Cheeseburgers and Miracles

Reflections on being pregnant

Shining hair, gleaming nails, radiant skin, endless energy and a slow, but sure, development of a natural instinct for Motherhood; for me, this represents a set of pregnancy myths I had been far too eager to believe when I dreamed of having a child.

 

I had a rather different experience of pregnancy; the kind they don’t tell you about in books.

 

My promised “pregnancy glow” was more of a “glower of hatred” directed at my boyfriend, whenever opportunity would allow. My hoped-for “pregnancy bloom” was more like a constant stream of vitriolic accusations towards him, such as “what the blooming hell do you think you’re doing, leaving your dirty underwear on the floor for me to pick up when I’m in THIS condition?!”

 

Hormones raging, it appeared that, in my pre-natal group of eight or so, I seemed to be one of only two people who were finding things tough, or at least had the decency to admit it. My days were not spent poring over Mother and Baby magazines, or putting together “Baby Expenses” spreadsheets comparing the cost of items we needed, from Mamas and Papas to Mothercare. My days were spent placing everything at right angles in my home, desperately trying to control the raging thoughts in my head; the ones that were screaming at me about the responsibility that lay ahead.

 

I developed Carpal Tunnel Syndrome, problems with my pubic bone, high blood pressure and insane addictions to all things bad for me; spicy curries (that only served to increase my heartburn), McDonalds cheeseburgers; not quarter-pounders, my almost-daily need could only be fulfilled by those cheap flimsy ones with rubbery cheese and soggy gherkins. I could manage three in one sitting, particularly if I had managed to sneak out alone.

 

Well, perhaps not all my addictions were bad, as I also craved sex and nectarines, particularly at the weekend. Not necessarily enjoying both as part of the same activity, you understand, although I am sure I would have been game. But bearing in mind that, due to the constant nagging, bitching and whining, my boyfriend was about as receptive to me as you would be to a serious case of measles, with a touch of chicken pox thrown in, “intimate relations” were well and truly off the agenda for the time being.

 

So I made do with a punnet of nectarines for my weekend kicks.  In fact, my boyfriend, rather comically, took to sidling up to me suggestively on a Saturday night and whispering in my ear, “Fancy a punnet?” He may as well have offered me a night of no-strings, no-holds-barred sex with the man of my dreams, I was in no position to barter and I would take whatever I could get.

 

What I hated the most, however, was that I really just didn’t know myself anymore. True, I was excited about having my baby, but the sense that, whilst I would be gaining something truly amazing in my life, I was also losing something too. I would never be the same again. This sensation of loss was happening far too quickly for my liking; and it was something I don’t remember agreeing to.

 

Kind words were all around me. Other parents thoughtfully, or not so thoughtfully, told me that this initial stage of the pregnancy and the birth was, in fact, the easiest part. “They are so lovely when they are young. Just enjoy it; they turn into right little so-and-sos when they grow up...” So it only gets tougher?! I already felt that I was desperately hanging on with just the tips of my fingernails.

 

It turns out, however, that perhaps my fingernails, although not gleaming, had developed more strength than I had actually anticipated. I hung on, and I have two beautiful children to show for it. Thankfully, although I may not have found pregnancy to be the easiest thing in the world for me, Motherhood has been kinder to me and I have found it more natural.

 

I have been blessed to have “one of each”, and I have the stretch marks, the grey hairs and the somewhat bruised relationship to prove it. Instinct did kick in eventually and I now love my role as “Mummy”. Moments of true joy occur in my life on a regular basis and I cannot imagine that these would happen without my children coming into my life.

 

The process of pregnancy and subsequent birth is, as it turns out, nothing short of a miracle; one at which I marvel every day. But I’m not greedy. Two noisy, headstrong, beautiful and quirky little miracles are all I need, and indeed can cope with in my life. 

 

I am done with miracles. Nectarines are all I need.

Reviews

[Tim H]

Great job! Very funny and endearingly personal. It brought me back to when my first son was born. He was two weeks late, my wife was sick of it and wanted to call the whole thing off and join weight watchers. I like the way your piece dealt with the doubts and feelings of loss. I also like the the way you ended with the deep heartfelt love and appreciation for your children, something that I think you have to be a parent to fully understand.