Posts Tagged ‘change’

 

Proud to be Pregnant

Friday, May 25th, 2007

You think 9 months take forever to get through, and they do. But it’s only 9 months! This is because you are not only experiencing your change of girth, change of mental state and change of … pretty much everything. But you are experiencing it through your own self and filtering it through everyone else’s perception of what you are experiencing. You are experiencing something deeply personal yet you may as well go out every day with your face painted blue because your pregnancy will not go unnoticed by anybody. And I can guarantee that no one who sees your pregnant form will be indifferent to it. Just as a blue-painted face will elicit some sort of response so too will that protruding belly. You gain weight, you don’t gain weight, you try to disguise your potbelly, you wear it out there, you ask someone to help you with your parcels, you don’t … whatever you do, people around you will form an opinion knowing nothing more about you than the fact that you have chosen to bear a child (whether intentionally or not).

I chose to wear my pregnancy proudly. This had less to do with a desire to show it off and more to do with the fact that I opted out of the dire selection of pregnancy clothes on offer and, instead, chose a few elasticised items that could be pulled lower and lower as my breadth dictated. If judgement from immediate family is anything to go by, you can be sure of judgement from perfect strangers.

Me, me, me

Monday, May 21st, 2007

When you’re used to having it all, having a baby just isn’t enough.

I had left a city of consumerism where it was unconstitutional to not be selfish. I had left an apartment in one of the best London suburbs and a smoulderingly sexy SMEG fridge. I had left behind Paris for the weekend and Rome the next. And most importantly, I had left a job that allowed a year off for maternity leave; half of that paid. I had left my zone. How could this have happened? How could my life have changed so dramatically in one moment of passion … a totally cliché-free moment of passion, I might add, that didn’t involve a romantic hut on a beach on an exotic island. Not even close.

I wasn’t meant to be pregnant. What I was meant to be was gainfully employed, living it up on champagne and oysters in my new chi-chi townhouse on Table Mountain with a shiny new coupe in the garage.

Somewhere in a parallel universe there was a chick with my life. And I hated her.