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Week 6 - Monday-Thursday Mon 1st August – Thurs 4th August 2005 Week six starts fairly well. My tiredness doesn’t seem to affect me too much on the Monday. Though Tuesday was fairly dismal – the alarm didn’t go off so the morning was a mad rush – work dragged and we had to go out for a friend’s birthday after work. Let me tell you the LAST thing you wish to do after a full day’s work when you’re pregnant is go out for drinks. The reasons being: 1. You can’t drink anything but orange juice. If you happen to be going to a trendy bar in Shoreditch that orange juice will only come in a small glass and will cost you about £4. We stayed for an hour or so before heading home to beans on toast and an early night. I am starting to worry that pregnancy is going to turn us into Mr and Mrs Dead Boring. Wednesday is slightly better. My colitis is playing up quite badly but I am refusing to let it bother me. Even when I have to sit down twice on the way to work, I just resolutely keep trundling on and buy myself a Cadbury’s fudge bar as a reward. My friend Lang emails me to suggest a lunch of square pies at Spitalfields market, so I leave my healthy wholemeal pasta and tomatoes for Thursday and enjoy a fabulous steak and kidney pie (red meat – lots of iron!) with peas and gravy. It’s good to see a friendly face and have a chat about my anxieties. After lunch we take a walk around the market and I find two sweet little pictures of London – one of Trafalgar Square and one of St Paul’s – for 20p each. Lang buys them for me as a congratulations present. He also buys one of the Royal Albert Hall for his new girlfriend and goes a bit pink at the ears. Bless. On Wednesday evening I convince Hubby to do some yoga with me. I’ve printed off several moves that are supposed to be good for you during pregnancy and actually go some way to making birth easier. But right now the actual birth seems like a million miles away over a long and complicated assault course. Yoga is also supposed to be relaxing which sounds good to me as I feel so wound up. The yoga is fairly difficult to master though and this pisses me off slightly, though I vow to keep trying. On Thursday I begin to experience scarily drastic highs and lows. One minute I feel utterly normal and happy and begin to wonder if I am actually pregnant at all, the next minute I literally have to peel myself off the floor to carry on and I feel as though a sticky black cloud is surrounding me. My anxieties have also increased tenfold and I am constantly fearing the worst: will I miscarry? What if the baby has already stopped developing and is just dead in my tummy? What if we get to the first scan and there’s no heartbeat? What if the baby is deformed or handicapped? What if it’s at risk of downs syndrome? What if the doctors discover some strange blood disorder that have during a routine checkup? How the hell are we going to afford this? Is this the wrong time to be having a baby? Will be a crap mother? What’s that twinge in my stomach? Will I ever stop weeing? What if what if what if…It goes round and round in my head all day every day. Our holiday is only a month away now. But whereas before I was looking forward to it greatly, now it feels like a drain on much needed finances. And I was most looking forward to long leisurely evenings sitting outside our tent sipping on wine! Now I have long evenings sipping caffeine-free tea and mineral water whilst overcooking chicken on the bbq to ensure I don’t get salmonella poisoning. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t resent the little tyke inside me for keeping me apart from my beloved wine, and I am not an alcoholic, but I find it hard to kick back and relax fully without the aid of a little chilled dry white wine. Plus we usually have bbq’d bananas when we go camping. But I have developed a serious aversion to them – the very sight of them makes me heave. My day is lightened momentarily when I discover that my lunchtime haunt – Whitechapel Library – is closing for refurbishment and thus all the books are being loaned out until December! This is marvellous as it means I can stock up on pregnancy guides and I have four months to peruse them! And there’s still Camomile Street Library and the Women’s Library to go to while it is closed. Yes, I am a nerd, but a happy nerd. On Thursday evening the blender overheats and konks out whilst I am making humous. Ordinarily this would mean a) fish out the guarantee and march back to shop demanding replacement, or b) buy a brand new blender even better than the original with more functions in retro 50s pink. But this time it meant the end of the world and further proof that we are unfit to become parents. If we can’t look after a blender without killing it how will we look after a baby? And if we can’t even afford to replace a blender how can we afford a baby? And if we can’t actually use the bloody blender (when it was working) without Her Downstairs coming up to complain about the racket, how are we going to survive the influx of complaints regarding a screaming baby at 4am? It is quite clear that we need to win the lottery, move to a detached house in the country with hired help and a nanny…oh, and buy a new blender if there’s any cash left over. I’ll buy a lottery ticket first thing tomorrow.
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