So after a few weeks of not feeling very well and finally hitting a couple of days where the symptoms were starting to look rather familiar, I take a pregnancy test and find out that number 3 is on its way. It was the constant tiredness and the horrendous gagging, where I would be running to the toilet in the morning that made me realise this might not just be a bug. I think the final sign was that I rather fancied some pasta with honey & mustard from Tesco’s. The last time I was pregnant I was very specific about having these chickens wraps from KFC, I remember the husband & Vic from Glowstars rushing out to get me one as it was at a point where me wanting to eat anything was rare.
Of course, at the same time as picking up my mustard dish and some ice creams for the boys, we grabbed a test. Which reminded me of the last time we found out, the main symptom I had then was sore boobs. Like MEGA sore boobs, so we walked to Tesco to grab a test. This time around, the first one I did, was having a dodgy time appearing. I blame the heat of course. Nothing was appearing, and I sat it down next to the husband who was freaking about nothing not appearing, I was sat wondering if I was cheap enough to take it back to Tesco to demand half of my £3.99 back because this one hadn’t worked.
Apparently, it did start to work, the first window which is a square started to have a line appear, when you’re not pregnant there’s nothing in this box. The Man didn’t think much to it, he was muttering away, but I wasn’t paying attention. It was only when I grabbed it to look and realised, you know that a line in this box means you’re most likely pregnant. That I was pregnant. Of course, once the bladder had refilled I took the other test, the fact this one worked straight away and gave us the reddest of lines, was a clear indicator that I was pregnant.
Now trying to work out how far gone we were was a mind boggle. I’ve only had one period since giving birth to Dylan 14 months ago, and then, of course, I had the nine months before that without one. It came back around the middle of May; I remember this horror coming back as it was the weekend I went to the baby show. We’ve not had one since, but instead of rushing out for a test I assumed that they were still settling in and that because of the exclusive breastfeeding maybe it was still syncing. Ha, how I was wrong on that front. So the next day, yesterday we took a trip to the Doctors to confirm the pregnancy and take the next steps. We worked out together that I’m most likely probably around the 8-week mark.
I have so many joys about being eight weeks that I’m going to write about it all in a separate post. I’m in booked in with the midwives and have my first appoint Tuesday next week. I’m excited about this, especially as the midwife we’re seeing is the same midwife that delivered Dylan at home liked we planned. We got on so well with her that I may try bribing her with chocolates each week to deliver our next one. We’re so excited about baby #3 that I’m frowning at anyone who is saying we’re crazy or mad (like the doctor did) this was our plan from day one and since was three a frightfully huge number? I’m not sure if it’s the age gap or the amount which has people reacting like that, I certainly hope it isn’t my age. Numbers are a game, life, on the other hand, isn’t.