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…

I think I’ve started to waddle. Not dramatically, but had been feeling ever so slightly smug about being an OVPF (only visibly pregnant from the front) and I’m just starting to wonder how much longer that will last.

 
It’s getting increasingly harder to lace up my Converse and I find myself letting out ungainly grunts and sighs when unloading the washing machine or even trying to find something in our little couple-sized fridge. Which, by the way, has to go. Forget how we’ll furnish the baby’s room and which buggy we’ll finally decide on; I’ve got my sights set on a proper, family size, 1950’s style fridge that I can easily survey the interior of while gracefully balancing child on hip.

 

I will, of course, be supple, limber and uber-toned by that time as I can proudly say I have made a start with the pregnancy yoga. There was, I admit, quite a lot of lying down involved in the class I attended so I’m planning on giving TriYoga a go to see if it’s a bit more gently hardcore.

 

I am also getting close enough to the big event to give it a bit more thought (or feel that I should) so am finding natural childbirth guru Caroline Flint’s Birthwise DVD indispensible.

 

The thing I’m most excited about, though, is that I’ve decided to have a doula (I didn’t even know what the word meant 6 months ago) possibly at the actual birth and certainly afterwards, and think I’ve found the perfect person. Of course, middle class guilt is kicking in and my mother raised a ‘whatever next’ eyebrow when I told her, but having all that soothing expert advice and support, and maybe even a shoulder to cry on from time to time, feels like the biggest comfort already, even if I’m not racked with nerves – yet!

When I was small I was adamant that I wanted three children, all perfectly spaced with two years between them. When we got married and were living in France, I decided actually, six would be perfect. There’s nothing better than a big family. Since the divine Cub’s arrival, as much as I love him with all my heart, one did seem quite tempting. That plan has gone right out the window as we are now expecting numero deux. And I couldn’t be more over the moon if I tried. I am adamant she is a girl so, for the moment she is known as ‘Leaf’. Not that I’m allowed to call her this when she arrives.

 
The Cub was born in St Tropez, France in a tiny but brilliant hospital. When we were there, I longed to be having him here in England. I wanted somewhere where the midwives spoke English and my friends were round the corner. It’s only now, actually being in London, that I realise how incredible the French maternity system is. Im only 12 weeks in and have already had moments of contemplating hopping back over the Channel. By now I had had three scans and about ten check ups. For free.

 
One of the tricky bits being pregnant in France was the lack of maternity clothes. There was nothing around me selling anything remotely wearable so Im excited about all the choices I’m going to have this time round. I am a big shopper – I was a personal shopper for a couple of years – and when I’m meant to be resting when the Cub sleeps, I’m most likely to be doing a spot of online window shopping. All in the name or research of course. I’m showing much much earlier this time round and finding it a bit of a shock to the system. Last time I was still in my J Brand skinnies when I was five months. At 8 weeks this time round I was already reaching for the leggings. I’m off on holiday this week so will be heading out on my first big pregnancy wardrobe shop up.

 
This time round I’m determined to find lots of beautiful pieces that make being pregnant enjoyable and not leaving you feeling like a frumpy, oversized version of yourself. If you’re looking for anything in particular, do let me know and I’ll try my hardest to help you find it.

It’s funny how things suddenly hit you. I’ve been lucky enough to feel pretty normal throughout my pregnancy so far; blase, even. But now I’ve reached six months (it still beats me how they work that out) I’ve just started to feel a bit overwhelmed.

 

The baby’s room is, at least, redecorated but the only thing in it are a few tatty but much-loved childhood books of mine and my husband’s. I keep meaning to go to Battersea Yoga pregnancy classes, which are supposed to be amazing and another good way for me to meet other mums-to-be, but haven’t managed it yet. And I keep forgetting to do my pelvic floor exercises – who really does them as often as they say you should? Maybe someone should think about doing a DVD; that would be interesting.

 

The best I’ve managed is to start reading up on the scary bits about preparing for, and getting through, labour and welcoming your newborn home in the small pile of books I’ve been given by friends. I find Christine Hill’s Pregnancy Guide really clear and relaxed, as if you’re having a chat with a non-hysterical friend, but the one that really makes me giggle is the Rough Guide to Pregnancy & Birth, which is witty and totally un-chi-chi. Oh, and I did go for an acupuncture session to ‘balance my hormones’ but so far I can’t say I feel any different.

