Mad Mother Red: Pregnancy

Sometimes I wish designers would just come right out and say it.

There would be a Pretty Woman moment as I slink out the shop with my fat boobs sagging and my jowls wobbling as I mumble "oh but I have money....." least then I would know where I stood and not be attracted to the bright shiny shop and the happy smiles of the assistants in those big bright corners of glamorous racks style... drawn to them like a moth.. a sad demented.. deluded moth...

It starts the same way as entering any shop when your a big girl. You pretend not to notice the staff as they glance away unsure how to deal with that weird bulge at the front of your jeans, whispers cross the room as they raise their red tinged nails to their plump freshly lipsticked gaunt cheeks and mock your weight and style.

Yet you ignore them, stick out your big titties and stride, ever so jubilantly up to the glowing racks of funky, hip mum to be clothing for the young pregnant woman who wants to remain hot for her man. Cause deep down you know your a MILF. You begin flipping...sliding the coat hangers one by one down the pristine rail as top after top of glorious colours and patterns dance in front of you, humming the Hippo Dance theme from Fantasia.

Your face lighting up and fading as each size tag reflects that of an 8 year old child if it has been starved for a year. Slowly your ego begins to deflate, you clutch your slowly growing belly as you realise that this shop has nothing for you..... everything goes up to a size 14 nothing higher.. even then its an Asian child's bound waist 14 not a proper Aussie chick fed up on meat and three veg kind of 14.

That's when it begins to dawn on you... it almost whispers through the gilded mirrors like your own personal Snow White moment. whispering the truth "You're not the fairest of them all.. but fattest oh yes" gulping down that burgeoning hormonal surge of shame and sadness, you feel tears pricking the edge of your eyes as you quickly grab your husband and dash out of the store mumbling a reply as he asks loudly "Nothing you like hon?"

I learnt a long time ago that a big girl in this world will always have trouble looking the way she would like, be it fashion trends or alternative ones, its always hard to find anything over a 14. Sadly I deluded myself into believing that Maternity would be one area that we would be slightly more accepted... wasn't I ridiculously stupid!

Even stores like Evans, that cater for us overweight girls do not have a maternity section, is it so Taboo.. so shameful to think that big girls get married and have sex? that we would dare choose to... (whisper) procreate?

If I ever won lotto, I would create a chain of stores catering to big girls of all walks of life and include, maternity and bridal wear in the line.. at a cost that everyone can afford.

A little bit of how fab us big girls can be!
Courtesy of Daily Mail article

The Physical...

It's funny when you watch TV or films and admire the perfect happy glow and general hum of well being as the pregnant mother scoots through her pregnancy with bliss...Its a conspiracy to get you to knocked up..

No one tells you about the nasty ass smells that issue from your butt or the immense pain as your lower body begins to shift to accommodate your growing Jelly Bean. None of this is shared with you as you try hard with your partner to get pregnant, often getting to the stage where sex is simply a way to inseminate rather than actually enjoy oh no.. but they do tell you THE MOMENT YOU GET PREGNANT! ? wtf is that about!

Well for me they did, unless you are perhaps one of those obsessive mothers who planned and read every book available before they even get bloody pregnant. Even then most of the books I have read are so embroiled in "bliss and joy" that your not given an entire chapter of "Try to avoid these foods unless you want to issue forth a rip roaring fart that causes all in the vicinity to run a mile from you"

I tried to pick up a couple of books that I thought would be a tad more down to earth and realistic, but even they are just hippy filled love fests about green tea and how to give up pot in several easy steps or what kind of tops to wear to accommodate your lack of bra while your boobs swell.... yeah pass.

I have been told there are books out there telling you about the harsh realities of pregnancy and I am sure if I wanted to spend another £50 on them I would.. but I can't be bothered any more, if I want info I can just look it up on-line.. or download the app which is currently informing me that my child is a Lemon.. or the size of a lemon.

Even friends who had had children failed to tell me any of these realities until after I got pregnant, it was simply a flood of warnings and information that had me running to hide under the covers and seriously reconsidering if this child was worth having or not!

Course on top of all the back pain, headaches, desire to vomit every time I walk past the kitty litter and general need to throttle my husband as my hormones see his face and want to punch it.. I am EXHAUSTED! I thank god in many ways that I lost my job when I got pregnant cause I could not fathom working while dealing with all this and am amazed at woman who do it! They are the true Wonder Women of the world, let alone mothers who work after bubs is born!

The Emotional....

Now while dealing with all of these aches and pains I have to cope with the heavy weight on my chest.

I have issue forth my own warning to pregnant mummies who may be reading this.. DO NOT GET THE NUCHAL DOWNS TEST! I regret it more than anything I have done in my life! Why? read on...

The Test...

Being our first child we arrived at the 14 week Ultra sound appointment with rosy cheeks and bright eyes, excited to see Jelly Bean in all their glory up on the grainy screen. Expecting tears and emotional sobs of joy..

We were called aside into a quiet back room that vaguely reminded me of visiting area in a psych ward and offered the test, being advised that its only for parents who wish to know everything about their child's growth and well being.. well how could we say no!? we were then taken to the small room and had my pants yanked down exposing my forgotten winter unshaven area as a grumpy nurse shoved paper towels down my pants and up my top my white whale flab out and exposed as my husband sat next to me grinning.

