Bonkers: A Real Mum's Hilariously Honest tales of Motherhood, Mayhem and Mental Health. Olivia Siegl

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СКАЧАТЬ what do you mean?’

      Oh shit … ‘Well, I have parasites.’

      ‘Right, but how? Which type?’

      Oh shit, shit, shit! ‘I can’t quite remember the long name for them.’ I was starting to unravel. ‘I’ve had blood tests and everything [don’t know what the hell I meant by everything] and the doctor reckons I picked them up whilst travelling around Vietnam.’

      ‘Right, and where are they these parasites?’

      She had me on the run. ‘In my bum.’ IN MY BUM?!? MY GOD WHAT THE HELL WAS WRONG WITH ME? I’d just told someone I’d never met before, in the middle of a summer BBQ, that I had Vietnamese parasites residing in my arsehole. Still, I was determined to keep this long-established cock and bull story on track, so I embellished further, explaining they were sore and itched like hell.

      ‘What and you can’t drink because of them?’

      There was no let up with this woman! ‘No, because I am on antibiotics for them.’

      ‘Oh really? Which ones? I’m a nurse and I could check them for if you want, as you can drink on some of them, you know.’

      Sod this! I was in above my head this time, trying to con a medical professional who quite obviously knew her shit and could see through mine. ‘I’m pregnant.’

      ‘What?’

      ‘Sorry, I’m pregnant and I just made up all of that rubbish. I don’t have parasites. I’m having a baby.’

      ‘Ha, ha, and that’s the best story you could come up with?’

      ‘Yes. Yes, I’m afraid it is.’ Hangs head in shame.

      Game, set, match to the inquisitive medical professional.

      Luckily, this switched-on and shrewd nurse soon went on to become one of my best mates and it turns out she was pregnant too (minus the shit cover-up story). She was already at the twelve-week stage, so all this making up of tall tales to convince people you were the carrier of parasites rather than a baby was now behind her.

      Needless to say it was a bloody relief to finally get to tell everyone.

      ‘I’M NOT SICK, I’M JUST PREGNANT’

      So, I have been pregnant for a grand total of two times. Both pregnancies were such polar opposites that it made me realise that pregnancy can be wonderful (as it was with my first), but it can also totally screw you over (as it did with my second, me lying on my hippo-sized arse unable to do anything for fear of the baby coming prematurely). Who knew that bringing life into this world can be a wonderful, sun shining, birds singing, blooming in the face of the world experience one time and the next time make you feel so awful that you never want to do it again?

      I have to admit I was a smug pregnant biatch with my first tiny human. So much so that the thought of me bounding along with my neat bump, glossy pregnancy hair, glowing skin and full of energy, chanting the motto of ‘I’m not sick, I’m just pregnant’, made my second-time pregnant self want to go back in time and punch my smug self in my smug face.

      After the passing of the morning sickness in my first pregnancy, I felt great. I was full of energy and optimism. I exercised three times a week, and had a personal pregnancy yoga instructor who had me and bump doing shoulder stands. My hair and skin looked the best it ever had, I was full of life in every sense of the word, and so, so excited about being pregnant and becoming a mum. I can honestly say it was one of the happiest times of my life, when I felt my most calm and purposeful, doing exactly what I was meant to be doing.

      You can imagine my shock when my second pregnancy didn’t quite follow the same pattern and instead taught me that pregnancy can also be one of the toughest, anxiety-riddled and overwhelming times too. And a time when we are at our most unwell. At just sixteen weeks pregnant with my second tiny human, I was having contractions, suffering from extremely low blood pressure, put on bed rest and signed off work. Oh yes, no yoga head stands for me! Like I said, pregnancy polar opposites!

      So, I am going to break the mould here of every baby book that has come before me and say this:

      Not every pregnancy is a delight.

      You are not guaranteed to have a textbook pregnancy where everything is blooming and glowing in your garden. Sometimes you can have a pregnancy that makes you wish each day away, not to be closer to the day you get to hold your baby, but to be closer to the day where you will no longer feel like death warmed up. I am here to tell you that if you are currently feeling like this or have felt like this, you are not alone. It’s OK, you are not the devil just because you don’t or didn’t enjoy being pregnant.

      Pregnancy is also a time when we can start to feel judged on the decisions we make – from what we eat and how we exercise to what type of birth we are planning. This is where I felt the first elements of judgement starting to trickle into my life. What ‘type’ of pregnant was I going to be? The cool and easy-going pregnant, carrying on as normal, eating what I liked, socialising in flats and not batting a knackered eyelid at being designated driver YET AGAIN? The whingy and precious pregnant, griping about everything from how tired I was to how fat I was getting? The crazy neurotic pregnant, worrying over every little thing, doing everything by the book and not daring to have uncooked meat in the house let alone on my plate? Or the earth mother pregnant, walking barefoot, wafting joss sticks and ensuring an environment of positivity at all times around my growing bump and praying to Aluna, my pregnancy goddess. (Please note I have no idea who Aluna is. Cool name, though. Big shout out to any of you Alunas out there.)

      The judgement also seeped into how I looked. Was my bump going to be ‘neat and tidy’ or more like an out-of-control oil spill in the Pacific, smothering everything in its path? Was I going to look fifty-seven weeks rather than the seventeen weeks I was? Or would bump and I look like a celeb mum rocking the chic bump without the heaven of a maternity legging in sight (I still miss them!)?

      I came to realise the sorry (and, quite frankly, disturbing) levels of judgement fired down on pregnant women when I was stopped in the street by someone I barely knew, who proceeded to compliment me on how well I looked (nice) and how tiny my bump was. (Apparently, having a small bump and hardly looking pregnant equates to looking well; seems a bit weird.) Then she started to rip pieces out of another pregnant lady she knew who had ‘a massive bump’, telling me I should be ‘grateful’ because I looked so much better than her. WTF? I stood there in shock as one woman ripped into a pregnant woman about how she looked. It was offensive. It was uncalled for. It was a judgemental attack I had not seen since the playground.

      I often think this was one of the first instances when I felt an urge to stand up for and protect other mums and mums-to-be. This was the place where my passion and fire was lit in honour of supporting every mum – no judgement. It was an empowering realisation that it is our job as women to lift up our fellow warriors on the battlefield of life rather than to be the ones slaying them and leaving them gurgling facedown in the mud.

      The judgement I encountered during both pregnancies, and the huge differences I experienced, has fuelled my belief that us mums need to be prepared for whatever pregnancy throws at us, to ensure that we are not left in a bedraggled state before the hard work really starts – once we’ve pushed out our tiny humans into the world and life gets real.

      Not in any of the pregnancy books that I read, did it ever mention that being pregnant is not always a walk in the park. That at times it can be СКАЧАТЬ