Sorry to go on and on and on about it!
But it appears that it is all I’m capable of talking – or even thinking – about. According to everyone else in the entire universe, that is!
It appears that pregnancy hormones go beyond the pregnant woman, and her dearly beloved. We know they affect him greatly, also.
Clearly, they affect the rest of humanity as well, rendering them unable to even think of anything to discuss with me other than my pregnancy or the impending baby. Should they attempt discussion, or to at least ask something along the lines of “How are you?” they stumble over their words and say something to the effect of “My god, you’re HUGE!”
People who, for the last two years at school, have done little more than a polite nod, a short “hello” and the very occassional “how are you?” now feel the absolute desire to inform me that there’s “Not long to go now” every time I see them.
I know. I may be pregnant, but I’m not a total fuckwit. In fact, I know exactly how long there is to go as I have it scheduled in my diary!
Honestly, I’d prefer it if they didn’t speak to me at all.
Despite my pregnancy, I am also somewhat capable of walking. Amazing, I know! Not only can I walk to the front door, but I am, funnily enough, able to walk to kinder and school. Even – get this – go for a walk walk, for exercise.
I am not amazing. I not a supermum, nor do I have some kind of incredible secret that enables me to walk. I am a relatively fit and healthy, normal person who happens to be pregnant and due to have a baby in less than a month. I have both my legs, most of my faculties (yes, ok, I’m going for a third, so that’s debatable – but I did say “most” not “all”) and I am not unconscious or in a coma.
(Besides, last time I sat on my bum all day, I got a hobbit foot, and I don’t want to go down that path again).
Also, again funnily enough, I do have other things to think about. I have other children, a husband, a business, an enjoyment of reading, a social life, friends I like to talk to … you know, the usual.
If one more person tells me that I “Should be relaxing and thinking about the baby” there is an extraordinary potential for some kind of homicide.
What about the baby is there to think about? Seriously? I know exactly where it is, and that its not getting up to mischief or sitting under the kitchen sink eating the the dishwasher tablets.
I really don’t know what I’m supposed to be thinking about. Everything is planned and organised (a common trait of an anal control freak perfectionist Virgo type person) and, well, maybe I’m just not maternal enough or something.
Can someone tell me what I’m supposed to be thinking about when they say “sit back and think about the baby”?
Or can you just please talk to me about something else? I won’t be offended, really. Just a “how are you?” or “how’s the business?” or even the odd “would you like a foot massage, here, sit back and let me give you one!”
Now that I won’t get sick of.