It’s not how I thought it would be
I'm not sure exactly what I'd expected pregnancy to be like – because it had taken us so long to get here, I hadn't wanted to tempt fate by daring to imagine it. But I’d read stories from women who gushed about how much they loved and embraced the whole journey, how they felt pregnancy gave them purpose and direction. I, on the other hand, wasn't loving 'the journey' and, frankly, found these women to be infuriatingly smug – that or somewhat economical with the truth.
I think it was the boobs first. My perfectly satisfactory not-too-big, not-too-small pair have grown into big, hard, painful things with little white deposits on the nipples that struggle to stay put in my usual bras.
Then it was the spots. I've always needed a liberal dose of powder to blot the shine, but now I’m suffering the kind of breakouts I thought I'd left safely behind in my teens.
Oh, and then there’s the tummy. I've always been quite proud of my flat tummy – I'd even had a hint of a four-pack a couple of months ago. Now I look like I’m smuggling a 24-pack down there, especially by the end of the day when I’m so bloated and uncomfortable it feels like my only hope of relief would be to pop it with a pin.