NS June 8th, 2008
Weed the garden
Go swimming
Scrub the floors
Go for a long walk
Dance
Go shopping
Run around the garden with TNC
It’s an absolutely gorgeous, sunshine-filled day and all I can do is sit here listlessly on the sofa with waves of nausea crashing over me every twenty minutes or so. Add to that a cold that STILL won’t go away and nights of endless wakings due to not being able to breathe properly or get comfortable and I’m miserable indeed. Did I mention my aching back and the raging heartburn?
Days like these are when I glare at my husband and silently curse him for being a man. Why should I have to bear the physical and emotional brunt of our shared family-making? Surely if they can put a pig’s heart in a human’s chest and make it work, they can figure out a way to make pregnancy transferable. The penguins have it right, that’s all I’m saying.
NS May 30th, 2008
I have a stinking cold and am not a happy bunny about it. It came on quite suddenly, starting with just a hint of a sore throat yesterday at lunchtime and ending with me sleeping on the sofa, unable to breathe or swallow properly and feeling like I’d been run over by a truck. TNC took it upon herself to wake up at 3am and decided it was time to play, so that kept me awake awhile longer too, even though I dumped her on The Noble Husband and retreated downstairs to the sofa again. A mother’s super-sonic hearing and intuition means that she finds it very difficult to sleep when she knows her child is awake. Even wearing ear plugs I could hear the tiniest whimper and my brain would start ticking away, wondering what TNH was doing to comfort her and if she was okay. I think I finally fell back asleep at 4.30 but only after watching an infomercial and going through a box of Kleenex.
The thing about being sick while pregnant is that a) the body uses its resources to protect the fetus first and says a big ‘Screw you, lady” to the host (i.e. expectant mother), taking so much more out of you and taking so much longer to get over it than usual, and b) you can’t take any Sudafed, Lempsip, Night Nurse, Nyquil, Advil, Vicks or Clorets. Nada. All I can take is paracetamol (Tylenol) and drink hot water with lemon. Whoop-de-freakin’-doo. Not that I’m bitter or anything. It’s just that memories of having a horrible cold while pregnant with TNC are resurfacing and I don’t think I’d ever been more miserable. My only comforts are ice cream and cups of tea.
Time for a nap…
NS May 14th, 2008
I went outside this morning to move the bins (trash cans) back from the kerb so that they wouldn’t be blocking my neighbour’s car. In my pajamas. I knew this might draw a look or two from anyone who happened to be passing by but, frankly, I didn’t care. It was only going to take a few seconds anyway, I surmised. Well, wouldn’t you know it that two young builders, real ‘lad’ types, walked by right when I opened the door and stepped outside. They took one look at me and smirked. There I was in my braless glory, thin t-shirt not leaving much the imagination, and they gawked.
My first reaction (utter humiliation and shame) was quashed by the realisation that I had a trick up my sleeve. To make them uncomfortable for staring, I turned to the side, giving them a full view of my (covered) pregnant belly and rubbed it contentedly with a sigh. It did the trick, alright. Their eyes quickly unglued themselves from my breasts and returned to the pavement in front of them. Their pace quickened and they were gone faster than a fart in the wind.
Yep, nothing turns some men off more than the sight of a pregnant belly. Maybe because that ‘territory’ has clearly already been marked? Or that (gasp!) a woman is only worthy of respect once it is clear that she is or will be a mother? I dunno. But sometimes, I swear, men really can be like dogs. I wouldn’t be surprised if one peed on me.
NS May 8th, 2008
I’m participating in a bead swap on a mothering forum I belong to, with other women due in the same month as I am. The idea is that we all send one bead to every person so that we can each make a necklace that will be worn while we’re in labor. Knowing that 27 other women will be wearing the bead I’ve chosen and I theirs while going through the miraculous, momentous experience of birth fills me with strength and joy. Women (even ones who have never met ‘in real life’, only on the internet) supporting each other is something we need more of and although I know many would roll their eyes and dismiss this sort of thing as extremely hippy-dippy, I think it’s lovely. When I’m at the end of my rope and wondering how I’ll ever survive another contraction, I will touch these beads and know that my experience, while special, is not unique. Feeling part of something much larger and more complex than I can ever comprehend (the perpetuation of humankind) humbles me and brings me a sense of both awe and peace.
So to all the ladies in my due date club, and any other expectant mothers out there:
NS April 21st, 2008
On Thursday I began having Braxton Hicks (practice contractions that the uterus performs to prepare itself for labor) and could literally feel myself stretching and growing. By Friday, I no longer fit into any of my pre-pregnancy trousers. By Saturday, I was asked for the first time by a stranger if I was pregnant. By Sunday, the bottom button on my jacket popped off. As of today, it is getting uncomfortable to bend over to pick things up off the floor and I have to take a deep breath before leaning over the edge of the bed to put my socks on.
Ladies and gentlemen, we have a bump! It is ever-expanding, though still covered by a layer of post-my-last-baby-and-pre-this-one blubber, so mostly it just looks like I swallowed a small Yorkshire terrier and washed it down with ten gallons of Newcastle. And we all know that Yorkies can’t handle their booze.
But this means it’s official — I’m really having another baby, and in just under five months. Holy cannolli! I’m simultaneously extremely excited and terrified at the prospect of having two munchkins under my care at the same time (how exactly does one do that while staying sane?) but a little more of the former than the latter at the moment. Plenty of time for freaking out later, like after the baby is born and it’s too late, right? You women with two or more kids, just smile and nod politely and make reassuring ‘oohing’ noises. Unless you found becoming the mother of two children under three years apart so joyful and carefree that you have nothing but heartwarming tales to impart, in which case feel free to tell me how wonderful it will be from the get-go and how I won’t ever contemplate throwing myself off of a bridge while shouting “Whyyyyyyyyyyy???!!!!”
‘Cause right now I’m enjoying my little belly and would like to stay in a state of ignorant bliss for just a little longer. That’s not called denial, is it?
