Fear of commitment.

As I write this I am 25 weeks 3 days pregnant. I weighed myself during the week, I still don’t know if that was a good idea or bad. I never weight myself in normal life, I just try on my skinny day jeans to see if I need to consider eating less. Unfortunately that doesn’t work anymore, those mock me when I try entice them past my knees. Anyway I appear to be 3 lbs up on the result given when searching for ‘weight gain at 25 weeks’ (I know I’m all for accurate, medically sound information). I’m not sure how I feel about those 3lbs – they seem irrelevant compared to the other XXX lbs I’ve gained (no I’m not ready to share with you) however I also feel those 3 lbs will be my nemesis post pregnancy when I try to fit back into my wardrobe, especially because those 3lbs are very likely to turn into XXX lbs (no I’ll never tell).

I actually don’t mind the weight gain or soft feeling of my body from lack of hard core exercise. I still feel sexy and enjoy my rounded stomach but I do see how pregnancy can be tough for people who care more about their physical appearance. It really isn’t a vanity thing I’ve decided, it’s more about confidence and self-identity than about appearing attractive to others. So yes basically I’m saying it’s not about you, it’s about meeee. Anyway there’s my tuppence worth on body image in pregnancy…what do you mean you didn’t ask for it?

The other thing I have realised this week is that I have a fear of commitment. Yes 25 weeks and 3 days pregnant is quite late to realise this however worry not – my fear of commitment is towards baby item shopping. I am in the head melting world of baby buggies, dear Jesus there are too many models and so expensive.  We’re planning to go second hand and so I have signed up for alerts when new travel systems are uploaded. I check my email, find the perfect one at a good price, nod my head, admire the bargain and then close the email. I can’t commit to anything yet. What if the Quinny isn’t as good as the Uppa Baby, better than the Joolz but non match the Bugaboo??  Do you even know what those words mean? For some reason because I had a successful fusion of egg and sperm I’m now meant to. It’s a terrifying and unpredictable world and I am among it without so much as an instruction manual (or bank balance to buy the Stokke which is so very pretty).

Amongst this fear of committing to buggies, baby clothes, nursery colours, drawers and cots I have realised a talent for committing to … blankets. Yes blankets. Possibly the least important item that is needed by a baby, (I mean you could put a towel on baby if you had to), however I have bought a blanket every time I’ve been meaning to buy a useful item on my list. I have blankets in grey, white, grey and white. Some are fluffy some are knitted, some are cute, some trendy. However all of them will fit and I’m almost certain I won’t regret purchasing any.

Blankets are safe, they are my friend, they are the accessory shopping on a day you feel fat. They don’t say anything about my ability to be a mother, they will lie there looking awesome and shan’t care what buggy there are seen in. One day I will drop one of these blankets, someone will pick it up and admire what a nice blanket I have. They will then see the glory of the child it is covering and I am entirely convinced won’t even notice that my buggy is a convenience shopping trolley. I guess what I’m saying is that it isn’t what’s on the inside that matters, but what you dress it up in.

It’s likely I have 4 – 19 more blankets to buy before I commit to any larger investment piece.