I’m so bloody round I don’t know what to do.
My belly has intercepted my ability to tie my shoe.
So bring me your ballet flats, your knee high boots and even Birkenstocks
But I have sworn on my subscription to Vogue, to never be seen in crocs.
Even in these trying times a girls gotta have principles.
Photo by Babb photo from my Syestra’s most beautiful wedding at the Mayfair Library
Ohh the nursery, something that is not necessary (plenty of people have babies without their own bedrooms) and won’t be needed right away, but is something I can not wait to get my hands on. There is something that feels more real about the squatter when there is a space for she/he.
We’ve got a way to go, but in one week Dobble took the future nursery from this
This guy is on fire. I’m even more useless than normal. I’m able to clean (reluctantly), cook and join him on trips to the skip. But I am making a baby- meaning I’m being healthy and sober, and still losing my waistline day by day.
I’m not the sort of person who does one mood board and sticks to the script. I make 10 moodboard and end up using a little bit from each of them so it ends up either like a well organised jazz trill or a disastrous screech.
So here is my first attempt
For those of you who’ve followed this blog for awhile there will be one thing that will strike you as odd in this mood board. That’s right, white. I want a light and white nursery. Pregnancy is weird. You’ll know I haven’t completely changed as I also want to dress my baby up in ridiculous lion coats and cardboard dinosaur costumes.
We hit the 20 week mark now, meaning the squatter is the size of a mango. I’m pretty sure by the time it’s a watermelon Abe will have a finished room for she/he.
As you can see, I’ve graduated from keg belly to full on muffin top. All of a sudden this squatter is a growin’.
So now that my belly is getting attention by the outside world, let’s talk about being taken seriously as a pregnant woman, and not just as a baby maker waiting to be milked.
I tried to keep this pregnancy a secret for as long as possible. I had the fear and worry that I hear will now be with me the rest of my days, mostly that something will happen to the squatter’s health or that I’d be a shitty mom and totally ruin its life forever.
But I also worried that after announcing the pregnancy I would no longer be taken seriously at work, and would be seen as someone who is in the way for 6 months. Here in the UK only 18% of women who have a child under 3, work full-time. Right now I have every intention of getting back to work, I’m lucky and find real meaning in what I do. And who the hell are these people who can afford not to go back? That is impressive- but not the world I live in.
Practical reading for a prego
So far I’ve actually not had a problem at all. I think what helps is that I’m lucky to have positive female managers around me and work for the public sector. These things make a big difference, but I’ve also tried my hardest to remind people “I’ll be back.” A couple of other tricks I’ve tried is to keep it a secret when I’ve just thrown up my cookies and have banned the term ‘baby brain.’ God help the person who says this when I forget my password for the 10th time, the snarl is worst than when Will eats the last pickle.
I know that lots of women are ready to hand in their notice when the pee stick is positive and I am happy for them, but that’s not me. So for now I am trying for the outside world to take pity on the muffin top, but still take me seriously. I think it is a fine balance and one more women should talk about. So send advice, tips or pickles my way.