Pregnant Days

Week 25: An ode to all the Mammies out there

It’s mother’s day and hopefully this time next year we will be Mammies… that’s going to be an expensive day for the little one… oh well!

This mother’s day I reflect on my mother, a woman that lit a fag and puffed on it with every contraction. Her generation treated us babies as robust warriors. There was no such thing as a car seat then,

“Sure we popped you in the Moses basket in the back seat. Your father had a pint or two to celebrate and then we drove home.. smoking.” You’d be hung if you did that today.

Then there was the laissez faire attitude to safety, “You fell down the stairs in your roller and the screams out of you. But when we ran (I very much doubt they ran) out to you you were grand.” What the fuck was I doing at the top of the stairs in a roller by myself anyhow?

This was a time pre wet wipe. A month old piece of tissue retrieved from the caves of your mother’s coat and then the big spit to lubricate it so that she could “clean” your dirty face. The horror.

On this mother’s day I am grateful that I am still alive. But even though I disagree with pretty much everything they did, there is an independent ethos that they enforced on me… maybe it was just laziness. Anyhow, they allowed me to explore and push the limits. I got hurt but I survived and I’m envious of that trust women at that time had in their kid’s ability. I really hope I can let mine be free instead of fretting over their every move.

Pregnant Days

Week 24: The Linea Nigra & Stinky Feet

“What the fuck is this?” Said herself as she examined her belly in front of the mirror.
“According to Google it’s a linea nigra… sounds very exotic.” I said as I scrolled through my phone in bed.
“I look like a fucking badger.”
“To be honest you smell like one too.”
I’ve a great knack of not editing my thoughts.
“What did you just say?” I could apologise and push off what I said as a joke but it’s no joke… she stinks.
“Babe, great relationships are built on honesty… just remember that.” She clenched her teeth.
“Go on.”
“It’s your feet! They have some whiff… is that the baby’s fault?”
“I thought that smell was you?”
She looked terrified now.
“It’s definitely you.” And then she started to cry.
“I’ve had enough of this! I’m mouldy feet and a landing strip over my fat belly.”
“It’s OK love, we can buy you some nice sandals.”
She sobbed louder.
“I’m not me!” And then I said the line that everyone says that either can’t remember pregnancy or never has been, “ah well, it will all be worth it in the end.” That comment got a well deserved thump.