Yes, still pregnant 

Well this is somewhere I’ve never been before, this close to my due date. I’m supposed to have a baby in two days from now, but yet I still don’t know when it might happen. Maybe it’ll be tonight! Maybe my waters will break whilst writing this, or maybe I’ll still be pregnant in two weeks’ time. For someone who has somewhat compulsive time-planning tendencies, I’m finding each day and night rather stressful! 

I am getting more uncomfortable by the half-day. My ankles and feet are squishy and plump, fitting into only one pair of sandals. My wrists feel like they’re going to snap under the growing weight that hangs like a pendulum beneath me as I crawl from my bathroom to the bedroom. I can no longer get onto the toilet by myself and turning over in the night is a two person job. I cannot wait for this pregnancy to be at the point where it’s no longer a pregnancy and I get to hold the human that has been residing in my uterus. I can’t wait to see his face and who he looks most like. I can’t wait for the moment the midwife catches this slippery fresh baby and plonks him on my chest. I can’t wait to breastfeed and be the only person that feeds and comforts my baby in the way that only breastfeeding can, even if I can well remember the pain and endless crying sessions that is true in the beginning of breastfeeding any baby..  Or is that just me?!

I can’t wait for all of this. And yet, I don’t want this pregnancy part to be over. It’s uncomfortable and sweaty and painful at many times, but I still love being pregnant.

Everyone experiences pregnancy differently, and each pregnancy is different depending on whether it’s your first, second or seventh baby. But for me, pregnancy signifies a time where no one needs to take over any of the parenting role for me. It’s a time where I can be a completely independent mum, despite having never seen my child. As soon as he’s born, my role becomes much more complicated. I’ll be his mum all of the time of course, and he will know that, but I need more help in fulfilling the things no one thinks about as being what a parent does and even the crappy, less than savoury parts of parenthood. I’ve touched on it before and I’ll visit it again in a later blog after I’ve given birth, but I guess what I’m trying to put into legible English is the battle I’m having with myself over whether people’s opinions of me being pregnant and having yet more children matter, in the long-run. For some reason I’ve decided they do, because I care what other people think of me. Oops. And seeing as my decisions on how many times I have a baby affect other people, who provide help or make decisions about the help I receive, I can’t help but be affected by their opinions. 

I’m not talking about my mum being worried that I might not stop having children and my body will just start to implode in the face of the physical effects of pregnancy and childbirth, she’s just being a mum who is worried about her daughter, but of course with more specific concerns than  the average mother. (I promise I won’t have 8 kids, mum). If it’s at all noteworthy, I am equally concerned that one adolescent puppy isn’t enough for my mum and that she and my stepdad might become crazy dog people over the years now that their human kids have left the house.

 It’s the people who are going to be judging me and deeming me as selfish,  or as someone who is costing the state more and more each time my responsibilities as a parent change. But to those people I ask what their solution is – Should I have stopped after one child? Should I definitely stop at three? Should I not have had any kids in the first place knowing that I can’t change a nappy or pick a baby up off the floor? I know one of my specific genes has let me down at a significant time in my own development, but surely I have the right to pass on some of my not-so-crap traits, along with the very good genes possessed by my significant other, and together just be a normal family as far as we are concerned? The silly thing is though, that we’re a pretty independent family when we’re all together. We relish the evenings and the weekend days when there is no breadwinning day job to go to, and our time is filled with just us. No care needs. Just mummy, daddy and our children.  Just a normal family, doing normal family things.  

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