 

Although I haven’t been feeling over-emotional – some women, apparently, find themselves blubbing at someone being fired on The Apprentice – I’m enjoying the company of my female friends more than ever; the single ones who are still living the high life just as much as the experienced ones with kids. And I definitely feel the need to enjoy this ‘calm before the storm’ with my husband so I’m hugely looking forward to visiting Lime Wood in the New Forest in a couple of weeks. But for now I’d better get on with some more of those pelvic floor exercises. What fun.

I’ve blogged a lot here so far about eating and being pampered (two of my favourite pastimes), but not very much about the actual ‘being pregnant’ bit. I guess I’ve only just started feeling properly ‘with child’ in the last couple of weeks – I am just over the 5 month mark – and having my second scan last week really brought it home.

 

Although I’ve opted to have my baby with the NHS I decided to go to the Fetal Medicine Centre for my scans and I’m so glad I did; if just for the lovely bedside manner of the doctors and the laidback charms of Professor Kypros Nicolaides, the founder of the clinic and a leading authority on foetal health. On our last trip, along with the delight of seeing our baby, I thoroughly appreciated the Professor’s wise words about the risks I’d read of sleeping on your back – “absolute rubbish” – and even wiser advice that we should both “have a glass of wine and relax”. I slept more soundly than I have for the last few weeks that night, and didn’t even need the wine as an aid.

 

On the fashion front, I still haven’t bought any actual maternity wear – I’m still clinging to leggings, my regular jeans unbuttoned and long tops – although I don’t think it will be long before I have to face up to reality. I couldn’t resist nabbing a pair of super-cute chocolate sheepskin booties for a friend’s newborn the other day, though, and was almost tempted to get some for the bump. Then I remembered the fact that my own feet will be increasing in size (if temporarily) over the coming months so that should probably be addressed first. Age before beauty, I say.

Last week, at the tail end of the building work (which is now finally finished, hurray!), I was feeling very much in need of a mini-break so leapt at the chance of dinner and a sleepover at the swish new Corinthia hotel in Whitehall. We dined on the most delicious seafood, under perfect lighting, at luxe brasserie and oyster bar Massimo’s and then Mr P gave me a goodnight kiss and went home to look after the dog while I retired to my fabulously spacious, dust and rubble-free room. I spent the next morning pottering around the enormous, sparkling, marbley bathroom then settled down to breakfast and the papers in the Northall restaurant. Such a treat. The funniest thing though was that, as I relaxed and enjoyed the luxury of just having so much space, my bump decided it was time to come out of hiding, so I went home looking about two months more pregnant than I had when I checked in.

 
The other indulgence I can thoroughly recommend at 19 weeks is a facial at a little gem of a salon called the White Room in Walton Street, Knightsbridge. Using the most gorgeous organic Cle des Champs products, the supernaturally gifted Ingrid (I still can’t believe she’s only 21) smoothed and soothed every crease, crinkle and sandpapery patch away and gave me expert advice on beauty do’s and don’ts.

 

And, finally, a very long overdue lunch at Aubaine in Heddon Street with one of my dearest friends, who imparted all her worldly wisdom with regards to bumps, babies and beyond to me, was just what I needed to have me looking forward to my second scan next week, and everything else to come.

As well as writing mainly about style and culture I also scribble about food and restaurants from time to time. So, yes, I suppose you could label me a foodie, although it always seems like such a ridiculous term – how many people do you know who don’t like food?

 
Being pregnant has, of course, done little to slow me down in the eating department. My cravings have mainly been allabout anything spicy – Singapore noodles, Thai curries, Vietnamese everything. But weirdly, as I trawled around Waitrose the other day, I noticed a trend going on in my shopping basket. From carrots and smoked salmon to mango yogurt and butternut squash soup, everything was orange. This cannot just be a coincidence, surely.

 
Anyway, I have been rather relieved that virtually all my gourmet leanings have been towards the savoury until last weekend I needed chocolate cake. Only problem was, it was after 5pm on a Sunday and all the supermarkets were closed, so, as my husband dutifully drove us around in search of something sweet and fudgy I became more and more panicky (sad, I know, but beyond my control). Finally he spotted a Gail’s bakery that was open, leapt in and returned with the most amazing chocolate loaf cake I have ever tasted – and a couple of brownies, just in case. He’s catching on.

