Tuesday 13 April 2010


I’m six months pregnant. Even writing it I can’t believe it, as it’s one of those things that never quite loses its surreal quality. On many levels it feels natural and what we are designed to do. And then, on many others you think to yourself, “seriously? Is this is as good as they could come up with???” Was there not some other way to carry this thing that would’ve been more beneficial and fair for everyone? A satchel on wheels perhaps?

Now to avoid sounding utterly callous and negative, (we wouldn’t want that) I’ll be the first to admit, it’s a miracle. And there are moments when they move around in there and you think, wow, that is my kid in there, and the feeling is pretty indescribable, not to mention powerful (you men, don’t get me started, you couldn’t handle a day of this). But, rainbows and fluffy bunnies aside, let me tell you what they don’t tell you about pregnancy: it’s hard bloody work. And on some days it feels like an all out assault on your body – a body you don’t even recognize -your patience, and your mind. Which I suppose is a precursor to what is to follow. Take the first three months, you have never felt fatigue and nausea like this in your life. Men – I’m talking to you out there, imagine round the clock constant, never ceasing nausea, the kind that makes you want to weep. Then couple that with a weariness that makes you feel like you’ve dosed about sixteen ketamine, and there you have it – the joy of the first trimester.

Then there is the expanding waistline that you can only do so much to control – who am I kidding, the expanding everything. My partner says I look like a cross between a cartoon character and some tribal woman captured in National Geographic (he's got a way with words that one). Then of course there is the reptilian skin that you slough off like a rattlesnake, the chronic stuffed up nose and the aches and pains that seem to appear every other day. Not to mention if you get sick – cold, flu or otherwise, you can’t take a thing. Your body is no longer your own, it belongs to the little guy or gal inside you, reminding you what he or she is going to demand when he comes out – absolutely everything. 

Ending on a positive note of course, there are some times when I'm sitting alone at night and I'm thinking about what is going on in there, and suddenly as if on cue, he'll give me a little nudge. Just to remind me that even though I may not be able to do what I used to, or look how I did before, there is something bigger than myself at play now. The creation of this new little being. And with that, I think, alright, it may just all be worth it.
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