I sat in the sun today for about 32 seconds but I look like I sat in the sun for 32 hours. I have found a plus point - getting tan when your pregnant is easy. It's probably God's way of ensuring us sun-worshipping idiots don't bake our babies in the womb.
There are other plus points - I have long nails for the first time in my life and my hair is in excellent condition.... But for many, looks go downhill the further on in pregnancy you get. Every inch of you eventually end
s up swollen. Spots appear, sometimes in places I'd rather not discuss and I have already touched upon the joys of stretchmarks. In the first few months you have a nice bump that you proudly swing around to anyone that will look. From about 8 months though this perfectly shaped bump turns into a lump, almost a ledge, with a peculiar anvil shape to it. This normally co-incides with a heavy pain constantly threatening to crush your pelvis. And that swing turns into a waddle.
This is when you have had enough.
Of course, there are exceptions to the rule. Some ladies keep their pert little bumps until the day they hatch - but they usually appear on the cover of Hola! and have tummy tucks after their c-sections.
Or maybe it's just me with the anvil shaped gut. Either way the word 'blooming' can only really be used for 2 weeks out of the 40.
I have been reading up on birth and babies and if the advice the books give is to be adhered to, the future looks bleak and sleepless for me. I can't get my dog into a feeding routine or potty train it, never mind a kid. Even my cat sits on my head meowing every morning at six and I give in to her hungry demands. The Contented Little Baby Book would have me hang my head in shame at this lack of discipline.
First Time Parents is a book that states the obvious and tries to illustrate it without an inch of originality. One photo in the Labour and Birth Chapter shows a woman slightly sweaty, giddy with laughter, legs akimbo, fanny out and brand new naked baby in her arms. Behind her is her husband who leans casually against her shoulders winking at the camera and grinning like jerk. Never have I seen a more staged photograph.
I wonder if Tom and 'Kate' have a photo like that in their collection...
I placed a Betterware order today. Isn't that what mothers do? Actually, the more I think about it - isn't that what Grandmothers do?
Anyway as I am sure all Betterware purchases are, it was fairly exciting - some strips to stick on the sofa to prevent the cat scratching and a set of mini plastic drawers to tidy the desk that will probably come in more handy as a make-up tidy. There were about 762 other things in the catalogue I thought I couldn't live without but wasn't sure the circumstance would ever arise to use them. The spider catcher that doesn't kill, or the fly strips for the wall... I was tempted by the plastic toe separators and bunion treatment that Gloria Hunniford so convincingly advertises, but I'll have to save that treat for another day. Now I have to wait 10-14 days for my delights. All I do is wait these days.
I cooked dinner last night for a friend. Which meant that my frequent-but-carefully-spaced-out sessions of eating peanut butter and jam sandwiches would have to be dropped for a full on meal. When you're this pregnant the stomach shrinks to the size of a peanut, not because you suddenly become a dainty little flower, but because it is well and truly SQUASHED. So we ate like kings (obviously my cooking is magnificent...) and topped it off with a fresh flake chocolate cake. I bought this from Tesco and it was pretty expensive by their standards so you can imagine the size of the pieces and the belly-pats of satisfaction - from everyone else at the table anyway. It has been a while since I have been sociable and sat at a dinner table (lack of being able to drink can make a person grouchy on social occasions) so as I chatted away I forgot I had a stomach the size of a peanut and ate like a horse. This, combined with the consumption of some seriously fizzy soft drinks meant I thought I would roll onto the floor and explode. Where the hell is that IBS book? (see previous)
Then it hit me....
The reason sometimes I feel (and look) ridiculously pregnant is not because I am having the world's biggest baby. Perhaps not even that I am carrying 16 stone worth of fat on my gut....It is because I am bloated like a whale! The acid is filling my peanut sized stomach and stretching it beyond belief. Particularly with the consumption of fizzy drinks. I am actually full to the brim with wind. I could probably power a town. This realisation also solves the labour pain relief dilemma -
I can just fart this baby out.
I was shopping in Mothercare today. I go in there quite frequently if I am in town, mostly because I think I should. I have already bought nearly every single item they sell so most of the time I don't actually need anything. In fact strictly speaking I don't have any children so I shouldn't really NEED any of their products...yet. But as time ticks on and that due date (probably overdue date) creeps ever nearer I wander around Mothercare in the hope I can justify yet another purchase.
Today it was a baby bag.
In truth you could just use a rucksack or a normal big bag but where is the fun in that? I already bought a 'designer' baby bag through the Internet and when it arrived it was cute, but it seemed small. Very small for the 82 nappies, 76 bottles and 476 poops I have been told you end up lugging around. It comes with a matching changing pad but even this seems small. Unless you change one cheek at a time. Or have a midget. So I bought ANOTHER baby bag, much bigger, slightly uglier (plain black) and very practical. I don't think you can really be cool with babies. Practicality wins every time. Plus now I have a bag for every occasion.
