This month marks exactly a year since my first pregnancy. Completely unplanned, out of the blue and destabilising, it rocked the start of 2020 for me. Before ‘lockdown’ became this year’s buzzword and news of a virus killing people in China was just emerging, I was on my very own, self-imposed lockdown, nauseated from morning until night.
My first trimester, like that of many women, was very difficult. I felt isolated, not having told my friends what was happening and completely at odds with who I am. I’m a morning person. I can be found at my desk working from 7am some days and have always been early to rise. During those months, I could barely drag myself out of bed before midday. I felt so unlike myself that I began to question if motherhood was really for me.
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