13 things you know if you're pregnant and have a toddler in tow

It’s exhausting enough growing a human being inside you. Throw an energetic toddler into the mix and it's a whole new ball game!

A restorative lie-in to calm the morning nausea ain’t happening.

First time around, when we felt exhausted/sick/like we wanted to nurture our changing bodies in peace, we could have a rest. Oh, the decadence!

Now there's a regular-as-clockwork 6am wake-up call – with no snooze button!

That precious bump you protected like a lioness with baby number one is now being constantly dive bombed, bashed and prodded. And our constant cries of, 'Watch out for the bump!' have zero effect whatsoever.

What age do they stop using us as a makeshift climbing frame?

Packing a sick bag becomes as second nature as filling your bag with emergency toddler snacks. Remember when you felt nauseous first time around so thought you’d hibernate at home for a while? Not a chance any more.

We’ve all learned that the fallout from denying your toddler that trip to the swings or scoot to the shop, is far greater than throwing up in public.  

Becoming a big brother or sister is actually quite a useful bargaining tool. When they refuse to get dressed/have a bath/eat their tea, telling them, 'You’ll be a big sibling soon, so you’ll have to show the baby how good you are at getting dressed,' works surprisingly well.

In those rare moments of calm – you know, when they’re asleep – you wonder just how you’re going to muster up enough love for another.

When the bedtime tantrum fest has dissipated and you gaze at your sleeping toddler’s gorgeous little face, the thought of having enough love and energy (and patience) to go around seems impossible.

You eat pasta and pesto for tea every other night. It’s a universal fact that almost all toddlers (even the pickiest of eaters) go nuts for it.

It’s quick and simple to cook, and it’s relatively healthy with a bit of frozen veg chucked in. As for those stodgy carbs, they're exactly what you’re craving when you’re counting down the hours until it’s acceptable to crawl into bed.

You could do with a ‘wide load approaching’ warning siren when clambering through soft play to retrieve your toddler who’s thrown a wobbler in the ball pit.

Those narrow crawl-through corridors, climbing ramps and rollers are definitely not made for pregnant women, as we discover while narrowly avoiding getting wedged in.

You constantly worry you’re going to cause yourself a prolapse when lifting your heavy toddler out of the bath.

Why is it that they want to do everything themselves (like zip their coat up, cut their toast, unplug their seatbelt) except for the things that you REALLY want them to do.

Inevitably you face a stand-off while they crouch, wet and shivering in an empty tub, and refuse to get out unless you lift them.

The never-ending stream of questions gets even more intense.

When will the baby be here? Does the baby come out of the bit where you wee? Can I see your big boobs?

It’s impossibly cute to see their excitement, even if it is exhausting. Besides, the novelty will soon wear off when they realise that the baby isn’t actually going to be able to play with them for a while.

You’re constantly trying to prevent your toddler sliding off your knee as there’s very little room left next to your humungous belly.

Reading them a bedtime story, drying their hair after the bath, or simply enjoying a cuddle, all require alternative positions now your lap is being taken over by the bump.

The poor midwife can’t get a word in edgeways with your toddler commanding the room with their never-ending questions.

While you soaked up every morsel of information from your appointments first time around, this time it’s all you can do to feign interest as you ply your toddler with snacks to keep them quiet and stop them knocking your urine sample off the desk.

It’s impossibly uncomfortable crouching down to help your potty-training toddler during a wild wee.

Trying to bend over to hold them, while simultaneously stopping the stream from soaking their pants, turns into a slapstick comedy sketch when you have a bump in the way.

And even if you do happen to find yourself by a public toilet when nature comes calling, you might as well forget it because there’s no way that they, you AND the bump are going to fit in the cubicle.

When your toddler asks to see your bump, strokes it and says, 'Hello baby', it melts your heart.

Inevitably over the course of being a mum, there are moments when you wish you could pause time and bottle the emotions. This is definitely one of them.