Let's hear it for the Double G's

Varicose veins. We've all seen them, they secretly revolt us and we would probably trade a family member to avoid ever getting them. Bending over yesterday, I came face to face with my worst nightmare bulging behind the right knee - pregnancy's good like that; making you face your fears without so much as a beg your pardon. I vow to sit with my legs raised wearing pressure stockings for the remainder of this pregnancy come what may.

Allow me to digress for a moment. Being with Mike and having this baby are the two fundamental sources of happiness in my life before, during and after and for always ever more amen. BUT ... what is happening to my body is a thing unto itself, quite separate - sheer galaxies away from the intense feelings of wonder that I otherwise experience on a day to day basis.

Having understood that, let me continue. With the horror of 'THE VEIN' fresh in my mind I was then treated (by a friend) to some pictures of me on the beach in my preggie bikini, needless to say those photographs will never see the light of day. If only I was a real hippo I would wallow just below the surface where no-one could see me; alas, I am a homo-sapien with no underwater breathing aparatus hence, I must face the world regardless. I contacted a pregnant comrade today to wail about the state of my expanding girth, all whilst murdering a slice of chocolate cake 10cm high.

My universe is a whirling mass of contradiction.

The nursery is taking shape slowly, thanks in part to the GG's - Granny Gardiner (my mom) and Granny Galvin (Mike's mom) - or better yet, Glamorous Grannies.

Once complete we stared suspiciously at it, quietly assessing our realisations of HOLY CHRIST WE ONLY HAVE 11 WEEKS TO GO, then decided to get cheese burgers 'cos that was less confronting. Whilst Granny Gardiner bought us a superduper stroller that basically drives itself. Can't wait to use the one-handed fold down function with its flick of a button and impressive Transformer-like compaction to basically nothing.

Granny Gardiner has also taken to knitting somewhat fiercely and spends her Sunday mornings drinking coffee at Vida Cafe, needles and wool in hand, light jazz playing in the background. Gogo Chic at its finest. She has thus far produced an impressive array of knitted animals and jerseys. Our son will be forced to wear them of course, despite all protests that the wool is itchy and it's 1000 degrees outside.

Still to make their debut appearance are a collection of the smallest, sweetest, softest, unbelievably cute and delicious baby clothes, toys and goodies from family and friends the world over. Once I've unpacked, preened, organised and nested like a little mother hen I will take pics of the nursery in its finality.

We are all otherwise peachy and well. Spring is officially here! We know this by the sudden hive of animal activity on land and sea. Every morning the village dogs howl in eternal frustration as the bitches around them go on heat, safe behind their fences no doubt quietly relieved. The whales are here in full force - massive pods of the beasts cruising up and down the coast in their lazy, ambling, 'I am the biggest fucker in the sea' kind of way. As the weather heats up and the rains follow suit troops of crawlies both great and small appear inside the house.

Last night I killed an enormous spider by dropping a dictionary on its head. Proof at last, that action and words, speak loudest of all...

The 'Been There Done It' Brigade

It’s official. I am a public spectacle. 

People stare at me wherever I go. I wonder about this phenomenon of skeefing pregnant women out then remember that I too have been guilty of this act and hang my head in shame. Hindsight being an exact science and all.

In the case of ogling men it’s obvious - they’re either staring at my boobs or they’re harking back to the days when their partners were sweet & round – either way it creeps me out. But women are different. They stare at me with doe eyes and a sloppy grin and I can see them itching to do or say something but they stop themselves short and just carry on grinning. The belly touching hasn’t started yet although I’m told this happens. Mike is going to be my official belly bouncer.

The other phenomenon I’ve encountered is the Parent-To-Be vs. The Parent-That-Is. They LOVE to warn and horrify you of how wrong you are in all your whimsical fantasies of child-birth and parenthood. Their ranting is harmless and probably quite true, but sometimes I wish they’d let me live in my idealistic world where nappies don’t smell, babies sleep through the night and smile all day long. Let me have my dreams of a picture perfect life where cellulite & stretch marks disappear after birth and breasts magically return to their saggy-free state after breastfeeding.

I get asked questions in that semi-nonchalant way that says; ‘I’m trying to make this sound like it’s not a loaded question but if you don’t answer it correctly I’m going to blow all your expectations out the water’.  It goes a little something like this.

Question: So … (fiddles with hair) what kind of birth are you hoping to have?

Me: (walking into lions den) Well I’m obviously open to whatever needs to happen on the day but my wish is to have an active, natural birth without any assistance or pain medication.

Stare (commence onslaught) Pffft!! That’s what they all say! But trust me! On the day you’ll be screaming down the walls for that pethidine from your first contraction and oh just you WAIT til 2nd stage labour you’d give away your husband for an epidural and then you tear open from your bellybutton to your bumhole and they stitch you up without any anaesthetic and then they hand you this screaming infant that won’t latch onto your breasts which get so engorged with milk that they will explode and then they send you home and then you will spend THE REST OF YOUR LIFE SUFFERING SLEEP DEPRIVATION AND OH BOY, FORGET ABOUT ALL THE THINGS YOU’VE EVER WANTED TO ACHIEVE IN YOUR LIFE AND WHATEVER YOU DO DON’T EVEN THINK ABOUT EVER HAVING SEX AGAIN EVER, EVER, NOT NEVER!!!!!!!! (pant pant)

Me: (back away from crazy person with the wild eyes and flying spittle)

Work as an independent consultant for the public health sector is fantastic and I'm in full swing with this 'home executive' bizzo. Can multi-task cleaning the toilets and saving the world quite smartly. Mike is building his company brick by brick, now we're just waiting for this pesky recession to pass. We recently spent some time in the Drakensberg and on the South Coast chilling our melons and watching the whales cruise by.

We went for a scan this afternoon, baby is 1.2kgs and growing rapidly; as my belly protrudes steadily outwards my back bends into an abnormal curvature hence there is a constant ache to my bones. Bending over to pick something up requires me to part my legs in a kind of plie whilst clutching my lower back octogenarian style. My butt is growing proportionately to my stomach which I think is nature's way of ensuring I maintain an equilibrium whilst standing upright. Maternity is just a thinly disguised version of the word 'eternity' which is how pregnancy feels some days.