I cannot stop cleaning.  It’s like I’ve been taken over by some super cleaning power and have become addicted to Jiff over night.  I know about nesting before you have a baby but this is extraordinary. I’m taking things to another level.  Washing, scrubbing, hoovering, dusting 24/7 – and I’m actually enjoying it.

Looking back, second time round I feel that I’ve taken pregnancy slightly more in my stride.  There’s been a little less pouring over pregnancy websites, fewer phone calls to Maternity and not so many panics about the baby not moving.  Up until now. 

Now, with less than two weeks to go, I’m slightly starting to freak out.  How on earth am I going to cope with two? Especially post C-Section and the Cub is wanting to practice his new found ‘squeeeeze’ technique, kick footballs at me all day long and then, fit in time to dote on our new tiny Cublet?  

Not helping with the newfound fear is the fact that someone has been seriously testing me and I’ve had the week from hell.  I went up to London for a few days on Monday, primarily to take the Cub for a checkup at the hospital.  Sitting in traffic I got an email from my nanny – who had taken a good few months to acquire – resigning, a record two days after she’d started.  (“Nannying was not for her and she hoped it wasn’t an inconvenience”) Seriously, two weeks before I give birth?

Ten minutes later came a parking ticket for £136 and then the final nail in the coffin, we turned up at the hospital and guess what, the appointment had been cancelled. 

On the positive side, things could only get better.  My wonderful friends threw me the most sensational baby shower full of cupcakes, rose petals and pink champagne and sent me home laden with new bunny suits, cashmere booties and star printed swaddles to wrap the new arrival in.

We are now home and settled.  The changing table from the Little White Company has just arrived and the cot has been built.  Not knowing the sex has meant decorating the room’s been hard.   For now I’ve bought hundreds of starry wall stickers and we have cut up and framed pictures from our favourite books we’ve collected in charity shops.  Sophie Dahl’s Man with the dancing eyes being my fave so far…

The last thing on my to-do list is to get a present for the new one to give the Cub.  I’m thinking a mini guitar but wondering if this is recipe for disaster. He’ll either end up keeping his new small friend awake all day or he’ll use it as some kind of weapon in his fight for my attention.   Decisions decisions…

So this will be my last pre-baby post and I will be back to report on the joys of two when I am back in the land of the living.  Wish me luck, I think I’m going to need it…

Well, actually, there’s no ‘oops’ about it.  My hormones went haywire, and screamed ‘get pregnant! get pregnant!’ so insistently that we decided to throw logic and caution to the wind, and forgot about our initial thinking that a three year gap would be the ideal.  Baby number two is due on the 6th July; there’ll be twenty three months between it and Sholto.  I am beyond excited.

I do concede that it might be quite hard work, initially at least.  But Sholto spent the first year of his life accompanying me on shoots, to interviews, not to mention endless breakfasts at Cecconi’s and lunches at the Wolsely. (I miss those days.  He’s no longer even remotely restaurant-friendly, and I had to stop taking him to work when he learnt to crawl/climb and could therefore reach the photographer’s equipment.) The point is that I figure that his little sibling can spend the first year of its life accompanying Sholto on his play dates, and to Gymboree classes, Baby Picasso classes, and everything else – all from the comfort of Sholto’s Bill Amberg papoose.

Oh yes, because this time, I’ve already got everything.  Or at least, I’ve nearly got everything.  My husband’s first comment on seeing the pink line was “Okay, but, just so you know, we can’t afford for you to ‘nest’ this time, so don’t get any ideas about re-doing anything.” (He might have been referring to my accidental 38-week shopping spree on Walton Street. Or the fact that I persuaded him to spend a whole week sanding down and re-painting the banisters of our staircase.  Or the two weeks we spent re-painting the whole house . . . .)  However, this time I’d like one of those bassinet things that attach to my bed (forget the Moses basket), Sholto is going to need a bed so that the new baby can eventually go in the cot – and I’d love to get our skirting boards painted.  Today, I’m thinking charcoal grey.

And then of course, there’s me.  I’ve still got the cotton jersey skirts from American Apparel that did so well for my last pregnancy (they’ve had to go on rather earlier, this time – I started showing almost immediately) and a whole wardrobe of Issa and Anne-Louise Roswald silk jersey dresses.  However, as I no longer have to dress for the office, there’s rather less call for them this time around.  So I invested in a couple of bias-cut velvet maxi dresses (the Handwritten sample sale) which I’m wearing with long, over-sized cardigans.  Perfect for this time of year – and they’ll work when I’m not pregnant, too!  In terms of maternity tights, the Spanx ones are my favourite, alongside regular Falke 90 dernier in extra large.  I’m not that tall, so can pull them right over the bump.  (A lot of the other maternity tights don’t work properly for me as the bump is not yet big enough – and yet I still have to allow for it.)

