The Lord taketh away. And sometimes he giveth a little back.

Yesterday I had an hour between clients and went hunting on Oxford Street for bump-friendly clothes.  There are not many places you can stroll into and browse great range of maternity wear. Thankfully, autumn is just beyond the horizon and the shops are full of big knitwear. 

I went to a favourite shop of mine and found a chunky cream coloured long jumper.  I picked up a 'large' imaginining that the size would see me through.  It was soft and I was honestly pleased with my find.

I browsed further, looking for something to spice it up. A scarf. A necklace. When I laid my eyes on a display table that seemed down-lit from heaven.  On it, a cobalt blue pencil skirt paired with simple fine knit tops and a choice of killer heels.  My hand started for it, as if of its own will or propelled by a divine force, when I realised that this season, I could not pull it off.  I looked down at the cream jumper in my hands.  Suddenly it seemed achingly dull.

I did what anyone one would do.  I reached for my phone to email a friend to have a little 'poor me' moan.  He emailed back: 'Don't start regretting your children before they arrive!'  He's right, I thought, distraught that I was already a crappy, selfish parent.

That evening, I returned home, shopping bag with the dull, but soft, jumper in hand.  Inside, other than a happy Thom, there was a package to greet me.  The maternary trousers I ordered over the weekend.  Black, skinny trousers for which I decided to splash out full price rather than troll about for second hand.

Once I tried them on I knew I'd made the right choice.  They fit brilliantly, showing some still skinny legs, and looked amazing with a number of tops I already had.  They fit comfortable over the bump and looked just great paired with fitted, bump-show-off tops.  I was happy with my new look and satisfied to go with it, abandoning the blue pencil skirt with a smile.  At least for this year.