However...for almost all of this pregnancy so far, I have felt completely and utterly alone because it seems no-one wants to say how they really feel. Perhaps in fear of the response that I have pre-meditated and so tried to avoid by making the above disclaimer.
I have had all the support in the world from my family and my husband but to be able to read a blog or watch a video and see another woman say the things I'm about to say would have given me that extra little boost of knowing that I am not alone.
So let me just cut to the chase; this pregnancy has been shit. There has not been a single day since I found out where I haven't been in pain, felt the most intense nausea I've ever known, been a complete emotional wreck or a mixture of all three. We call those days "I Wish I Could Have Wine Days".
Now bear in mind I have known I was pregnant from 4 weeks. So 30 weeks ago. Thats 210 days so far of feeling pretty crap. And I still have some 40+ days and labour to go.
So I'm going to talk a little about what specifically has made this pregnancy so difficult, perhaps with the intention of showing it to this child when they're being a stroppy teenagers to remind them of what I did to bring them into this world and to stop throwing things around their room and NO THEY ARE NOT GETTING THEIR LIP PIERCED THEY'RE ONLY GOING TO REGRET IT 10 YEARS LATER. But mostly for that pregnant woman who is desperately searching for someone who is also feeling pretty damn miserable and not some chirpy fucker from MumsNet who is just so happy to be blessed with darling child number 5 that they don't mind the swollen feet or heartburn which feels like you might end up birthing a dragon and not a human.
"Morning Sickness"
Or "not in the morning sickness". Or not even really proper "sickness". More like an intense motion sickness 24 hours a day every time I moved or breathed or thought about moving or breathing but without the relief of ever actually being sick (bar the one time as I was mid teeth-brush which was most inconvenient). With Evie I suffered sickness. Proper 'throw up outside of Next and in the bush next to the park' kind of sickness. But once I was sick, it was a relief and I was fine until I was next sick. This time I has no relief and ended up at the doctor begging for anti sickness tablets just so I could go about my day. Luckily this only lasted until I was about 12 weeks so right now it seems like a distant memory.
Emotions
Now, if you've read my blog beforehand or have some sort of knowledge of my background then you know I've suffered with various mental heath issues for years. They're something that I have learnt to live with. I have anxiety but I am not defined by my anxiety. Some days I am really anxious, some days I am less anxious, some days not at all. While I was pregnant with Evie, I was on Citalopram and it was deemed safest for me to stay on it throughout my pregnancy and I eventually self weaned off it when she was around 4 months old. However about a year later, it dawned on me that I couldn't remember my pregnancy or birth (or any of 2 years I was taking it for that matter). It felt a bit more like a dream, or I was remembering someone else's life, like it was never fully me who lived it. This led to quite a few unresolved question, especially about the labour and delivery because once you throw pethidine (urgh) into the mix; you may as well be trying to remember very specific details of a drunken night out from 5 years ago which ends in a very serious concussion.
And so this time around, it feels like I'm experiencing everything for the first time. Every single emotion has been INTENSE. If I'm completely honest, and I'm not aiming to sugar coat anything here, there was one day where I had popped out from work and ended up calling my husband from a car park in floods of tears and then driving to meet him on his lunch break because I just could not stop crying. I felt so, so incredibly sad. I can only compare it to when I was at my lowest point mental health wise.
People seem to paint a picture of an emotional pregnant lady, crying at adverts and sobbing because there's no hummus left; but no-one seems to be talking about the more extreme end of the scale. At my most desperate, I reached out to two influencers who had touched on the topic of pre natal depression but I never heard back from them. Which is understandable, they're busy people and probably get hundreds of messages a day. But in those moments, I really needed someone to just say "I've felt like that, it gets better". I described myself as a shell of a person, like I was walking around separately and completely disconnected to my body.
The worst part for now seems to be over but I never really found out whether or not I had prenatal depression. I did go to my midwife and she referred me to a birth options midwife who would go over my previous labour and delivery because she thought this might help me reconnect with that birth and see if it helped to heal me in any way. And while it was very soothing to know what actually happened with Evie's birth, I think by the time I had this appointment, the worst of it was over so to speak and so I never followed up with any other questions.
And while I am not ashamed to have battled with my mental health, I took quite a lot of pride in telling my booking midwife at my initial 8 week appointment that I felt I did not need any help with my mental health at the time and I was confidently off all medication. To turn round and say "actually, this has been far more intense and straining than I ever could have imagined" made me feel like I might have failed.
To add to the stress, this entire experience has made me terrified of the prospect of postnatal depression and so I'm trying to make a plan to avoid it which I think this means being quite selfish at times.
During the "baby blues" days with Evie, she was really struggling with breastfeeding and I was too proud (read: stubborn) to admit we needed to buy some formula to tide her over until we had established feeding. It took a lot of tears and a lot of encouragement from Paul for me to agree to it. I remember not even wanting to see her having a bottle. In hindsight, this is absolutely ridiculous. In the end, I breastfed her for a year which is a huge accomplishment. I plan to breastfeed again but this time, if the baby needs some formula to top up then you're damn right they will have it. Or even if I just need to go and have a proper nights sleep (which were often the cause of many emotional breakdowns), then I will not hesitate to set Paul up on the sofa with the baby and a bottle.
As the great Giovanna Fletcher says; Happy Mum, Happy Baby. And a happy mum is often one who has had more than half an hours sleep all night, no matter what that Mumsnet mum might tell you.
