Grumpy Cat

I’m now getting to that delightful stage of pregnancy where everything is uncomfortable. Any clothes which sit under my bump fall down, while over-the-bump stuff makes me itch and all of my long tops are *just* that little bit too short to cover everything adequately, so I feel like I’m fighting a constant battle with the lower 1/5 of my stomach. Bump bands (you know, the stretchy strips of fabric which go under clothes to cover your tummy) are brilliant, in theory, but I bought mine from eBay and have managed to buy ones which some GENIUS made in a shiny, slippery material, which means they actually make my trousers slide down and tops slide up worse than ever before.

Putting shoes on is puffing me out. Genuinely. All of my boots are ones that need to be pulled on, not just stepped into and doing laces it like some form of medieval torture because I have to get my leg up high enough (no small feat when you’ve got SPD) and lean forward far enough to reach, which pretty much means that the baby has to live inside your rib cage, (which, incidentally, is where the rest of your organs are already trying to take refuge because there’s a PERSON growing where they used to be) so your lungs feel like they’re being forced up and out of your mouth.

It’s okay though, because bedtime gives welcome relief, doesn’t it? Well, no, it bloody doesn’t. If I sleep on my back, I snore so loud that I even wake myself up, let alone the rest of the house, and if I sleep on my sides, I wake up every 20 minutes with horrible hip pain. This means I have to turn over in bed, which elicits a loud CRACK from my pelvis, which went into full relaxation mode about 7 months too early. I used to sleep on my stomach, but not only is that not not safe for the baby, it would be like trying to sleep draped over a watermelon.

“I know..” you think, “I’ll go for a walk and get some nice fresh air to make me feel better”.

HA.

Dream on, porky. Walking, for some reason, brings on Braxton Hicks, so even on a short trundle around the supermarket, by the time I get to the frozen aisles, I’m bending over and clutching my ever-tightening bump like a mad woman, causing mild alarm in anyone who walks past.

And being out in public means answering the same set of questions over and over and over again…

“Yes, stranger who I’ve never met before, I am pregnant. I have about 5 weeks left…yes, I know, I’M HUGE aren’t I? Yes *insert sardonic laugh* I’m absolutely certain it’s not twins! You’re so funny and your jokes are SO darn original!”

I know people are just being kind and it’s nice that they want to engage with me, but I wish they’d engage their brains first. It never occurs to people that I’ve had to answer the same questions to just about every person that I’ve encountered for the last few months. For them, it’s a fleeting 30 seconds, but this has been MONTHS in the making for me. Tedious, people. Tedious.

I shouldn’t moan.

I shouldn’t, but I bloody well want to and it makes me feel better for a few minutes to have a little rant, so it’s what I’m going to do. Well, that and sit here being really uncomfortable.

At least I only have a few weeks left.