Susoz accuses me of not keeping much of a pregnancy diary. I do assume that, for anyone who is not pregnant, there is nothing more tedious than someone waxing lyrical about the wonders of the new life burgeoning inside them. So for those who are interested, here is my dossier on the experience of being pregnant at the halfway point.
- My breasts are huge. Ginormous. Bazookas. I could model for one of those men's magazines, the trashy ones sold in plastic covers that are just called something classy like Knockers.
- Except that they are leaking! Eww, weird I know, but you did ask. At least that's a sign they're working.
- The other reason I could not model for Knockers is that my belly is correspondingly huge - and I still have four months to go. I don't know how much bigger I can get. Where is all this extra skin going to go, when I pop these babies out? I look like a tomato, or some days a grape, on legs. I imagine once I've given birth I'll look more like a shar-pei.
- I finally stopped vomiting a few weeks ago, much to my, and I imagine L's, relief.
- I'm tired all the time. I have nana naps any afternoon I can get them.
- I really can't be f**ed with work. Why do people bother?
- People have started offering me seats on trains. Never businessmen in suits so far, but young women, and tradies.
- I keep leaving things behind. Computer cords, credit cards, articles of clothing- a trail of forgotten items strewn across Brisbane.
- I have a giant body pillow that I sleep with. It's as tall as me. I'm not supposed to sleep on my back anymore. I prop it between Lovergirl and me and snuggle into it so I can't roll backwards. She hates it.
- My nose bleeds all the time.
- So do my gums.
- It's getting harder to get off the couch.
- Okay, I'm going to be completely blunt here. I had no idea that pregnancy made one so - well, easily aroused. I'm like Teena out of The L-Word.
- And, why are we doing this again? In twenty years the world is going to be unlivable - no water, no trees, the developing world finally rising up and decimating us smug Westerners - what am I doing to these children?
All in all I think I had some weird idea that being pregnant was going to feel - well, different. Like I would be 'glowing with pregnancy'. Maybe like a Madonna - calm, peaceful, smiling a small inner smile as I create eyebrows and whatnot within my body. (Eww again). I guess all those sappy margarine advertisements and warm fuzzy mother's day cards have seeped into my unconscious (or is it my subconscious?) after all. Actually I just feel huge. And permanently low-grade anxious - like, if I get this influenza will the unborn babies die? Will L have a car accident and leave me a single mother of twins? Or will she be appalled by my shar-pei post-baby body and leave me? Why can't I feel them kicking yet? Does the fact that one feels really low and heavy in my pelvis mean I am about to go into premature labour? Will they both be okay or will one or both have major disabilities? And will it be my fault if they do (something I ate, too much s*x, too much time in front of irradiating computers?) Why don't I feel bonded with what feels like this wet sandbag strapped to my front?
My pregnancy books don't mention anything about feeling outrageously h*rny but they do say 'if you feel any concerns at all, don't hesitate to call your obstetrician. Even if it's just a feeling.' I would never be off the phone if I did that.