The first of the foothills

I consider myself a neat and organised person, and as a result swiftly brushed aside all promises that when Speckle arrives my house will descend into a state of chaos. Much of this advice came from my mom, who claims that she was just like me when she was my age, and which I’ve struggled to believe at times. You see, my mom’s house has one or two rooms filled with towering piles of stuff that need sorting. We call these Mount Everest, and she’s always attempting to eliminate them. Mostly they just seem to migrate.

When the first trimester tiredness hit at week seven, cleaning up after myself swiftly fell into the category of non-essential activities. Within weeks, foothills of ‘stuff to sort’ had starting springing up everywhere. One day it dawned on me that I had my own Everest swiftly thrusting its way into my home and that’s when it happened … my first preggie meltdown. I didn’t have the energy to do anything about the situation, but its very presence buried me in despair. I hid myself under my duvet and sobbed my heart out, while Colin desperately tried to extract some understanding of what was wrong. Wails of ‘my life is already falling apart’ and similar sentiments were discernible from time to time.

And so began my first big lesson – give yourself a break! I tend to be really hard on myself, but was forced to re-evaluate my priorities in the face of my non-existent energy. Now that I’m into my second trimester and feeling a lot better I have to remind myself of this. Those foothills don’t clear themselves in a day, especially as I’ve adopted a slower pace in general.

What’s more, I suspect that when Speckle does make his or her appearance, the quest to conquer Everest will become a lot harder. Let’s just hope it won’t be insurmountable!


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