However my absolute favourite bit of this pregnancy is that, now that I’m freelance, I can fit in a post-lunch nap with Sholto every single day.  It’s made dealing with the exhaustion SO much easier.  I’m fifteen weeks though now, and can feel the energy returning.  Hello second trimester.

I’ve been trying to be very low key and calm for the past few weeks.  Four weeks ago today, I reached the seven month marker.  The next day I went up to London for a hair do, bit of a shop and general time out from the builders from hell.  All was going well until I’d ignored my tummy ache for slightly too long and thought I’d better pop into A&E just to be on the safe side.  Four hours later, it’s 2am, and I’m strapped to every possible monitor in the Maternity Ward… it turns out it wasn’t something I ate for lunch, I was having full on, regular contractions.  Not ideal at only 28 weeks.  So for the past month I’ve been making a real effort to rest as much as possible.  

We’ve made the decision to have the baby in the John Radcliffe in Oxford, rather than come back to the Chelsea Westminster.  I’ve also been told that it’s going to be much safer for both the bub and I to have a planned Cesarean.  I was desperate to have this one naturally but would obviously rather be safer than sorry.  I’m just hoping that this time as its planned it’ll a bit less traumatic.  I’m trying to think of the positives though and yesterday even bought my first pack of new born nappies…

I’ve been thinking about what to pack in my hospital bag and have been trying to remember what I did and didn’t use and want last time.  There are so many lists on pregnancy websites that offer advice about what to pack but for me there were some things that I would have been lost without and thought I would share them with you.  

7 pairs of big black cotton knickers.  Mothercare maternity ones were my best. I bought two sizes too big and they were perfect.  Don’t get anything swanky as you’ll probably never want to see them again and throw them in the bin afterwards.

A front opening nightie.  If you’re going to be in for a while take at least three if you can.  Zara home have some beautiful Liberty Lawn ones.

An Evian water spray. For cooling as much as drinking.

Snacks.  Lots of them and preferably chocolaty based.  

Phone charger.

Your own pillow and duvet.  

Dry shampoo.

The strongest Arnica you can find.  If you can, start taking this at least a month before your due date.

A laptop with some pre-loaded very easy  to watch films on.

Cameras and chargers

At least 4 baby outfits.  Socks, a hat, warm blankets.  When the Cub was born, we hadn’t given this enough thought and only bought one very summery outfit with us, much to the amusement of the Midwives.

A baby car seat.  They won’t let you home without one.

Very loose fitting clothes for you when you leave hospital.  Sorry be the bearer of bad news but you’re not going to be fitting into your old jeans quite yet.

Kamillosan Chamomile ointment.  Miracle two in one nipple cream that works just as well on nappy rash too.

New born nappies.  Pampers get my vote.

Cashmere socks.

Muslin squares.  I had boring white ones first time round, this time I’m desperate for a pretty Aden & Anais one covered in stars. 

Lip balm and moisturiser.  My skin was drier than the dessert for some reason.

 This week is my last working one before I’m putting myself on Maternity leave.  We are shooting the last part of my book and as much as I love it, I will be so relieved to have it all over and done with without the baby having made an early appearance.  First stop on my maternity leave is to check myself into the Haybarn at Daylesford for some much, much needed R and R.  I then feel I’ll be ready to start thinking about Christmas.  And build the new baby’s cot….

I wasn’t sure if I was going to get the chance to post again between last week and today but my due date, which was Sunday, has now come and gone so here I still am.

 
It’s a strange limbo-like place to be, waiting for your baby to make an appearance. Her room is ready, hospital bags are packed, cupboards and fridge are stocked with soups, pastas and other things I trust Nico to be able to rustle up for me during my 10 day to 2 week ‘babymoon’ when I’m under strict instructions to stay cosied up in bed with the new arrival. Guess we’ll see how I do with that.

 
I think I timed finishing any proper work just about right, even though I only gave myself two weeks before my due date. I’m not generally the sort of person who enjoys lying on the sofa watching daytime TV so it took me a while to wind down but I also made sure I had a last hurrah in the form of a baby shower and early birthday tea (as, one way or another, I will be otherwise occupied on the day) at Blakes, my favourite hotel in London. It was a great way to see about fifteen of my closest girlfriends all at once, the staff looked after us all brilliantly and I honestly don’t think I’ve ever had more delicious scones and other home baked goodies in such decadent but convivial surroundings.

