Pregnancy insider blog
Whilst we were there, I found out my best friend was pregnant, evident from her lack of hedonism. I felt a pang of jealousy and I accepted that however cool I’d been trying to play it – I really wanted a baby too.
I got my BFP as it is referred to on the (too) many baby forums on Sunday 22 February. I was hungover. I’d been at a hen party all weekend and it wasn’t the tame kind of hen party – it was the shots, willies and drinking games kind of hen party. Oh dear. This didn’t feel like the best start to pregnancy.
We hadn't been trying but I noticed that my boobs had been hurting a lot and my period was a few days overdue. Through the haze of my hangover I started to wonder whether pregnancy was a possibility.
So I arrived home in a sorry state and announced to my husband that I was going to do a pregnancy test and we both went upstairs to the bathroom. I proceeded to pee into a cup whilst he hung around the doorway looking nervous. The horizontal line which appears to form a positive cross appeared almost instantly. With my heart beating I exclaimed ‘Oh ****, I think it’s positive’. ‘No way’ gasped my husband who then proceeded to well up. Again, another moment in my life when I really thought I’d cry with joy and my tear ducts let me down. Probably because the honest truth is, I was terrified!
We stood there for a few minutes talking but I’m not sure what we said. Probably a lot of shocked ‘Oh my gods’ punctuated with some expletives. I do remember my husband eventually saying ‘for god’s sake pull your trousers up’ as I was standing there with my knickers and trousers still round my ankles.
We spent the rest of the day in a haze of other worldliness – was this really happening? We told our parents the news. My husband’s parents were stunned into (happy) silence whilst my mother made weird strangulated noises and flapped her arms like a dolphin.
My BFP experience demonstrated to me that the difference between what you wish for and what you fear really can be but the width of a hair. So far treading that tightrope has been thrilling – hopefully I’ll have a whole nine months to get used to get used to it!
And, am I worried about the hen night? Well yes, I would be lying if I said I wasn’t, especially when I read that quitting alcohol in the first three months is most important. But as I plan to be a shining example of sobriety from now on, there’s no point worrying about going out with a bang.