I can't believe I'm now in my second trimester, and a third of the way through my pregnancy.
It's been so exciting to share the news with you all, and I can't tell you how happy Mr MM and I am to be on this journey to having our baby!
However I'd be omitting a huge truth if I didn't admit that it's been a real struggle to get to this point. As always, I aim to be completely honest with what I write on The Secret Life of Maggie May, and I have found the first couple of months of being pregnant incredibly difficult. When we decided to have a baby, I put a lot of thought into my fertility, planning for a baby, and also the birth and labour. I was totally blindsided by how difficult the actual pregnancy bit would be! When I read that back, I know it sounds naive - but I didn't think that the first few months would be that bad. There have been so many weird and wonderful symptoms I have experienced - which maybe I'll share in a different post for those interested in reading more about pregnancy! - and I've found the whole process not only physically exhausting, but mentally too.
We found out I was pregnant on Christmas Eve, which was really lovely timing {and helpful for me to know that I should avoid the wine and soft cheese - sob}. Both Mr MM and I are very close to our parents, so we let them know the good news straight away, whilst all agreeing that it was extremely early days and that anything could happen.
I'd known before we took the test that I was pregnant for several reasons - I started going off coffee which was the biggest clue! Our usual morning routine is Mr MM brewing fresh coffee beans, and maybe even treating us to a flat white at the weekends, but my love for this just... went. I also started getting some slightly unusual food cravings and mild nausea, I felt quite tired, and {apologies for the TMI} my boobs started to feel very sore. I'd told myself that these could all be pre-menstrual symptoms, but I had quite a strong feeling that we were going to be lucky - and we were!
Christmas passed by in the haze it normally does - with me only slightly begrudging my family clinking prosecco over the turkey - but then in those few days between Boxing Day and New Year, my husband and I began to feel quite poorly. Initially we didn't think much of the cold and viral symptoms, until in early January we both ended up taking to our beds with flu for nearly a fortnight. We felt so sorry for ourselves, and it was at this point that my morning sickness really started to kick in, at around 6 weeks. It was an awful combination, and I couldn't tell if my exhaustion was from the bug or from the baby!
Mr MM eventually got better and went back to work, and gradually I started to follow suit. But having had a day or two of feeling a bit brighter, I began to feel worse again, and my morning sickness really ramped up a notch {or three}. I suddenly couldn't face eating anything at all - even a piece of toast would make me retch, and there was nothing I craved or wanted. It then progressed to me not being able to drink; at this point I wasn't actually being sick because there was nothing in my stomach to bring up, so very painfully I was simply heaving and retching which gave me such sore stomach muscles. My lips became dry and cracked, my skin went a lovely sallow, grey colour, and I started losing weight. And yet, because I wasn't vomiting profusely, I convinced myself that this was simple morning sickness. Reader, it wasn't!
When it all started to become too much to bear, I went to see my GP who was a lifesaver. She took one look at me, evaluated just how bad my dehydration was, and prescribed me anti-sickness tablets there and then. I promised to try small sips of fluid throughout the day to avoid worsening dehydration and hospital admission, took one of the pills as soon as I got home, and having had a chat with my husband, agreed that I should head home for some R&R, being looked after by Mama Maggie May.
I went home for just over a week, and spent most of the time resting, napping, and eating the tiny, plain meals that Mama Maggie May wheedled me to eat. Think savoury rice, breaded chicken fillets, baked potato, toast - all very beige! Gradually, the tablets helped do their bit and I slowly began to recover.
I came back to mine and Mr MM's home when I was around 9 weeks pregnant, and told myself that I was fixed. Of course this wasn't true! But I was a million miles better than I had been. I got myself into a routine - one that admittedly included being sick every morning when I woke up - and bit by bit I've started to feel more human.
It's not all been doom and gloom - seeing my little bump form has been really exciting, and the moment we saw our baby for the first time was absolutely magical. We decided to have an early scan at around 7 weeks for reassurance, and seeing the little heartbeat pounding away was incredible. Going back at 11 weeks for our dating scan, we couldn't believe how much it had grown in a short amount of time, and how much its little hands and feet were wriggling about! Then being able to share the photo of our little one with family and friends was so lovely, and ultimately sharing it with you, my readers, has also been wonderful. As I said at the start, we are both so excited and happy, and although this has been the toughest few months I think I might have ever endured, I couldn't be more over the moon. I know it will all be completely and utterly worth it.
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If you liked this post, you might enjoy Self-Care.
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