The feelings I experienced during my pregnancy had me hanging over a precipice, looking down on a pit of psychoses I was at severe risk of falling into. People call it hormonal, depressed, overwhelmed, etc., etc., but I believe it is the product of your parents’ attitudes, the egos of the folk you hang out with and the support you get from the people you love.

It dawned on me about six months into my pregnancy that I needed to analyse and reassess all of the above. The catalyst: an old friend I bumped into at a party who, in response to the news of my pregnancy, glanced and my fading hourglass and said, ‘Shame!’

How refreshing.

To be honest I had, by this stage, allowed a little excitement to mingle with the apprehension and cynicism, but my false smiles for people more excited than I was about my pregnancy were beginning to wear thin. No one would listen to me … I mean really listen. The thought of not only having a baby but also becoming a mother (yes, one implies the other but each induce their own unique feelings of fear and insecurity) completely terrified me. The friendly reassurance smacked of Stepford Wives.

‘Your life becomes so amazing when you have a child.’
You’ll fall in love with your child as soon as you see him.’
‘Your bond with your husband becomes so much stronger.’
Well, good for them. But all I needed was a little sympathy.

If you don’t get congratulated next time you tell someone you’re pregnant, perhaps that person has read this blog.