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Blarg Pregnancy Blarg

January 21, 2016

It has been quite a while since I sat down to write. One of the reasons for this is that lately I’ve found it nearly impossible to focus on any one topic, and ideally when I sit down to produce a blog post I do like it to have a centralized topic… one that people might actually pull up on a search engine… but this isn’t going to be one of those posts because my brain has gone all fuzzy with crazy baby hormones.

So if you choose to read any further, brace yourself for the onslaught of my own very personal brand of fizzy brain fuzz.

(Don’t worry, it’s not contagious… but there may be tentacles… the kind with little suckers on them but the suckers are too small to actually latch onto anything substantial so they’re really just largely ornamental, adorable slightly sticky tentacles with purple and green suckers I think… because that is a really underrated color combination)

At this moment in time I am about 33.5 weeks pregnant.  I’m tired, sick all the time, gigantically huge and hairy because shaving requires me to bend and breathe at the same time, and that just doesn’t happen anymore… also I pee when I sneeze or cough about 50% of the time which is just effing super… especially when it happens just after I get dressed in nice clean clothes but before I can secure a panty liner in place.

When I look in the mirror I feel like I should probably be far more critical of myself, but at the same time I refuse to feel badly about my body when it is working so hard to grow and sustain a healthy new life.

I spend about 70% of my waking hours talking myself out of tears. Sometimes happy tears, sometimes sad tears but mostly frustrated tears. On the rare occasion that I don’t have something gnawing at me, PTSD kicks in and it presents me with something from my past to obsess over until I want to claw out my own eyeballs… then I talk myself out of that too because it’s what I do, and I relax… and then I do whatever I need to do to bring myself back to calm…

I have been nesting pretty hard… my house looks like a bomb went off but that’s mostly because I can’t stop myself from gutting every cupboard,  closet, shelf and corner… unfortunately once I realize how much crap I have taken out of these places I get overwhelmed to the point where I can’t actually do anything about the mess I have made while trying to clean because there is just SO damn much of it. Also by this point I’m usually in a lot of pain because my pelvis is screaming at me to sit the fuck down, NOW.

So besides my own mind working against me as I helplessly succumb to the wonderfully genetically programmed nesting urges of my biology I also have physical reasons why cleaning is pretty time sensitive … Unfortunately while my body is saying NO NO NO (crunch crunch pop grind twinge)… my brain is telling me what a failure at life I am…. so what do I do???

preggo2

I crochet. I crochet because I find the repetition of stitches, especially ones that I don’t have to count incredibly soothing. In fact, it’s almost meditative…. My brain can still be telling me I’m a horrible person for everything I’m not doing that I should be doing but at the same time I feel like I’m being productive… because apparently my daughter needs several beautiful handmade capes and pairs of fluffy bunny slippers that she adamantly refuses to wear.

cape2

 

Which brings me to the point of Mommyness. During all of this mess making, tidying and crochet I am also Mommy. I love being Mommy. My little girl is the most awesome, cuddliest little monster ever but she is also a tornado of prolific mess creation so it’s not always easy to keep up with her while I’m also working so hard to destroy my house and then distract myself from the mess I’ve made while also ensuring that she is adequately fed, clean, cared for and entertained.

My awesome little girl is also the reason why I’m sick all of the time. This is because she is a small child and therefore her very existence is synonymous with “germ magnet/factory”  and there is no force on earth that will ever stop me wiping her boogers away or kissing her germy little face every chance I get, so catching all of her delightful viruses with my preggo weakened immune system is just a fact of life.

Now it’s time to jump over to the subject of lucrative work… which for me is mostly making jewelry to sell on Etsy… I actually have supplies that I’m metaphorically sitting on right now to make about £600 in PROFIT on in almost guaranteed sales but I can’t bring myself to turn the supplies into sellable goods. The whole process would take me about a week to complete and I know exactly what I need to do but… I feel like I should be cleaning instead. But cleaning hurts… a lot… and there is so much of it that my mind just turns into a puddle of frustration and crochet when I try to think about where to start SO I can’t make money because my house is a mess and I can’t clean my house because the mess is overwhelming and physical pain is a real, genuine deterrent.

Do I realize how stupid and defeatist this all sounds? YES … of course I do… I’m not an idiot… I completely realize the full extent of unreasonable I’m cozying up under, but logic has no voice when hormones take over, combined with whatever other anxiety or PTSD symptoms I’m exhibiting for the day … even with the full and complete knowledge that I’m not thinking clearly.

Having said all of that, I’m not looking for assistance or pity. I’ve discussed all of this with my husband and as always, he’s incredibly understanding. We have been working in small, manageable stages to tackle the house issues while I continue to compulsively pull everything out into the middle of the floor. My motherinlaw has also been extremely helpful in providing us with childcare on the weekends while we work through the piles of cleaning in preparation for the new baby.

I am not without help, I am just my own worst enemy right now and this, in a festering nutshell is why I can’t write anything useful. So until the little bundle arrives and probably for a wee while after… I think this is me.

I know that if some people have made it this far in my preggo rant they’re possibly thinking.. “well if that’s all you’ve got in your life to be upset about then you’re lucky… blah blah blah…. you should be grateful for blah…. “

In a pre-emptive response to this … I could get super bitchy, but I won’t because getting bitchy at an invisible and hypothetical audience is pretty counterproductive to the calm I struggle so hard to maintain.

I will however say that (not that it’s anyone’s damn business but,) I am actively grateful every day for everything and everyone in my life. Never assume you know anyone, even remotely based on a thing that they’ve written or even by what they post on facebook or twitter. Those representations are highly selective snippets of life that don’t accurately portray the multitude of facets that composes an individual.

I have plenty of issues in my life that I never write about because being the one publishing my own stories I get to choose very carefully exactly what I share and when I share it.

The main reason why I’ve chosen to publish this, other than the fact that I felt like it was really time to update my blog is because I hate how pregnancy is often portrayed as an experience that is mostly positive, magical and  bemusing or amusing, or hilarious.  I’m happy that I am pregnant, I love this baby, I love my daughter but I want to say with honesty and clarity that… even a healthy pregnancy is not necessarily fun times… and that is OK…  in fact my first pregnancy was a much bumpier ride than this one. .

There is a degree of guilt that arises in mothers when pregnancy is painted in a light of impossible positivity and that’s not fair. I’ve felt the guilt rising in my chest on many occasions that I should be enjoying pregnancy more and complaining less, but every time I remind myself that I’m only human and I push it back down where it belongs feeling reassured that  it’s always OK to be HONEST about pregnancy and sometimes honesty IS complaining, or letting out the crazy and the unreasonable, or just having a good solid cry.

Sometimes it’s also rambling out over 1500 words on my blog… because I can.

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From → Mommy-ness

3 Comments
  1. Auntie permalink

    I’m sitting here at home mentioning you spitting out all out in one breath

  2. Charlie permalink

    Love, you are an amazing person. I am so happy that I know you.

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