The baby likes mango (I'm pregnant)

This is clearly not a picture of my baby. 

Rich and I are over the moon thrilled to announce that Baby Brown will be coming into the world in July. The past couple of months have been challenging to say the least: all day morning sickness, 2 weeks in bed to get over a cold, weird pregnancy cravings (tinned ravioli, cottage cheese and mango have been a highlight of my sick strewn days). Pregnancy has taken its toll on my energy; sleep has become my saviour. The sleep of the dead actually. I feel like I've been out for 5 minutes, turns out I've been out for 45 and could easily and greedily lap up more. 9pm is my new bedtime. I eat at 5.30pm.

I'm not only growing a child but eating and sleeping like one. 

And what about my wardrobe? Bye bye to 3/4s of my high-waisted wardrobe. I wore a trusty pair of naturally high-waisted culottes to an interview one day and the feeling of pressure was enough to (nearly) make my puke on the face of my questioner. So it's hello to a 90's low rise jean, a plethora of Rich's shirts (gorgeously oversized on me) and welcoming with open arms flat shoes. My whole centre of gravity has changed and I am now shopping for trainers rather than heels. Rich looked at me in amazement when I came home with some trainers before Christmas and exclaimed "we really are living in upside down world!" Amen husband, Amen.

But can we just talk about the sisterhood?

A powerful network of family and friends has opened up and support has flowed through loud and clear. 

A suitcase full of maternity clothes from my sister, books on pregnancy, a Baby Bjorn baby carrier and a foot muff for the pram, an offer of a spare car seat, and bags of baby clothes from couples who have walked this path before us. We have been touched, and overwhelmed, at the generosity of our nearest and dearest.

I'm nearly out of the worst of it - hoorah!!! Apparently in the next 3 months I will "bloom" and "feel energised". No evidence of that yet but as always, trust will out. So onward into 2017 we go. The year we will become parents. And nothing will ever be the same again.