Do my eyes deceive me? Did I get two lines on an outdated pregnancy test?

I tried again on a more expensive one. Two lines, one abit faded but still definitely there.

Then two days later I tested again with some cheap shop brand pee sticks. One still said two lines and the other was a wonky pink squiggle because I peed all over the line window (note-cover the line window if or when you go). 

I've started shopping for maternity clothes that don't resemble middle classed floral curtains. I am only 4 weeks in according to very hard to find pregnancy calculations. I am literally over the moon but yet..

There's this thing called perimenopause. There's also another thing called miscarriages. And another called phantom pregnancies. And I don't have any symptoms. According to pregnancy statistics Asian women have the least chance of getting morning sickness (yay) but what I'd give to have my chunky woman tits expand and make me look slim even though the price to pay is feeling that someone's dropped a biscuit crumb factory down your bra. 

I've started taking tablets, loaded up my shopping cart with pregnancy friendly fruits and veg and changed my soap and shampoo to an all in one sulphate free baby wash. I was stuck for a full fifteen minutes by the baby bath aisle, researching scary sounding chemical compounds off the label and googling them before I spent a couple of quid. 

Yet I am wary. I'm wary of my body giving wrong messages of the HcG in my system. I'm wary that I may do something wrong like accidently go on a sushi or coffee spree on a bad day. Or that someone might spike my deodorant with cat poo. Or that a disgruntled person I know may stick pins in a pregnant voodoo doll of me.

I think I'll check this all with my ante natal assessment. I'll keep you updated. 

How did I find out I was pregnant?

Scene: me in the bathroom ticking off today’s schedule while on the loo and peeing on a preggo strip by default rather than hope because of a late period.

‘I need to get on with my new schedule...’ I mentally remind myself as I set aside the pee strips in a discarded spray lid filled with my wee wee.

‘Ivie...’ says my subconscious. Or God.

‘Then sort out the shopping for this month...’ Wipey wipey.

‘Ivie, look...’

‘Then prepare the a couple of speeches...’ Flush loo and walk away.

‘Ivie, look what I have sent you.’

‘Just a sec. need to get this sorted out.’ Changing loo roll. ‘Yes what is it?’

‘Check your pee stick.’ 

‘Say what? Oh. Oh wow.’ Two very clear blue lines. 

I’ve had no morning sickness. none. But boy do I hate almost everything I used to love on my dinner plate.

I was a helpless carnivore once upon a time and wished that I could be vegetarian, giving myself mental gold star badges when I went meat free for a day.

Then somehow as soon as I became pregnant, those lamb chops, steaks and even chicken wings began to make me feel sick. It doesn’t help that I live in an area where people love to cook and it’s 30 degrees outside so I can’t close the window. I have incense burning around my home to get rid of the smells of someone else’s farmyard inspired breakfast, lunch and dinner.

But I’m living this vegetarian thing, where my meal comprises of potatoes, potatoes and er, more potatoes with a craving for Fab ice lollies.

Later on : husband found out about my craving for Fab ice lollies. He went to the next town and got me a big box of them as they don’t sell them here. My heart melts. I have married the right man. 

A salted beef bagel cafe has just opened down the road from me. I want to cry.

I have booked a doctor’s appointment by phone. He refers me to my first assessment at my local hospital. I’m the meantime I am praying that I do not go off dairy.

Update : cheese makes me sick. And chocolate. And of all things, sweet potatoes??

So I’m feeling dandy and lucky that I don’t have morning sickness like any of my other pregnantees do. I’ve actually had a good pregnancy save for massive tiredness which let’s face it, gives me a good excuse to lounge about on sofas like an absolute queen.

But these past two days there’s been a backlash. Oh yes there had to be. Apart from not being able to differentiate between gas bubbles in my belly and whether it’s an actual baby (mid wife says it’s baby, belly says it’s a request for my seventh teatime) I’ve been whacked with  round ligament pain. As in not just short spurts but a permanent feeling that the spirit of Bruce Lee has decided to take some nunchucks to my belly. Not to mention the agony I feel every time I walk or take a piss/dump which feels more stabbing than a Quentin Tarantino movie. I ended up in a maternity unit at 3am only to find out that with God’s blessing it wasn’t early labour contractions but just my uterus doing a Dalsim from Street Fighter, stretching out abit to make room for ever growing sprog. What’s more I have developed rashes around my bikini line which means that a big tub of Sudocream will be slathering my arse before my baby’s. 

I’ve also been getting occasional back pain. Husband has bought me a massage session which I may or may not be able to attend due to pains. Heavens bless the good men of this planet.

Life as a heavily pregnant woman isn’t good if you’re a clumsy butterfingered loser. The amount of times gravity has had a giggle by making almost every single thing drop to floor level has been so numerous I swear it’s Mother Nature having a fucking laugh. 

Don’t get me started on stairs. I have to climb three flights of them every time  I have to leave the house.