It’s slowly sinking in that I am pregnant and I am oscillating between anxiety, excitement, something inexplicable, normalcy and aha moments. All of it just tends to sneak up on me.

One minute I am minding my own business trying to buy my friend Amy a gift for her baby shower tomorrow and the next, I see that a stroller set is R6 000 and I think “what have we done?!”

On the inexplicable front is the fact that I went to the gym as normal yesterday. I ran for my usual time on the treadmill. My session ended as normal and, quite abnormally, I forgot to press “stop” and I just stopped running. Naturally I fell off the treadmill. Never, in a decade and a half of treadmill use have I ever done anything so foolishly inexplicable. I landed gently but… (I most certainly did not tell my husband). I also lost my water bottle. This is the same woman who still has the drying towels her mother bought for her when she went to boarding school for the first time at age 12. Just for the record, they are in excellent condition.

On the exciting front… I can’t wait to tell my mum-in-law. She has been firmly and consistently asking for a grandchild.

On the normal front, the power of specific prayer has shown itself in my life again.

“Prayer is a relationship; half the job is mine. If I want transformation, but can’t even be bothered to articulate what, exactly, I’m aiming for, how will it ever occur? Half the benefit of prayer is in the asking itself, in the offering of a clearly posed and well-considered intention. If you don’t have this, all your pleas and desires are boneless, floppy, inert; they swirl at your feet in a cold fog and never lift.”

I prayed quite specifically for a 2018 baby. I wrote it down. I spoke it. I told God about it over and over. I suppose the first couple of days of 2018 is still 2018 right? I got exactly what I asked for. It rather reminds me of the time I was on that awful blind date and the world’s disaster date candidate I was with tried to find a waiter to give him a doggy bag for half a chicken wing. I prayed he wouldn’t find a waiter. He didn’t. So he put the wing in his pocket…. I am convinced God has a sense of humour. 

On the aha moments front, now I get why I have been so so so tired and fatigued. Granted, I am travelling a lot, but I recall exclaiming to my husband 2 weeks ago, “I am so unnaturally tired! What on earth is wrong with me?” I also gagged on eggs (one of my all-time favorite foods) all three times that I tried to have them in the past month. I just chalked it down to a) hotel eggs b) runny eggs.

On the anxiety front… what on earth am I supposed to be eating? Is it a problem that I skip breakfast in general. Oh God, do I have to force-feed myself now? Did I lose the love chub just so I could gain baby chub??? Oh God! Did God install the mothering program in me before shipping me to my mum. How do I know? When will it activate itself because I feel like I’m playing at being adult.

I need my primary coping mechanism… information. I need to educate myself.

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