For the last couple of months, I’ve found it almost impossible to write posts for this blog.
Because I write from the heart – but I couldn’t yet share what was inside it.
Every time I sat down to write a post, I stared at a blank screen. The words didn’t flow.
Because I wanted to tell you everything.
I wanted to tell you about how I have woken up every morning since Christmas with awful nausea. About how I chomped through two dry rice cakes on the school run every morning to get myself through it. About how I went through 4 outfit changes every day at 7am until I found something that successfully hid my swollen tummy.
I wanted to tell you about how I have been feeling. About how the thought of bringing back out the moses basket, breast pump and steriliser one last time is both wildly exciting and terrifying at the same time. About how the thought of holding a newborn again in just six months time fills my tummy with excited butterflies – but that past experience tells me to prepare myself for broken nights, sibling rivalries, and the challenge of working out a whole new routine. About how I have swung between feeling sad for the boys and remembering we are giving them the ultimate gift.
Because after a healthy 12-week scan yesterday, I am happy to share that our baby number three, god willing, will be arriving in September.
A little brother or sister for my boys.
The last pea in the pod.
The baby of the family.
I’m so happy to be sharing this news with you all finally – and hope you will join me as my bump grows bigger and we get ready to become a family of five.
I am already counting the days until I get to hold this little one in my arms.