Dear sprog,
Uh, just curious, but are you minding my brain in there? Because I’ve checked a few times this week where it normally lives, and it would appear there’s nobody at … at … at the … the thingy. SEE?
I thought that this working while pregnant thing would be a breeze. You know, nurture growing fetus, eat a great deal, continue career, pop one out, be back at work two months later after a bit of a holiday. I suspect it’s not going to work out quite that way.
Ferinstance, there have been a few times this last week when I have found myself rushing to and fro at work and then stopping in the middle of a hallway and wondering what I was actually doing there. I’ve taken to muttering write it down, write it down, in a rather dark and sinister tone and then completely forgetting what it was that I was meant to be writing down to remember.
This week has snowballed into a week of Telling People. After only just finding out ourselves last week that you were making your presence felt, Monday at work for me was very tough. I felt very ill, and sad, and happy, and was prone to snapping at my lovely colleagues then holding back tears at the thought of you and bunnies dancing around in a field somewhere (I don’t know either). So by Tuesday I’d told my boss, who’d sussed that something was up anyway, and he was the first of many to be delighted that you were on your way.
All of your grandparents are either reeling in shock from the news or thoroughly chuffed or both. Your Aussie Nana, who’ll be here in September, shrieked something incomprehensible, then proceeded to tell me how delighted she was. This, it seems, is the thing with grandparents. And you have five-and-a-half, so I very much doubt you’ll be lacking for much.
I have continued eating a lot of food in my quest to build you a spine and some nice healthy internal organs. I have also continued eating because when I eat I don’t feel quite so nauseous, but from what I’ve read, this might change. It is apparently possible to feel like being sick and be hungry at the same time. I am not looking forward to this day. I have also continued eating because I like food, and one thing I am liking very much about pregnancy is that it is basically a license to eat what your body tells you to, which at this current milisecond includes chicken with cashew nuts, apple juice and steak pasties. This will probably change. Last week I inhaled a whopper with extra cheese in about five seconds and it was the best burger I’ve ever tasted, and then I had to wee. The next day the smell of burgers made me want to puke.
Ah, the joys of weeing in a city where you don’t know the locations of all the public loos. My advice? Stick to shopping centres. There’s always at least one in there. Also, wee just before leaving point A, then immediately again upon arrival at point B. Do not worry about farting in public (like I ever did!). When you get as backed up as I am, you take anything you can get.
Your father and I have been talking about what to call you other than ‘It’ or ‘Sproglet’. Nothing has been nailed down just yet.
Last night you and I went to our first rock concert together (shall I get us registered for Glastonbury next year, do you think?) – White Stripes at Leeds Harewood House. Rain poured down all day but held off for the Stripeys, who were magnificent. I didn’t even really mind being sober. I saw quite a few cool mums and dads with their kids there. I hope one day us three will go to see music together, too.