The Doctor lead in with big smiles informing me that the student would be having the first go (excuse moi?) and was that ok.. I nodded and shrugged..as the student spluttered warmed jelly across my whale belly and began poking around looking for my child. I was beginning to worry there was nothing there as she dug around, pulling my flab of fat up and aside smiling at me as if to say "It would be so much easier if you were not a big heifer" after her finally finding my child and my husband squeezing my hand I realised I was totally unemotional about it.. it looked like a grainy Jelly Bean looking across at my husband I could see he was feeling much the same way so I got a fit of the giggles.. well then the doctor had to come in and take over as we were doing "THE TEST" after 10 minutes of poking and telling me that bubs was in the wrong position we had to go away and drink more to get the bladder fuller. We were allowed back and on the table for the 4th go, by now ready to just walk out on all this.

I was totally exhausted and my bladder was so full that as she pushed down on it I thought I was gong to piss the table. And still nothing, she could not get the measurement, so we were sent home to come back the next day, more time off work for husband and more annoyance for us. Back the next day we seemed to have a slightly more competent Doctor who managed after a few goes to get what she hoped was the right measurement (they measure fluid on the baby's neck) we were lead back into the waiting room and left there for about half an hour as they "conferred" over the results. Finally I was taken for a blood test and it was all done and off we went to get food, starving hungry as we were.

The results...

The week we got the results was the week my husband was away for work, totally forgetting the test I got a letter in the mail and opened it up to find that we were being told we were in a higher percentage of having Downs.

I was in shock... total shock.. I burst into tears completely freaking out "MY CHILD WAS DOOMED" and many other death filled moments of pain and upset flooded my brain as I ran to phone my husband who of course being miles away freaked out on his own but had no one around him.

I then went into my usual safe zone of RESEARCH, RESEARCH, RESEARCH and discovered that I had no idea what percentage we were and maybe that would help me feel better....oh brain why do you despise me.. So I phoned the midwife and was highly advised to not worry about it, but pushed and pushed until we were informed that we were 1 in 5 chance of our baby having Downs.. oh dear god... its worse than I thought.. brain melt down total freak out hide under covers fuck fuck universe is taking my baby away.. and well all the usual over reactions of someone who suffers from major depression issues. My brain was screaming at me "YOU CAN'T COPE WITH A DOWNS CHILD! YOUR GOING TO HAVE TO KILL IT!" tears streaming down my face.. no hope..

I then bucked up and contacted all my girlfriends with babies and spoke to them, getting counsel and support for everything as well as hearing experiences, all helped me to calm the fuck down and realise we could do this, that it was still my baby and that all would be fine! We could get help for downs.. it was all fine.. fine fine! RELAX WOMAN!

A week later sombre and frightened with lack of sleep and worry lines developing in areas they should not develop we headed back to the hospital hands clasped in fear and worry. Research on the CVS test running through my head "MISCARRIAGE!" screaming around in there like a rat on a cheese wheel. Once again we were taken to the "special room" and advised about how the test would work and what to expect etc.. the fucking midwife basically forced me to rethink the CVS by telling me "Are you sure you want the higher risk test, what if you lost your baby and then found out it was healthy?" oh well I would be fine.. no really.. FUCKS SAKE! so I cried, freaked out, worried, stressed.. what to do what to do.. and went ahead with it. Mostly because we were told that we would get a confirmation either way on the Downs by the next day, so I knew I would not have long to wait and could ease the stress.

Sometimes, when you suffer from mental illness if you have a chance to ease the worry and anxiety you take it to the death of all other things, if only to give yourself a moment of rest from the millions of voices in your head that freak you out and turn you into a gibbering puddle of custard.. mm custard.

And of course... knowing our delightful child.. they could not do the bloody test, (this coming on top of my pubic hair getting caught in the paper as the nurse tucked paper down there.. oh dear god) I mean I love how active my kid is and I love that it desires nothing but to squirm and worm around inside me.. but STAY FUCKING STILL FOR TESTS CHILD! but nope, utter refusal and we were sent away told the following reasons why they could not do the CVS test...

Your too overweight
Bubs won't stay still
Your uterus is to far down (WTF?)

Oh and a little pearler from the Doc just as I was wiping the mass of goop off my belly "I can see, just from looking that the neck measurement has not gone down!" Oh well we should just not worry about having any test as obviously cause you can SEE that the neck has not gone down we should just give up now. I may add here that when I informed the doctor that we would NOT be aborting if the child had downs, I got a "oh really....." face of judgement. Right love, so pleased to know what you really think of Downs sufferers. Also adding that cause of my baby being small, my uterus being low etc we now had to wait til after my 16th week (2 weeks from then) for the Amnio test.

So now.. my patient readers if you have made it to the end of this ~~rant~~ sorry post then keep reading this space as we now have 9 days to go til we get the test and can either begin to prepare for a disabled child or prepare for.. a healthy one... that is of course if the stress of all this crap does not make me fucking miscarriage!

Patience is a virtue.. if only I possessed it...

Ciao for now

Something to think about..