I discovered something the other day; my Husband is a complete and utter sneak.

I’ve spoken about my pregnancy enough here and in other places for most of you to know that it was utterly miserable, but for those of you who are new here, I found out I was pregnant because I was puking so much that I tore a hole in my oesophagus. The hyperemesis gravidarum continued for near-on five months during which time I also developed SPD, gestational diabetes, polyhydramnia and a number of other oh-so-pleasant things which meant that the famous ‘pregnancy glow’ eluded me completely. I was ill and miserable for 8 and a half months out of the nine that I was pregnant.

Because of all this, I became completely phobic of seeing myself. I banned all photography around me and as far as I knew, not a single photo of me pregnant existed. Four and a bit years on, I felt completely rueful about this, cross at myself for my own stubborness and gutted that I had not a single pregnancy photo.

Until, that is, I discovered my Husband’s sneakery! We were going through some archived photos the other day so that we could show Sausage the pictures of the sharks we saw in the Maldives and we found not one but several photos of me, with-child! I honestly had no idea they existed, convinced that any photos that he did manage to get at the time had been deleted. And because I’m so pleased, I thought I’d share some with you, so you can see how NON-glowing I was, but also how young I looked!

So, for once, I can honestly say that I’m glad my Husband didn’t listen to me and although I was huge, covered in stretch marks, washed out and looking utterly miserable in most of these photos, I’ll treasure them forever.