Motherhood wouldn’t be so bad …..

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Does anyone LISTEN to a pregnant woman?

Getting pregnant is stressful.  Am I pregnant?  Is my period late? Is it too early to take a pee on the stick test?  What if I am pregnant, I once walked through the wine section at Pick ‘n Pay, maybe that would have harmed the baby?

And so the mental psychotic conversation starts and pretty much remains in place for how ever long you are “trying” to fall pregnant for.

Assuming you want to be pregnant, there is about 67 seconds when you see two blue lines on your pregnancy test, and you are elated.

You are high fiving yourself in the bathroom, and you are really happy.

Your hand is urine soaked as you had to hold it in your urine stream, whilst trying to balance precariously, but a positive pregnancy test (assuming you are not 12 years old, or you are doing that one child per man you have dated thing) is truly a moment of divine happiness.

It really is just  that moment in time when you feel like you have conquered the world, and eaten a fat-free triple-chocolate cake that actually made you lose weight!

Then you worry.  Worry becomes you constant companion.  Sometimes he brings along anxiety and a full stress-screaming-like-a-banshee.

You worry because now you need to book at the OGBYN and you worry about whether there will be a heart beat and whether everything will be fine.  So though you are elated, the happiness is singed by a feeling of doom and anxiety. And worry.

At the OBGYN when you see the thumpa-thumpa-thumpa heart beat you are joyously happy again.  But only until you climb back in the car in the parking area, as you are back to worrying about the next thing, and thinking that four weeks between OBGYN visits and the scan is tortuously long.  And you have not even got out of the hospital parking lot yet.

What if I miscarry?

What if something I am doing injures the baby?

What if I decide to name the baby Whitney or Barnabus and my child is mercilessly beaten up at school?

What if the fact that I am worrying leads to a higher risk of there being something wrong, everyone tells me to not be so stressed — but now I am worrying about worrying!

At certain times in your pregnancy (granted only in your first) you feel like you are carrying “the holy one” – everyone fawns over you and when you walk in to a room, you can see people’s features soften and usually someone offers you a seat.  Or a foot rub.  Or unnecessary advice.

I met a divine woman this weekend I had met once before whilst she was pregnant, Nicole.  When I saw Nicole that first time, I thought yikes she looks uncomfortable and she was only about 6 months along then.

Nicole told me all about the last few weeks of pregnancy and the eventual early delivery of Lucas. {I am ad libbing the story, so if you would like to hear the full unedited version, I can hook you up with Nicole, who tells a good story by the way.}

I think the thing that stuck with me after listening to her story, is that she KNEW something was off, and no one listened no matter how many times she put her hand up and said “something is wrong here….”

Things did not feel right, and she kept telling anyone who would listen that “something wasn’t right.”  Everyone patted her on the hand and said things like “now now, dear, you need a lie down and you will feel better when you wake up…”

In the end the fact that she had been leaking amniotic fluid for some time, and clearly going in to full labour way before the baby was ready to come in to the world, did eventually get some attention!

Why must one be on the verge of your baby’s head crowning, and a pool of amniotic fluid collecting whilst you stand in the “10 items or less” queue at Woolworths, before someone takes you seriously?

Nicole finally got to her doctor, and they performed an emergency delivery.  Several weeks following the uhm, difficult emergency birth, her OBGYN confided in her that had she arrived 10 minutes later her uterus would probably have perforated and there was a good chance they would not have been able to save her or the baby.

It made me go cold.

And I think the part that made me purse my lips in a non-attractive way, is that pregnant women are generally just not listened to.  They usually feel too embarrassed to say anything is wrong, partly because when you have a 3 – 4 kilogram person lodged between their diaphragm and bladder and EVERYTHING pretty much feels wrong.

I am not sure of the solution – my only advise to anyone pregnant is to treat your pregnancy as YOUR pregnancy.

Be cautious about advise from do-gooders, and to listen to your body.  If there is a something that does not feel right, don’t take a census to see if everyone agrees.  Make an appointment and get someone with a stethoscope and some KY Jelly (preferably with a medical qualification) to take a look at you.

Insist they find the thing that is making you uncomfortable.  Not going because you do not want to bother your doctor, or be demanding is stupid.

I would rather pay for 10 unnecessary OGBYN visits with scans than have something go wrong, and kick myself that I did not LISTEN to my body earlier.

Congratulations Nicole and Simon on the beautiful Lucas – who my girls are already fawning over!

