First Trimester: A Wild Ride

Let’s talk about the first trimester—because honestly? It nearly broke me. I’d always heard about morning sickness and tiredness and blah blah blah... but nothing really prepares you for just how awful (and magical) those first 12 weeks can be.

Straight up: I was shattered. All. The. Time. I’d wake up exhausted, get through work running on fumes, and then come home and feel guilty for not “doing enough.” Add in the constant loop of Is the baby okay? Am I doing this right? What if something’s wrong? and I was basically a hormonal wreck 24/7.

Food? No thanks. Even the smell of my favourite meals had me gagging. I once threw up in a car park. A very public, very full car park. (Shout out to Dan for pretending it was totally normal.)

One night, in a burst of optimism, I thought I’d do something sweet and cook for Dan. I’m not a cook. At all. Dan’s the one with the natural talent in the kitchen, but I wanted to surprise him—so I made these caramelised onion burgers (one of our all-time favourite foods). I spent ages making sure they looked perfect. Plated them up beautifully. And then... as we sat down to eat, I suddenly got hit with the thought of taking a bite and ran straight to the bathroom. Was sick all the way up the stairs. Bonus for Dan though—he got two burgers that night.

But here’s the weird thing: even while I was crying on the bathroom floor or panicking about literally everything, I also felt this deep, overwhelming love for the tiny human I hadn’t even met yet. Like... how is it possible to feel so sick and so in love at the same time?

Somewhere in the middle of the anxiety and nausea, I realised I was already becoming a mum—worrying about someone I hadn’t even met yet like they were already my whole world.

Anxiety hit hard. I couldn’t stop googling symptoms. Couldn’t sleep. Couldn't stop replaying this one horrible thought: If anything goes wrong, it’s my fault. (Spoiler: it’s not. But try telling that to a pregnant brain on no sleep.)

I was literally googling every twinge, cramp, headache, craving—anything—to check if it was “normal.” I lived on pregnancy forums and medical websites like it was my full-time job. At one point, Dan gently took my phone off me and said, “No more Googling tonight.” Sweet, right? What he didn’t know was that I snuck into the bathroom with my laptop and spent another hour obsessively searching things like “is sleeping all the time good for baby?” and “11 weeks pregnant, stomach feels weird, is baby okay?” Classic.

Every day I’d ask Dan, “Do you think the baby’s okay?” And bless him, he never once told me to chill—even when I was crying because I walked through a crowded shop and thought, too many germs. At one point I was so stressed, I genuinely didn’t want to leave the house. Just in case something happened. Just in case it somehow hurt the baby.

We thought about getting an early scan, just to ease my mind—but money was tight. We were already in full-on save mode for maternity leave (the baby was a surprise and we’d just bought a house—great timing!). And deep down, I knew even a scan wouldn’t stop the worry completely. Because once we had that 12-week scan, I just moved on to worrying about the next thing.

But even with all the chaos and hormones and non-stop worry, we found little moments of joy. Every Wednesday (which was the day of my due date on the pregnancy app), Dan and I had this little ritual. We’d sit together early in the morning, have a cup of tea before I left for the office, and he’d guess what fruit the baby was that week. I’d read out how the baby was developing—tiny arms, fluttering heartbeat, fingers forming—and it became something we both genuinely looked forward to. It helped him feel connected too. Like we were doing this together.

After weeks of worrying, crying, googling, and second-guessing everything I ate or felt... it was finally time. The scan. I was nervous walking in, convinced something might be wrong, heart pounding so loud it felt like everyone could hear it.

And then there it was. That little bean-shaped baby on the screen, moving around like they owned the place. Arms, legs, a tiny heartbeat flickering away. I just stared. Dan squeezed my hand, and we both just went silent.

It was surreal. And completely magical.

Up until that point, everything had felt a bit abstract. But seeing that little person made it official. It was real. I was really growing a whole human. And they were doing just fine.

I think part of me exhaled for the first time in weeks during that scan. It didn’t erase the anxiety, but it gave me something solid to hold onto. A real moment. A photo we could frame. Proof that they were there, and they were okay.

So yeah. The first trimester? It was rough. But it was also the start of everything. The start of becoming a mum. The start of a bond with someone I hadn’t met yet but already loved with my whole heart. And that made every sleepless night, every tear, and every awkward public puke... kind of worth it.

P.S... how do people keep it a secret for 12 weeks? Honestly, how?! I cracked by about week eight and started telling close friends and family. I needed to share the joy—because despite all the anxiety, there really was so much joy. A new life was growing, and I couldn’t keep it in.