Pregnancy SOS: A diary of a first time mum to be

"Babe are you nearly ready?” Gaz calls from either the bottom of the stairs or the living room door. He’s getting impatient, I can hear it in his voice. I sigh slightly as I stare into the mirror, eyes and mouth open wide as I concentrate on applying the last coat of mascara onto my fake lashes. To be honest, I feel a little bit like a cheap Barbire knock off (I’m ginger you see – whereas Barbie is blonde, so the comparison can only go so far…) I’m not one for false lashes, false nails, fake tan or contouring my face. Not because I have anything against them, on the contrary, I think a woman who can apply all these with skill are goddesses; however I’m a terrible woman and I can’t actually apply these things to myself without hours of frustration and looking ridiculous as an end result. Tonight’s attempt has taken a momentous amount of effort and time; shower & shaved from armpit to toe (literally toe…it seems I’m part hobbit and my big toe grows a small forest of hairs on it if left unattended), hair washed, skin exfoliated, cleansed, dried, moisturised, fake tan applied and left to dry, nails prepped and polished, hair dried and styled, outfit chosen and carefully put on along with matching jewellery, bag and shoes to match. All followed by makeup carefully and painfully applied, taken off when its gone wrong and re-applied several times and lastly a quick prayer to the Gods for mercy as I lost the will to live. Oh, and more than a couple of pity sips from a glass of wine while doing so. Although on hind sight, the wine may have hindered more than it actually helped, but ah well. Just as I finish applying my mascara, I hear impatient footsteps trudging up the stairs, and the bedroom door opens just as I stand up and I’m checking my reflection out in the mirror. This has taken hours - I deserve to admire my handy work. Not bad, not bad at all I think turning around looking at my arse. Now that could do with some work to be fair, but I’m only little in height and I look ridiculous when I squat, so what’s a girl to do? “You look beautiful” Gaz smiles, walking up to me and kissing the top of my head. “Now are you ready?” he asks, stepping away while looking me up and down appreciatively. “We’re going to be late” he says, tutting as I once again lean down to my dresser and grab my ‘special occasions only’ perfume. I drown myself in it (it is a special occasion after all, and these are so rare) and look up at him, smiling sweetly “This doesn’t happen in an hour you know – I’ve had to Youtube how to do these and practice God knows how many times over the last few weeks” I explain, pointing at my lashes as I speak. I put on my best serious face, however he raises his eyebrows and laughs. “Yes, Im very proud of you, now come on, everyone will be waiting,” he says, rolling his eyes. He turns around and walks out of the door, “I’ll put the kids to bed” he says loudly, obviously heading back downstairs. I put on the shoes I've chosen, grab my bag and head to the stairs to join Gaz in the kitchen, patting all our ‘kids’ heads as I walk past. FYI, our kids are dogs. 4 of them, to be exact. I’ll introduce them. Chico. Brown and white, and the only male. He’s the mardy one, and more sensitive than all of the girls put together – he hates the rain, doesn’t like getting dirty and will not under any circumstances walk through a puddle. Milana. Black with little brown, white and grey speckles through her fur. She’s who we call the dopey one, and boy, does she live up to her nickname...she once ran into a glass door because she was too busy looking at the other dogs behind her while running. She was fine; the door however was not so lucky and cost a considerable amount of money to replace. Maggie. All black, who we fondly call the ADHD one. She literally never sits still, even in her sleep, her legs are on the move as though she’s chasing rabbits or something. We often joke that we only really know what she looks like because of photos. And lastly we have Bea, who we not so fondly refer to as the sassy one. Don’t get me wrong, we love her dearly, but my God, she has an attitude bigger than a Great Dane. If you walk too close to her bed in the morning before she’s got up, she’ll shout at you. If you remove a toy from her proximity that she hasn’t finished with yet, even if she doesn’t appear to be bothered by it, she’ll shout at you. About a year ago, I changed her bedding while she was at the groomers having a pamper (she bloody loves a good pamper!), and she had a full on temper tantrum when she walked up to her bed and smelled the new bedding. She then refused to sleep in that bed for 3 days, kicking Chico out of his in the mean time. Which is bizarre, because his bedding was washed in the same load as hers, so smelled the same. Back to the present, and we’re in the taxi on our way to our friends’ house. It’s December 31st 2017 and we’re heading to a house party where our nearest and dearest will all be gathered for drinks, food, fun and games. And more drink. After paying the fare to the poor, tired looking driver (bad times pal, you have a lonnggggg night ahead of you) and getting out, I glance up and properly look at my man. He looks good, but then he always does, especially when we dress up to go anywhere nice. He’s in that navy blue smart jumper with the white shirt collar that’s attached to it, smart dark blue fitted jeans and his hair is gelled in his signature style that he’s perfected. That outfit with his usual neat, tidy facial hair, glasses and a good dose of his usual aftershave and he’s pretty much irresistible in my eyes. While I drink his appearance in, he walks up to me, grabs my hand and leads the way down the path towards the front door. Taking a step back, he lets me knock, and as I do so, I can’t help but stare at the beautiful, shiny diamond attached to the gorgeous ring that came with the heartfelt proposal Gaz got down on one knee for just 11 days before. I smile and think back to the terrified look he had on his face after he had said the words “will you marry me?” while we wait patiently for someone to let us in. The door springs open and Emily’s smiling face greets us, her green eyes shining with excitement, “Hi! Come on in guys, how are you both?” she asks as we step through the door and hug her in turn. “We’re good thanks, how are you?” asks Gaz, closing the door behind him with a quiet click. She nods her head and chats idly about her day as she leads us through to the kitchen, where 5 of our friends are ready and waiting, chatting to each-other with drinks in hand. We enter the room and say our hellos to everyone. First we get to James – Emily’s long term boyfriend. He’s a lovely guy – tall, hard working and very easy to get on with. I think it annoys Emily slightly with how much time he spends at work, but needs must as you can’t keep up a nice house and an active social life on anything other than the good wage that he provides for them. As him and Gaz instantly start talking about work, I wrinkle my nose in disapproval and head to the person nearest me who happens to be my best friends Molly, who is predictably stood with a pint in hand, talking to her long term girlfriend Lara and another friend of ours called Charlie. I hug them one at a time, they all instantly applause the obvious effort I’ve put into my appearance for tonight, and I bask in triumphant glow as Emily hands me a glass of wine and compliments my perfect eyebrows.