Now 5 months pregnant, how things have changed!

It's been a while since my last entry, because I didn't want to bore you with the throws of morning sickness. Some pregnant women dodge this unfortunate symptom, but I haven't been so lucky!

Has my life changed? Have I managed to leave the house since my last entry? YES!!

My non-existant stomach, has now swelled into a portly pot-belly. On Tuesday I have my twenty-week scan, in which I'll, fingers-crossed, learn my baby's sex.

I was crossing everything that I would be having a girl, all though over the past month, I've come to the conclusion I could't care less. Girl or boy, I'm having a baby; a beautiful little person with ten tiny fingers and toes.

I've never considered myself maternal, until now, though this is probably the most exciting thing that's ever happened to me.

My breasts have grown enormous, and my nipples now look like raspberry's! Which hopefully will make them appetising enough for my baby to latch on with no problems!

I haven't felt any movements yet, because my stomach muscles are so strong, it's hard for the baby to kick/punch through them, enough for me to notice. All though I've listened to the heart-beat, and all is well.

For those of you who haven't had babies, or haven't got a maternal bone in your body, believe me I've been there. This is ALL new to me.

Pregnancy tires you out!! I only have to walk up the stairs and I'm puffing and panting, it's like a trek up a mountain! Every night I'm woken up by the urge to pee, at least four times, which my partner loves, as he works early starts.

It takes me a good hour to fall asleep, because with pregnancy comes heartburn. I also can't lay on my front (my favourite position), because my stomach's now too big. Definitely my biggest peev!

But alas, having a baby grow inside you is the most wonderful, strangest, surreal feeling you will ever feel; worth every last minute of back-ache, and heartburn.

Apparently my baby is now the size of a six inch subway sandwhich, head to the rump.

Sex is not a problem, at this point, if anything my partner finds my curves, and maternal attitude, a huge turn on.

So I really can't complain!

I get out as much as possible, mostly walks, and day-trips, or to the pub for a meal here and there. Tomorrow we're off to the coast to play the amusements!

I have day's where I'm happiest indoors, and venturing out seems impossible. Or atleast hard-work.

Though on the whole I've come a long way. It's really not as bad as I thought it would be.

It IS possible to overcome your fears, I'm living proof!!

x Jess

Pregnancy, positivity, and nostalgia.

I woke up alone, twice, this morning (as my partner worked away last night)...

Firstly to pee, because my bladder since pregnancy, has become impatient and lazy. I could ignore it, but then it protests by throbbing until I can hold it no longer. Unfortunately, our bathroom is downstairs.

I've come to hate waking up alone. I spend most of my days alone. I've done so for many years, however, things are different now. Loneliness (aside of loss) is the worst feeling I know.

Which is why my first task, every day, is to cheer myself up. Camomile tea with honey does-the-trick, and a giggle with my sister: a comedy, Disney, or innocent film, comes a close second. I have to be careful what I watch these days, because loneliness drives depression, and depression isn't easy to control. (I've sussed it though, after a good decade).

For instance... I woke up this morning, wombled downstairs, and looked in the mirror. For no other reason than it was there, looming over the sink, above my toothbrush, which I needed.

Up until now, my morning-sickness has been like a drunken hang-over: a nauseaus, spinning aftermath of a night-out, in which that hot-dog you've eaten is feeling neglected, and wants to make a re-appearance. (Not that I've had a night out in years, but I have my fuzzy memories).

Yesterday I managed not to be sick, for the first time in months, and standing infront of the mirror this morning, in my underwear, it showed. Up until now, my face has been thin, it's always been thin actually, because I've always been stuck in a dieting- loop.

All though, this morning, my face has filled out, a little, I hate to say it, but I look better.

I'm not happy with my weight, but it's what comes with pregnancy, I expect it will grow on me!

I'm feeling postive today, I'm going to jump in the bath, prod some more at my growing wobbly-bits (I'm not used to having bits to poke at), whilst listening to my Brit Awards '96 cd, for nostalgia (always a great one to put you in a good mood), prat about with my hair, and then go for a walk.

Okay, it's not an entirely independent move, as I'll have my partner on my arm (a crutch), but it's a start. I've not been out now in weeks, not since my last scan, I need some air.

It's laughable, yet when I'm out, sat in the car, I'm like one of those dogs that sticks its head out of the window, excitedly.

I love being out, I'm just not good at going places on my own. I've no idea why.

People expect me to be confident, I 'look' confident. Yet drop me in the middle of a busy town centre, and all I want to do is dart for the nearest small shop, and phone for someone to come get me. How did I ever get like this?

