It hit me a few weeks back.
I was at a girlfriend’s long-awaited hens party in Surry Hills, knocking back my sixth mocktail, scraping cheese off the delicious pizza boards I would’ve previously devoured and rubbing my peek-a-boo pregnancy belly whilst chatting to friends about the ins and outs of the second trimester.
Whilst it was nice to see everyone before the COVID crazies hit, my feet were aching, my lower back was throbbing and my heart was racing (because of said mocktails) as I mentally pat myself on the back for, what felt like, a really late night.
As everyone got into the shots, I quickly glanced at my watch to check the time – it was only 9pm (which is midnight in pregnancy time).
Watch: Things pregnant people never say. Post continues below.
One comfy couch and a bowl of sweet potato fries later and I called it a night, curling up in bed with my digestive tea by 10pm.
The girls at the hens, on the other hand, most definitely didn’t with a flurry of Instagram Stories dancing, drinking and taking selfies as they moved from pub to club to bar the following morning.
And while I was happy that the hen had the night out she deserved, the new 'pregnant me' felt so left out of all the fun.
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