A few funny things happened in the days coming up to my monthy ‘due date’.
Abstract ways that my mind was trying to tell me I was pregnant.
I love hearing stories about how women knew they were pregnant but I never thought it would happen to me and yet still, I knew I was pregnant a few days before I did the test.
Firstly, I went through a mad Elvis phase during my last pregnancy. It’s all I listened to for about three months.
Robotman man was doing his nut in and understandably the cd went missing shortly after the Elf was born.
One night I was singing goodnight songs to the Elf. Our repertoire is the same :
Eva Cassidy- Songbird, Judy Garland- Over the Rainbow and Silent Night.
Until this one night where Elvis started singing in my head- I couldn’t focus on the song I was trying to sing.
Are you lonesome tonight. Not the most comforting of lullabies.
I knew instantly- I am pregnant!
I also happened to start heaving at the smell of soup which is permanently cooking in my house, even in Summer.
Then I was mad about raw broccoli.
But the biggest tell of all were the letters of complaint.
During my last pregnancy I was always compiling letters of complaint.
From the taste of ‘mould’ in the micro popcorn (who knew it was a pregnancy symptom?) to the rats tail I found in some frozen veg.
I wrote to one of our local supermarkets (who I used to work for) and complained about the rude staff. The manager met with me and apologised profusely and sent me home with six bottles of top shelf wine and a job offer.
And so, this time around, out of nowhere I started hearing my inner voice muttering ‘I am going to write a letter of complaint’.
Followed by ‘Sweet lamb of divine I am pregnant!’.
I remembered this the night I emailed off a letter of complaint to another supermarket giant.
I must have a thing about supermarkets eh? Do you remember my Aldi rant?
I have made peace with Aldi though. I have given in but I could swear to you that my local store has calmed down alot. Maybe they read my post and put two and two together.
Maybe they whisper to each other when they see me walk in to the store, ‘here is the loola’.
Oh! That brings me to one final way I knew I was pregnant.
The paranoid fictional stories I create.
Oh yes, the whole of Aldi have been given a photo of me and I am on their watchlist.
That means I am probably also on Dunnes’ and Tesco’s wall of infamous nut jobs who argue over €2 ‘on principle‘. I haven’t gotten round to complaining about Supervalu yet but I still have a good seven months of raging hormones in me.
So there you have it. I was certain I was pregnant before I did the test.
Elvis, heaving, broccoli, letters, paranoia.
Who needs Clearblue?