The only thing which sometimes motivates me, is when I'm shopping, because then I have something to do, somewhere to be, a goal; rather than wandering aimlessly. Even then, if alone, I walk about looking lost, as if I have a sharp pencil rodded up my backside. I look shifty, it's unfortunate, because security guards trail me, which only makes things worse!

There are reasons why I am the way I am, yet they would only draw sympathy, or pity, or loss of respect. On the-one-hand, I want to explain it's not laziness, nor cowardice, nor that I'm timid; but what does it matter how I got here? Here I am. What matters is what I do about it.

It's difficult to understand, myself. Logically it makes no sense... you want to go out, so do it! Stop belly-aching.

I've tried everything, therapy, medication (not a wise move), hypnotherapy, and homeopathy. I realised, eventually, the only person who can help me, is me.

I have to face-my-fears, because if I don't, one day I'll wish I had.

I already do.

My partner doesn't help. He spends a good eighty percent of his time criticising me, pointing out my faults. It's irritating, and we argue, because I'm not a mouse. However, it wears me down. I often imagine what it would be like if he complimented me, threw me a joke once-in-a-while, did something spontanious, a romantic gesture (without motive).

Being reclusive drives you to day-dream. Reading is a form of day-dreaming, as is writing. People read to escape their troubles: boredom, and reality.

I'm sometimes happier in my head, at the risk of sounding unhinged. It's somewhere you can be 'anywhere', regardless of your circumstances. I've dreamt about paddling - swimming in the sea, alot lately. Laying in a grassy field, surrounded by corn, and sunshine, with a picnic basket.

I'm tired of dreaming though, I will paddle in the sea, I might even join a swimming baths. I've been looking into it - there's a women's only session, locally, in the evenings.

I've not been swimming for a long time, since fifteen? I used to love swimming.

I might even go for that picnic, maybe even thread some daisy-chains.

I'd better get ready, I'm leaving the house today if it kills me!

Jess x

My car keys have gone walk-abouts (again!)

I woke up on the wrong-side of bed today, thanks to a blazing row with my partner, who often forgets I'm pregnant.

In his job he works away, he came back for two hours last night, to sleep (and attempt to get his leg-over). If in need of 'relief', it's wise not to goad your partner to the point of tears, just a tip!

I lay there minding my own business, considering what to do with my life, and he started complaining how his life is ruined, because of a few stupid mistakes (if lap-dancing clubs, several affairs, indulging in a fling with one of my friends, and humiliating me to the hilt is a few mistakes, then I'll sign up to be a tourist guide!)

I laid there, eyes narrowed, digesting his complaint. His main grievance being that I no longer trust him to go to the pub and get p***ed.

I don't stop him from drinking, far from it, just not to the point he babbles s***, and thinks with his trousers. Why would I trust him, when he acts like a pillock?

Anyhow, he goaded me, whinged, and threw a temper tantrum; I barely slept, and woke up glad he was off to work.

I'm now sat with a pot of 'Ben and Jerry's' fudge Brownie ice-cream.

Worse still, he's hidden my car keys, knowing that when I go anywhere it's always in the car. It's a growing annoyance, they often 'disappear', all though he always denies it. It's beginning to p**s me off.

My morning sickness is subsiding, thank God! I couldn't leave the house even if I'd wanted to for the first two months, I was permanently fixed to the bathroom.

I laid in bed last night, listening to the distant traffic, considering my options...

With no qualifications, and a C.V that lacks committment, leaving too many blanks (unless I fabricate a ficticious master-piece), shop-work is my likely option, and in todays economic-climate, I'd be lucky to get a job doing that.

Besides which, I'm pregnant, and being a mother in itself is hard-work. I don't want to palm my baby off onto somebody else while I scrimp in a shop, on the minimum wage. I probably couldn't do it anyway, getting out and about is one thing, but jumping head-first into a nine-while-five when I struggle with anxiety, and would be likely to phone in with some ridiculous excuse every other day, would be stupid.

So what else can I do? What are my options? (Small-steps).

There's a carboot on Sunday, I could go that, do a David Dickenson, or use my better judgement and hunt out some designer names, haggle them down, and sell them on Ebay?

Small-potatoes, but I have to start somewhere, it's a start. Most importantly, it gets me out.

But what about the long-run? I'm 27, and have a baby on the way. I want her, or him to have all of things I never had, and be proud of me. I don't want to rely on my partner, or my parents, it was never my plan, degrading isn't the word!

So what am I good at, what can I do?

Well, I used to write, years ago. Perhaps I'll write. Short-stories to begin with, because they're bite-size. If nothing else, I'm doing something productive, something which I enjoy. I could enter competitions?

Pie-in-the-sky! My partner snorted, when presented with my brain-wave. Nothing like some encouragement from your significant-other!