Having never been particularly broody I met my husband in a crowded Soho nightclub (yes, really) about 6 years ago, and not long after that we pretty much knew we wanted the whole nine yards.

 
We had a beautiful wedding just outside Rome two and a half years ago, and then this year, just before a trip to Switzerland in March, we discovered I was pregnant. Luckily we had already booked the builders in to convert our loft and give us some much-needed space so we added the redecoration of an extra room (the future nursery) to their to-do list. Only then did we focus on getting our heads around the whole thing of actually having a baby.

 
We are one of those rather selfish couples who really like their space and quiet time together, to the point of not even being very good at socialising these days. A baby would change everything. Although we liked to think we’d had some experience having owned (and totally spoilt) a handsome bull terrier-cross called Boogs for the last four years. How different could it be looking after a baby?

 

So, at just over 16 weeks in, with my first scan and two doctors appointments out of the way (all fine, hallelujah) I have to say things have been better than I expected so far. I’ve had zero nausea and don’t feel I’ve been hit over the head with a sledgehammer in terms of tiredness, although I have just started getting lower backache that comes and stabs me in the night and is, no doubt, just the beginning of the unfamiliar aches and pains to come.

 
My main job as a style editor means that I’ve had some pretty nice treats, too; from a La Prairie mani and pedi at the Lanesborough to a blissful pregnancy massage at the Ushvani spa in Chelsea. Last weekend I allowed myself a quick online trawl to start looking at buggies, cots and all manner of newborn paraphernalia – both overwhelming and exciting.

 
The only real bummer is that, after two months, we’re still sleeping on the floor of the living room waiting for the building work to finish – not the most comfortable location even when not pregnant. And I’m more than a little bit fed up with living out of a suitcase with only three changes of clothes to my name so it’s high time I did a bit of shopping for a few stylish yet comfy basics I’m starting to need as my bump, though still small, becomes a reality.

Sholto is now Five months old, Christened (in a 200 year old family Christening gown), Christmased (in a Marie Chantal angel wing babygro) and sleeping through the night – hurray!

 

I am better rested, back at the gym (I realised that I need MTV and Shakira/ The Pussy Cat Dolls etc. to ensure that I’m motivated to becoming a She-Wolf/ Hot like a Pussy Cat) and working again (freelance, from home). Life is reassuringly similar to what it was pre-baby – even my social life: I just take Sholto with me to dinner parties, and leave him asleep in one of the bedrooms. In fact, it’s going so well that we’ve started thinking about number 2 . . . For which I figure I’ll be much better prepared, as I now know the following:

 

1.) One doesn’t actually need specific ‘maternity’ clothes. I wore maternity staples and transitional designers such as  Issa throughout. Although one does need good feeding bras though: Amoralia, & Elle McPherson get my vote.

 

2.) Apparently stretch marks aren’t obligitory – thank you Mama Mio. And one’s body really does return to normal, so I don’t need to worry about ribcage expansion during pregnancy, and cry over the apparent likelihood

that my clothes will never fit again.  Everything fits, including the size 10 Erdem dress I pre-ordered when nine months pregnant.

 

3.) Having a pony as a child is really good preparation for having a baby. If I didn’t go and muck Rainbow out first thing, she rolled in her poo.

 

4.) Baby sick doesn’t stain, and Mitsouku masks it, so one can wear Chanel.

 

5.) One doesn’t need to micromanage everything; the cleanliness of the house isn’t as important as I thought it was pre-Sholto. Dimmer switches exist for a reason. (I’m not sure how well this will work in the summer, but the point is that I’m considerably less OCD than I was.)

 

6.) Finally, the unconditional love I felt for Rainbow doesn’t even touch on how I feel about Sholto. I’ve never known anything like it. Which is why I need to have more babies.
The only question is where we’re going to put them?

 

I can see a busy few years ahead . . .

 

So thank you for all your messages, and goodbye, ’til the next time,

 

Fiona xx

Huge congratulations to our lovely blogger Eve, who gave birth to a beautiful baby girl November 27th.

Both mummy and baby are well and from everyone here at mama-la-mode we want to wish them the very best for the future, and we hope Eve and her new family have a wonderful first Christmas together.