Down to earth with a bump (3) - TEARS

I’m sure not every pregnant woman finds themselves in tears as much as I did, but as I was saying, I cried a lot in those first few weeks. Once I’d gotten over the intial shock of being pregnant, and gotten passed the ‘grieving our lives are over’ stage, the next thing was simply feeling sad. Quite stupidly sad.

DRESS SHOPPING NIGHTMARE

One Saturday, Simon came in to find me balling my eyes out on the sofa because Harry Redknapp was staying as Portsmouth Football Club’s manager. (At the time he had been linked to moving away). But Harry said that he wouldn’t leave Pompey. He wouldn’t do that to the clubs’ fans. I explained the situation to Simon through stifled sobs.

‘Well darling it’s great then; he’s staying put. But sweetie, you don’t even like football.’

‘I know’, I wailed.

The good news is that no matter however real it seems at the time, your world isn’t really ending. Some of the most horrendous days can be looked back on and laughed at. For example:

I had a little accident. In a posh shop. Whilst trying on an expensive dress.

Having been invited to four weddings throughout the summer (we had had the funeral already), I wanted to find the perfect outfit that would do all four of them, for fortunately, they would be different sets of people at each, meaning one dress does all. (By the way, isn’t it funny that the first thing any woman asks when you say you have four weddings to attend is, ‘Can you wear the same outfit to all?).

My buy one get three free venture called for a simply gorgeous outfit. And one where I was not about to look like a frump with a bump.

Anyway, prior to my 21week scan appointment, Simon and I popped in to town to find me an outfit. In a very posh maternity shop. I had just got the first dress on, when the helpful assistant asked: ‘Would you like to try on a pair of heels with that to complete the look?’

The biggest mistake. As I went arse over tit I instinctively grabbed my bump on the way down. This just made things worse for I then totally lost all balance. I was just doing the splits when I somehow caught myself and instead stepped on to one of the now upturned stilettos. The full weight of my (massive already) frame landed on top of it. And as the arch of my foot sunk over the heel I fell in to Simon’s arms with a howl. Poor Simon. He took one look at my bloody wound and went for a sweet cup of tea. For me I think?

It was only at this point through tears I looked at the shop assistant (who stood rigid) and asked after the dress… ‘Is it alright?’

I peered through my blurred vision in to the full-length mirror. Alas. I could see the rip up the back. Must have happened as I did the splits. In a £130 dress. Great. Perhaps if it is a girl, the top name now ought NOT to be Grace?

We went on to the hospital for the scan, me in one shoe, where they proceeded to tell us that our baby has extremely long legs and is in the 95^th percentile already. More tears.

I said bye to Simon as he went off to work, more tears. And then my mum who was up in Lancashire for the week, just happened to ring. Oh what timing. ‘Are you okay darling? Everything alright?’

I had to stop the car. I had to stop crying. But I could not stop crying. And then on and off all afternoon, yet more tears. I’m surprised I didn’t drown that day. I was utterly exhausted come the evening. With a big baby. And no dress.