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On pregnancy and...FOMO


Not long after I first realised I was pregnant, I spoke to my littlest sister on the phone. It was June, it was hot, and Glastonbury was on the TV. I was doing what I always do when Glastonbury is happening and I’m not there: watching the telly with a morose look and the world’s worst case of FOMO. Maddy enquired after my health (it was still early on enough in the pregnancy for the situation to seem vaguely novel,  and my state of health interesting) and I told her that I was scared I would Never Have Fun Again.
The last time someone used that expression was my aunt, talking about how she felt when she gave up smoking. I think pregnancy is essentially the same. Suddenly the world is full of things you can’t do (drinking, smoking, going to Glastonbury) and things you don’t want to do (sex, rock ‘n’ roll, going to Glastonbury). Would I ever be the same again? Would I ever go to another party in my life? Would I ever return to Glastonbury?
It took Maddy about 10 seconds to point out that I hadn’t managed to actually bother getting my ass into gear and getting to Glastonbury since 2009. And for six of those years, I had not been pregnant; just lazy / preoccupied / broke / incapable of picturing a sunny summer field when the tickets go on sale and you’re in your slipper socks.
Other things I have thought I would do if I were not pregnant, but actually haven’t done since I was 25, include: staying up past 8am, going on holiday with a big group of friends, attending psy trance raves, running, recreational camping.
Lesson: stop blaming the baby.

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