The good, the bad, and the hungry

Last updated 13:55 26/07/2013

Before I got pregnant I thought I had a pretty good idea of what that entailed. You get fat, you feel sick and tired, you have weird food cravings... and at the end of it you have to squeeze a baby out of your hoo-ha. "Pregnant". Yup, got it. I fully understand this concept.

Ummm. No.

No, no, no, no, no. That's the "movie version" of pregnancy which is to say that it's dumbed down and very much abridged. I gather it's a bit like the difference between the book of World War Z and the movie. Here, let's have The Oatmeal explain it.

Take for instance the concept of hunger with which we are all very familiar with. You don't eat anything for a while so your tummy gets a bit gurgly and if you leave it too long you can start to feel a bit cranky and maybe even a little weak. That's hunger, right? We all know what that looks like.

Wrong. When you're pregnant that's DEFCON 4...and there is no DEFCON 3 and 2. If you don't immediately deal with hunger at the first signs of it the next step is DEFCON 1. Nuclear war is imminent. Everyone get to the motherflippin' bunkers.

Never underestimate a pregnant woman's capacity for homicidal rageI learned this at my peril earlier in the week when I was starting to feel hungry at home and we hadn't gone to the supermarket yet for dinner supplies. What I should have done is stay at home and snack quietly to keep the hunger beast at bay. Instead I went with the Silver Fox to the supermarket and walked around (expending more energy) and looked at food (expending saliva). By the time we got home and I was preparing the meal I was not a woman to be trifled with. As I stared at the moroccan burger patties I was cooking as they wantonly continued to ooze not clear fluid but pink I ping-ponged between crying over how unfair it was and wanting to scream at them to COOK YOU DEFIANT BASTARDS, COOK!

It was then that I realised that this was not like being hungry as a non-pregnant person. It was on a completely different level. I formulated a theory which I shared with the Silver Fox.

Me: I have a theory that the evolutionary purpose of pregnant-hunger is that in order to provide for your unborn child and thereby propagate your genes you are supplied with enough violent rage that if called upon you could find something to kill with your bare hands, and eat.  

SF: Is this a hint that I should be less annoying?

Me: Depends on whether you have a sacrificial hedgehog handy.

I may have had a kitchen knife in my hand as I was saying this. The Silver Fox was also extremely complimentary about his slightly burnt burgers that night. These facts may not be unconnected.

Prior to being pregnant I also thought I understood what mood swings were but recent experience tells me that I had no clue what was possible. Take for example the things I have cried about in the last week.

  • Having asbestos in the house
  • Not being able to find a can opener
  • Not being able to find my bus pass after looking for it for less than 5 minutes
  • Forgetting to record True Blood and having to watch it on iSky instead
  • Finding a stain on a pair of pants I was going to wear
  • The royal baby
  • The burgers not cooking quickly enough

Normally I wouldn't cry about any of those things, even the asbestos. Who IS this person?

I'm also a lot more sensitive to criticism than usual. The Silver Fox and I are often quite blunt with each other and call each other names but his observation that I didn't look especially fat when I was on the telly as I had the usual number of chins, was not met with a chuckle. It was met with silence and a dark look.

I mean, I do still have a sense of humour it's just off napping more frequently at the moment.

Though when people remark that they know someone else who is due at roughly the same time as me and it "must be something in the air" I can't help but reply with "nope, I'm pretty sure it was just all that sex I had". Though maybe not quite loud enough for anyone to hear. So I don't always have a complete sense of humour failure.

If only I'd known that whole time I was trying to get pregnant that all I had to do was look out for pockets of "fertile air". Blue air if you want a boy, pink air if you want a girl! Anyone not interested in reproducing - don't leave the house without your snorkel!

And as tricky to navigate as all these emotional peaks and troughs may be, I'm relieved that I've not yet morphed into a smug pregnant woman.

So, your mission should you choose to accept it is to tell me about the last time you had a tanty. This will make me feel better since I seem to be having a lot of those lately and would like to pretend that this is perfectly acceptable.

Also, if you know anyone who ever got pregnant from something in "the air" please share with us below (either before or after you inform the Vatican and/or the scientific community who will no doubt be very interested in this development).

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