In the last couple of weeks my pregnant tummy has really popped out, so much so that even the lollipop lady said ‘congratulations!’ this morning as I walked my son to school. While I look and feel 24-weeks pregnant in every way it is still a struggle for me to accept those excited well wishes as easily as I did six years ago.
In 2010 when I was pregnant with Toby, I told just about anyone who would listen that we were expecting a baby by eight weeks. For better or for worse my husband and I were so darned excited it just made sense to tell those around us with our rationale being that that even if the pregnancy failed, we would want those same people to know and offer their support.
I might have been feeling nauseous and tired but I joyfully catalogued my physical changes with frequent side profile ‘bump pics’ on Facebook followed up with the 4D ultrasound scan photos. I would frequently moan to friends about feeling frumpy or laugh about weird food cravings and I read with enthusiasm books by supposed baby whisperers such as Gina Ford and Tizzie Hall.