There has been no official announcement or anything mainly because I am still far too nervous to shout it from the rooftops and also, how would I even do it? I would never post a picture of my belly. I look 5-6 months pregnant normally, so I think if people saw a picture of my belly they would think, she has really committed to beer and bread during this pandemic and not, wow, life is forming. My belly is still two very distinct rolls that are just exaggerated. I often sing the Spice Girls song when 2 become 1, hoping this encouragement will blend it into a single bump.  Will I just be blessed with baby rolls instead of a bump? Not great for photographs.

I also could not post a picture of the ultrasound. Our technician had a hell of a time getting any visual of this pickle and when I asked if it was because there were so many layers of fat, she stayed oddly quiet. When she finally told us she was getting a visual we looked close to see a little hand nub! And then a terrifying alien face that morphed into a plague mask and then morphed again into a cartoon count chocula. It was pretty scary. When she asked if we wanted a photo we both yelled no! No, thank you. We would not like evidence that a demon or alien has taken space in my uterus. No thank you indeed.

I promised myself I would never blame baby brain for anything because it sounds stupid. But then it became very real and I wondered if I needed a handler to leave the house. I have called it uterine alien dementia. Things like saying a sentence that made perfect sense in my head and then having my partner tell me 3 words in the sentence had no right to be there and did not make sense. Or putting crackers in the fridge. Or losing my phone or remote every 5 minutes. Or my personal favourite, getting into my car to drive somewhere by getting into the backseat. I was downtown and needed to move my car up so I was not blocking a driveway and I legit got into the backseat. I really hope no one saw me. If a cop had seen me I would have def had to complete a breathalyzer.

I also requested a quote from a moving company and called them back 3 days later irritated they did not respond and they told me they did. When I asked them what email address I had given them, I had literally made up an email address that was a combination of my work email and my gmail and most definitely was an email that did not exist. Like angelacanada@gmail.wherethefuckamI.com. Classic uterine alien dementia.

Also, hormones. I can be a bit of a hormone roller coaster at the best of times, so that has just intensified x 100. Everything makes me cry. When I was driving downtown (before pretending to be Miss Daisy in the back of my car by myself) I passed outreach workers handing homeless people sandwiches and water and just started balling. Basically any Olympic event where Canada wins, I am a mess. I tried to watch Sister Act yesterday and from the time she entered the convent and started working with the choir, I quietly and lightly weeped until the end of the movie when the pope arrives. I am a party right now.

I am scared about labour for a whole host of reasons but the thing I am most scared about is how I will act. I am not great in most medical situations. I don’t realize how nervous or scared I am until stupid shit is coming out of my mouth. But this seems to be the worst in medical appointments. Not only do I get white coat syndrome where it appears by my blood pressure that I am just casually having a heart attack but I also lose all ability to maintain appropriate boundaries or language. Here are some of my stellar medical faux pas-

·         I was once getting a pap test from my older, South African doctor. After I got up on the table, he asked me to spread my legs and I told him this was not the first time I had spread my legs for a South African and winked. I knew immediately I had made a grave error when I saw the look of horror on his face. He later told me I needed to get to know my breasts in order to give myself a breast exam. Oh, I said, I know them! Please meet Betty and Veronica as I pointed to each boob. He looked at me stunned and then said he was going to pretend he didn’t hear that.

·         This example was removed because my editor (partner) thought it went too far? Can you imagine?? Things I have said to medical professionals is too much for the internet?? Yikes. OK I will admit it, it was pretty horrific. As soon as it came out of my mouth, I wondered if I was ever going to be allowed back into the chiropractor office ever again.

·         When I went for my massage yesterday and I told my massage therapist I was pregnant she asked me how it was going. I told her that I have felt like I have had the worst hangover ever for 3 months and that my belly pickle was already addicted to carbs. And she laughed and said, perfect! Already an addict. And then I took it one step too far and said, yes the baby is definitely doing lines of flour in my belly. She looked stunned and then said she had an amazing visual and had a good laugh. Saying the babe is doing lines? Not necessary. 

I won’t go into the inappropriate shit I said at my first midwife appointment but I was immediately flagged by the office as high maintenance for the amount of times I called back to confirm what had been said in the appointment. Because I also suffer from white coat strokes syndrome where I 100% black out in medical appointments, then leave and have NO FUCKING idea what was said. I told my midwife that I know COVID rules do not allow for my partner to be here but seriously, someone needs to be here with me so that they can follow the bouncing ball while I zone out. Also none of my inapprops jokes landed which made me feel very weird and that maybe I was just being too much (entirely possible!).

I have been listening to Ina May’s Guide to Childbirth audiobook whenever I am in the car. It is a collection of stories from this woman, the mother of midwifery, and her experience of being a Midwife on The Farm (a commune). I always think I am a hippie at heart until I hear these actual hippies and realize I am so watered down I cannot lay claim to any hippie status. But my partner got into the car one day and I thought it would be fun for him to listen to some stories. This was a mistake. After listening to several women’s birthing stories, he picked up some new words I now have to hear all the time. He now frequently checks in to see if I feel Gaia’s energy in my vagina. Wonders how my yoni is doing. If my lady flower will open to let out life. I wish I was as connected and spiritual and cool to feel the Gaia energy but I have basically just been dry heaving, sleeping and plagued with migraines for months. I also know he has basically no idea what he is saying when he asks me this so I find it pretty amusing. When he brings another ice pack into the black room where I am lying down with a migraine and he moves my barf bucket closer to the bed, I am sure he is thinking about how magical and special my Gaia energy is.