August 2012: I was getting geared up for my first ever festival. I was ecstatic about seeing LTJ and asking Roger to marry me (again). Freaked out about the camping part, but the booze and junk food would keep me warm.
I lasted one night in a tent. When I woke up the next day at 6am I begged J to take me to the train so I could escape the rowdy teenagers and hell like toilets. I felt like I had the hangover from hell, even though all I had was half a can of 2% larger. What was wrong with me? Was I getting old?
J kindly dropped me off at the train station. As I was standing in the queue I felt so sick. I thought I’d be okay, but as I got closer to the front, the feeling was getting worse. I finally got called to buy my ticket, and as I stood there, in front of the crowded train station, I couldn’t believe what my body was forcing me to do. I projectile vomited as the poor cashier was asking my destination. People were looking at me like I was an annoying teenager who couldn’t handle her drink. I had no bloody idea what was wrong with me, but I knew for a fact it wasn’t alcohol induced.
When I arrived home the flat was an absolute tip. I felt so fed up. I was still feeling rough, so I tried to sleep. A few hours later I was getting worried, and as it was bank holiday weekend, the only place to go was A&E. After spending all afternoon and evening there, and them telling me it was a ‘virul infection’ and I could go home, I still didn’t feel right. They said I could stay in overnight, and they would monitor me.
The next morning I felt slightly better. I decided I needed a fresh start for when I started uni. I just wanted to be by myself, get away from all distractions. I was determined to finish uni with a first class honours degree. I started looking for places to live, and was feeling really good about myself for being so motivated. I spotted the doctors coming and was ready for them to give me the all clear, and get out of there, but I would have never guessed in a million years what would happen next.
“You’re pregnant.”
That’s all he said. So blunt, with no emotion. Then he walked off.
WTF.
I couldn't be pregnant. I was on the bloody pill and hardly had sex. Me and F had been falling out a lot lately, I couldn’t even remember the last time we passionately kissed, let alone had full blown intercourse.
There must be some mistake. So I chased after him and told him I wasn't pregnant.
"Yes you are. It's come up in your bloods."
I was crying my eyes out, and this stupid doctor, he must have got someone else's results mixed up with mine. This could not be true. I was starting uni in a few weeks time. I'm far too young for all this. I don't even know what to do with a baby. I want to go travelling, I want to make money, I want to be married and have a house and be comfortable and have no worries when I even begin to think about having a baby. Omg omg omg omg omg omg.
This was not happening.
"Excuse me, could you please do another test. I don't think I am pregnant. I think it's a mix up."
The doctor looked at me like I was mad.
Reluctantly he agreed to do another test.
Of course he was right. It came back positive.
I was hysterical, I was crying so much I could hardly form words.
The next few weeks were a complete blur. I did not know what to do.
How could I have a baby? I had so many plans. My life constantly feels like there’s so much to do, and no time to do it. How would I have time for a baby?
But how could I kill something that’s growing inside of me, that’s made up of me and the love of my life.
I spent so much time thinking.
In bed.
Thinking.
I had a constant headacke.
The flat looked like a bomb had hit it.
I was eating shit, and didn’t even have the energy to have a wash.
I was like a tramp with a bed.
I needed to make a choice.
This was driving me crazy.
I arranged viewings of alternative accomodation.
I booked an abortion.
Then I realised, F was the love of my life. And yes, he was annoying, but still, I couldn’t be without him. This is life, this is real, this is what dreams are made of. Falling in love and creating life. This was living. This wasn’t giving up, this was just the begining.
The pregnancy was very hard. It was uncomfortable, emotional, and so tiring. And the birth, well that's another story! But when my baby came into the world it was definately the happiest moment of my life, and I wouldn't change it for the world. In fact I would do it all over again.
The thing that scared me most was the fact that I didn't know what to expect. Everyone around me made me feel like it was such a major thing and I wouldn't have a life of my own anymore and it was going to be so hard blah blah blah.
But having a baby is the most natural and beautiful thing in the world. Staying at home looking after my new born has been the happiest time of my life. It totally beats going to a job everyday that you hate, or waking up after a heavy night not knowing what you may or may not have said or done. I have found it calm and peaceful and healing for the soul.
When I was going through that difficult time of not knowing what was going to happen, and everyone around me was focusing on the negatives, I wish there was someone out there to tell me the positives, to tell me what it would actually be like to have a baby. That never ending void of not knowing was hell for me. So, I decided to do a month by month guide on what is happening with my baby and me. Everyone's experience is different, but I hope my month by month guide will help anyone curious about what happens when the baby comes. Month número uno to follow.
S x
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