Weeks 31–37: finally embracing pregnancy
I’ve been writing to make myself feel better. So a six week break is a clear sign that my pregnancy has gotten easier as I’ve come to grips with the life change that is impending.
The first trimester, the sickness, which feels a lifetime ago, was miserable. Then an OK middle bit with a brilliant highlight of a cycling trip in the Outer Hebrides. Then back to work and my head got fucked, now looking back at it, I think I must have been the bluest I’ve ever been. The hormones definitely made things worse, but regular cries on the way to work weren’t a good sign. I didn’t feel like myself anymore; I felt alone with no one to really understand how I was feeling.
Two panic attacks later, my midwife who was worried about how my mood could imply how I may cope with harder things to come, advised a course of CBT. I’m not sure if it was just the CBT, or finally pushing back at work to lay off a bit, but slowly I came around to see that pregnancy wasn’t the end of my life and actually a really exciting new adventure. I wasn’t losing my identity, instead growing as Hannah and just doing something I’d always wanted. I needed to stop being so hard on myself and spend time doing the things that made me relaxed and happy.
I’ve always been very British and not open about talking about things like this — assuming I never needed any support. This in itself has been a great lesson, it’s perfectly normal to say you’re not feeling well. I’m just glad I’ve learnt it now.
Six weeks later and things have gotten so much easier since my mood has been stable. I’m embracing my bump, no longer looking just a bit chubby but in full bloom. I welcome strangers’ comments on whether it’s a boy or girl and when the due date is. I’m growing a human being inside me. This is a bloody huge achievement, a wonder of life and I feel bloody proud.
It’s now two and a half weeks until the due date. I’m trying not to think of it too much, knowing chances are our baby won’t arrive then, but it’s hard when the count down for nine months has been focussed towards it.
I’m finally on maternity leave and embracing freedom from work — a real chance to relax. The calm before the storm. I’m trying to keep active, swimming and walking about but respecting that my body really can’t do too much anymore. I’m absolutely knackered after any commitment; naps and early bed times have become my new best friend (who am I kidding, they have been for all of this pregnancy).
G and I are desperately excited to meet our little one. It’s impossible to know how it’ll feel — I feel like I love the baby to bits already, it’s kicking now which I’m still not bored of. I have the usual apprehensions about its health, how I’ll cope with labour, what the hell we’re going to do that first night on our own, how we’re going to completely wing it, how we’ll cope with the sleep deprivation. It’s all a huge unknown but I feel like I’ve done pregnancy now. Onto the next chapter…whether that starts tomorrow, or even a month’s time. I just want to know!