With this purchase in mind I wanted something for me, moi, myself... so I bought a summer maternity top in the kind of style I can probably get away with wearing well after the birth. Actually, who am I kidding? I will be wearing all my maternity clothes well after the birth. I wonder if I can con people into thinking I am pregnant again rather just a blubber butt?
I went to the checkout and it was busy with one of those queues that is really just a bunch of random, scattered people - the kind where you get there and think 'Is there a queue...?' So I asked a lady with a toddler in a pushchair if she was waiting and she said 'Yes' in a tone that really meant 'Step in front of me and I will rip your face off.' At best, she was rude. I thought all of us in Mothercare were mothers united, all bonded together with similar experiences and love. At the very least those with screaming kids may remember what it was like to be almost 9 months pregnant.... I was wrong. At that point a saleslady appeared from nowhere and asked if someone would like to accompany her to the other till. I was next to her in a flash. Mrs Rude could wait in her beloved queue...
As a plus point the saleslady pointed out that if I buy one maternity top I get another half price. I said I am nearly there now and just wanted this one for warm days. She asked how long I had left and when I told her she looked surprised. I could have kissed her. What a change from Lady Chav (see previous).
In other news today.... the gossip columns are reporting that Tom Cruise has 'changed Katie's name' which actually means he has decided that Katie is a young girls name and Kate is the name of a mother. And so that is what he will call her. What an arse wipe he is.
What self indulgent moaning this is. I will try to stop whinging about pregnancy now. Particularly considering so many people desperately want children and can't have them. And the fact I have yet to shake hands with my little one. My much wanted little one.
It's not that bad... just the final few months.
There are more important things going on in the world than labour craps and stretch marks. John Prescott actually managed an affair for godsakes. Ruminate on that one...
I had a slight itching on the belly last night and awoke to find stretch marks. I was so proud of the fact I had none and here they appear in the last hellish month of pregnancy, the bastards. How can they appear in less than 24 hours? They are only small but give it time...
Pregnancy stretch marks make you look like your belly was sewn to your pelvis. Like Frankenstein.
I have a friend who has a friend (that sounds ridiculous) who had her first baby this morning. After a long complicated labour. The baby was sideways - ended up in a C-section. To complete the picture, the baby weighed almost 9 pounds.
Lordy.
It has just occured to me a reader of these blogs may think I was one big lard lady even before pregnancy. I wasn't. Honestly. Well, I was never a stick but...the reality is (perhaps because of the amazing and special outcome) pregnancy itself can just be cruel.
I dread my post-labour deflated skin and jelly butt....
"No more IBS!"
"Emotional Healing in Minutes"
"Start Up & Run Your Own Business..."
...these are some of the titles screaming at me from my bookshelf. Have I ever read them? No. Well, not really. I probably should some day. Just to ensure I am emotionally healed while running my own business. The IBS book would probably come in handy for that crapping part of labour.
Today I ate three peanut butter and jelly (jam) sandwiches, two chocolate chip cookies (of the larger size), a large bowl of cereal and some pea soup. Oh...and a Twirl. Not necessarily in that order. I walked about five feet with the dog and then had to come home. I am not sure if this is pregnancy laziness or incredible fatness taking hold. Either way I think a Weight Watchers regime and exercise is called for this summer - If I can participate in both while breast feeding and cleaning up poo (hopefully just the baby's).
We purchased a cross trainer just before I found out I was pregnant - so its assembly was put on hold. And now we find that in our haste to tidy things up after major building works, we tidied away the assembly instructions. Marvellous.
...why does everyone feel the need to tell me about birthing horrors?
The midwife measured the bump last week and declared it is a totally normal size. Indeed. So why does everyone look at me like I am the size of a sumo wrestler?
When total strangers ask me how long I have left, the answer "a month" leaves them wide-eyed. One fellow pregnant 'lady' asked me this in Boots and when I told her, she turned to what I assume was her partner and said "Fuckin hell, she is bigger than me!" She had two weeks to go. But she was embarrassed at her outburst. Wouldn't look me in the eye. Judging by the gold strangling her fake tanned neck, I'd say she was a total pikey. Complete chavette. I hope she goes overdue.
Needless to say I have a fear of squeezing out a toddler. I was hoping for a baby first.
With a gut larger than your average pub darts player it is a bit tricky to sit and blog...but I have nothing better to do at the moment.
Did you know there is a very good chance of crapping during labour? And this chance increases if your pregnancy is overdue? Is that not just cruel icing on the cake of pain...you spend most of your pregnancy struggling to do one, then when you really REALLY don't want to - there it is. For all to see.
Still it could be worse. I could be Katie Holmes.
s up swollen. Spots appear, sometimes in places I'd rather not discuss and I have already touched upon the joys of stretchmarks. In the first few months you have a nice bump that you proudly swing around to anyone that will look. From about 8 months though this perfectly shaped bump turns into a lump, almost a ledge, with a peculiar anvil shape to it. This normally co-incides with a heavy pain constantly threatening to crush your pelvis. And that swing turns into a waddle.
