Wednesday, 22 February 2012

"Life is tough enough without having someone kick you from the inside" Rita Rudner

Lenny the bump really does wriggle around these days. A lot. (The Wig likes to put his face on my belly and wait for a kick in the face. If I knew he liked that kind of thing I could have done this to him a long time ago). Before I was pregnant, the thought of having someone squirming around inside made me feel a bit queasy, but now its happening, its quite nice. And a bit embarrassing at times particularly if I'm wearing a stripy top and suddenly the stripes start moving around. This is a part of pregnancy that I'm really quite enjoying, along with buying little stripy clothes, Danish Mobiles and thinking about names.

What I'm not really enjoying is the probing that goes along with being a 'host'. I'm not enjoying having my belly touched by people that think its ok to make a lunge for it. I was definitely guilty of this with my pregnant friends but now its happening to me, I can't bear it. I have quite large chops but if someone started stroking my face without prior warning they'd receive a swift kick to the nether regions, so what's the difference?...

I'm also not really enjoying the trips to the hospital, even though it's far more preferable to see the midwives there than to go to the decrepit Dr at my local surgery who made me (and my 2 year old neighbour) cry. I just don't like being inspected and groped, which is odd considering I love being frisked at airports. Its pretty much my main reason for going on holiday. But, its a small price to pay I suppose and I know these visits and check ups are for the best. So, yesterday I had another appointment which began with the indignity of squatting over a plastic funnel while trying to pee into a pot. Then I had to be weighed which caused an 'ERROR' message on the scales. Oh dear . . .

But the most traumatic indignity of the lot was when I had to lay down onto a bed in the corner of the midwives office. I'd just hoiked myself up onto it when the student midwife pulled the curtain around the bed then her and the Midwife put some rubber gloves on and lumbered towards me in unison like a couple of extras from the Thriller video. (They probably didn't at all but its just how my brain has chosen to remember it). And in a split second it hit me. Right in the kisser. I am going to have a baby and its more than likely that, to get it out, strangers are going to have to touch me and also see parts of my anatomy that I can no longer see myself. Sweet Jesus. I don't think until this rubber glove moment, the reality had fully sunk in. Bit late to be worrying about that now though isn't it? Luckily they didn't do anything too grim, all they needed to do was measure the bump not pull down my pants and do anything ghastly. Thank God. However, I was rewarded for being brave by hearing the bumps heart beat for the first time, and it really did just sound like a galloping horse. Although I hope its not actually a horse.

So, I'm slowly getting my head round things and at the moment can only be sure of 2 things:

1. This baby has got to come out somehow.
2. It's going to hurt.

And thats pretty much my birth plan right there, and apart from being a bit scared about the unknown I am now really really excited.

Despite having lots of friends who are having or have had babies, I can't recall being this excited about a baby since my little brother was born.

Me and my little brother. 
Also, another classic haircut a la The Demon Barber of Kelvedon Hatch aka my Dad.

I was about 7 or 8 when one day, my parents told my older brother and I that we were getting a new baby brother or sister. My Dad, who loved taking photos, took pictures of our reactions as they told us.  

My older brother was obviously a lot more relaxed about the news than me. 
I look like I might explode.

What's also quite interesting about these pictures is the amount of brown. Who knew there were so many shades? It's like a pantone chart from your worst nightmare.

So, when my little brother did arrive, as you can imagine, it was the best thing to have happened to me in my short life. I still remember my Dad waking my older brother up at about 2am on a Sunday morning to tell us he was taking mum to the hospital. And I remember the neighbour coming round the next morning saying "Your dad is still at the hospital so I'm keeping my eye on you today. He tried to come home by telling the midwife he needed to cook you a roast dinner but they wouldn't let him leave". I was so excited about his arrival I even did a school project about him.

But now he is in his late 20's, with 2 of his own children, much more sensible than me, he works really hard and I'm very proud of him. I feel very lucky to have not one but two super siblings, neither of whom I have to worry about. But who knew, when he first popped out into the world how he would turn out or what he would become. And thats the exciting thing about a new baby, who knows what the future holds for them? How exciting!

1 comment:

  1. When my youngest sister was born, my Dad forgot to tell us whether she was a boy or a girl, so I just assumed she was a boy. I was so cross when we got to the hospital!

    PS. Yes, it is going to hurt, but just think about what you get at the end :)