I don’t care what people say. Being pregnant is shit.

And guess what? Being pregnant with twins is extra shit. Doubly shit in fact. Who’d have thought it, eh?

So I’d already had the hideous morning sickness, way worse than last time around, which was explained away by the fact there were two little sods inside me making me chuck up at the drop of a hat.

During my first pregnancy I felt sick constantly but was only ever physically ill twice. Oh to have that again. This time? It was grim. My sense of smell went haywire and everything made me rush to the loo, or the sink, a discreet (or not so discreet) roadside, and even a measly wet wipe on one unfortunate occasion.

The Other Half cooking our tea made me urge, even when it was something I would wolf down happily an hour later. Washing out the dregs of Toddler’s milk would be a sure fire way to make me puke, feeling hungry or eating too much would have the same affect, but the glamour hit an all time low on the couple of occasions I threw up whilst changing Toddler’s shitty nappy. God it was crap. Quite literally.

Eventually I was put on medication for the sickness, and that’s when the fun really started. The first lot of drugs did sod all, the second lot basically stopped anything from coming out of my body – from either end! And my God, that was bad. Am I actually writing about constipation for the whole of the internet to read? Hell yes. Yes I am!  The worst sickness ever was literally a walk in the park compared to what that drug did to me. As if my body wasn’t suffering enough!

And don’t even get me started on the exhaustion, piles, varicose veins (not of the leg variety), sciatica, swelling in places you didn’t even know existed from sheer extra weight and such awful pelvic pain you feel like you’re being stabbed every time you try to turn over in bed. Beached whale has never been such an apt analogy. A physio offered me crutches to help me walk, the pain was so bad. I politely declined, wondering how I was supposed to stop Toddler running into oncoming traffic whilst hobbling about on stupid sticks.

I think I deserved a medal for managing to bite my tongue when my father in law said “So you’ve had quite an easy pregnancy, then?” ARRRRGHHHH!

But it’s true what people say, pregnancy second time round however many embryos you’re growing, is a totally different ball game to the first.

First time mums-to-be (me included) indulge themselves in naps at the drop of a hat, and certainly within 2 minutes of getting home from work. If given the chance, most generally milk being pregnant for everything it’s worth, because they can. And why the hell not, I say! Second time round, as many of you will know, it’s hard to even remember you’re pregnant (apart from the sickness/piles/constipation/pelvic pain obvs) as you’re so busy dealing with the toddler at the same time.

Somehow I managed to get to 38 weeks with my twins, and all the way through it I was still chasing Toddler around my local National Trust gardens, clambering through tunnels I literally couldn’t fit into at soft play and doing all sorts of things you probably shouldn’t do whilst pregnant at Gymbubbas. A particular highlight for me was getting stuck in a mini-train carriage I’d gone on with him at a local fun farm. It was time for Toddler to fend for himself!

The other REALLY annoying thing about being pregnant with twins is how big you get so quickly. By six months I looked like I was about to burst with just one baby, and I was already fed up with the regular supermarket checkout conversations along the lines of “Wow, you’ve not got long by the looks of things.” Er, three months actually, now mind your own business and stop making me feel fat.

On the flip side, it’s safe to say the best bit about being pregnant is the cravings you have, and the f**k it attitude to eating anything and everything in sight because you’re “eating for two”. Well hello, I was eating for three and I was buggered if I wasn’t going to make the most of it.


Ironically, the day before my morning sickness started at six weeks, I chatted to my Slimming World consultant about how to keep trim whilst pregnant – obviously only thinking there was one baba in there at that point. 24 hours later, I was chucking my guts up, and all thoughts of healthy eating went down the toilet along with my lunch. It was a case of sheer survival by then.

Tried and tested remedies for sickness such as ginger this, ginger that, blah blah blah, just weren’t doing it for me. I needed McDonald’s chips. And lots of them. My sickness wasn’t quite on the Duchess of Cambridge’s scale (and there are thousands of pregnant women who no doubt suffered way more than I did) but my cravings for McDonald’s fries were pretty much off the scale. I couldn’t drive past my local drive-thru restaurant without buying some.

Unfortunately (or maybe fortunately?) I had to drive past it to get to and from pretty much anywhere on a daily basis. It didn’t have to be at meal-times, it was any time of the day. I even drove past on Christmas Day and was actually gutted when it was closed. Looking back I think I was bordering on having a problem! It was an ongoing joke between my friends. The McDonald’s emojis were top of my recent list on whatsapp, it was that bad.


Then salty fries eventually made way for cake. And chocolate. And biscuits. Anything sweet, so long as there was lots of it. I was eating for three, though right? I totally deserved it, and those babies needed fattening up

And I wonder why I’m currently back on Slimming World….


Twins, Tantrums and Cold Coffee


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