I’m moving into my 36th week of pregnancy so if I give birth next week, I’ll be considered full term. This thought delights me (i’m becoming increasingly less mobile) and slightly worries Rich (he’s got a long pre-baby ‘to do’ list).
And so in the possible – though fairly unlikely – event that I go into labour next week, now seems like a good time to list some of the amazing, not so amazing, and really very definitely not amazing things about pregnancy.
This will be my last EVER post about this pregnancy.
Being wished a “Happy Mother’s Day” by a friendly stranger. He asked if I was pregnant (always wise to check first) then made me feel like I’m already a mum. It was a poignant moment.
People offering up seats, lifts in the car, to help carry things. These gestures mean a lot.
Feeling my baby kick, hiccup, roll over and stretch her/his little body inside me. It’s the most surreal and wonderful sensation.
Not drinking alcohol. I thought I might feel like I was missing out but it’s actually been great having a clear head for eight months: no hangovers, no drunken arguments, never being over the limit for driving.
My BFs being even more amaze than normal.
Having such a supportive, kind, caring, funny husband. I always knew he was, but this has been a good reminder.
Everyone wanting to ask you about your pregnancy. I thought this might be a bit intrusive, or annoying, but it’s not – it’s flattering. And a great conversation starter. I’ve been told by a woman at the Guardian call centre that she’s broody, stroked on the belly by my mum’s pilates teacher, had a breast VS bottle discussion with a cab driver, actually TALKED TO PEOPLE ON THE TUBE.
Taking up swimming again. It took a while for morning sickness to clear before I could exercise – and realising that I couldn’t run was a bit of a blow. But then I remembered swimming and i’ve loved sliding into the water most days and feeling weightless.
NCT classes – meeting other women due around the same time, sharing stories and tips, watching the men awkwardly discuss some of the less delightful aspects of pregnancy/ childbirth and eating free chocolate biscuits.
Becoming clumsy and forgetful, developing back pain, my wonky linea nigra, being sick about 1000 times over the past eight months, not fitting into my denim hotpants, itchy skin, swollen fingers (my wedding ring has been abandoned), weeing five times a night, not being able to tie my own shoelaces (note to self: invent pregnancy shoe with velcro straps and really long shoehorn), peculiar food likes and dislikes, heartburn, worrying that everything I sit on will break under my new weight, stretch marks (yeah – tiger stripes/ a reminder of what your body’s achieved – whatever. They look shit), my trousers splitting when I sat down (at home, fortunately), LOTS of injections, not being able to power walk around London. Or anywhere. Or really being able to walk very far at all before needing a break.
When people on the tube put their headphones on and stare really hard at the floor, pretending they haven’t seen you standing next to them. It’s embarrassing. For both parties. Just get off your fat arse and give a pregnant woman a seat.
The comments about how your life is about to be ruined by the birth of your baby. Your life, I want to say, is probably ruined by your negativity. Find something positive to say or hush your boring thoughts.
The man at my swimming pool who has a thing for pregnant women so loiters and stares at me while I shower until I tell him to fuck off – with my eyes.
People thinking they know my boobs better than I do. If I want to breastfeed, I will. If I don’t – I won’t. If I give some breast, some bottle – that’s up to me too. Stop telling me that you know
breast best. My body, my baby, my decision. Geddit?
It’s been an enlightening journey. Mostly brilliant. See you on the other side…