Are you pregnant, or just fat?
Posted Monday 29th April 2013 By Ericka Waller
The Independent recently published their top 20 things not to say to a pregnant woman. It’s worth a read. I found pregnancy hideous enough, without the nine-month commentary I received from friends and family. That’s right. I hated being pregnant. I don’t know why it makes people so cross when I say that. Why is there so much pressure to enjoy gestation? I love being a mum but I hated the growing process.
I hated that strangers touched my itchy tummy all the time without asking. Apparently it’s good luck. Maybe if I’d kicked them each time they did it, they would stop finding it so lucky.
I hated having to pee on a stick and then go and show the midwife. Even though I never handed her the stick wee-end first, she recoiled from me each time I approached as if I have some contagious disease. Surely in her profession she should be used to it?
I hated that my midwife had never given birth herself. I kept forgetting and saying things like “You know when the head is engaged and it feels like you are trying to grip a bowling ball between your thighs?” and she would say “yes” and I’d think ‘No you don’t.’
I hated the look on my husband’s face when I stood up in the bath, naked, pulsating and gloriously pregnant. I remember vividly, the day I got stuck in a denim maternity skirt. He had to help pull it off. While he was doing so he uttered the words “bloody hell, I am going to give myself a hernia here.”
I hated the nine months I had to work myself into a panic about a pain that cannot be likened to snapping a cruciate ligament whilst playing football, no matter what my husband thought.
I hated the 14 weeks of morning sickness that I went through, during which, the only thing that made me feel slightly better was to eat bowl after bowl of Shreddies. Being as I was never actually sick, all the bowls of Shreddies made me look further gone than I was.
I hated that maternity clothes were much more expensive than any other type of clothes and only fitted for a short time. (See point above about denim maternity mini skirt. I paid £35 for that embarrassing episode.)
I hated the way people checked out my tummy and then looked at my hands to see if I was married. I was not married when I had my first child and I remember someone at work saying “Christ I bet that was a nasty shock” when I announced my pregnancy, assuming our baby was not planned.
I hated the way people speculated. ‘You won’t go full term’. ‘I bet you go into labour today/tomorrow/in a minute. ‘ ‘It’s a boy! ‘It’s a girl!’ ‘Soon you won’t know what has hit you.’
I hated the people who asked me if I had any names picked, and I told them what we had chosen, would respond with ‘Oh I don’t like that name’, or ’I knew a dog called that’ or ‘You can’t call them that, it’s horrible.’
I hated people telling me their horrific birth stories in great detail, including comments about how many stitches they had or how things are still ‘not quite right down there’.
I hated the person who told my husband to stay at the ‘head end’ because otherwise ‘it’s like watching your favourite pub burn down.’
I hated my (lovely) family and friends who said ‘Oh hurry up and give birth’ or ‘God this has been a long pregnancy hasn’t it?’ or ‘We are all just on pause till you go into labour‘.
Don’t get me wrong. Being pregnant is well worth it. I wouldn’t have done it three times otherwise. No more for me though. After you’ve gotten pregnant, you have to give birth. I’ll save those horror stories for another time
If you find me funny, why not vote for me in the Bibs? (Brilliance in Blogging Awards) Mum In The South has been shortlisted for Funny, Family and Lifestyle: http://www.britmums.com/2013/04/bibs-shortlists-are-here/