3 weekends left to myself. That’s providing I don’t have an early arrival. I spent so much of my pregnancy in denial, that I forgot to enjoy every second of the journey. Its been a fairly smooth ride; I’ve been midwife led with no complications, and despite the initial sickness and watching my colleagues crack in to an ice cold cider at 5pm every Friday whilst I watch with my refreshing water, I have been really lucky.
As the first of my university circle to have a baby (the odds were always on me), I spent the first few months feeling too young and unprepared for a baby, and coming from a fairly ambitious group of friends, coupled with my innate competitiveness, I saw the career I had worked hard to build slip away from me.Daydreams of my other half celebrating his latest promotion to CFO, and my best friends discussing their next career moves at multinational companies haunted me. I would be left relying on Dave’s income, celebrating because the baby had stopped crying for 15 minutes, and discussing whether the cot looks best at the back of the nursery, or down the side. Mentally I was as far from ready as I could be. But as my friends and colleagues showered me with excitement, I slowly came round to the idea of being ‘mummy’. And now here I am with anywhere from ‘now’ to a few weeks left, I’m hugely excited to have a little person of my own.