I always promised myself I wasn’t going to let pregnancy affect my day to day.
I’d wear heels. I’d continue to socialise. I was certainly not going to overheat. (I realise now trying to control a bodily function while pumping twice the amount of blood through you is daft but these were my pregnancy goals.)
I certainly wasn’t going to get ‘porridge brain’ and I wasn’t going to blame anything on it (because I wouldn’t get it).
Pregnancy is by far the most all thought consuming thing I’ve ever done. Barring falling in love where every thing like green grass or something stupid like a crane will lead your thoughts to someone.
Two nights ago my husband was telling me about an article he had read – the intricacies of sales pitches and understanding power struggles in the work place on a subconscious level… Something I’d normally be fascinated with and debating about. But I didn’t have an opinion. I was busy wondering if grey will make the nursery feel cold in winter.
THAT was what I was thinking about.
Just for a change.
And by for a change, I’m being sarcastic. It is ALL I think about these days. Not if the grey will make it cold, but rather: The baby. Has it moved lately? Was that a kick? I hope it’s going to be ok. Omg, I have so much shit I need to buy. I’m never going to have Mark to myself again. What am I going to do all day for four months of maternity leave. I wonder if we can get Netflix. Will watching Netflix make me stupid? Is four months enough time with the baby? We need to sell that double bed in the spare room. I need to find a compactum. Where am I going to get 3 grand for a baby monitor. Blockout blinds – I need a quote. Shit, another braxton hick contraction. Damn that hurts. I wonder if anyone will mind if I just crouch into child’s pose. Crikey Kim, pay attention to what this person is saying!!
An internal battle surges. Pay attention. Don’t trip. Try wear heels today. Don’t eat all the cake. Don’t BE STUPID.
Except… when you make the colossal fail and forget to show up at a friends child’s birthday party, take ice cold showers, wear Havaianas to work and lean forward on your desk in a manipulated downward dog position while hoping your CEO isn’t in the boardroom behind you – you realise: the pregnancy has won.
I am all the things I didn’t want to be.
I am basically barefoot, pregnant and with porridge for brains.