I am built along sturdy lines. A downside to this is that even since I got married, people have been asking me if I was pregnant.
Seriously, why do people do that? Why? If someone is pregnant they will tell you. To paraphrase the traditional shop sign: “Do not ask if someone is pregnant as refusal often offends”
So the answer was no as we were not planning on children just yet. Eventually we caved under the weight of stereotypes and decided as a Muslim couple, we’d better get breeding. We thought this might take a long time, conceiving is rather like doing the splits, you don’t know how difficult it might be until you try to do it. Alhamdulilah, I got pregnant instantly, which was a bit of a shock, but then we do both come from big families.
So, after witnessing The Purple Lines of Destiny, I had that little period where it’s all a secret and apart from feeling massively pre-menstural, I didn’t feel any different.
Then I met the midwife and was given a load of pregnancy bumf. The concept that there will be a little person about next year (insha Allah), is starting to form, but I’m having a hard enough time imagining myself with a bump.
I’ve worked with lots of pregnant women. Some of them glowed throughout their pregnancies, others looked utterly miserable and I couldn’t understand why. Pregancy should be a happy time, right?
I feel so ignorant now. Morning sickness is far too trite a term for the actual crippling nausea that strikes (and not just in the morning either). My gosh, it is heinous, convulsing misery and that, coupled with a need for sleep verging on narcolepsy, means that being pregnant is not oodles of fun. I just got so tired of not feeling like myself. Hence the inner party animal tag, which came seeing the baby dancing around on the ultrasound and every morning for me feeling like New Year’s Day (for a non-teetotaller).
Alhamdulilah, I’m through the first trimester now and starting to feel better, though I still have a regular appointment with the sink.
That is enough pregnancy rambling for now. I promise this won’t turn into a m****y blog, honest. I’m actually a bit obsessed with Mr Outlines, but I hardly ever write about him, so I know I can do it.