Some things are hard to believe

I am having a baby.

I am having a baby.

I am having a baby! ME. Sarah. It's happening. Apparently, in six snappy nappiless months (here's of course hoping and hoping that all is well), I will be a mummy. It is totally impossible for me to comprehend. Only now, as my tummy is beginning to swell (not just with pizza), am I starting to believe it could perhaps be true.

14 Weeks

It's not as if we were a long time trying. We were incredibly lucky that it was quite the opposite. Which, I think is partly why I'm still in a state of shock after seeing that first blue line out of the corner of my eye (followed in disbelief by five more pee sticks) nine weeks ago. 

As a child, I was obsessed with babies. I mean obsessed. I used to await the release of a new Mothercare catalogue as others would anticipate the new Nintendo. I poured over those pages, absorbing every detail, copying the pictures and dreaming up a family of my own. I loved the 'preparing for baby' lists especially. That is, until they started charging two pounds for the privilege, which my Mum said was ridiculous. I was happy to see on a very excitable recent trip to Mothercare that they are once again free of charge and my obscure pleasure can recommence. Thank goodness for that.

The only reason I stopped playing with dolls was because I was massively ashamed. I actually used to set an alarm in the middle of the night to wake up and feed my plastic baby. Whilst spending my pocket money on Just Seventeen, I would sneak Mother and Baby into the trolley at Tesco. A whole seventeen years later, I'm just about ready to admit that to the world. It was a bizarre internal conflict that struggled to replace the love of my toy pushchair with a somewhat forced passion for Boyzone. Here's a diary entry from 1996 (aged 13) after a sleepover session of truth...

Inevitably I began babysitting as soon as I could. This even meant roping in my best friend Emily, who would reach the legal childminding age a whole nine months before me. Our little business, aptly titled 'Kid Crazy' (a nod to my other obsession of the Babysitters Club books) went from strength to strength and we soon had clients all over St Margaret's. At university I did some more, whilst in the holidays I worked at the best independent children's bookshop in the world, with a brief stint in Gap Kids and a summer as an au pair. It sometimes makes me wonder why I became a graphic designer at all.

Since meeting Jon over a decade ago at the tender age of 19, I have plagued the poor guy with the question of when we can have a baby. I always convinced myself that it might not happen. I figured that I've been so lucky in other parts of my life that the thing I wanted the very most, would of course not come true. I saw it as my deal that this is the thing I didn't deserve. I know that must sound ridiculous. 

So to actually see a little thing with a tiny nose and waving arms, jumping backwards on a screen and supposedly in my tummy just seems too impossible to be real. I've found it hard, particularly in the first 12 weeks to allow myself the absolute glee that I could be enjoying. I'm so paranoid that I'll wake up from the dream or something will go wrong. It must be a mixture of emotions felt by so many mothers to be.

It's true though! I saw it with my own eyes. Things are going to change and it's the best thing that's ever happened to us.

Ever.