My second pregnancy felt like the longest nine months I have ever slogged through. I thought that the award for Slowest Time Movement Ever had already been won by my sixth form media studies class on a Monday afternoon, during which the hands of the clock gave up their lives and fell off the wall out of boredom. But Teddy’s pregnancy, my giddy aunt. It didn’t half go on.
Perhaps it was that swirling boil of unknowable emotions: could I love him, was I ready to be a mother again, what would Henry think? Or perhaps it was the fact that I couldn’t sleep or sit down for longer than five minutes without my left bottom cheek catching fire. Yes, probably it was that.
Look, though – oh, look. He was worth every last second.
(PS, it’s his skinny three-month-old photo that startles me the most. His eyes, his nose, his mouth…but on a different face.)
(PPS, TINY HENRY ALERT, TOP LEFT. His nine months in-and-out post is here.)
Hey, if you have a spare clicking finger and a mild fondness for this blog, perhaps you wouldn’t mind voting for me in the MAD Blog Award finals? You can find me under Best Baby Blog. Voting closes soon! Thank you so much!