Flyingpops is Pregnant!

Sorry for not saying anything before, but we had to get through the early weeks (during which time all sorts of things can go wrong) and make sure we had told at least the nuclear families (with lots of Champagne and tears and hugs) before posting anything here...I'm sure you understand...although I have taken the very earliest (permitted) opportunity... ;)

So, let's do a quick catch-up...Wayback machines set to the 2nd of January please, and peer down from the evening sky as we drag ourselves (and all our bags of luggage) through the front door having just driven back from our New Year celebrations in Cornwall...Flyingpops vanished upstairs leaving me to sort out all our bits and bobs, so I began unpacking and re-assembling the living room (I had taken the Xbox down to the South West with me), when she returned she walked right over to me (I was on the floor struggling with the optical cable for the surround sound) and said that she loved me...nothing unusual in that, but considering my position I suppose I probably propped myself up on an elbow and peered up, arms covered in dust from the spaghetti behind the TV and gave her a slightly unkind "is this really the moment?" look, but seeing the expression on her face, frowned a little, dropped the cables and stood up, and that's when, as her arms reached out to enclose me, I spotted the pregnancy test in her hand (and I knew, but I waited for her to say it)...

I don't know why, but my mind spends all day long trying to save me from disappointment, I very rarely allow myself the luxury of excited anticipation, preferring to ground myself (just in case)...absolute certainties aside (of course) I'm just extremely cautious with myself, preferring to prepare myself for the worst and then be pleasantly surprised...So I don't know quite what my face looked like, and I don't know quite how the words coming out of my mouth were received by Flyingpops...of *course* I was over the moon, but something told me to keep the emotions carefully in check, just in case anything were to go wrong...and then I really can't remember what we did (so suppressing the emotions definitely did something to my memory), I do remember reassuring Flyingpops (about six times) that the little line on the test really did "mean it was true", and saying at least six times that she needn't worry about all the alcohol and cheese she had eaten in Cornwall, I have a funny sort of feeling we danced and then I know I did some half panicked reading on the internet...I can only remember wondering how on earth were we going to get all the nutrients required to grow a baby into a fussy vegetarian (ever practical)...oh and of course Flyingpops calculating that we had conceived somewhere around the time we picked up Poppy the Beetle...fairly ironic, if you read her blog post from around that time...it turns out that her calculations weren't quite right after all, but it amused me at the time...

That next weekend (she surrendered herself to the sickness *immediately* that it occurred to her that there were a reason for it, and not just in the morning either) I left Flyingpops to be miserable in bed and went to do the Tesco shopping by myself, and I freely admit here, I went a little crazy buying all sorts of pulses, nuts, fish, fruit (fresh and processed) and vegetables...a lot of it ended up in the bin as her tastes changed quite rapidly also, perennial favourites fell by the wayside (largely due to their texture now being deemed unpleasant), leaving us (even now) in a situation where *very* little will actually do...the only really good change is a new desire to consume lots of garlic, whenever we go out for a meal it's always Italian (which is a little annoying)...but one two cannot live off garlic bread alone...so it remains a bit of a problem (in my mind, anyway), not least because it's me that's doing all the cooking...

The other thing is the way the hormones have taken their toll on Flyingpops mood/behaviour, and we are at a "crying havoc" level here...emotional outbursts to rival the very worst ever "time of the month", weeping, bursts of anger, emotions flipping on and off like switches (impossibly positive and negative)...and not only that - extreme fatigue, sleeping nearly all the (available) time, and this constant nagging sickness (not throwing up, just feeling completely dismal), getting on the train to and from London has redefined the word "ordeal", just watching her turning slowly green (or grey) each time the train accelerates or rocks from side to side (even remotely) remains extremely difficult, and each time I take hold of her hand and ask if she is "Okay?" I'm aware it's a completely useless gesture (because I know perfectly well that she isn't)...but how do you stop yourself...?

I can't tell you how difficult it's been for the past few weeks...not being able to tell anyone, let alone forbidding myself from being able to talk about it (even in a roundabout or theoretical way, in case of a slip), nor even being able to vent my resultant frustrations (in my normal way) in this forum...honestly, when I think of all those puerile posts my dizzy brain managed to cobble together when quite different things were screaming around my mind, it sets me reeling...my poor tongue has practically bitten itself all the way through and the zip feels like it's now a permanent fixture...

..and so we get to the day of the first scan, the 19th of February, and the baby, yes... -my baby- ...appears on that little screen...they say a man doesn't become a father until his baby is born, whereas a woman is a mother as soon as she’s pregnant, but after that - it's real...

...and Everything has changed.