Monday, 9 August 2010

“Not long to go now!”……..Oh F**k off!

If I hear that phrase one more time I'm going to commit some kind of indiscriminate atrocity.

Its official: I am the most miserable pregnant woman in the universe and at the same time I acknowledge that I’ve no right to be. I am to all intents and purposes, healthy and so is my baby. I’m sorry but these rational facts are not going to stop me from having a rant.

I am suffering from Pelvic Girdle Pain (PGP) as its known which is better than what it used to be called (Symphysis Pubis Dysfunction – which is enough to tip any woman over the edge as it sounds like a sexually transmitted disease and a hereditary gynaecological abnormality all rolled into one.)

It’s uncomfortable and sometimes downright painful and it’s stopping me from going out. I don’t drive, so really, I’m pretty much housebound. All independence gone, just like that. Piff, paff, poof!

It’s a downward spiral from here really. Not going out = never bothering to put on proper clothes or do make up, resulting in feeling very down in the dumps. A large and unwieldy frame means that even the sexy maternity jeans are no longer comfortable; kaftans, leggings and any tent like structure now preferable.

And here comes the killer question on the occasions I do venture out of the house.

(Another reason methinks as to why I have become a hermit seamstress?)

“How long have you got to go?” they ask innocently.

“Not until September the 13th” I say, my heavy sigh tinged with disbelief and my soul in dire need of some comfort and sympathy.

“Oh, not long then” they say cheerfully, grinning from ear to ear.

I draw my cutlass from my tapestry bag and slit their throats. That’ll teach the bastards.

The moral of this story is: ‘Time’ is perceived. In pregnancy it is perceived differently. Like dog years. Do not underestimate the bloodlust of a heavily pregnant woman.


  1. Amen.
    I'm meant to have had mine out by now, and the seconds are DRAGGING!
    You hold on.
    And by the way, who can wear pregnancy jeans past the five month mark? I've been wearing soft dresses only as well. And sometimes leggings. With a soft dress.

  2. I am a miserable pregnant woman too. Not long now is fine, until you're the one that still has to drag the belly around for eleventy hundred days before pushing a baby out of your vagina. NOT LONG NOW UNTIL I KILL YOU is a good response.

    I ended up with my pelvis separated and twisting at 28 weeks, leaving me with an uber sexy waddle and a belly brace thingy.

    The last month is the longest part.

  3. During my last weeks a friend told me - you are not pregnant for 9 months. You are pregnant for 8 months and a year. Because that last month is THAT LONG!

  4. Like the idea of you raging round Hackney with a cutlass.

    I was grumpy as hell in the last month, not helped by going ten days overdue and having to deal with text messages containing the words: "I am starting to doubt your child's commitment to the birthing process! Lol!"

    Best of luck for the birth!

  5. September 13th was my Grandmas birthday - she was extremely blunt to the point of rude, italian and lived to 101! Try and pop her out the day after for your own sanity!

    I lived by a fan and ate Ribena lollies constantly this time last year as I was 9 months pregnant. Now my little girl is 1 next wednesday and all i get asked is "when will you stop breastfeeding?" or " are you going for number 5" to which the answer to both questions is "What has it got to do with you?"

    Happy summer days xx

  6. I went more than 2 weeks overdue with mine. I loved the look on people's faces when I said 'two weeks ago' in response to the due-date query. Like I was some kind of freak. Grrr. F*** off indeed!