Feeling huge...
While this pregnancy has, as a whole, been easier than the last one, it still undeniably sucks. In big part, because being fat in Summer sucks. Being fat in Rarotonga sucks but you know what? Auckland is as hot as Raro, so while I enjoyed our Raro holiday and also enjoyed coming home, we arrived home to a January which had at that point had one rain day, and was 27 degrees. That shouldn't even be legal. I am a grinch of Summer even when I'm not 15kg bigger than usual. Adding this weight, plus a just-learning-to-walk-10kg-toddler to the mix makes for a serious Hulk Hannah.
You best not be stepping where you don't want be messing!*
On top of being huge, I feel huge. Regardless of this heat I feel giant because my starting weight for this pregnancy was 5kg up on the last one and I've gained weight at a slightly faster rate. And because people constantly comment on how massive I am. Thanks people. That's awesome. Women always like to hear that. Especially hot, pregnant, sore ones. And I've still got almost 12 weeks to go to my due date and 8 weeks to go until I finish work. And then I can hide in my house and avoid comment from random incompetent gits - my toddler has never called me fat. High fives for her. Punch face for git strangers.
And I can't help it. The hugeness I mean. This time around I actually have food cravings. It's cos I started this pregnancy off as an anemic, breastfeeding wreck which was NOT THE PLAN! Last time, we had a plan and so I was healthy and good. This time was a whoops - I was not in any state to be pregnant. So now, to compensate I must eat ALLTHETHINGS. Cheeseburgers, chocolate, icecream, chippies. Badbad things. And cos have toddler shove food in my face when the opportunity arises. Not like last time, where I could meal plan and focus on being good in body and mind (yoga, positioning, diet etc). Now it's all about DO WHAT THE BODY SAYS MUST DO. And it would appear this body wants to eat all the things, and be as big as a house. Self control you say? Pregnancy diabetes mayhaps? FUCK YOU!
Consequently, I feel cumbersome. Being big is awkward. I can't move good like I used to and simple tasks are hard. And it makes it difficult for me to breathe. I get panicky at times and have to actively focus on breathing. I can't lie on my back or sit forward purely because it causes oxygen deprivation - my lungs just can't lung that way. And this baby is lying breech so its movements are far more uncomfortable than Etta's was. Seriously. It literally kicks me in the pubic bone and my vagina hurts. This is especially bad when I am walking. Some days walking hurts my vagina. Lots, like, I wanna cry hurts. I am mad at my unborn child.
And I feel useless. Last time, it didn't really matter too much if there was stuff on the floor. It was just me and Murray. Plus we didn't just tromp around throwing stuff on the floor willy nilly very often, so there wasn't much on the floor. These days we have a tornado toddler thing. So anything under the level of about 1.1 meters can end up on the floor at any given time. Including things in drawers. And cupboards (we've locked the good stuff up now though. Phew!) So the floor is a colourful array of Etta collateral. Which she could break, put in her mouth and choke to death on. And my hips hurt. So unless I'm feeling super awesome it stays on the floor. And we hurt ourselves on it. And while Etta hasn't choked to death yet, it could happen any day. And I feel useless.
And I'm useless at work. Still fab at all things customer service, but shite at things like vacuuming, and putting things away on low shelves. And because sad/mad/bad am writing this blog post at work. I am a terrible person. I actually love my job. Everything is just hard right now. Cos big. Work also has air con. And cos I work alone I have full control over it. Work is like an icy, bug (and baby) free oasis in a swamp full of crocodiles, mud and mosquitoes. I should be kinder to my work.
And I'm a terrible wife. Wanna do something fun? Fuck you. We only watch mindless television in these parts. And read terrible things. TERRIBLE THINGS. And occasionally play a board game but not any new ones cos I have no brain, and not any long ones because I will get tired and cry. And sometimes we can watch a movie. Sometimes. If it's under 97 minutes in length and we start watching it at 7.30pm sharp. But don't fucking touch me or I'll stick you like a pig!
And a terrible mother. It's a gorgeous day out? We will go out when Mummy hangs the washing. Then I will watch you frolic on the lawn with the animals while I sit on the deck steps and drink imaginary cider (lemonade mixed with apple juice). Mummy too tired to even do laundry? We're just gonna sit on the couch watching endless Pocoyo while I brush your hair and you put cream on my legs. And I'm not gonna fight with you at dinner. Right now it's fine if you only eat rice, pasta, rice bubbles or porridge. I will sneak veges in when my legs move more good. Too hard right now. You get scurvy.
Unlike the witches of yore, rain is pretty much my favourite thing in the world. WAY more awesome than any super food (fuck you goji), more awesome than chocolate, more awesome than WINE. Rain makes life tolerable. This is why Raro was tolerable - it rained most days we were there. The other thing making me slightly less murderous is swimming, baths and aircon. These days if I am feeling claustrophobic from the humid Auckland murk I either take Etta to Kmart or the mall. There she can frolic around to her hearts content with toys or clothes (she loves crawling around under clothing racks), I don't have to hold her and, most importantly, there is aircon.**
And sometimes there is icecream.
So yeah, I am a world hating jerk right now. Sorry.
If you are to have any contact with me over the next three months, these are important things to know:
- Bring me popsicle slushies
- Don't call me fat
- Make it rain.
- Expect nothing in return
Do these things and you will avoid Hulk Hannah***
Rant end.
*I fancy myself secretly black, but the truth is I'm one of those lame middle class wannabe rappers that actually is terrible and not cool at all like, not like Natalie Portman or Daniel Radcliffe, actually just lame. Like, lamer than Hannah Hart. Super lame.
** I would take her to the park which is closer, but there is no aircon, or icecream, or walls, so I spend the entire time chasing her and trying not to cry and wishing I could just be drunk, or in the bath, or asleep so I didn't have to haul my giant arse around attempting to ensure my existing offspring does not maim herself.
*** Unless you make the mistake of telling me what gender child I'm having based solely on looking at me. Are you a scientist? Do you have magic baby science eyes? No, I don't think you do (because I just made that up). You are welcome to ask to perform some tests on me (not of the old wiving variety) to work this out if it is that important to you. You can even look at my 20 week scan results but believe me, I'll think you're a fool if you think you can tell what baby I'm having from where my baby belly sits.
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