Being pregnant - the first trimester
As soon as the 12 month challenge to quit fast fashion ended, I found myself facing a new kind of challenge. Here is my story of the first three months of being pregnant.
Weeks 1-3 "Total ignorance"
I really had no idea. I had just come back from Glastonbury music festival and life seemed especially chaotic. Not enough sleep, jet lag and midsummer nights offering only a few hours of darkness didn't help. It was a time of trying to find my way back to who I was having gotten lost along the way. By some miracle, in all that chaos, a little life was created. That little life spent the first few weeks waiting for me to find my way back to home.
Weeks 3-6 "Oh my God"
Pregnancy had an almost immediate impact on my body. Within a week or two, I noticed some changes which were attributed to everything and anything except being pregnant. I even called my Mum one day to tell her my boobs had grown and were weirdly itchy and she told me to watch out because that was how she realised she was pregnant for the first time with me! I assured her, confidently, that there was no way I could be pregnant. That conversation didn't even plant a seed but something must have as I was walking along Piccadilly in London one sunny evening after work. I was on the phone to one of my best friends telling her to wish her son, my Godson, a happy birthday. I was on my way to meet my boyfriend and a couple of ex-colleagues at a restaurant and didn't have much time but as we were exchanging news I had the urge to tell her I was pregnant - which was quite ridiculous. This was a friend who knows pretty much everything about me and the urge to tell her was so strong that I only held back because a rational part of my brain kicked in and I told myself that I had no reason to think I was.
That same evening, going down an escalator at Piccadilly on the London underground heading home, I told my boyfriend that I thought I was pregnant in a breezy manner that probably didn't sound convincing and he probably didn't take it very seriously. Somehow, I kind of just knew I was but had nothing to back my instinct up with. My periods had always been irregular so I hadn't noticed I was late. When we got home to a flat we were sharing with his brother, I rummaged around until I found a couple of old pregnancy tests and immediately went to the loo and peed on one. I left it to do its developing thing while I brushed my teeth and then we inspected it together. There was one very bold red line and one faint red line. Checking the instructions, we knew that 2 red lines meant pregnant and 1 meant not pregnant. I didn't know what to make of it other than that I knew they were old and thought I may have peed on the wrong bit and released some ink into the second line. We waited until the morning to try again with the second test. Same, inconclusive result so off we went to Boots to buy an expensive digital test that spelled it out for you, including how far along. Back to the loo, more peeing on sticks and this time it was right there "you are 3 weeks pregnant".
At that point, it felt like an affirmation I wasn't going mad. That my previous declaration had been founded on something real. We weren't overly shocked or scared but I think it kick started a wheel of emotions and change that took a while to process. That day, a Saturday, I already had a doctors appointment booked and we were due to view some houses to possibly buy in South London. I asked the Doctor if he could confirm I was pregnant but he just told me to go out and buy more sticks if I was still unsure but it sounded by all accounts that I was indeed expecting and to start taking some folic acid tablets.
Weeks 6-12 "Life changes"
Viewing houses in Brixton and Peckham made us realise that neither of us could imagine raising a child there. It felt too hectic and both of us were secretly waiting for the day we would have a reason to move to the countryside. This seemed like the right time to start looking so we started booking viewings in East Sussex. This was a breath of fresh air, quite literally! I would walk around the houses, almost all of which seemed perfect already, and know I would be the luckiest girl in the world to be able to raise a family there.
The hardest thing during this time was dealing with morning sickness and not being able to tell anyone why I felt so tired and sick. It coincided with August and a load of social and work commitments which I just about managed to struggle through without raising too much suspicion. Some super observant friends did notice the changes and called me out on it. It felt like such a relief to be able to talk about what was happening but I was tinged with the guilt of knowing I shouldn't have told anyone until the magic week 12 arrived. When week 12 arrived, it really was magical. The sickness lifted almost on the day and I felt another kind of weight lift as I began to tell my friends and family. It was nerve-wracking too because, although I had come round to it all and was even getting excited, for most, it was still very unexpected.