S - Snoring

It's already started; it's here and he is leaving the bedroom. The Snore. No, correction, The Pregnancy Snore. A sound man thought woman could not make.

With our first child, he tried to "grin and bear" it. Because he was so excited about the arrival of his first child, it seemed like a small price to pay; the woman you love re-enacting sounds only ever heard on nature programmes as they film the largest species of bear hibernating in a dark, echoing cave. Of course he would try and nudge me, roll me over, even wake me up to tell the neighbours had just called and asked if I could keep it down. But it was to no avail. The Snore was staying for the duration. But with the second, as soon as it came, he would leave the bedroom, pillow over his shoulder, like a travelling sack, and retreat to the sofa, spare bed etc. Now, at six months pregnant with our third, he rarely makes it in the bedroom door. His rule is if he can hear me from the bottom of the stairs, as he makes his way to bed (I am usually asleep by 9.00pm), then he's not going to even attempt pleading with the growls for some sleep. He would rather take refuge on the empty top bunk in the kid's room.

I believe him. I don't think he is exaggerating at all. I have spent various nights on the maternity ward with both children, I have heard these heavily pregnant women rumble and roar in their sleep. Once, as he dropped me off in said ward, in the early hours of the morning, when my water's broke but labour lay dormant. We quietly shuffled into a ward and heard deep-throated, sleep grunts from behind the curtains.

"Am I as loud as that?" I whispered in disbelief.

"Louder." he replied iwthout smirk or trace of a wind up.

In this ward is where I also witnessed The Pregancy Fart, from the other side. But that's a whole new blog post.

T- Toilet Visits

Apparently, so I've been told, when you are pregnant it is legal to do a wee anywhere - ANY-WHERE! This includes a policeman's helmet; a policeman is under legal obligation to offer his helmet to a pregant woman who has been caught short.

Unfortunately, this gives me little comfort in the early hours of the morning as I waddle sleepily towards the toilet for the fourth time!

"It's preparing you for when they're here" knowing Mums would tell me, their voices encased with sadistic glee. At least when they're here the sleepless nights would be gratified with something small and wonderful to love, not just the knowledge that I am too fat to control my bladder and I if a policeman was here in bed with me he would have to offer me his helmet.

U - Underwear.

At 6 months pregnant my sister declared that since finding out she was pregnant she had already spent £150 on bras. These were bras without frills, lace, vintage design, spots, tassels, stripes or flowers. Just your plain, old basic bra. This was £150 spent on the M&S boulder holder!

There is no denying that pregnancy, breast feeding, stopping breast feeding and your new (not as good) boobs after the whole shabang takes it toll on your underwear drawer - be prepared to spend a fortune just to find some comfort and support from your lingerie!

Then the bottom half - knickers. "Just wait I told her" as she sat with her 6 month bump "That's nothing compared to the battle you're about to have with knickers. From 6 months pregnant the first, and hardest, challenge of the day is geting a pair a knickers on. Somewhere, from 6 months pregnant, the bending, pulling, stretching mechanism, which you once took for granted when pulling on a pair of pants, no longer exists. It has been replaced by a sharp, unbearable pain. Therfore you will have to devise many different techniques till you master the art of pulling on pants whilst pregnant.   Here are some iIam familiar with:

• toe hooking
• lying flat on the bed
• writhing and wriggling
• sitting on the side of the bed and ungracefully shuffling legs
• getting an unwilling partner to aid you (wouldn't reccomend)

F - Fannyache

Back pains, water infections, swollen feet, tender breasts, stomach cramps - I can deal with. But, fannyache - my lord that hurts.

There is no other way to describe it - fannyache - like someone stuck a two ton piece of lead up there and asked you to carry it around for 9 months! It bloody knacks!

D- Dads

I am very lucky. My partner is a "hands on" dad! A good'un. A grafter. A star.

I know women have the hardest of hard jobs; carrying the baby, giving birth, making the big decisions and then all of the "new baby" politics that take place afterwards. It helps if we can think that the Dads have got it easy, but if you stand back and think about what it's like on the outside, it must be quite hard.

