Weeks 9 – 13

Here’s a round up of all the stuff that’s been going down, and only 1 month late! *fistpump*

Same as last time:

1. I booked in with the midwife.
Only difference was that the midwife didn’t want to book me in until 10.5 weeks rather than 8 weeks like last time. Other than that, this was incredibly uninteresting, except the part where she stole all my blood, confirmed I weigh exactly the same as I did at this point last time and told me I would get extra scans and be referred for a gestational diabetes test because Billy was such a fat shit.

Aldi's light up bath toys. Good fun but a bugger to photograph on your phone.

Aldi’s light up bath toys. Good fun but a bugger to photograph on your phone.

Gestational diabetes tests appear to be pregnant lady torture. No food from 6pm the night before, then a blood test at 9am, a pint of lucozade, then another blood test at 11am and then you finally get some grub, which you have to bring with you on the day. Cruel cruel world. The 6pm bit is fine, but the no breakfast bit is going to turn me in to an angry angry bear. I have apologised to Neil in advance for my behaviour on that day because I am going to be a freaking nightmare.

2. All the sleep and no booze makes Kate a thin girl
OK, so not strictly true. Bloat and re-organised organs has meant I’ve been in my maternity jeans since I was approximately 1 week pregnant. But in a bid to keep an eye on my health and nutrition, the scales tell me I’m currently 3 lbs down in the first trimester. That’s 3lbs lighter than I was on my wedding day. Looking back through what I wrote first time round, it’s a similar story to then. Don’t worry though, I’ll make up for it AND SOME in a few months.

Shortly after I took this photo, he threw the food at the ducks with such gusto that he did a 180 off the bench and landed in the duck poo.

Shortly after I took this photo, he threw the food at the ducks with such gusto that he did a 180 off the bench and landed in the duck poo.

3. Neil is still my night in shining armour
Don’t mean to turn into a right soppy sod or owt, but I am a very lucky woman. Wanting to make sure I was getting all my nutrients, Neil bought a badass blender type thing (but not one of those superwhizzy vitamix ones I see mummybloggers talking about – I thought they looked pretty good until I realised they cost twice as much as my first car did) and has proceeded to make me a smoothie every morning since. I get my smoothie, a cup of tea and a slice of toast in bed, as well as a lie in, despite the fact he works some ridiculous hours and doesn’t go to bed at 7pm like *some* of us.

Have I posted this one before? If so, soz and all that. Toddlers wearing sunglasses are my new favourite thing. Less so when he snaps my favourite pair in half, but y'know.

Have I posted this one before? If so, soz and all that. Toddlers wearing sunglasses are my new favourite thing. Less so when he snaps my favourite pair in half, but y’know.

In a campaign to be the world’s best husband, for my birthday, he also bought me:
– a Snoogle pregnancy pillow type thing (think this was a bid to avoid losing his half of the bed to a pregnancy bed nest like last time), but goddamn, that thing is comfy.
– 100 polaroid / instagram prints from the past couple of years which are now pride of place on our lounge wall

The new addition to our lounge

The new addition to our lounge

– a stunning stone and armour necklace. Yep, I know, he’s a keeper.

Different this time round:

1. Meat doesn’t taste like death
Last time round, I went virtually vegetarian. To the point that I emailed the sandwhich shop I bought my lunch from every day to tell them their ham was off. It wasn’t. My stupid preggo tastebuds were. All meat tasted like it was rotten, and made me heave at the smell. This meant getting enough protein was difficult, but clearly didn’t do Billy a world of harm as he’s currently a contender for world’s strongest toddler.

Last time, I celebrated the end of my enforced vegetarianism by eating steak and broccoli 3 times a week for the first 4 months of Billy’s life (anemic, whatevs). THIS time, meat still tastes pretty darn good, which makes not being able to eat rare steak a complete pisser.

This kid has strong pout game

This kid has strong pout game

2. I only need to wee once a night
Good news! Unlike last time, I only get up for a wee once a night! Bad news! I wake up when Neil comes to bed, when the cat jumps on my head and when Billy decides 5am is morning anyway, so I might as well be up weeing.

3. My luscious non-greasy pregnancy hair is nowhere to be seen
Not going to lie. This was a major perk last time. I only had to wash my hair once every 4 days, from washing it every day. It was thick and generally looked ACE. It almost made up for the bit where it all fell out 3 months post-partum and I ended up with bald spots, then it all grew back at the same time and I ended up with wispy facial pubes I had no idea what to do with. Having kids is 100% glamour, 100% of the time.

I’m sure I’ll have to go through all the hair loss this time round as well, so can we hurry up with the bit where my hair looks excellent to compensate plz? Ta.

Not bragging or owt but got a sneaking suspicion our son is an artistic genius.

Not bragging or owt but got a sneaking suspicion our son is an artistic genius.

4. I have SPOTS on my BACK
Yep, this particular symptom is not cool either. I have zits. Big old zits I’ve not had since I was 15. I ORDERED 9 months of flawless complexion, so where is it?

Next time: Scans! More moaning! Swears!


