Exactly this time last year, we were in the process of postponing our dream wedding. This year is a completely different story having welcomed our (surprise?) baby boy in early April.
Postponing our OTT, fully paid for destination wedding from June 2020 to June 2021 was hard even if we knew no one could have made it. June 2020 was still peak wave one of the pandemic. Most countries including our destination were still under lockdown. Forget being open for a 100+ pax celebration. We pushed to June 2021, unable to find a suitable date (read: Saturday) during the summer or fall seasons back in 2020. It felt like ages away. A short lifetime even. It was also for the best because as it would happen, we ended up having to postpone again to 2022. But wait, we’re not there yet.
Our original 2020 wedding date came and went. Incidentally it rained at the venue, so silver linings? We decided to go ahead with our civil ceremony in Germany with immediate family only (or at least those that could make it) in early July. It was nice to be officially married. As soon as we returned home to London, I booked a fertility screening for three weeks later to check if it would be possible to put baby plans on hold a few months to allow us have our splashy wedding in June. I’d have been happy to be a month or two along at the time.
The screening went well. They tested my AMH levels, did a pelvic scan and tested Theo’s semen. All were great except the pelvic scan revealed I had three sizeable fibroids in my uterus. The consultant recommended I come back for further tests to see if the Fallopian tubes were obstructed.
We had a holiday to the south of France booked the following week and I made a mental note to confirm the appointment when we were back. Little did I know, I was already pregnant. That said, I knew something was up. There were a few odd things going on with my body that went beyond the regular Google-able pregnancy symptoms. They were:
- A weird dark line going from my navel all the way downward
- My whole adult life I’d worn two-piece bathing suits. Yet on this trip, my mind pushed me not to. I only wore one-pieces on that holiday.
- A disinterest in drinking
- Spotting. But heavier than what I consider to be spotting. It lasted only a day, but I assumed it was my period which has been sort of weird for years
After our holiday I flew to Paris sans Theo. He was going to stick around for an annual boys trip – something I would have hoped he would have outgrown by his 40s (NOPE). A British taxi picked me up because I was with the dog. When I got home, I decided not to take a pregnancy test right away, knowing I’d be really mad at Theo for letting his pregnant wife and puppy travel home by themselves.
Making it to Sunday, still no sign of a normal period, I took a digital test. It went positive within seconds, despite claiming it would need 2 whole minutes. Theo arrived home within hours anyway. We were happy albeit surprised and a little shocked. There were loads of pros here – firstly, we were still locked out of the office. No one – unless they really wanted to – had gone back by that point. Secondly, it did away with any fertility concerns we were having. The baby was conceived within days of us being legally married. Finally, it was like a get-out-of-jail-free card for dropping out of group activities. “Sorry, Covid, pregnancy, can’t make it.” Who would argue with that?
The morning sickness was atrocious though. I developed an aversion to soup and other wet foods (I know, what) and completely stopped cooking. All I could stomach were Ritz crackers and rice cakes. In the second semester, the nausea tapered off but the muscle pain began. I had such bad glute pain I had to see a physiotherapist regularly until Christmas. She sorted me out with acupuncture though (until that point I thought that was some Eastern quack medicine).
The third trimester was the best. I was still working from home full time, wasn’t in a lot of pain and could eat again. For some reason, I didn’t *feel* pregnant. That’s what happens when you don’t move around a lot a guess. The impending birth was the scariest part about that trimester.
All in all it was a good pregnancy. I’ll cover the birth in another post. As already mentioned we had to push our wedding to 2022. And not because of the baby. In November 2021, we made the call that things were not looking great for 2021. We spoke to our wedding planner and venue and they gave us one other option – a single weekend in July 2022. We jumped at it without thinking about the escalated prices Saint-Jean-Cap-Ferrat tends to have in July.
To us it didn’t matter at that point. The baby would be there and it was probably better he’d be able to walk (a bit) and talk (a bit more). We also made the call to pay for all our guests’ accommodation so if anyone bore the brunt of that escalation in cost it would be us.
Hey ho, 2022 here we come.