PREGNANCY, OH HOW I MISSED YOU...NOT

‘How are you feeling?’ I said to a newly pregnant friend of mine.

‘Great. Starving but great.’

‘It’s unbelievable isn’t it?’

‘It’s incredible, I just want to eat everything. And anything. Over and over and over.’

I nod my understanding. ‘Has the narcolepsy hit yet?’ 

They modelled this anime on me

‘Is that when you want to have sex with dead people? No, that hasn’t happened to me yet.’

Lucky for her, I’ve handed on all the books well-meaning friends gave to me.

Read a couple of chapters out of a few of those beauties and having sex with dead people will be the least of her concerns.

Here are just a few of the things I don’t miss about growing my own human:

·               Narcolepsy. Seriously. I was like a horse; I could fall asleep standing up if that was the only way available.

·               The vomit feeling. That really wasn’t fun. Reassuring I suppose, but still not very fun.

·               Forgetfulness. Although I’m surprised I can even remember how good my memory used to be, because even after I evicted Miss Q, it has never come back.

·               Pre-labour. 4 weeks of it. I was so ruined, the real deal seemed like a blessed relief. Sort of. Ok, I’m lying, not at all. But at least then it was over.

·               Fluid retention. Let’s be honest, it doesn’t flatter anyone.

·               Enduring labour stories from total strangers on buses.

·               Being told I might haemorrhage to death because I’m a red head. (Not, I should mention, by a medical professional). The problem is, you’re so pregnant you can’t run away from the crazies fast enough.

·               Soft cheese.

·               Not being able to run. Although I was trying anything by the end and even jogged 10k’s two days before I was due. She still didn’t budge. Little buggar.

·               Champagne. She is my very good friend and I miss her dearly.

·               Nightmares. They were brutal.

·               The sex-guess game. For the record, everyone who lodged a vote except for the old bloke who works in the funeral parlour on the corner was wrong. We had a girl.

Ugh. That’ll do. Anymore pondering of how Miss Q came to be, and she’ll never be joined by a sibling.

And that wouldn’t do at all.

For more stories of growing Miss Q, check out the peanut baby blog