Wednesday, 7 September 2016

#PreggyMoon - An Introduction

Back when we became betrothed, huzzband and I decided that, like  everybody else in the world without kids, that we would travel annually. I hate being home for my birthday, a trend I set for myself a long time ago and so I encouraged this annual holiday to occur around this time - it also helps that it allows for 8 months of "saving" until day of departure and drapes itself so elegantly over a northern hemisphere summer :)

The horrendous euro to ZAR situation in the beginning of the year deterred me for wanting to visit Europe but huzzband insisted. I bought a guide book for the Greek islands. But huzzband had other ideas. Spain he said. So one fateful evening in February, on a whim before we could even think about it, purchased airplane tickets to Barcelona returning via Madrid. Done. No flexi flights. No refund. 

And we watched as the euro went from 15 ZAR to 17 ZAR.. And we found the two lines of the clicks test. And we watched the terrorist attacks on the news in France. And in Germany. And tried not to listen to Schmommy's disgruntled comments about going to Europe in such a turbulent time. 
But it was too late. 
All accommodation booked and paid for. 
Even the ticket change to come home a little earlier was paid for - 5 weeks was a little over zealous on my part when booking initially and now we have a little lion cub to incubate safely. 

All the books said taking a holiday during the second trimester was a great idea, the last holiday we would spend alone as a couple. (For a while anyway)
And so how glorious that this trip was definitely within that timing I thought. 

Even when we discovered that we couldn't leave on our intended day of departure, even when we had to pay for ticket changes and say goodbye to 4 days in Valencia, even then we were not deterred.

Whoever said that the second trimester is the honeymoon period obviously never ever went to the coast of Spain during global warming. 
Today I am 20 weeks pregnant and have been having the fun time of the swollen feet with disappearing ankles ever since landing in Barcelona. 

And despite the obvious signs, like these swollen ankles and bulging stomach (uuuuuugh and chunky arms uuuuuuugh) it's hard to remember that I am pregnant. That I am not super human. That I need to rest. That I can't tackle the sight seeing like I used to. And certainly not in humid, 30 degree full sunshine days. I suppose we are not in the plains, but where is the rain in Spain? 

We are currently in Valencia. Which was a smoldering 40 degrees when we arrived. I thought September would be that perfect temperature - you know, the one where the heat is slowly peeling away, it's warm enough to swim but cool enough at night to wear a cardigan to hide my hideous arms? 
Nope. Not here and not now. Checking out the predictions for Madrid and the scorching doesn't seem to dwindle. Le sigh. So glad I brought all those leggings with me... Expanding at an unbelievable rate, I realized today that I have no idea what I'm going to wear on the airplane back home - pretty sure I'm not going to be able to fit comfortably in my g star leggings, no matter how stretchy they are and how they were intended as travel wear. Le sigh.

And so, this is why, even on the borrowed time we have in this beautiful old town, I am indoors, comforted by air conditioning, writing blog posts, dipping in the hotel pool and waiting to go for a manicure on my holiday - because little lion cub needs me to take it easy. Have fun and eat plenty but also, take it easy. 
It's just so much harder to do this mentally and emotionally than I had ever expected. I'm so thankful for Birkenstocks and Maxi-Dresses.


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