Forgive me internet, for I have sinned. It’s been nearly a month since my last pregnancy update. It seems like such a long time putting it that way- like, I’m nearly a whole month more pregnant. In my defence, I’ve been busy preparing for actually being a parent. This month has seen antenatal classes, birth plans, hospital bags, maternity meetings and baby showers. All things that make impending parenthood seem very, very real indeed.
Since crashing into my third trimester, I’ve actually started to feel… well, pregnant. It sounds stupid, I know- like I haven’t known I am the whole time. I just feel like there’s been a marked change in how I look and feel. The last couple of weeks have seen some particularly significant growth. When I look down, my feet have all but disappeared. In the last two weeks alone my bump seems to have grown significantly. Even Ally commented that it looked like it had grown in the last week- and he’s the last person who’d think to make a comment on my size (for his own wellbeing and, well, because he’s not a tool).
He has a point though.
Last Thursday was the 1st of September, which heralded the start of autumn. Well, the meteorological start of autumn anyway. It might still be warm outside but the signs are telling me that my favourite season is upon us.
So why then has it felt like such a slog?
As much as I love autumn there’s always a strange tinge of sadness in the air. Maybe sadness isn’t the word, but there’s a weird melancholy that sweeps in and makes me feel a li’l more reflective than usual.
After a bad week and a good week I was a little worried how this one was going to go. I thought they might alternate and I’d have to ride this one out and wait for next Monday. As it turns out, it’s been a bit of a mixed bag. Like the preamble to bigger and more exciting things: necessary, full of potential but not quite there yet.
Although finding maternity skinny jeans was pretty exciting.
Looking back at last week, compared to the one before, I can’t believe the contrast. My first catchup post came off the back of a stressful week of shifts topped off with low moods and low energy. This past week has seen something of an upward swing: I don’t know if it’s because I made a subconscious effort to get back on the horse, or if it was a combination of dead good things. In any case I’m not questioning it.
I’ve never been the type to dread Mondays. Between film and TV work, customer service and bar work, I’ve mostly always worked weekends. I don’t so much embrace the new week as full on disco winch it. I still felt a bit queasy on Monday, and a slow night shift didn’t help matters, but by Tuesday it was all but gone. Tuesday was the first of my run of days off and I was starting to feel like myself. Unsurprisingly documented the matter through the medium of selfie (as is the way of the millennial). I’ve never gone out in public with a bare midriff before never mind put it on the internet, but sometimes you get to a stage where you just don’t give a shit.