Thanks for all the congratulatory messages, it means a lot!
I’m still trying to wrap my head around this new pregnancy thing, alternating between sublime OMG I’M HAVING A BABY kind of euphoria and a terrifying OMG I’M HAVING A BABY kind of distress. Mostly the second part.
While I like the part about having the baby come out, I’m not too keen on the 9 months of pregnancy. I have friends who make pregnancy look so easy. They get that beautiful pregnancy glow. They get curves in all the right places. They get nice shiny hair and perfect skin. And they spend their entire pregnancy prancing around in size 6 designer maternity clothing.
Me, I get 30 kgs of curves added to my ass, which means I have difficulty getting into a size 12 and have to lumber around feeling downright miserable.
I’m hungry all the time but when I look at food, I immediately want to throw up. I’m exhausted but when I lie down, I toss and turn for hours before falling asleep. Most days, I just want to curl up on the floor and wait for time to pass me by.
Just two days ago, I had 30 minutes to grab a quick breakfast with the husband before he left for work. Being the third day of the Chinese New Year, most of the food places were still closed. We settled for this coffeeshop along Beach Road but when we got in, we realized that only one stall was open and that my only options were kaya toast and soft boiled eggs. The husband was all spritely, like “sure, let’s eat here, everywhere else seems to be closed” so I figured I’d just grab a Milo and then go for a proper breakfast after he left.
But as I watched him enjoy his eggs and toast, I basically lost it.
“What kind of a ridiculous coffeeshop turns on all the lights and then only sells drinks? And who eats stupid kaya bread for breakfast? It’s not even a real breakfast and the smell is making me want to vomit. Baby needs noodles or rice or a piece of steak. They obviously hate my baby, it’s like they’re trying to starve me, amirite?”
The husband just sat there calmly and when I was done with my tirade, he was like “is this going to be like the *ice-chips incident?”
The “ice-chips incident” is a complicated one that will require another post but it is what we say when we refer to a pregnancy meltdown of epic proportions.
“No, it’s not like the ice-chips incident at all. Are you saying that I’m overreacting?”
“It could be the pregnancy hormones.”
“It’s got nothing to do with hormones. Baby is hungry and all I have to eat are half-cooked eggs. I’m going to need some real food. Do you want the baby to be malnourished?”
“I think the baby is going to be just fine. But you should go eat something nice later ok.”
“I’m not even sure I’m going to make it till later. I might pass out from hunger while driving and then it will be all your fault.”
“I’m going to poison your eggs when you’re not looking.”
I made it to the noodle stall in Tampines without passing out but when I got there, I felt too nauseous to eat, so I went home and had a second milo, feeling all sorry for myself.
On the plus side, there are only 2 more weeks of my first trimester left and if the previous pregnancies are anything to go by, it’ll be a lot better then.