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Cigarettes and Calpol

Attempting to make sense of parenthood, life, love, and my own mind.

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third trimester

Being Pregnant in a Heat Wave

I don’t know if you’ve noticed but it’s a little bit hot outside. If you go anywhere in England where there is a patch of grass right now you will see at least 12 sets of sunburnt shoulders frantically necking canned cider and pretending like they’re enjoying every second.

The Great British Summertime!

Pimms, Aperol, prosecco, cider…basically it’s just booze and sunburn. What’s not to love?

Unless of course you just so happen to be overdue, in which case a heat wave is the equivalent of being stuck in a lift with Boris Johnson and Piers Morgan.

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Third Trimester

The final countdown to D-Day. When suddenly everybody wants to know how your nipples are feeling and to give you their tip on how to get labour started (I hate pineapple, and I hate you for suggesting it).

The third trimester is the longest three (possibly longer) months you’ll ever face and everything hurts and who knew you could sweat from there and oh GOD get it out of me!!

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