Trust THIS.

Maybe I was a lucky one.

I quite enjoyed being pregnant. The whole time.

Well, ok, the first three months where I was sick all the time and not showing or feeling any sign of a baby weren’t THAT great.

The second trimester was awesome. My worst complaints were unexplained bouts of sneezing and a headache every now and then. I was starting to get a (little) belly and I could feel the baby moving and hiccuping.

The third trimester was physically tougher, but overall not too bad.

I know a lot of women are ‘absolutely enormous and have an over-active bladder but under-active bowel and can’t shave my legs and have leaky boobs and bruised pelvis and ribs and heartburn and can’t sleep can’t stay awake can’t move get this goddamn thing the hell OUT!’

I was not that woman. I know I’m not looking at my experience through rose-coloured glasses, because I kept a journal, and I was not that woman.

I admitted that I was ready to meet the little guy whenever he was ready, but I didn’t reach a point where I wanted it all over with.

Sleeping, yes, it was sometimes difficult. But I liked going to bed and being awake for a bit, because that was when still-baking Devin would perk up and start stretching and kicking. “Mum! Mum! Do something! I am awake and you are not moving and I am not being lulled by a gentle rocking motion! Hello! I am here!”

That was great.

Sometimes I would also stare at my belly and watch him move. Once, he must have rolled over or somersaulted because my entire stomach suddenly swooped to the left and down. It was literally a stomach flip-flop. It freaked me out a bit and made me feel queasy, but it was fantastic. It was all just so weird.

The two things that started to wear a little thin by the end were heartburn and an aching pelvis.

But, the heartburn was nothing an antacid or six couldn’t remedy, and the pelvis… well, that just meant I had an excuse to sit or lounge all the time.

I also loved looking pregnant. I loved leaving the house with my belly. I remember walking through the shopping centre at one point and suddenly really realising that there was a person in there. I was just so goddamn proud of myself.

Logically, I know that’s a bit ridiculous, because any moron can reproduce, and many morons do, but it was all new to me and the biggest thing I’d ever committed to and achieved.

Been-there-done-that mothers love to make comments that begin with, “Just you wait…”

In that gloriously short window between finding out and morning sickness taking hold, “Just you wait until you start living in the bathroom and can’t eat anything but pretzels and air.”

During the ‘golden’ second trimester when everything is easy and exciting, “Just you wait until you can’t see your feet and the baby is kicking your lungs and you start leaking from every part of your body. You’ll want the whole thing over and done. Trust me.” (Trust her.)

And God help you if you’re gearing for a drug-free birth when you’re huge and ungainly and talking excitedly about the impending arrival.

“Just you wait until you’ve been in labour for 16 hours and haven’t slept and feel like you’re trying to pull your bottom lip over your head. Trust me. You’ll be begging for drugs.”

I was never ‘over the whole pregnancy thing’.

Admittedly, I didn’t gain any weight that wasn’t baby, and at 39 weeks I looked smaller than some women at 29 weeks. This was probably a huge contributing factor to my general feelings.

That lip analogy that people love to reiterate? Wrong. I don’t even know what that would feel like, but I’m pretty my labour wasn’t it. (For the record – a really, really bad stomach flu is what contractions felt like. Giving birth felt like I was about to tear in half, and then I didn’t, and I had a baby.)

In fact, if I’m absolutely honest… I maybe would have preferred a slightly longer labour, and a slightly later birth date.

Don’t hate me, fellow mothers!

It just happened a little too fast. I couldn’t really take it in, and I don’t remember very much.

But hey, the grass is always greener.

The best thing a pregnant woman could do is ignore how every other woman has ever felt during a pregnancy. If you’re a pregnant woman, just forget everything I wrote. (Except this paragraph.) (Unless you really hated it, too.)

Even if I could, I wouldn’t change my experience.

Because it was mine.



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