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  • Some of my friends are currently pregnant with their second children.

    Friends that have children the same age as my little boy.

    I have already decided, even after lots of persuasion and requests from Steve, that Jacob will be an only child.

    I did not come to this decision lightly. And I still struggle with it now, but at the moment that is not going to change.

    With all these pregnancies and blooming gorgeous women around it has made me reflect on my pregnancy (aka before Cowbird).

    I had a dream, before I became pregnant, that I was going to have a little girl called Liberty.

    In my dream I went around telling everybody that Liberty meant Freedom.

    When I fell pregnant I was convinced it was ‘women’s intuition’ that I was having a girl.

    I referred to the bump as ‘she’ so much that people assumed that we had found out at the scans. We decided not to do this. We just felt that what would be would be.
    We disregarded old wives tales that we were told and I just believed we were having a girl.

    But, always practical, Mum knitted yellows, creams and green.

    I was lucky to have a very healthy pregnancy. The first few weeks I suffered with sickness. I refuse to call it morning sickness, as for me it went on all day, but I was never physically sick. By week 13 it was so bad that I actually had a day off work (unheard of for me) and after that it was gone.

    It was over and I just got on with the next few months.

    The last two months I was just tired. I could have easily napped at 3pm every day and started waking up at 4am every morning (only rescued by Father Ted to put me back to sleep).

    All this time I was talking to her in my belly.

    She liked it when I went on the cross trainer, this made her jiggle about.

    She liked to wake me up at 4am.

    She wanted to arrive late, when I thought she would come early.

    I ended up being induced as she was so happy being inside and, although I had a difficult time giving birth, when the baby arrived I asked if she was alright before even asking if it was a boy of a girl.

    When told it was a boy my first words were ‘I was wrong’.

    Jacob was then whisked away and checked over before being returned to us. Steve was the first one to hold him and Jacob was the only boy’s name we had even talked about seriously.

    And so I was wrong.

    My baby wasn’t a girl. My baby wasn’t early. And it doesn’t matter one bit.
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