(Midwife in French is ‘sage-femme’, by the way, which means ‘wise woman’… Boring.) All in all, the only good thing about my pregnancy was that it had a deadline.
Trying to find a midwife when you’re on holiday in a small French town at short notice is kind of exciting, but then again, it’s kind of not. He’s tiny and sweet and warm, with a habit of making happy little sighs when he’s sleeping and mewymoans when he’s feeding…
Losing 67 pounds in four months was not only unhealthy, but she gained it back quickly.
If you hear this story tied to the Medifast Diet, just dismiss it as a rumor.
One month later and I have had requests for more photos of moi preggers and Errol. Now remember, if you are not baby-lovin’, don’t read on. One of my friends described her kids as ‘really cool flatmates with attachment issues’. I am lucky I didn’t end up looking like Jabba the Hut, now that I think about it. I threw up day and night, at home, in taxis, in supermarkets, doing yoga, on the street, in passport lines at the airport, in bed. I threw up when I was reading and writing and sleeping. We just realised, by the way, that in Fox’s hometown of Cork in Ireland, people with a strong local accent pronounce it Earl. (Fox dialled down his accent when he moved to London.
You just have to check on him regularly, make sure he eats when he’s supposed to, hasn’t soiled himself, do his washing, etc. My ass was pretty much permanently attached to that sofa, laptop precariously perched on cushions so I could write. Errol Fletcher (Errol after Errol Flynn and Fletcher after the Chevy Chase movie Fletch) (yep, seriously) is just the funniest, sweetest, calmest little dude.
I realise this photo looks like it was tinkered with because I’m so ghostly pale, but I swear it wasn’t.