hi all, im an aussie living long-term in london and have been doing a blog detailing my pregnancy for family and friends back in oz. For this blog Ive been writing a (very tounge in cheek) list on the downside to pregnancy. Have pretty much exhaused all I can think of, so thought I would throw it open to further suggestions or comment...
(apologies if it is not very pc)
Pregnancy: the Dark Side
? The loss of cuddles. There comes a point when a normal cuddle on your partner?s lap starts to resemble the movement of heavy machinery. The owner of the lap has to prepare himself (spread legs to distribute impending weight, brace arms to lessen impact) whilst trying to guide the enormous arse to the right place whilst saying ?eeeeeeasy does it?. An obligatory moment of both parties regaining the breath after the successful lowering of the pregnant lady is to be expected.
? Getting Up. From anywhere. Be it from a cuddle, bed, the toilet or a seat on the tube. At some point anything resembling stomach muscles disappear and you have to rely on bicep strength to haul or push yourself up.
? The loss of ?hustle?. Only last week I found myself unable to even entertain the idea of running for a train that ordinarily I would have owned.
? Friends delight in referring to your cute ?penguin waddle?
? People who say ?Oh! I bet you are due pretty soon? and then upon being told it is actually 3 months away try to recover by saying ?Oh! Aren?t you big then!?. These people are crossed of the xmas card list.
? Tiredness.
? Well dressed people and the fashion pages of magazines become objects of spite.
? Sharp Corners are bigger, small gaps are miniscule and for some reason you keep opening doors into your belly
? You become obsessed with other people?s babies. Need to be stared at for a variety of reasons, mostly to make a mental comparison of how much cuter yours will be.
? The magnetism that develops between your belly and anything you are eating. Such an unbroken daily run has this magnetism had, that at work they have offered to buy me a bib.
? Public Transport in London (tube and bus). 95% full of selfish wankers.
? The ?Any Cravings?? Question. It?s old.
? Uncontrollable body systems. Many too inappropriate to detail and unfortunately prone to occuring during an important meeting.
? That deciding whether it is ?Good Morning? or ?Good Afternoon? is the least of your concerns when answering the phone at work. Your name and where you are becomes an increasingly difficult concept to relay when put on the spot.
? Low cupboards of pans and the bottom draws on the fridge. Require sitting on the ground for proper access.
? Something akin to fur covering your belly.
? Lungs the size of plums that result in dog-like panting after taking on the smallest and shortest of inclines.
? Food restrictions. I expect a crate of pate and cheeses upon my expulsion of the child.
? The ?Are you exercising?? question. No. Only my jaw.
? You become obsessed with every pram which is pushed by you. The make, the suspension, how easy they are maneuvering it through the shop etc.
? Pubs become pointless. Unless sitting in a corner and glaring jealously at all the people drinking beer is your idea of fun.
? And if you do go to a pub, the smell of smoke that imbues your hair and clothes and lungs is sickening. So you lose all cool and become THAT person who bemoans pub smoke.
? When people ask you what name you are thinking of half will reply with a rather depressing ?Oh. That?s interesting? or ?Oh yes. That?s very common now?. Common is not a big deal, there is a reason why good names like William and Jack exist and why parents naming their kid Zububurina deserve scorn.
? Thigh burn. Like carpet burn, but done by thigh.
? The whole business of nesting. Whilst it is nice to have a defrosted freezer and the knowledge that there is no dust behind the dishwasher - when you start turning down offers to hang out with friends in preference of organising your partners collection of single black socks, it has gone too far.
? The gradual reduction of places you are able to go. Anything that does not have the promise of a seat at quick notice is out.
? Having intimate knowledge of what the skin in your belly-button really looks like.
? Those cute little ?butterfly? movements of the baby morph into constant and at times painful kung-fu kicks.
? The readily adopted theory that this is the one time you are able to eat what you please, so go hard. SOOO coming back to haunt me later.
? Moles. Moles you didn?t even know you had, not only make an appearance, but do so emphatically. Deep brown colour, bobbling out in fearsome 3D
? Your dancing becomes downright hysterical to anyone who you feel safe enough doing it around.
? Swollenness. Fat fingers. Hobbit feet. The fact that when you take of your airplane socks (ie those that are meant to fit all) in the evening to go to bed you are greeted by indentations on your ankles the size of minor canyons
? Heartburn. AKA ?Reflux? or vomiting in your mouth. Nothing quite like that burn, mmmmm.
? I wouldn?t say a ?double chin? as that suggests definition between the two. Perhaps ?the emergence of jowels? is more apt.
? Unmanageable hair and a fear of getting a haircut that only serves to accentuate the blobbyness of your face.
? The appetite of ten burley men means that you can quite happily choose something from the firdge, stand there eating whilst you continue to examine the fridge contents for round two. Then three.?
? Hormones that make your skin believe your are in the middle of puberty.
? Lactic Acid build up. In your Finger joints. I shi!t you not. Each morning I wake up with claws for hands that result in much pathetic whimpering as I try to straighten them.
? The fact that the actual ?birth? begins to loom so forebodingly that the prize at the end seems remote and unfathomable and you begin to wonder what the hell you are doing.
? Unintentional and ill-timed grunting.
? Meeting mothers who ?adored pregnancy?. Whereas you can only see it as nine months of abstinence from everything fun for the pay off of a few ?moments of connection? when the baby kicks you in the lungs/bladder.
? Midwives who refer to pain as ?discomfort?
? Thighs the size of a thoroughbreads
? The loss of balance. The smallest incline, if misjudged, can result in the most embarrassing slow motion fall. Which brings three people rushing over from seemingly nowhere and causes a cyclist to stop, all crying ?Are you ok?! Are you ok?!
? And even though you are ok and you tell them all you are ok, the first thing you do when they are out of sight is call your boyfriend and start bawling over a grazed knee that a third-grader wouldn?t flinch at.
? Emotional fragility (see above).
? Twitchiness. Legs take on a life of their own, often performing a little jig at inopportune moments, such as when you are going to sleep (which if you are sporting some mega-thighs means that NO-ONE is that bed is going to sleep)
? You begin to really listen to your mother.
? The point where you become so big that some of your maternity clothes no longer fit.
? The realisation at about 37 weeks that if you have somehow gotten yourself on ground level, nothing bar a crane will get you off it.
? Stretch Marks: Nuff said.
? The brain power of a golden retriever, the memory of a goldfish.
? Shoes. Nigh on impossible to put on by yourself. Ones with laces are a pipe dream.
? Partners who will never go through what you are going through, yet have the nerve to say that if they did they imagine it would be a doddle. (Note: only applicable to certain, hard-arse-attitude partners)
? Everything can be really normal and dandy, but then you can make a movement you have done a thousand times before, only to have to stop in absolute agony as your back clicks out of place, and scream as you move through the position to safety.
? That you become fanatically interested in other mother?s birth stories
? People you don?t know touch your belly. And you have to pretend like it?s fine.
? Two words: Pigment Moustache