Nothing says you're 'up the duff' (really not the loveliest expression, is it) quite like maternity jeans.
I mean those hideous jeans with an elastic waistband that fly the comfort pride flag rather than the fashionista one.
I'm hardly Rachel Zoe (and thank God for that) but I never quite imagined myself wearing elastic waistband jeans. In fact, the heavens had a little snigger at me about this very issue just last week... I headed over to a girlfriend's place on Friday night, 15 weeks pregnant. When I arrived, I pulled up my shirt (relax folks, it wasn't that kind of party - not enough champagne) and proudly showed her that I was still fitting into my regular jeans! She oohed and ahhed and kindly served me pasta and cake, and then we settled down to watch The Kennedys mini-series.
Except, after all that pasta and cake I just couldn't concentrate, despite JFK and Bobby and all their rrraow-ness. I kept wriggling and writhing on my friend's couch, even though I was lying flat on my back.
My friend asked me, "Are you OK?"
I replied, "I can't breathe. I need maternity jeans."
No less than a few hours after I was showing off about not needing them. Cue friends' laughter.
So, the next day, I hurtled to the store and picked up two pairs. And, can I tell you a secret folks? I am never taking them off. B can't even get me drunk enough to get these babies off, because I can't get drunk right now. BOOYAH.
Who invented these genius devices, and where can I subscribe to their entire being? I may not be cool, but my lord I'm comfortable. **Runs to the store to buy a comfort pride flag and hang it in the window like a Brazilian**.
A loooooong time ago I wrote an 'About Me' page, in which I shamelessly gushed about a few random things: my love for Hong Kong, a freak gift for latin dancing, my boyfriend's basketball obsession - and wanting to be a mother.
I've always wanted to be a mother, as most women do. Someone's obviously been feeding nature's maternal instinct its spinach, as it seems to kicking along, alive and well. Pat on the back, mother nature - here's to a job well done.
I still want to be a mother. I've always known I'd check in as a permanent resident of Heartbreak Hotel if I was one day told I'd never become one. I couldn't bear to think of it.
And now, I've been told I'm going to become one. Provided all goes well, of course. And I really do know how lucky and blessed that makes me.
But, here's the thing... Call me a dreamer, but I always thought that when that moment came, I'd tumble into a huge vat of happiness... Giddily rolling around in it like bubbles dancing in lemonade. But, the reality is, when I found out, my reaction was... different. I panicked. Worried. Freaked out. Wondered. Even cried.
This wasn't a planned pregnancy, this was a surprise. Some say that's the best kind. I kinda think they're all amazing. But, because a MAJOR life decision was made for me (can you say understatement?), the control freak in me froze. I wondered if I was really ready for this, if I could cope with a long pregnancy, if I have the skills to be a mother, if I am capable of putting my needs on hold for, I dunno... the next few decades. And all I saw when I walked the streets were babies crying and toddlers throwing tantrums.
It didn't help that I didn't have a great first trimester. Thank heavens I wasn't vomity, but I did suffer from enormous fatigue and a constant feeling of extreme flu. It's hard to be emotionally strong when your body just isn't there for you. I've always loved to work, socialise, be strong. Physically, I just didn't feel like myself. Because I'm kinda not, right now. There's two of us trying to make it through in here - a shared space.
So, I found myself worrying about what this all meant, rather than spinning cartwheels down the street with sudden joy. And that's fairly frightening to admit, because I'd hate to think my child-to-be would ever think he/she was unwanted. I never didn't want it. In fact, I recall when I was doing my pregnancy test, I was secretly crossing my fingers that it would be positive. But, I can't change the fact that I was totally blind-sided by nature. And now, the good news is, at the start of my second trimester, I am feeling much, much more excited. There might even be some cartwheels in my future. I'm still scared, but I want it. I want it really REALLY bad. And I know how lucky I am.
So maybe this is it... the first of many surprises of motherhood. I've now learned that wistfully dreaming about something usually transforms into a self-portrait of sunshine, roses, and vats of lemonade. The reality of it can look, feel and taste quite different. But that doesn't make it any less important, or any less beautiful. In fact, it's more so. Because it's actually real.
Oh, and does all this also mean I need to edit my 'About Us' page? Because I really can't be bothered.
Oh crap, I fell off the wagon again. It was whirling along at breakneck speed, me practically leaping out of the driver's seat with blogging inspiration (I may have even shouted the odd yeeeee haaaaaaw or two) and then, out of nowhere, the giant hand of 'things to do' reached out and slapped me back to reality, waving its finger and shouting, You do not have time to blog, you worthless creature, your time is MINE, mwahahahahaha.
Oh yikes, I'm clearly rusty at this.
So, allow me to curtsy (perhaps even throw my back out in the process as a courtesy) and officially apologise. I am sorry I haven't blogged in a very long time. I am the world's worst blogger. I won't be mad if you have abandoned me. Sniff.
But, there have been things to do, like coping with the utterly ginormous (I need a word bigger than ginormous, Mr Oxford, I mean come ON, let's think outside the box, shall we) news that I am, in fact, pregnant. Having a baby.
I KNOW. Exactly my reaction.
It is B's, just in case you were wondering. And it all went something like this:
He proposed. I did the kind thing and said yeah, 'spose.
Disclaimer: There was no baby at that time, folks, rest assured. We are evil and we've shamed the family.
We went to Thailand to celebrate our engage-moon.
Not all contraceptives do what they're meant to.
We came back, and - drum roll - a human started to grow; a cheekily three whole years ahead of my ten-year-plan.
The sound you just heard was God (or someone equivalent) sniggering at my ten-year-plan.
So... it has been hard to blog. I had a secret I couldn't share (there is some crazy rule that you're not supposed to tell anyone for three months, which is when you're quite frankly FREAKING out, feeling like absolute hell, and suddenly unable to do things like drink wine and coffee, of which you are the patron saints.) But, I'm following all the rules, even the nutty ones, like a good mum.
So, here I am, 15 weeks pregnant, and finally able to talk about the fact that we have a critter on the way. I feel like I have lots to share, such as how my reaction was really not what I thought it would be, and how awesome it is to be able to do things like add extra cheese - just because we're meant to fatten up. BOOYAH.
But, I'll save all that for other posts, because this post has already sucked enough time from your day, as well as being formally written in the 'Nat's gone nuts' genre.
But that's OK... I'm pregnant. I have the best excuse now for everything.
I forget to take the garbage out. But honey, I'm pregnant.
(Actually, I just didn't want to.)
I perform poorly in Mandarin Chinese class. But teacher, I'm pregnant.
(Actually, I just couldn't be bothered doing my homework.)
I can't go and get the milk. But honey, I'm pregnant.
(Actually, I'd just rather you did it.)
But it's good to be back. It's great to be able to share this news. We are truly THRILLED. And our baby is going to have the BEST baby-daddy in the world. Now, can it just get his temperament, patience, intelligence, sense of humour, pouty lips, straight nose, soft skin, curly hair and chocolate eyes?