Lucy the bump

I've had a baby! I could not be happier, she is a perfect bundle of soft, gorgeous loveliness. However this post is about my pregnancy, I'll get on to birth and the immediate aftermath in another post along with one about actually being a real Mummy another day.

One day, sat in a staff briefing about a department restructure I got a migraine with an aura. Migraines were a regular occurrence (I've not had one since though and long may that continue) but not with an aura. In the moment that I popped my ever faithful pink migraleve tablets I wondered if it was due to me, maybe, being pregnant. I didn't do a test for another week or so, but I was indeed pregnant, it was the best reason for having a migraine I've ever had, although I can think of no other good reason to have one to be honest.

I was both elated and terrified in the same moment, I've known forever that I wanted children but who isn't at least a little terrified of bringing a new life into this less than perfect world? Another small problem was that I was hoping for a promotion at work and I didn't want to give them any reason to put a black mark against my name. I know, you can't discriminate, blah blah blah, but (sorry PC brigade) if I had two almost identical candidates but one was pregnant......well, I know who I'd choose.

The other issue that I struggled with was telling my stepchildren, it wasn't that I didn't want them to know, but I didn't want my other half's ex to know. It was nice to have something that just belonged to us two for a short time. Also, this was my first pregnancy, but wasn't for my other half, it made me sad that we weren't sharing it as a "first" for us both.

We told very close family and friends, but otherwise kept it quiet. I was lucky that I stayed small, for a long time you couldn't tell, unless you knew. The recruitment process at work was painfully slow but I desperately wanted the promotion, not for the money, I truly loved the job and I just couldn't let anything stop me getting it. When I was finally offered the job I let out the breath I'd been holding for 24 weeks and told my boss. He was over the moon for me, as was his boss, and it wasn't an issue in the slightest. Yes, they are pretty awesome and I probably shouldn't have worried, but I did.

We told the stepkids on Christmas Day, I thought it may soften any shock for them if they had shiny new things to be distracted by when we told them. They were all fine about it, with the youngest only being worried about not knowing how to be a big brother. On Mothers Day, whilst I was up a ladder painting the nursery, I had a text from my stepdaughter "Happy first real Mothers Day" which was totally unexpected and made my day.

My pregnancy went smoothly, at each check up and scan we were told everything was normal. I enjoyed my growing bump, although found being slowed down slightly annoying, but feeling wiggles and kicks more than made up for that and the 100's of times I needed the loo! The bump was known as Lucy, when my youngest brother was born I remember my Dad calling from the hospital and me asking him if we could call him Lucy, so what else could I have called my bump! If you follow me on any form of social media you would have seen weekly updates of my growing belly too, sorry for all the spam, which has now of course turned into baby spam!

I adored preparing the nursery and buying all the things we needed, I'd waited my entire life to be able to do it. I really struggled at points to share it all with my stepchildren and I honestly tried my best to do so, but when the youngest "tried out the cot to see how comfy it was" I cried myself to sleep. It probably sounds stupid to most of you, but to me it felt like I couldn't have anything that was just our child's, that it would always have to be shared.

Even my other half's ex was fine, at one point she even practically asked to touch my bump. The answer was no, sorry that's just a bit too weird for me. We get on fine, but we're not mates and I even had an issue with most of my mates wanting to touch, never mind my other half's ex wife! I sometimes had to stop myself from moving away when my stepchildren wanted to touch, not because I wanted exclude them, but because they were an ever present reminder that this wasn't a "first" with my partner and that always left me a little sad and still does.

I was loving my new job and decided to work right up to the last minute, well 10 days before my due date. My work colleagues looked after me brilliantly, forever stopping me from doing too much and making me cups of tea! But I think they all breathed a sigh of relief when I finally finished without giving birth in the office, I'll be back before they've had chance to miss me though.

#OneBorn

Tuesday night means One Born Every Minute is on the TV, I've watched it since it started, a kind of morbid fascination I guess. I've always wanted children ever since I can remember so I guess I wanted to be armed with as much knowledge as possible about the realities of child birth from more sources than just friends and family horror stories.

So it's on the TV in our house whenever it's on.

I've always cried too, not every episode, not every time, but since becoming a stepmother the crying at #OneBorn has become more regular. It's the joy on the parents faces that does it, not the cute little baby. More often than not they do not look cute, they are covered in blood and gloop and slime and poop, certainly not cute. Just that sheer joy that I have not yet experienced myself but have always longed for, at the right time, with the right man, when we have a house, when we have enough money, when we're ready.....always an excuse.

To be honest I was glad of the excuses a couple of years ago, the excuse then was I wanted to wait until after I was married, not because of any religious reason or it being the "right thing to do", but because I didn't want to be fat in my wedding dress! The wedding went ahead, all was fine, but not for long............long story and maybe for another blog, but 1 day before our 1st wedding anniversary my now ex-husband moved out.

I was glad there was no baby.

Anyway, last night was certainly a crying night at #OneBorn. The show had made me feel teary anyway, stupid woman hormones, but then my other half made a comment about one of the women on the show, how she should be on her hands and knees, it's easier that way, that's what the midwives said when his daughter was born. It was a nothing throw away comment, that wasn't meant against the woman on the show and certainly not me. However it reminded me that he has kids, with someone that isn't me.

My brain went into overdrive (those pesky woman hormones again) and had me thinking about the joy he and his ex wife must have shared at the birth of their 3 children, although I know full well he's 1,000,000% committed and in love with me now, not her. It also made me sad that I haven't shared that joy, that feeling, with him, that I can't give him his first child or his first daughter nor his first son. That maybe if we do have a child it somehow won't be as special for him as it would be for me.

I know (the morning after) it's all in my head and that it would be as special for him, that we would have that feeling and that moment together, but last night, for just for a moment, I wished that his ex wife and kids just didn't exist. That it was just me and him and we could enjoy that journey for the first time together, that I wouldn't have to share it with anyone else.

And I cried silent tears.

Z x