A Whole 9 Months of Pregnancy

After 9 months of sweat, blood and tears (metaphorically speaking), I’m delighted to announce the birth of my daughter. She’s the most beautiful creature in the whole wide world and I feel like I’ve learnt the true meaning of love. To mark this occasion, I’ve decided to launch this blogzine, featuring posts from myself and other individuals on the topics of women’s health, parenting & pregnancy.

Anyways, getting back to the topic on hand, I’ll be truthful, I was always very career-driven and didn’t really think of having my own bundle of joy, but once I decided to settle down, it was only natural that my partner and I decided on having a family of our own. And of course, before I even knew it, I had a positive pregnancy test. My first emotions were excitement for what was to come and sheer joy at the beautiful journey I was going to embark upon.

The first trimester was absolutely brutal on me with morning (read: day) sickness becoming a daily part of my life. At one point, I decided I would simply starve myself, so I didn’t have to deal with this symptom. But then, the hunger pangs would strike and I would end up at square one all over again. I was also constantly exhausted and could easily spend a whole day blissfully asleep in bed. However, despite these issues, I at least had the 12 week dating scan to look forward to!

In the second trimester, my symptoms improved alot and I felt more energetic. However, I actually found it a little tedious; all I was doing was eating mindlessly, lazing around on the sofa/bed most of the time with occasional walks in between. The energy was of no use at this point, because I just felt like I was getting heavier and becoming more of a liability with my huge bump when out and about.

At the third trimester, things hit the fan! I was diagnosed with gestational diabetes, the baby’s movements were abnormal and my bump was measuring quite big. According to NICE guidelines, I would have to deliver at 38 weeks due to my GD diagnosis, but because the baby wasn’t moving as it should and it was measuring above percentile, it looked like I would be delivering alot earlier at 31 weeks via C-Section. I was terrified, as I really wanted to keep this little bun in the oven for a little longer, and thank God, I managed to get to 38 weeks!

With continual monitoring, a shot of steroid injections and a fear of shoulder dystocia as well as my autoimmune disorder, it was decided that the safest way of delivery would be C-Section. My little girl was born on the 1st of August in the afternoon – a date forever engraved in both my heart and head.