Most of my friends would describe me as a worrier; in an affectionate way of course, e.g. “she’s super fit, hilarious and occasionally worries about really cool stuff”. Since the boys arrived on the scene my worries have got even cooler and not at all bat shit crazy. Over the course of a week I had the following irrational musings:
One of the first things to consider when you get pregnant is if any of your pre-existing (girl)friends is in the same boat. Who will be your co-explorer through the jungle of childbirth/rearing? Who will be your maternity leave sidekick, your partner in crime…who will know exactly how you feel at all hours of the day during this impending upheaval? Husband/Boyfriend? (No…they are uterus-less weaklings). This is a job for female(s).
In all likelihood, your mates aren’t going to get impregnated the same week as you, so you need to look elsewhere. You have been warned…you must get some Mum Friends.
I have heard a lot of “birth stories” (at the end of every pregnancy yoga class) and none of them seemed to express any sort of fear, shock or panic. All of them seemed to remember pain, but that everything they had learned and read about and listened to had helped them prepare for this “magical” time.
I was pretty certain that no amount of breathing or calming music was going to diminish the pain of two fully formed humans wriggling their way towards my woefully underprepared vagina…
When the bone crunching tiredness has taken over and you are seriously considering duct taping a dummy to the baby/babies (I definitely thought it was “duck”tape, but that makes no sense – why would ducks need tape?) the days roll into nights and it’s difficult to feel like you have achieved anything.
I have to remind myself that the biggest win is to keep them alive and ideally not leave them on a bus – bonus points for making it look like it was super easy and not remotely boring.
So, to make myself feel like I’ve been productive, here are the stats for a typical 24 hours: