I’m 5 weeks today. A little box popped up on my phone to tell me. Apparently, it’s the size of a poppyseed, which is a bit bloody small if you ask me. Since I found out, and had all manner of weird poky pains in my tummy for a couple of days, everything has been resoundingly normal. I’m probably a bit more tired than usual, and probably a bit more grumpy, but both of those might have more to do with the fact that I moved house this weekend and have been tripping over boxes and random Ikea screws ever since, than the fact that I’m pregnant.
We told both sets of parents, but it’s still definitely not sunk in. I still feel like I’m pretending, or for most of the time, I don’t feel pregnant at all and completely forget. I’ve been reading baby books, sleeping lots, getting up to wee at 4am without fail and generally trying to get on with life as best as possible. I’ve been reading baby books and hanging around on /r/babybumps and generally trying to soak up information that might be useful further down the line.
Before the pink lines showed up on the wee stick, I planned a girly weekend in London with some of my closest friends. There was going to be a lot of food, cake, and importantly, booze on the cards. I think the exact plan was a blues club for a rare steak and stilton, lots of cocktails and dancing til the early hours. Once I found out I was pregnant, I didn’t know whether to pull a sickie, tell them and duck out of the weekend as to not rain on their boozy parade, or tell them and stick to soft drinks. In the end, I wasn’t ready to tell anyone but our nearest and dearest (and to be honest, I could have kept that a secret for a couple more weeks), so I’m going to do the dishonest thing and pull a last minute sicky on Friday afternoon.
From my research, it seems morning sickness rears its ugly head from about 6 weeks, so this may be the last update I write without my head in a bucket.