My bump's not noticeable yet. I'm wondering when it will happen... will I expand overnight? Where is it?!

The scan was beautiful, she (I feel she's a girl, for no reason I can explain), or he, bounced about as the sonographer prodded my stomach. The tiniest fingers and toes I've ever seen, curled and grasped; a bright light in the middle of their chest pulsed, hard and fast. Up until then, it didn't feel real, being pregnant was just a 'condition'. Not anymore.

I won't go out today, because my keys have mysteriously vanished, but I'll do something productive all the same. I don't watch television during the day; I read and write, and gas on the phone to my sister (she makes me laugh, and laughter's important, it's what's saved me from insanity I suppose). I'll stick on a dvd, for half an hour, a comedy (perhaps a Steptoe), something to make me smile; then I'll set to work.

Jess x

Crossroads

I'm not sure what I'm doing here, yet here I am, and if I don't get-this-off-my-chest, I'll burst.

Having spent a good decade living as a recluse, rarely leaving my house, and watching the world through my window (all of which sport white net curtains, like OAP's houses, for added privacy), life is no longer the same.

I used to enjoy my privacy - embrace not having to leave my little safe house, of which I share with my parents - now all I want is to escape.

Most people think recluses are anoraks, people meak with small voices, who flinch at every sound and movement. Far-from -it; on the surface I'm confident and bubbly. It's a fools world!

Why change now? All I know, is that I used to like being in the house, and now I don't.

When I was younger I'd go out, have panic-attacks, my chest would thump so hard it hurt. My skn would burn and I'd feel faint. The world span, and people's voices sounded like traffic (think a bad hang-over).

It didn't happen in the house, I was safe.

Then last year my bubble popped; my partner of several years cheated on me. He'd spread-himself-around more times than a jar of jam. I was stunned, as ridiculous as it sounds, I couldn't believe it. I was inconsolable, lost, and then mad. Part of me was mad at myself, for allowing it to have happened; if I hadn't have had 'problems', he wouldn't have been able to take advantage of them.

I never thought it possible to love and hate at the same time, yet it is, as I discovered when I tried to leave my partner. I couldn't do it. I hated myself for it, because it was weak.

I'll compare it to Stockholmes Disorder, because my partner is all I've ever known, for too long. No matter what he's done, it's impossible to imagine life without him.

And so he moved in, and we decided on a 'fresh-start'.

'Fresh start' isn't the right phrase, 'living-hell' is about right. Once the trust is gone, it's gone, and once a man has had all of the freedom in the world, and then had it restricted, he becomes resentful.

I became resentful myself.

People change, I've decided. I've changed.

He's made me realise there has to be more to life. What have I got to lose by leaving him? Well... I'm three months pregnant. Things aren't as simple now.

Initially I broke down, cried, cursed myself for letting it happen. Part of me wished I wasn't pregnant, I considered my options but could never give this baby up; due to an eating disorder I'd only recently managed to kick, I didn't think it was possible for me to have children, in a sense I was overjoyed.

On-the-other-hand, I mourned; it felt as if I'd lost the chance of ever being loved, having a child-in-tow will put alot of men off. I'd be alone for a long time. That took while to get my head around.

I've come to accept this now, if my relationship fizzles, hit's rock-bottom and my only option is to leave; I'll always have somebody special.

My life HAS to change. My best memories are from my childhood, it was when I was happiest. Every child deserves a happy childhood. Long walks: trips away, sand-castles, picnics, lumping snowmen, paddling in the sea, running so fast you feel as if your legs are going to flop-off!

I have to change. I want to change. I will change!

Firstly, I need some independence. I need to force myself out of the door, solo, no other-half on my arm.

It's strange, but I always feel people are looking at me when I'm out, sometimes they do. Men stare because I have big boobs, and I hate it, dressing frumpily makes little difference. I'm not pretty, I wish I was.

So modelling's out the window, (laughing), as is a high-flying job, let's face it I'd have to go to uni for a good many years, and with a newborn, it would prove difficult.

It's a question I need to think about.

I want to walk up my street, happy, carefree, instead of sitting by the window watching the world go by (I've lived here for over twenty years, and aside of next-door-but-one, can't name any of the neighbours). I've watched them stroll by, hop by, hobble by, zimo-frame by... and stop walking by.

I often wonder if they notice, if they know. Perhaps children make stories up about me, am I their witch? I doubt it, if I was, they'd knock me and run-off, post a letter, or sneak about the house at night, for a glimpse through the netting. (thinking 'Boo Radley' here).

No, nobody knows, because people are busy. Places-to-go-people-to-see.

I'm invisible. It never bothered me before, but now it does.

I don't want to be invisible anymore!

Jess x