Читать книгу The Baby Diaries - Sam Binnie - Страница 6

I’ve spent the last two days at work doing internet searches for pregnancy, then shutting my screen off whenever somebody comes near my desk. Even Carol – our terrifying but secretly incredibly sweet senior Commissioning Editor, who, after a sordid and very exciting office affair, is now with Norman, our reserved head of accounts – has started giving me concerned looks. But I’ve discovered that the ‘classic wedding’ emails I signed up for during the wedding planning also come in a ‘Pregnancy and Babies’ version too. Which … is … something, I suppose?

What’s so strange is how much this new reality is in my thoughts all the time. I can’t put anything in my mouth without my brain suddenly doing a stop-and-search which makes me keep retching on what I’m eating, either because it might be dangerous or my tastebuds have suddenly banded together to bar certain foods. The radio plays nothing but songs about babies: Papa Don’t Preach, Hit Me Baby One More Time, pretty much anything from Phil Spector’s Wall of Sound, almost any pop song ever. Adverts are saturated with babies; pregnant women are everywhere; I’ve gone over my calendar again and again with my sketchy dates to try and work out at what stage I’ll be for everything we’ve got planned. And I’ll need to avoid Susie (my sister, and mother to seven-year-old twins Edward and Lily and baby Frida) – my vocabulary has suddenly shrunk to just a few phrases: the number of times I said ‘They’re such babies/why is he being such a baby/don’t be a baby’ at work today was absurd. Did I see Alice sniggering at one of those?