hate, grr.

I was writing an email to Odette after skyping on the worst line ever this arvo and intended to just tell her about our due date and how it would time perfectly with her arrival and it turned into a rant against expectant parents and their irritating quips. Of course I thought this excellent blog fodder as hopefully there are a lot of mums out there that agree with me.

I am not a happy pregnancy camper. I am grateful I can get pregnant and carry my own child. I am grateful that Annie is healthy and well. But it doesn’t negate the fact that pregnancy sucks the fat one for some of us.

I particularly hate the last months of pregnancy, so cumbersome, so fat, so out of breath, so tired.

I hate those women who breeze through pregnancy, their glow, their happy faces, their exuberant longing to hold their new baby. I especially hate the ones that say, ‘I don’t care what I’m having so long as it’s healthy!’ yawn. Sure you care you fat dime store hooker, you want them to be healthy, smart, beautiful, witty and charismatic, you want them to be superhuman and the most fantastic bubbly, vivacious person in the room, you want them to be everything you never were and live forever. Most people are so full of shit. Oh god I digress! But aren’t we just already covering our bases by lowering our expectations before birth? Healthy? really? is that all you want? Fuck, Adolf Hitler was healthy, want one?

I also hate women who say labour was good. Really? Apparently for some women, shitting yourself and ripping your own vagina open is ‘good’. These women must implode with happiness when a stranger smiles at them in the supermarket. Good, my arse.

Pete asked me yesterday to try and drop my anger level from …. holds his hand at the tip of his hairline and says ‘here’ to…and drops his hand level with his chest, ‘here’ he says with a little smile. I practically laid him flat with my glare, ‘sure’ I said calmly,’ if you could stop being so fucking irritating I’ll give that a shot’. Pregnancy makes me mean too see.

We are due in four weeks, every day I pray he will come early so my hips will stop aching, I can sleep again on my back or stomach, I can take a full breath and I can get up off the floor without going ‘hurrrumph’. I know there are much much worse things in life, much worse, but as Clare once said we can’t always quantify our lives by the comparison of someone else’s suffering. I prefer that theory, people that say, things like ‘tomorrow’s another day! or at least I’m still breathing!’ piss me off at the moment too.

RRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRrrrrr world, don’t get in my way.