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14 weeks and counting

I’m well into the third trimester of my pregnancy, and this is where the fun really begins. The first two trimesters are easy-peasy. You hardly even notice that you’re pregnant and you’re still able to resume around 95% of your normal activities (cravings notwithstanding). But now, all the pregnancy symptoms are in full swing and ALL I WANT TO DO IS GIVE BIRTH.

I don’t walk anymore. I have to get around by waddling, which makes me look like a fat duck. The stomach is getting heavier by the day, my back is breaking, my legs are cramping up, I’m retaining water (and fats) like a reservoir, my formerly-tight ass is ballooning out of proportion and worst of all, I am losing my ability to sleep. And that’s just the tip of the iceberg. There’s also incontinence, carpal tunnel syndrome, cellulite and stretch marks to deal with postpartum.

If you think about it, insomnia is one of the biggest ironies of pregnancy. I mean, there will be no more sleeping after the baby is born, so there should be some mechanism to allow the body to hibernate and store up on sleep just before the delivery. In fact, I should be retiring into a cave for the next 3 months and sleeping the winter away.

Last night was like the turning point. I was up at 2.30 in the morning developing ulcers watching Manchester United struggle at home against Porto. (GAH!) After which, I lay in bed tossing and turning till 6.45 waiting for Tru to wake up. I hate insomnia. The harder I try to fall asleep, the more awake I feel, and it’s so insanely frustrating. Besides, the whole counting sheep thing is rubbish. I reached up to 6,245,953 sheep before I decided that it was futile.

I’ve still got 14 weeks to go, and now that I think about it, it’s a really long time. Although, I suppose it would make it easier if I could just lie in bed all day with servants feeding me grapes and massaging my toes while I catch up on Grey’s Anatomy. (hint, hint)


The Curse of the Cravings

One of the biggest banes of pregnancy is the accursed cravings. The backaches and incontinence, I can handle, but the cravings are my achilles’ heel. It’s insatiable. There’s a little voice in my head telling me what to eat all the time, and I just can’t get it to stop. One day it would be chicken wings, then curry, then ice cream (sometimes all at once). And if I so much as recalcitrated against the craving gods, I’d feel so sick it was worse than not eating at all.

To be fair, cravings are actually good. After you satisfy it, it’s totally orgasmic. Like when you locate an itch and scratch the living daylights out of it, or when an elusive sneeze finally surfaces, the satisfaction is intense.

If there were no repercussions, I would eat with wild abandon. Oh wait, I did, and that’s the story of how I gained 50 pounds.

This time around, I had a relatively craving-free first 20 weeks. I was even starting to give myself a little pat on the back for the immense self-control I’ve gained now that I’m a mother. (After you push a human being out of your crotch, you can stake claim to practically anything) But as I realized today, that’s absolute bollocks.

The cravings are back with a vengeance and today, it’s durians. Big, fleshy, aromatic, creamy durians. I could taste the bittersweet tang in my mouth and the smell, oh heavenly! I did make a vain attempt to list all the reasons why durians are bad, but there is no reasoning with the cravings.

So against my better judgment, I went out and decimated three whole durians. And it was exquisite.