Too Tired to Name This Post

Pregnancy has taken a hold of me and squeezed the energy and enthusiasm right out of my person like the plump little sponge I’ve become. The last little bit of “oomph” I have left each day is dedicated to attempting to write or paint and I’m usually left with two sentences on an otherwise blank screen without giving a single fuck about grammar, or a canvas which looks as though it’s been attacked by a three- year- old having a tantrum. By this stage I’ve concluded that I am a failure at life and I’m curling back up on the couch with movies and snacks, where it’s safe. I’m a big, blubbering mess covered in tears and chocolate and I can’t sleep because as if one of me isn’t bad enough already, there’s a smaller version of me mimicking my attitude by booting me solid in the cervix. Yeah, because that’s just what Mummy needs to feel better. Thank you.

And then I realise, “Oh wow, it’s been two days now and I’ve managed to keep my food down!”And pregnancy is all like, “Yeah, I thought you could do without morning sickness from now on.” “Oh wow, really?” “Haha. No.” And next thing I know I’m running hurdles over furniture to get my head out the window before I redecorate the lounge with my insides.

Pregnancy: 1, Whiskey: 0.

Sometimes I like to pretend I’m one of those sporty mums who are super fit and athletic and eat things like protein bars and wear sweatbands. I dress up in stretchy pants and a baggy singlet that falls over my bump like a fringe on a big fat face. I chuck my sneakers on, (did I ever mention it’s almost impossible to tie shoelaces when you feel like a manatee?) and sometimes, when I’m feeling real imaginative, I even fill up a water bottle. Then I sit down again and consider going for a walk, but get distracted by my half- eaten box of Shapes and all of a sudden I’ve somehow kicked off my shoes and I’m absorbed in another episode of Adventure Time. Then I realise I’ve been sitting watching cartoons for two hours and it’s too dark to go for a walk so I cry and cry and drag myself off to bed. Congratulations, pregnancy, you mischievous devil. You’ve managed to surprise attack me once again.

One thing that really sucks about this stage of pregnancy is that your mind is as active as always, but your body just won’t function the way you’d like it to. Mentally, I have the liveliness to say, “Yeah! Lunch at twelve sounds great!” When really, lunchtime will come around and I’ll still be in bed because my tired ass couldn’t get up when I told it to. This can cause huge problems in your social life. Especially with friends who haven’t been pregnant or had kids yet. It’s not that I don’t want to come out shopping with you, it’s just that the thought of walking around a mall is exhausting, let alone actually doing the damn thing. Is that really too hard to understand?

Hopefully, like many of the other exciting perks of being pregnant, this too shall pass. And maybe I get to move onto some other thrilling stage, like boob leakage. Don’t get too jealous, now.

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