I was not going to be one of those women. Or, more specifically, one of those pregnant women. My experiences were meant to shape me into a woman of great empathy and sensitivity towards those around me. When my time came, I would refrain from telling Facebook and twitter every detail of my first trimester journey (it’s mandatory for me to use the word journey today because Masterchef Australia’s new season debuts tomorrow and it would be unAustralian to not paraphrase the judges in advance).
That’s right. In my enlightened state of pregnancy, I would be God like. None of this #blamethefoetus hash tagging after a descriptive tweet about what I just ate (‘too much information’ and ‘does the world really need to know?’ all rolled up into the one tweet) or backhanded ‘complaints’ about bloating. Facebook would be free of soliloquies of slightly more than 140 characters detailing my plight as the only woman on earth to have ever been laid low by early pregnancy symptoms.
Instead, I saw myself as an oasis of calm. Deeply grateful to be pregnant and filled with faith that all would be well. So secure in this knowledge that there would be no need at all to communicate any of the fine detail to a world that has other things to deal with.
Surprise, surprise. I’m not God and I’m not even remotely God-like at the moment. I have nothing else to talk about right now except how my pregnancy seems to have taken over my life. Apparently I’m 3 weeks ahead of the norm with regards to when the fatigue and nausea set in and I hope this means it will end 3 weeks earlier than the norm. I’m in bed by 8pm at the latest and have slept more soundly than at any other point in my life (except before major exams when the stress just tranquillised me). Getting myself too and from work and actually working is my proudest achievement of the day. Second proudest is how I can work miracles on my skin tone with just 4 products in under 2 minutes. I just need to apply them with a liberal hand and cross my fingers for flattering lighting wherever I am during the day.
Oh, and remember that post a few days back about healthful eating? ‘Healthy’ is a very loose term right now and it’s relative. My usual salads have lost their appeal and my lunches these days are heated up leftovers from dinner featuring minced meats and tomato based sauces. I’m trying to guess what next week’s whim will be because I need to get the groceries done later today. I am feeling a predilection to cold cereal and milk.
And then there’s the one about how life would carry on as normal until my body shaped really changed. And by change I mean ‘me but with a cute and tidy bump’ because I am a product of the celebrity pregnancy generation of women and would not be needing maternity clothes but just a waist expander for my existing wardrobe. That is what happens to normal women, isn’t it? After all, before that point, there would be absolutely no physiological reason why I could not continue my usual exercise and general routine? See all of the above for how flawed this thinking actually is.
There were many times before this pregnancy when I was there sitting on the other side of the fertility fence faced with an ‘encounter’ with a mother to be. All too ready to come out with a reflex ‘does she even know how lucky she is to be having a normal pregnancy?!?!?!’ before envisioning the pregnant but stoic me never indulging myself with such talk. Come to think of it, that stoic me is starting so sound even more annoying than the people she’s looking down on.
I still maintain that all pregnant women are lucky, blessed and privileged to experiencing the miracle of creating a new life. It’s just that now I realise it was my assumptions and not the innocent mothers to be that were seriously flawed. We are all human and non of us perfect. Regardless of the stage of life we are all in, we should all be able to express how we feel at a particular point in our lives, within reason. Who knows, it may not be too long at all before you find yourself where you want to be and having to judge yourself on the same set of expectations you had of others.