The dad will never feel a comforting kick from inside his tummy, never understand the ecstacy a mother feels at the end of childbirth, never comfort a baby with his own milk and he rarely gets to spend the first night with his new family. Sent off home. Alone.

A new dad will get two weeks off (if he's lucky) with his new child and then he has to be the first to leave, the first to say goodbye, the first to return to work and step out of the bubble and back into reality.

But in this modern day society we expect them to do everything that we do. We expect everything to be equal ,to be shared. And if you've got a good one - it is!

The father of my sons goes to work everyday so I don't have to. He comes home later than he ever did and works through his lunch hour, he sorts out all the bills and sometimes even does the weekly shop on his own, to save me a job. And in return fot this? He is still on the outside. He was working when they crawled for the first time. Not there when they took their first steps, tried their first food and babbled their first words. He misses out on taking them to school on their first day. He can't get time off to watch them in their first nativity play. He won't be there to cheer them on at their first sport's day. He's busy at work so I can do all of these  wonderful things.

For all those Dads who are rolling up their sleeves up, making life easier for us Mums. -Well done and thank you.

N - Not having a girl.

I have two adorable boys. I recently found out I was having a third. As we have decided this is the last pregnancy, a third boy came a bit of a shock. Even though I had tried to prepare myself for the likelihood of having three sons and what a blessing this was going to be, I still had to come to terms with the news I was never going to have a daughter.

My mum is a feminist, a product of becoming a woman during the 60's and 70's. My sister and I are therefore mini-feminists; we have soaked up her opinions, we've been brought up to believe, as women, we can do anything, but we have become women in a society where equality and political correctness have been breathing down people's necks.

In my childhood, my strongest family influences were all women, they were always more dominant; my grandmas, my aunties and my elder sister. Although I have often found myself forming easier rapports with men, when it comes to guidance, influence, idols and role models, I have always turned to women. I have formed many (unromantic) friendships with men, but they have never lasted, only ever been circumstantial, whereas the ones which last, the ones I work at, the ones where I have put the effort in have all been with other women. My favourite writers, musicians, actors and teachers are all been women.

So, when I looked at my future self, I was always with daughters. I just expected to have them. So to accept that you won't, that takes a while to be something you can say comfortably.

For me, it's not about the frills, or the colour pink, or plaiting hair, or buying bras or planning weddings (for gods sake I can't be arsed to plan my own)! It's about something I wanted to pass on; a bond, a relationship, a sisterhood.

But with the ever growing girl-worship in our society, maybe I was needed to raise boys; to re-establish the balance. Champion the underdog once more. The boy! The glorious, adorable, loud, boisterous, sensitive, intelligent, loving boy!

M - Maternity clothes

Before I had any children, and was trying to get pregnant, I would wistfully turn to the "Maternity" section of my NEXT catalogue and daydream about what I would wear if I were pregnant! Oh the irony! Because all I did when I was pregnant is flick through magazines daydreaming about the clothes I would be able to wear if I wasn't pregnant.

Some shops used to do a "maternity" section - a lonely, forgotten rack of clothes, so inappropriately placed in the shop, if you blinked you'd miss them. Or so forgotten that when asking a shop assistant if they had a maternity section she'd look puzzled and shout over her shoulder "Marie, where'd you stck them maternity clothes?" And if you were lucky enough to find it, you would have the choice of a pack of two T-shirts - (one black, one white),a pair of black work wear trousers, an attempt at an "evening top", one very unflattering dress and a pair of boot cut jeans. If you're lucky there may be a nightie as well.

Now most high street shops, have opted to remove this rail, to make more room for mini skirts and skinny jeans and when you ask where the maternity section is they'll say "we do it online".

So, you shop online, guessing about what these unusual items with extra elastic and no fastenings will look like. You buy them, over the bump, under the bump, they're all bloody uncomfortable. The only thing to wear whilst pregnant are floaty dresses and maternity leggings - in fact I think after discovering maternity leggings last time round I'm never going to buy a pair of normal leggings again. They are the most comfortable (and probably unflattering) piece of clothing ever! I recommend them to all you pregnant ladies... And non-pregnant ladies too - Go on treat yourself!