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They didn't tell me it would be this uncomfortable. A tummy hanging out more by the day, can't see my (swollen) feet, enormous, back-breaking boobs hanging unattractively over said tummy, fat face (where is the pregnancy glow huh??) and not to mention constantly sore back and tummy muscles stretched beyond capacity! But that's not the worst of it. I have been very lucky through both pregnancies… maintaining a smooth, baby soft round belly… until the other day that is when I was about to heave myself into the bath and my dear hubby looked at me and said… “Um, Darling… I think you need to put on some more of that stretch mark cream …” (admittedly I had been a bit lax in this department…) “What!?” I replied, looking down in disbelief at my tummy. “I can't see a single line, what are you talking about?” “Um…” (husband trying not to pee off the big pregnant lady… “it's under your tummy, where you can't see… don't worry it's not too bad, but still you should put some cream on before it gets worse…”
So out comes the hand mirror, which I unceremoniously shove under my substantial girth… and yes, there they are, those delightful red banners of motherhood. And here I was thinking how lucky I was to avoid them… forgetting that my last pregnancy ended at 36 weeks before I got quite so enormous… And poor hubby still trying to make me feel better about myself pipes up: “Don't worry Darling, since I have been back at the gym I have also noticed a couple on my arms…” Thanks. My pain at creating life will forever be emblazoned on my saggy tummy, denying me the chance of ever wearing my expensive custom-made bikini ever again (a pre-holiday extravagance) while my dear hubby gets one teeny tiny little line on his now muscular triceps which he will no doubt enjoy showing off in the summer months…
I remember my first pregnancy… I was a typical first timer. I went around the shops wearing tops that would make my mom blush (“can't you wear something a little more flowing?”) hoping that the whole world would notice my blossoming tummy and imminent arrival. I spent hours browsing through maternity racks and baby wear, not to mention all the magazines I bought hoping to bring me closer to understanding the bliss that would be motherhood. Then I got pregnant again (clearly forgetting what that maternal “bliss” actually entailed…). No earth mothering for me this time around. Having still kept five kilos as a memento from my last pregnancy, I couldn't find maternity wear that flattered me. Also having a winter baby this time around, well stretch jeans that keep falling down just don't have the same cute allure that those little cargo pants had that kept me going last time around. So picture big baggy tops, stretchy jerseys and hubby's tracksuit pants – my maternity wardrobe. And baby clothes? No problem, my shop is now in the attic – just take down what I need and give it a good wash. So what if there is a small butternut stain on the left sleeve. She won't notice. What about magazines? I threw all my old ones out after my last pregnancy (after all, I was never going to have another baby again… not after six months of colic!). Who has time to read them anyway. It will all come back to me… or so I keep telling myself. Anyway after relishing every minute of my first pregnancy now I just can't wait to get this one over… another three weeks tops.
But there is one thing that I am experiencing the same as last time… I am pooping myself realising that in a few short weeks I will have another tiny bundle to bring home. But this time I am scared for a different reason – not because I don't have a clue what I am letting myself in for… but well, because I know exactly what's coming, and throw a toddler in the mix, and I have one word: HELP! But all my friends with two kids tell me not to worry, I will manage just fine, after all I won't have a choice will I! I know the first few days… make that weeks will be hectic, but we will soon settle into our lives again all the better for our two precious angels!
In the meantime bear with me while I get things together and try to find time between temper tantrums and breastfeeding to keep this newsletter coming… wish me luck! And here's pushing (no pun intended) for my first natural delivery – holding thumbs (and hubby's arms as I scream in agony… You did this to me!!! Don't bloody tell me to breath! But that's a story for another time…
© Sally Hetherington .
