Stay Hairy

Jo Robb - 20 Jun 16

Yeah, yeah second time round it’s different.

I’ve been surprised this time by the stark contrast in my consumption of all things ‘pregnancy tracking’.

Through the ever-expanding-belly months of my BabyOne pregnancy I couldn’t wait until my weekly App ‘ping’ from WhatToExpect or my email from BabyCentre. How big was she? What organs were developed? What symptoms should I expect? OMG it’s so exciting!!

This time it feels quite different. I open each email with a cynical dread…

“Congratulations you’re 25 weeks!

Your baby is the size of a marmot/spaghettisquash/digitalradio and can hear everything you say so please do not swear.

You should be eating foraged leaves, organic salmon heads and drinking ewes milk otherwise you will curse your baby with obesity and a poor palate and a far-right political tendency in later life.

Here’s how you should be having sex while you are pregnant by the way, because you SHOULD be having sex while you are pregnant because if you don’t then you clearly have a shallow meaningless relationship, so despite the fact that your piles are all big and sore and you feel like there is a riverdancing-warthog living in your belly and your partner would rather sleep in The Other Room with the cat who is sick on him in the night than with Snorey McSnorosson (you), you should be doing it like a porn star to keep your family together and your life ‘normal’.

See you next week!”

Shit like that.

I’d like to sign up to the ‘BabyTwo or More Tracker’

“Well done. Not sure what week you are – who SERIOUSLY cares? You’ve looked 6 months pregnant since week 4 anyway because BabyOne stripped all your muscle definition so you’ve been lying to well-wishers – and yourself – for that long.

Anyhoo –  you’ve passed the half-way point. Steel yourself, you know it only gets harder from here to the end.

Your first born has cottoned on to the fact that there is something afoot as the TV is switched on after far less whinging and banging of the remote on Mummy’s head/bum/ankle. TRY not to eat a tub of Ben and Jerry’s EVERY day as you zone out to the 35th episode of Peppa Pig in a row… We know that it feels kind of pointless eating healthily as you ‘are fat anyway’ but you don’t want gestational diabetes because then a DOCTOR would be cutting off your chocolate supply and that would NOT be fun.

Remember sex? If you DO want to go down that road then be careful not to pull anything shaving your legs or trimming your lady garden in the shower… it’s not really worth it. And to be honest he probably won’t care if you’re as hairy as NenaNinetyNineRedBalloons. It’s been a while for him too. Just turn down the lights, make a crash mat of pillows, get on all fours and give him a wink. It’s sure to work a charm.

We won’t email you again next week because to be honest you’ll probably have forgotten you’re pregnant – again – as there isn’t room in your placenta-poisoned brain for anything so trivial, not next to the endless To Do lists that come with having a toddler to contain, a job to hold on to, a house to keep running and a man who doesn’t notice hairy armpits never mind a pile of cat sick on the stair carpet.

Good luck!”

Jo Robb

Full time mummy, part time writer, sometime blogger. Lover of sitting down, lying in, running a long way, drinking gin and a whole bunch of other things I can't do anymore. Despite my sarcastic, mildly bitchy posts, I cherish my man, adore my babies and am slowly learning to love myself too.

View profile for posts, events and more info