{With all three children I did more OBGYN visits than necessary.  Georgia’s was definitely the most physically stressful – I had thought she had died in utero on more than occasion. I had arrived at my then OBGYN hysterical – on several occasions. Hysterical and having a loud crying jag does get you squeezed in between visits really fast.  With Isabelle my stress levels were so high I rented one of those electronic doppler things ….but I still stressed}

I forget stuff ….

At the moment I am finding it really tricky to stay on top of things.

Fetch kids from school today – it was 17h00 – I am holler-holler for being early…or so I thought.

Connor is all “it is science fair day, and we need to go to the school hall, and they will not have this for another 10 years…”

I had forgotten about it.  Though the school had easily given me half a dozen reminders.

I pushed my Clicks sunglasses to the end of my nose and look at Connor thinking “wonderful marketing campaign they have dreamt up my boy…” and thought shit “it is late, I really do not have any cash on me, and I really have a runny tummy …. so please gawd do not make me stand in the middle of a school hall …. please …for the love of wine…”

More importantly Grade 1 – 3 are doing science fair from frk-knows-when until 18h30 and then the Grade 4+ take over from there.

It is 17h15 now …..

I said okay kids, you have 15 minutes and then we are out of here …. then they whined, and moaned …. and yelled and negotiated ….Connor re-explained that as he was in Grade 4, he could not take part until 18h30 …. I appreciate sometimes he talks to me in a way I can understand.

I stil l had a runny tummy and no where to go. I do not do public toilets.  I don’t do school halls with screaming children and too many people.

It became purgatory in a school hall with very loud children, stupid paper areoplanes and capatilism until way past where you humour departs and your large colon decides that there is only one way out of this situation.

I eventually had to leave at 18h05 as Pepe needs to go home.  Granted she goes to church as she sings in a choir, so I really can’t make an issue against it.  The minute you bring religion or menstrual cycles in as an argument, you pretty much disarm the other person.

I race home with Georgia, sms Kennith that he needs to buy the “blowey balloon thing” as she saw it and now she will not stop about it.  I had to leave Connor at school – alone …. well alone with 600 other people.

I get home, Pepe zoots out the door.

I give Georgia dinner, I go down the passage to go the toilet – my tummy has been a bit funny today – so I can’t leave Isabelle walking around as she will probably paint san.at.ic symbols on the outside walls, so I head to the toilet, for a crap, with Isabelle sitting on the shower step eating her biscuit.

Georgia did come in three times, to explain why she was not going to eat her pumpkin.  At a certain point I seriously thought about throwing pumpkin+dinner plate out the window.

But I was on the toilet so could not actually reach the bathroom window and still retain my dignity.

Fabulous.

The rest of the evening pretty much went to plan.  Other than Kennith singing lyrics from Jack Parow.

But then I sms’s a person who I did not know.  By accident.  And then I had to have a conversation via sms that was all sorts of strange.  With someone I sms’d by accident.  She is coming over on Saturday night.  Still do not know who she is.

Such is my life.  <reach over and sip some wine….>

Sometimes a picture says what you think …..

I really am a fan of blunt cards and the way they say exactly what I am thinking.  In the most politically incorrect manner possible.

Before you start clicking your tongue in judgement and wondering whether you should compose a quick note to me drawing my attention to the joys of motherhood, and what I may missing, please don’t — really please don’t.  Not this week.

I love my kids – I know at times with the amount of emotional vomitting I do, you are starting to wonder at which point do you actually call Child Services.

I have realised I just don’t enjoy being a mother all the time.  The job is hard, it is thankless, it is monotonous, it does not pay particularly well, and it stretches your patience level more than your IQ level.  I know we are all programmed to say how much we doggone love it, and that it is the best job in the world, but seriously I have no idea which spin doctor is selling that sh&t to us, and more importantly why we are eating it up.

I am having some concerns it is possibly men who would rather go to the office than clean shit of tiles, and also previously disgruntled moms who figured if they had a shit time of it, there is no way they are telling in the event you find a way to get out of it and rob them of the happiness of watching you have a nervous break down.

I have no idea how this conspiracy was started.  But I appear to be as much of a “victim” as the rest of you chumps.

I know that I need to just keep my head down until it passes and I am all unicorns and fairy dust, until then, not so much.  But that being said this Blunt Card so perfectly tells you what I want to say – or say as a whisper to myself 1/2 the day at the moment.