Today marks the 22nd week of pregnancy and only about nine or ten weeks since I actually found out li’l bean was on his way. I feel like I’ve had a lot of catching up to do to make up for lost time: I’ve mentioned previously how overwhelming it was being launched into the end of the first trimester with little adjustment time. Since then though, we’ve had two scans (including the super-scary sounding anomaly scan) and numerous blood tests and everything looks- fingers crossed- like we’re all good to go.
As with most things (trying veganism, for example), I find it easy to keep track of progress ‘n things if I write it down. I feel like if I have a physical record of something, I’m accountable to it. I don’t know quite how many times I’ve rebooted My Fitness Pal for that very same reason. In order to try and cram as much missing information as possible, I scoured baby websites and apps and found a couple that were of use: namely the NHS’s Ready Steady Baby app, and the pregnancy tracker from Bounty.
The other day, I just about lost it. There I was, absent-mindedly standing in my kitchen and looking out of the window, when I saw them. Just hanging there, casual as you like.
A little over a month ago, I was sitting in a bar on the tenth floor of a Berlin hotel. I had a rum and coke in one hand and a cigarette in the other and as I laughed and chatted with my boyfriend and two pals, I felt pretty contented. It’s been a pretty testing year so far: the graduate job hunt seemed like a series of defeats, I was turfed out of my shitty bar job and I’d been feeling that things were at a bit of a standstill. However as I sat on the bar’s 360-degree balcony, taking in the Berlin cityscape, I had a weird feeling that things were going to be OK. It might’ve been the half litre of wine I’d had (to myself) with dinner, the pre-gig anticipation or just the atmosphere, but bad luck can only last for so long. At the very least, I had another job to get me by, I was in my favourite place and I was in great company.
Exactly a week later I was back in Glasgow, standing in my flat, by myself, with a positive pregnancy test in my hand.