Weeks 4-8

At approximately (exactly) 4 weeks and 4 days pregnant, all those nauseous, gassy feelings I’d forgotten all about came rushing back and I took to quietly retching into a sick bowl without waking Billy at night or muffling my heaves with coughs during the day to avoid alerting my colleagues to my new-found up-duffness.

Toddler walking Jack Russel

I haven’t taken any photos of me yet, so you’ll have to put up with pictures of first born doing adorable things. Like walking the dog with my brother.


Here are some of the best bits I’d forgotten about in weeks 4 – 8:

1. Holy mother of bloat
I adopted high waisted jeans post Billy and I’ve never looked back. It’s been a relevation! They stay up of their own accord and slim down all your lumps and bumps. I ❤ high waisted jeans.

…Until I was approximately 4 weeks 4 days and 6 hours pregnant when the bloat hit. Seriously, what’s that about? Now my high waisted jeans make me look like a michellin man and my jeans drawer has been replaced with old-worn in maternity jeans. Zero fucks given. I’m getting my money’s worth this time.

Things I've done when I've not been asleep: carrying a 3 tonne toddler across a cold and windy beach

Things I’ve done when I’ve not been asleep: carrying a 3 tonne toddler across a cold and windy beach

2. Bottomless-pit hunger
Between having Billy and now, I’d made some decisions about things I’d do differently this time around. I would meditate, I wouldn’t drink diet coke, I would do more pilates and I DEFINITELY wouldn’t gain *whispers* 45lb in the process. I was to be bona fide, carrot stick eating earth mother who was always refreshed, didn’t have back ache and wouldn’t dream of eating half a packet of hobnobs in one sitting.

So. About that.

I am so goddamn hungry. I wake up hungry. I go to sleep hungry. Two hours after an evening meal, I will be hungry. This is some next level hunger that just can’t be satisfied. And, not hungry in a ‘ooh I fancy one of those’ kind of way. This is like, “if I don’t eat in the next 3 minutes, I’m going to collapse on the floor”. So I’ve stocked up on the bananas and apples, I’ve boiled up some eggs and bought some remotely healthy nuts, seeds, dried apricots and cereal bars and filled my handbag with snacks.I have managed to quit the diet coke habit, and I think I’ve gone off chocolate. Hopefully it’s just a phase.

Tennis ball-sized snowballs

Tennis ball-sized snowballs

3. Pilates
I found a couple of early pregnancy pilates videos on Youtube in a bid to avoid the crippling coccyx pain I had last time round and to have a pelvic floor of steel by the time the whole giving birth thing came around. I’ve done these a grand total of twice in a month, largely due to the fact that the second Billy goes to bed, I’m ready to hit the sack too.

4. Meditation
I did some Mindful Mamas meditation last time round, and quite liked it, despite the fact that no-matter what time of day I did it, I often woke myself up snoring at the end. This time round, I downloaded Maggie Howell’s “Overcoming Morning Sickness” MP3 and listened to it a few times. I like the sound of her voice and the music isn’t too annoying, so I think I’ll give the others a listen too.

First time sledging: big fan

First time sledging: big fan

5. So tired. So very tired.
I pretty smugly thought I could DO tired. Working full time from 8 months and having a child that only slept through consistently from 1 year (unless he was ill, teething, we were getting rid of the dummy, it was a full moon etc) had prepared me for that, so I thought. But pregnancy tired is a different kind of tired, and rightly so, I suppose, because you are growing a human inside you. So, to ease the baby-growing load, weekends are now designated ‘sleep when the baby sleeps’ zones, despite the fact that this baby weighs 3 stone and has a better vocabularly than me.

Also, people that tell you pregnancy goes faster second time around are dirty dirty liars. Longest 4 weeks of my entire life.


Somewhere between March 2013 February 2013 (being overdue sucks bad) and now, we decided it might be a good idea to think about Project “Get Billy a Little Brother/Sister”, because we’ve absolutely put our rose-tinted glasses on and decided the whole being pregnant/having a newborn/not sleeping for 18 months thing was really a piece of cake, wasn’t it?

Aaaaannd, pretty much as soon as I weed on a stick and saw those two pink lines, I suddenly remembered what being pregnant was like and realised this might not be such a good idea after all. You see, this time round, I know exactly what the pregnancy gods have in store for me, and I plan to complain about it, a lot.

Although, unlike first time round, I don’t have a job that you can leave at 5 on the dot, and I don’t have the benefit of being able to sneak in a nap between getting home and having my dinner because there’s a hysterical little boy who demands stuff like “Being fed” and “Reading stories” and for me to wear a footstool on my head like a pirate hat. It’s really tough.

That and the first trimester mega-sleeps go a little way to explaining why it’s taken almost 16 weeks for me to get my arse into gear to write this post. After ignoring the blog for almost 2 years, I’ve really enjoyed reading back over what I was worrying my ever-decreasing mind over as the baby-brain set in week by week, so for no reason other than nostalgia, I’ve decided to give it another shot.

Here goes…