In my 33rd week of pregnancy, I am certainly not the same person I was before I got knocked up (sorry Mum – I know you hate that expression – I use it entirely in jest)! I am sure I will return to being that pre-pregnant Kez (but hopefully with a little more experience and wisdom) at some point…maybe in 18 years…but for now I’ve had to accept that some things just aren’t as simple as they were before! Honestly, sometimes I feel a bit like a Douche-Bag these days!
I am late to everything ALL THE TIME. This (yes – this person right here who you’re reading about) is usually the most punctual person you’ve ever met. I used to rock up at events half an hour before they even started and have to wait awkwardly in the car or make weird small talk with the people who were setting up (if I knew the host well enough to just wander on in a bit early) while I offered to assist them with anything only to have them refuse my offer…wait that sounds like I was annoying…Well, you know what I mean. I always had it drummed into me that turning up late is not indeed fashionable or polite! That being early is better than being tardy! I feel really bad about it. I know plenty of pregnant women are able to get their arses in gear and turn up somewhere at the right moment, but I’ve just become one of those hopeless zombies I swore I would never be! I even struggle to get out of the shower…which brings me to another point:
I am not environmentally friendly. I use a hell of a lot of water. Sure, I was never super keen on getting out of the shower in a very small amount of time, but I did have my limits. Now I just stand in the shower staring gormlessly into… nothing. I don’t see the shower curtain or the soapdish. I see…nothing. My brain becomes blank and the water feels soothing. At the very least, before I was pregnant I was at least solving the problems of the world in there.
At least I’m using “organic” shampoo and cleaning products for the house? And when I say I’m using those cleaning products, I just mean I have them stored in the cupboard and one day I’ll get back to that whole nesting thing…you know, probably on the day I go into labour or something…
I have lost my ability to plan ahead. I get as far as around-about-ish my due date (a little bit before it and a little bit after it) and then I get stuck. People send out invitations and I’m like, “Um I don’t know. I might have an extra little person in my life or I may not by then. I may have a C-section to recover from or I may not. I might feel ready to attend major social events but I may not. This might disrupt the baby’s routine or he may be super cruisy and almost anything will go. Can I get back to you later and be a total turd and ignore your RSVP requirements?”
“Um, sure Kez. You douche-bag.”
Seriously, most people (if not all) are really accommodating to my situation but it makes me feel horrible. I am an RSVP ogre at the best of times and here I am disregarding everything I’ve ever believed about being an excellent RSVPer. Who am I?!
I’m an annoying diva at restaurants/social events too. Ever since my diagnosis of Gestational Diabetes, I’ve had to watch every single thing I eat. When I’ve had to dine out, I’ve had to become really picky. I can look at entire restaurant menus and not see a single meal I am allowed to eat without asking the waitstaff/kitchenstaff to change something for me. This is really hard for a person like me because I will always say, “Oh yeah. This is really delicious!” when a waiter/waitress comes around to check we’re satisfied with our meals, even if what I’m chewing on tastes like someone’s dirty old socks dipped in garlic.
Having to ask someone, “Can I have the sauce/dressing on the side and can I replace the fries with seasonable vegetables and can I have the steak well done and can my bread please be multigrain or wholemeal and can I basically change your entire menu to suit my needs?” is very challenging for me! I always explain that I’m not just a diva or an allergy faker. I always smile a lot and say I appreciate everything they’re doing for little old me and if I have a few extra coins, I’ll hope I can tip the staff…but I still feel bad!!
I just can’t risk high blood sugar readings or I’ll be forced to take insulin and deliver at a hospital an hour and a half’s drive away from my house! SCARY! Not to mention the baby could become unfathomably big – that’s gotta come out of somewhere, people!!!
Worst of all, I am one big Flakey McFlakerson. I can never predict which days I will feel well and which days I will feel under the weather. I can have a day where I have amazing bursts of energy and I can travel far, have the productivity levels of Superwoman, but then suddenly I can spend a day feeling like I’m fighting off a coma while aching and suffering like a sad little invalid (you know – as opposed to all the tough invalids out there who have things worse than me – the shame).
This means that I can RSVP to an event (formal or casual) and then on the day have to change plans completely…yep. Douche-Bag. I was able to soldier on earlier in my pregnancy but now I just know my physical limitations. It kills me when I have to send a stupid apology text or make an apology phone call. Especially if it has to be at the last minute, despite the fact that I’ve actually showered myself in record time and I’m wearing “OK for public viewing” clothing. That takes effort and you know I’m serious about pushing on through like a little trooper if I’m wearing earrings and lipstick!! It’s just that sometimes it’s not enough to want to be somewhere. I’ve got to be confident that I won’t feel like passing out or throwing up. Not that I have actually gotten to the throwing up stage, but my body has threatened me many a time and it is kind of…distracting when you’re trying to have a conversation.
I feel like I am not doing this pregnancy thing as gracefully (or efficiently or as competently) as some of the other yummy mummies I know, but things haven’t been as easy for me as I had once naively dreamed. I could have it much worse (just knowing my baby is OK says I’m lucky), but I think I’ve had to sacrifice exercise earlier on in the piece due to my rash and now I’m feeling the effects of being not-as-fit-as-I-could-be combined with the shortness of breath and the lack of stamina any woman feels when they’re carrying a baby the size of a large jicama (which I had to google because I had no idea what it was – it’s some kind of massive fake potato if you really want to know). I’ve also had to change my lifestyle (ie restrict it more) with the diabetes and sometimes with all the finger pricking, recording of food, and preparation of special meals, I wonder how I’ll fit anything else in a damn day!
It’s funny because by the time I get a handle on it all, I’ll probably have the baby!! Ah, pregnancy. What are you doing to me?
So please bear with me, real life buddies. I’m working on all of this! I haven’t been abducted by some kind of alien that steals your usual personality…or maybe I have…it’s the probing I’m worried about…
Either way, it’s a bit disconcerting having to accept that you no longer have control over your life and that your decision making habits sometimes get disrupted. And parenthood hasn’t even “officially” started yet!!!
I’m adjusting as best I can. Promise!
PS. I know I’m being a big wuss bag, but I’m trying to be as honest about my personal experience as I can. Maybe I’m not the only one out there? x