Tag Archives: Tour of Wessex

How, when and where I found out I was pregnant

20 May

Celebrating Mums is doing a linky-up to share stories about the ‘reality of motherhood’. This is the first (I think) and its looks at how mums found out they were ‘up the duff’.

My story is simple. I wasn’t trying, nor was I even considering trying. I was on the pill and putting in at least 12 hours of running, swimming and cycling a week for a half ironman (mid-distance Triathlon). I was putting so much strain on my body I should have been pretty much incapable of conceiving, even without the pill.

The weekend before I realised, I completed the Tour of Wessex sportive (a very long and hilly road bike race). On the last day, I threw up on my handlebars. I put this down to either overdoing it, or consuming one to many energy gels. That evening, my body felt very odd. I put this down to the cycling. The thought that I was pregnant hadn’t even entered my mind.

The next few days were pretty normal. I went to work, but felt knackered and wanted to ingest copious amounts of full-fat coke. Very odd for me as I generally hate coke, but I put both the fatigue and the craving down to the miles I’d spent in the saddle and carried on as normal.

On the Thursday of that week, I headed to the changing rooms at work to kit myself up for a run home. When I stood up I caught sight of myself in the mirror and overnight I’d turned into Katie Price – without going under the knife. My flat chest has been on the receiving end of jokes from my friends. One birthday I was even made a breast cake to make up for my lack thereof. At that moment there was a very loud pop and the idea I may be pregnant entered my head.

Panic and fear started pulsing through my body. Regardless, I pushed the thought to the back of my mind and began my run home. Of course, trying to forget something like this is impossible and with every strike of my foot on the pavement, my heart beat faster – and not because of the running. My body turned to wibbly jelly and I could think of nothing else than how awful it would be if I really was.

En route, I picked up a pregnancy test. When I got home, I ran up to my bathroom and did the deed. 1 second, 2 second, 3 second…. The wait took an eternity, but when it was over, I faced the biggest fear of my life – a positive result. Deep breaths, it was one test. I had two more and this one has got to be wrong. I went to the kitchen and began knocking back the pints (of water) like a woman possessed. Thank goodness my housemates weren’t around.

Second test – positive, must be wrong. Third test – positive. I must have brought a dud pack. I threw my trainers back on and ran down to the shop and brought two more packs. Back home, more water and four more tests. I spent a small fortune on pregnancy tests that day and the result remained defiant. I was pregnant.

I sat on my bed and began to process the news. Thoughts of all the training I’d been doing ran through my head. It would be wasted. What about work – how would I tell my manager? I couldn’t possibly tell my dad I was pregnant – I was too young (I wasn’t, I was 29). How could I tell Tom?

None of my feelings were positive, but after a week, Tom and I had both decided we’d probably end up moving in together and having kids anyway, so why not now. Over the previous months, we’d become very close and had begun planning some time out from work for some travelling. I’d been spending more and more time at his house and, while moving in together was incredibly daunting, it only meant a few more nights a week there.

Since the week I found out, I’ve not looked back. Having Toby was the best thing I’ve ever done. Motherhood is hard work, but the rewards, love and happiness it brings to your life are endless.

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