Body Image
Sadly, like any other 20 something woman, I can be too hard on myself when it comes to my body. I'm definitely not as bad as I used to be and I put this down to having a daughter and being very conscious of the words I'm using to describe myself when I'm around her. I'm also not a dieter and I want her to remember that I would never turn down a brownie because I was "trying to be good" (what a fucking ridiculous sentiment but unfortunately one I heard growing up and one I continue to hear from other women around me).
However, controversially and probably due to a mixture of genetics and the miles and miles of walking I did to get Evie to nap, after having her I was in the best shape I've ever been in. I was finally comfortable with my body and felt like I was at my ideal weight for my height. Despite the fact my belly button was all wrinkly and my boobs would never be the same again, I didn't mind at all because I was comfortable in myself.
And so when I fell pregnant this time around, it just didn't really occur to me that I would have to wave goodbye to the body I had come to finally accept and almost love. Very soon, I could see my cheeks getting rounder (and let me tell you, they are already fairly round). I carry weight on my face when I'm pregnant so right now not even contour can save me. Then the legs and hips which were at the smallest they'd ever been post-Evie suddenly packed on weight and I won't even discuss my feet which look like ham hocks with cocktail sausages stuck on.
I think you could be the most body positive person in the world and still feel a little uneasy at the prospect of your body changing in ways you can't control or predict. I don't remember feeling like this at all with my first pregnancy, which might be down to the medication numbing the emotions of it all but this time around, it has knocked me for six.
If I ever mention it to anyone, they say that they can barely tell the difference and I'm "just bump" but honestly I want to scream at them that this is my body and my skin and I live in it every day so I know about every single little change that is happening.
I see photos pop up on my Instagram explore page of women postpartum proudly showing off their bodies and saying they feel sexier than ever and damn it, I am so proud of them I want to scream it from the rooftops but at the minute, I can't imagine ever feeling like that.
Does this mean I've been working out throughout this pregnancy? Fuck no. And let me tell you why...
Pelvic Pain
This has been the big'un. Honestly, before this pregnancy I would have entertained the idea of a 3rd child if I really started to think about it seriously at some point. And now? absolutely no chance. No matter how broody I become, there is no chance I can put myself through this again because I know that the pelvic pain will only be worse.
I had SPD/PGP (symphysis pubic dysfunction/pelvic girdle pain) from about 20 weeks in my first pregnancy and don't get me wrong, it sucked. I would walk round town and after about 20 minutes, the thought of walking back to the car would make me cry. But this time? I've been feeling the pain in my lower back pelvic area since around 10 weeks and as time has gone on, it has only intensified and become more and more unbearable. I posted a video on Instagram the other day of me trying to walk to the fridge (of course) from one side of my kitchen. It was around 3ft away and it took all the strength and lip biting I had to make it there. I have ended up on my arse on the curb numerous times after getting out of the car and trying to walk only to have my legs give out underneath me from the pain.
I have had months of physiotherapy, osteopath appointments, co-codamol prescriptions, a 3 month long sick note and most recently, a pair of crutches. But honestly, the only relief I will get is birth. What a kick in the teeth, right? The only thing that will make this pain better is pushing a watermelon out of your foof. And even then, it might not get immediately better.
I have burst into tears in front of more professionals than I care to admit because they've asked me to lie flat on my back for one examination or another and that is my limit. You put me on my back and you are asking for tears. And these professionals have told me to rest. So have numerous friends and members of family. Which is all very well and good but I'm not sure whether or not they've forgotten about the 3 and a half year old I have. My husband works from 7am-5pm so pre school drop offs and pick ups are on me and in between those times, I'm playing with her or making her dinner or helping her go to the loo which she can't possibly do herself (despite going by herself every day at school, I reckon she just likes the company as she poops). It's a cliche, but life doesn't revolve around you when you have a toddler. When pregnant with Evie, I could nap whenever I wanted and this so called "rest" came easy but this time, there's no such luck. And even the hours that Evie is at school, I have shit to do. I have housework to keep on top of and dinners to prepare and washing up to do. And while yes, the laundry could wait, it also can't. Because the weekends are sacred and I absolutely do not want to be washing pants when I could be spending these last few weeks with my family as just 3 of us as it has been for nearly 4 years.
It also keeps my brain busy. 18 year old me would have LOVED 6 hours in front of the sofa watching Catfish but 26 year old me who's used to being at work and running around after a toddler and is now suddenly in the depths of sick leave while said toddler is at school doesn't know how to cope with that. So yes, part of this is my fault. I like to be busy and I thrive when I'm busy and so to be told to just NOT be busy is not as easy as it sounds. I feel like I've lost a large part of myself to my stupid bloody pelvis. It is really hard to love and appreciate your body as you should when you're pregnant, when the reality is, it causing so much physical and emotional turmoil that you're starting to resent it.
And so, that is that. Some of you might be thinking woe is me, right? But also some of you might think, thank fuck she said it because I've been wanting to say it but didn't feel like I could. And it's to those women to who I want to say; isn't this shit right now? And might continue to be shit for a while. And maybe there's light at the end of the tunnel (please excuse that accidental graphic image, considering the context), and maybe there's still challenges to come. But you're not alone. There's some of us that are also feeling that way. And it's ok to feel that way.
Even just writing this out has been cathartic, after abandoning the blog for so long, it was one of those things I knew I would have to start again for my own sanity. However, I am slightly regretting coming to Starbucks to write it because now I have to get up and after sitting for so long, I'm not sure whether the old man with his Americano or the two students with headphones in will be able to help me get up off the floor when I eventually stand. Stay tuned.