 
I also managed to squeeze in a lovely Aromatherapy Associates Nurturing Rose Cocoon treatment at the Dorchester Spa last week which it was so worth the trip into town for. The spa, which was only revamped  a couple of years ago, is pristine and gorgeously glam with lovely deco touches – especially in the Relaxation Room – and Jessica, my French therapist knew just when to chat about my imminent arrival (while she gently scrubbed my skin with body polish) and when not to (while she slathered me in a combination of creams and oils and gave me a soothing face and head massage).

 
So, now I’m baby-showered and buffed for the big day, I should probably sign off until after the little bundle arrives. It’s been fun keeping a pre-baby diary – I just hope it’s as much fun, and a welcome return to my keyboard, writing an account of her first few weeks.

I wasnt sure that it would ever get to the point where I would actually write a post from the new house in the country. But here I am, sitting in the gorgeous new kitchen tapping away. It’s been a pretty full on few weeks. I’m still negotiating my way round the last fifty boxes that are dotted around hallways, hiding in corners. As well as the boxes, we have builders. I wanted to finish decorating before Christmas and Leaf’s arrival in January so thought we should just get on with it.

 
I’m sure normally, without these pregnancy hormones flying around, I’d be quite happy and able to cope with it all. However, thanks to a nice mix of daily fighting with BT; not being able to get to the fridge through all the plastic sheeting; slipping on dust sheets every five minutes and having the Cub perma glued to my side; there have been some pretty sensational melt downs. I seem to remember the same thing happening last time around this stage.

Five months is definitely the low point my pregnancies. A lot of tears, tantrums and irrational thinking. I would like to be hiding under a nice rock somewhere for the next few weeks and wait until the six month milestone arrives. On a positive note, my scan last week was fab. We made ourselves look away when given the option of finding out if it’s a girl or boy. I quite wanted the sonographer to write it down on a piece of paper in case we changed our mind. But as Chaz pointed out, I wouldn’t have lasted longer than the walk to the car. So for now, while Im on a decorating mission, I’m still none the wiser whether to cover the little cherub’s walls in Barneby Gates’s pink or blue stars.

I guess I’m not the first mama-to-be to say this but I can’t quite believe that I only have six and a half weeks til D-Day – or should that be B-Day?

 
As I work from home and have had a comfortable pregnancy so far I’m planning on continuing writing for as long as I can, but I’m also realising the importance of ‘letting go’ so am gradually trying to achieve a balance between work, taking it easy and doing the things I won’t be able to do quite so easily in the coming months.

Everyone has advised us to go to the cinema and eat out as much as possible, and I’m thinking it’s probably also a good time to get some quality reading done as well as a bit of quiet time listening to music and savouring the peace and lack of serious responsibility.

 
But back to all things infant-related. The baby’s room and wardrobe (if you please) are gradually taking shape, particularly after a visit to one of my best friend’s who has four kids. I am now so well kitted out with babygros and the like that I’ll hardly need to buy anything for the little one’s first couple of months. My parents-in-law also surprised us with a Newborn Moses Basket Gift Set from this very site – so cute and cosy-looking I’m intending to squeeze the little sprout into it for as long as possible.

 
We’ve also invested in a gorgeous chair from Andrew Martin, which as well as being perfect for feeding should also be an ideal place to read, both for us and for the little one’s first forays into The Hungry Caterpillar, Roald Dahl and beyond.

I am now 30 weeks and starting to feel it. I’ve realised that it’s just not possible to glide through my usual day of dog-walking, meetings in town, supermarket shopping and all the bits in between with quite the usual aplomb. After a full-on bout of Braxton Hicks contractions (the little practice ones that are supposed to be harmless but don’t feel it when you’re getting them every five minutes) a couple of weeks ago I’ve started tailoring my lifestyle to fit around my burgeoning bump a bit more.

I have also started to take my body, and its ever-changing shape, a bit more seriously and have already bought a rather gorgeous Amoralia Nursing Bra – which I have to admit my husband and I stood staring at in some disbelief when I unwrapped it in the kitchen.

It was with even more trepidation that we went to choose a buggy. Every mama and mama-to-be will know that getting the right wheels for you, especially first time, feels just as critical – if not more so – than buying a car. We settled on (or so we thought) a Baby Jogger City Elite; lightweight, easy to collapse and a good size for the boot of our Golf. Then we got home and decided we actually preferred the Mountain Buggy Swift for it’s sturdier, more stylish design and slick lines – aesthetes, us?

But it was our first antenatal class that really put us both to the test. Just sitting in a roomful of strangers knowing that it was only a matter of time before we were asked to ‘turn to the couple on our right’ and talk about or demonstrate something vaguely embarrassing was enough to make us nervous, and when the midwife started swinging a pretend placenta around I thought Nico was going to pass out. Hey-ho, can’t wait til the real thing…!

