And so it begins... kind of

Well the keen eyed among you will have realised I'm up the stick/ beduffed/ with child/ pregnatious.

I had started a blog elsewhere on this subject but it very quickly descended into a litany of misery from a newly pregnant woman and it mentioned mucus and bleeding and peeing on sticks and icky, icky things - not that I'm a prude - just that not everyone needs to read about my symptoms and sore boobs.

So I'm linking this on to my ordinary, everyday blog so you can read about from here on in.

As it stands I'm eight weeks and 2 days beduffed. Although according to the doctor I'm due on March 10, which makes me only eight weeks and 1 day beduffed. That one day is very, VERY important. It means one less day til the sickness eases, til the bloom comes into my sails and til I meet my baby.
Please note that for the duration of this blog - at least until the nearly end - I will refer to the birthing process as "meeting my baby". I will not tolerate references to episitomies, labour, dilation or waters breaking. I would ask respectfully that no-one mentions a mucus plug. It makes me feel quite weak and puts me off washing my dishes.
You can there imagine my "joy" at having just got a positive pregnancy test having to proof read 'Feels Like Maybe' and the delightful references to Aoife's fanning fandango.
My fandango has just cringed at the very thought.

Anyway at the moment I have some morning sickness, a distinct full and bloating feeling (think *needs a big poop*) and I'm kind of tired. I'm really struggling with my inability to drink Diet Coke either - the taste of it makes me feel shiote. And I'm usually a complete addict.

But I also have a bubble of excitement at the thought of meeting my baby (and by that I mean actually meeting by baby and not the "giving birth" code word), and being a mummy again.