8 Months pregnant, allow me to rant a little…

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I’m in my third trimester and although there’s only 8 weeks to go, I want it to be over. I’ve been pregnant for what feels like eternity and although my little chickpea has a while yet before she’s done in my oven, I’m really keen to just get her out. This may be the tiredness and exhaustion talking here, but bear with me. She’s one heck of an active baby, and I’m so sick of hearing how big I am even with weeks to go. I get I’m supposed to be happy as a pig in shit that I’m pregnant, that I have a beautiful bouncing baby inside me and that I am indeed truly truly lucky, but I’m just so tired of being pregnant right now.

Those who say ‘OMG, it’s going to get worse as the weeks go on’ probably didn’t have Michael Flatley using their insides better than Ed Balls on Strictly, or their bladder as an adventure playground or just won’t let you sleep whilst they play peek-a-boo with your organs. Quite frankly, I’m a little bored of it. I’m exhausted, shattered, tired, worn out, irritable and want to be able to sleep without the constant bathroom breaks and dancing tango baby drilling away at my insides with her tappy tappy feet. I would like to not be pregnant now and have her here in my arms instead. I’m already prepared for sleepless nights because I’ve not slept properly in about 2 months. Trying to get comfy at night is hell. We’re supposed to sleep on our left side, so we don’t squish our baby, due to some artery on our right side. But I’m comfier lying on my right most days but any position where I don’t feel like the Hunchback of Notre-Dame, would be comforting on my back, as currently I get a dead leg, bum, boob, side, whatever, it numbs and it feels like a zillion pins and needles jabbing in all areas.

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Trying to get up in the middle of the night to pee annoys me, as it take me a good few minutes to move myself out of bed. This is obviously hilarious to Sam, his girlfriend, the beached whale who can’t roll herself over, like a turtle on its back trying to get to its feet. Anyone who’s been pregnant knows what the countdown rush is to get to the bathroom before a) your bladder feels like it’s going to explode and b) you actually wet yourself. All of this whilst Missy goes mental, kicking and punching me like an airbag, without squishing her, which I won’t but it feels like it sometimes. After the relief of the bathroom break, this normally is followed by getting back into bed, positioning yourself hoping for sleep, only for your bladder to fill up with water again and tease you with the whole game again. You know how fucking irritating that is?

I’m annoyed that people comment non-stop about my weight, the size of my bump, the shock that I have weeks to go. It’s just a bump, I’ve put weight on my bump and my boobs. For all those who have to know, I was underweight when I found out I was pregnant and I’ve put on 3 stone in this pregnancy. I haven’t got cankles, I haven’t lost my thigh gap, I haven’t gained an arse bigger than Kim K, I haven’t put on tonnes of weight, I’m not fat or obese or enormous, I’m just carrying a baby that loves her food and I’m all sexy and God dammit I know it. I may not feel it sometimes but I’m carrying a baby, fuck off and cut me some slack.

I’m not pregnant with twins. Believe me when I say there is not another baby hiding behind my baby, I’m not huge, I’m comfy carrying a beautiful bouncing baby in me. Do people not realise their constant nit picking, ‘words of wisdom’ and verbal diarrhea is actually really insensitive. How am I supposed to feel good about myself when you constantly say crap that makes me want to cry all the time and feel like shit?

Why is it now that I’m nearing my due date, as far off as it feels right now, that people are now going more and more in detail with the stories about their labour? She has to come out, I know that, how she does or from which area is non of your God damn business. This is something that will be discussed between Sam, my midwife and I, so spare me the details about your mucous plug. Why do people feel the need to go into horrifically graphic detail about how they pushed out a rhino without drugs through their VJ? That’s great for you, want a gold star? Keep your labour stories to yourself unless the day comes that I want to take notes, spare me, please.

And finally, what is it with people who stare at you for going into MacDonald’s and ordering a large Big Mac meal and finishing it off with a McFlurry and sausage roll from Greggs? Don’t judge me, I’m growing a person. I eat a relatively good diet. I drink my 2 litres of water a day, even though my bladder hates me for it, I don’t eat fast food all the time, maybe once or twice a month, I eat salads and cook mostly from scratch so let me eat this and buzz off bozo.

Rant over.

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