I’m quite concerned about my taste since being pregnant. Or rather the lack of it. I’ve started liking things that never in a million years would I be caught dead even looking at. Take this morning for example. If you read my last post you’ll know that since hitting the three month mark I’ve been making a conscientious effort not to wear tracksuit bottoms and generally look like Waynetta Slob. Quite hard when the last thing in the World you want to do is squeeze yourself into anything remotely tight. But I have been making a real effort. This morning however, things went a bit too far. Completely oblivious, I sauntered downstairs, feeling quite spritely and got a glimpse of myself in the mirror. Words cannot explain how on earth I’d managed to assemble this creation. On the top I had my, for night time only, sparkly black lurex bat wing jumper, worn over a pair of tie dye leggings that have lived unworn, unnoticed in my wardrobe for over two years. Topped off with some grey moccasin Peter Pan booties. Again they too, have never seen day light before now.

Chaz and I have always joked about how diabolical my pregnancy taste is but until now, I thought it was bit of a joke. I dread to think what the next creation’s going to be. I have just found what I think are some very cool leopard print trainers. Again, I do not normally do leopard print but these seem to be calling to me. I showed Chaz a photo of them last night and all I got was a raised eyebrow…I think I might go for it anyway.

I’ve decided that there’s no better time to embrace the mini break than while I’m pregnant for the following reasons: a/ I’m not really in the mood to pack a huge case, spend a day getting to and from the airport and an any length of time sitting on a plane, b/ with all the building work going on we forgot to think ahead and get organised in the holiday department, anyway, and c/ because I’m worth it.

 
So two weeks ago we took ourselves off for our last indulgent weekend away as a ‘free couple’. I’d heard all sorts of good things about Lime Wood in the New Forest and discovered they’d just opened a smaller more laidback hotel The Pig – both dog-friendly. Happily, we loved both: the luxury and elegance of the former and its amazing Herb House Spa and the more home grown, rustic charms of the latter. Boogs, our dog, particularly loved The Pig as our waitress gave us a juicy-looking, vacuum-packed bone to take back to our room for him at the end of our own delicious dinner. That’s what I call a bespoke doggy bag.

Back in London my mind has started to drift increasingly towards the ‘big day’. I’ve been told I should take my own towels to hospital, a couple of extra pillows, a car seat and an outfit to take the baby home in plus those squeezy, sports-type bottles of water and a few healthy snacks. But I should probably fess up, at this point, to another list I’ve started of slightly less essential but, in my mind, no less important items. An iPad to keep me entertained and distracted between contractions (don’t have one yet so am keeping my fingers crossed for an early birthday present), Jurlique Baby’s Soothing Barrier Cream – forget baby this is my new lavender-scented super balm, and a new fine cashmere shawl from my jeweller friend William Welstead who finds the finest on his trips to India. I’m allowed the odd luxury, surel

I’ve made it past the big three month hurdle and am finally starting to feel a little more normal. For some reason, this time round, I’ve been much more wary about what I do and don’t do. What I can and can’t eat. Everyone gives the impression of being far more chilled out second time round. I annoyingly am not fitting into that bracket. Anyway, I’m trying to be less precious and get on with things as normal from now on. My doctors have assured me that everything is fine. I’ve seen her little heart beating and I’m going to stop wrapping myself up in cotton wool. My energy levels are slowly on the up and I’ve decided to ignore my quickly expanding waistline.

 
‘Comfort is key’ has never seemed more relevant to now and I’ve found myself spending slightly more time than I’d like, dressed like I’ve just come back from the gym. I can assure you I’ve been nowhere of the sort – other than to wash my hair last weekend when our shower had a meltdown. So this realisation mixed with my new energy revival, kick-started me into shopping for a new pregnancy wardrobe. Trapeze style knits and dresses are my new way forward. Over tights for winter or right now with my new, aptly named Paige ‘Willow’ skinnies from none other that the wonderful MLM. I’ve found DKNY and Zara’s new collections to be very good in this department.

 
The highlight of the week, without a doubt, has been my outing to the Agua Spa in the Sanderson Hotel. I was very kindly treated to a special pregnancy facial. I’ve had pregnancy treatments in the past but never have I felt so relaxed and so far removed from my normal life. Everything was bright white, clean and quiet. It was actually how I imagine actual ‘Heaven’ to be. Not a screaming Cub in sight and no one talking above a whisper. I literally floated home on a cloud. Via DKNY to add to my new oversized jumper collection. I’m now about to get on the train to spend the rest of the week with about ten screaming children so think I might be checking myself back in pretty damn quick on my return…