Tuesday, 2 October 2012

Down to earth with a bump (5) - AND THEN THE BUMP GREW

At seven weeks pregnant a random stranger on the tube offered me his seat saying, 

‘Sorry, I hadn’t realised you were pregnant. Do you want to sit?’
Seven weeks pregnant!

I felt like replying, ‘Oh I’m not pregnant, really, I just ate too much over Christmas.’ Of course I didn’t, (reply with that that is). Instead, I graciously sat down, thankful of the seat. My nausea was crippling at the best of times but on the squashed early tube; yuk.

What I am trying to stress here is that I had a bump right from the word go. Christmas day, a few weeks pregnant and my clothes were tight. By eight weeks, I was in a pair of maternity jeans. And they fit properly.

I imagine most women long for their shape to change and to look pregnant. I was struggling with it. Although I was struggling at that point with believing and accepting the pregnancy at all (I was up and down like a yo-yo), so not fitting my skinny jeans was naturally not something I was elated about.

And another thing... by 12 weeks pregnant my bosoms had blossomed. God they were huge, and had earnt the nickname ‘kahunas’. I’d gone up three cup sizes in 10 weeks. About this, I was petrified. I saw them continuing to grow at this alarming rate for the whole nine months, and my bump the same. (Happy to say they didn’t).

Everyone at work knew by the time I was ten weeks gone, as I just couldn’t hide it anymore. God, let’s face it, if a complete stranger on the tube could tell at seven weeks, all the baggy tops in the world weren’t going to help me at work.

The relief I felt when I told my boss was incredible. I’d put on a brave face all this time - which is pretty hard when you want to permanently puke. Keeping it quiet had been tough, Carrs water biscuits are just simply not a product you can consume discretely.

So all of a sudden everyone on the mag knew, and I could relax. And as I relaxed, my bump got even bigger. And then it grew some more. And then came the question: ‘Are you sure you’re only having one?’

So many people asked me that, I seriously began to contemplate that there could in fact be two in there. Simon’s grandfather was one of ten children and there were three sets of twins within that ten. I consoled myself with the facts. Twins ran in the maternal gene, plus they skipped only one generation, didn't they?

But still my bump grew. And it was not because I was over eating. In fact, I hadn’t gained any weight at all in those first three months. That was baffling in itself.

I learnt quickly not to think or question too much about my pregnancy. And to hold on to the fact that all women are different.

By the time our 12-week scan came round, Simon and I had talked many times about the chances of a multiple pregnancy. Each person who said, ‘You are big. Are you sure there’s only one?’ only served to reinforce the thought that twins (or more) was a real possibility. I was starting to come round to the idea. Dare I say I was even beginning to feel convinced about it? So much so that when the scan took place, my first question was, 'How many?' 
The sonographer told us just the one, but still I questioned her further. 
'No, there’s definitely only one.' 
Oh but how many people then said to me, 'Ah but they get it wrong. One can be hiding behind the other.' I questioned it again at the 21-week scan. 'Yes, there's still only one,' came the terse reply. 

After that the people who told me I was huge, or still insisted that there may be two in there, really pissed me off.