I initially started this blog to remember pregnancy.
It seemed like a rather lovely idea to document growing another person in its entirety, week on week, and read it back when I had a chubby little sunbeam in my arms nine months later. How fondly I'd smile back at the glowing image of pregnant me, cradling my bump with one, still manicured (HA!), hand and holding a green juice in the other.
Frankly, three months later, I'm firmly in the belief that if women are to remember every inherent detail of pregnancy, the human race will cease as we know it. Not only would I quite like to forget the vast majority of this time, but I'd rather like to go back and shake that doe-eyed, newly pregnant bitch by the shoulders for being so bloody dim.
Every time I've sat down to write, I've reflected on the previous week and suddenly felt less inclined to document the time I threw up into my favourite scarf on an airport shuttle bus in front of thirty other people, the time I leaned over an over-flowing bin in Soho retching in front of tourists or indeed the time I cried because the dog walked away from me.
On balance, it's best for both myself and anyone reading this if we draw a veil over the first few months of me being pregnant. I really wasn't very good at it. I think you're meant to smile a lot more, which for a naturally underwhelmed person with a resting bitch face, you have to sort of remember to do it on cue.
But here we are, nearly halfway through pregnancy and I have to say, I think I'm getting the hang of it. I'm never going to be the pastel-wearing mother rallying her girlfriends for a baby shower, but I feel more like there's an actual baby in there now as opposed to some alien being that's taken over my body and wakes me up to throw up every day. Any discomfort these days comes literally from my body stretching and the baby growing, which is pretty incredible when you think about it.
The idea of childbirth, whilst still intimidating, is no longer this inconceivable notion that I'm convinced I won't be able to do. I've seen my body do some crazy shit over the last few weeks so I'm trusting the fact that it won't let me down when it comes to pushing this little one out.
The first antenatal class is booked and we find out the sex of the baby really soon.
Turns out that blueberry-sized bunch of cells actually turns into a living, breathing human after all - we'd better get cracking!