It started with a squash. Some butternut squash soup to be precise. I don’t even love butternut squash, don’t tell me about it’s velvety sweetness – it does nothing for me. When I’m uninspired and not that hungry at lunchtime and I’m scared of tomato soup (heartburn) there’s not that many options in the fridge section of the local supermarket.
I left work about 430 the same day; with a combination of nausea and Braxton Hicks. I’d felt similar a few evenings previously and thought heading off to get the bus might walk them off. No joy and as soon as I got home I was sick. Heartburn is gross and I spent the next day in bed with that and possibly some sort of bug combined. My phone pinged to tell me I was 32 weeks, and baby was, you guessed it, as big as a squash now.
Apparently my gammy hip is sciatica. I had to cancel a long awaited physio appointment due to the above sickness but a quick description of my symptoms left the midwife in no doubt. Driving is a pain in the bum, walking is a pain in the bum and I’ve finally said goodbye to my bicycle as my main mode of transport. The low-hip-impact mode. Dammit.
Cycling is a funny one; you have to be quite defensive of it in pregnancy. “Are you still cycling?” is possibly the most frequent question I’ve had in the last three months. Said with concern, surprise, admiration and recognition of the need to just get on with shit, depending on who’s delivering the line. Incidentally, the midwives and doctor I’ve seen have never once cautioned against it, and have praised it for keeping me active. It’s not about me as a cyclist. I’m cautious enough, always wearing high vis and a helmet and not too speedy – I hadn’t the energy. But a white van passenger who hopped out in traffic the other week shouted “woah” when he nearly hit me with the door he clearly opened without giving so much as a glance to the mirror. Not sorry, just “woah”. I shouted “just fucking look next time” at him and continued on to creche to pick up Ted. But it affected me. The danger is other people more than anything else. With the clocks going back this weekend and my commute plunged into darkness, that one extra risk factor has made my decision for me. I’ve hung up my helmet.
Other posts in this series: