Become a Mamamia subscriber today and save 30%. By supporting independent women's media, you get an all-access pass to everything we make, including exclusive podcasts, articles, videos and our exercise app, MOVE. Offer ends June 30.

Before I got pregnant, I thought I had a pretty good understanding of what was coming. 

We've all heard about morning sickness, the bizarre cravings, exhaustion and swollen ankles.

As a woman in her thirties, I'd been exposed to enough pregnancy content (both in real-life and online) to know roughly what to expect and — if I am being truly honest — I even thought some women were perhaps being a little dramatic about some of it.

Please consider this my formal apology. 

Because what nobody can possibly or adequately explain to you is that pregnancy is essentially a C-grade body horror movie written by a very amateur stand-up comedian. 

Watch: Jessie Stephens shares her very honest twin birth story. Post continues below.

0 0

Jessie Stephens’ very honest twin birth story | Mamamia Out Loud

Don't get me wrong: pregnancy is incredible. Miraculous, even. There is not a day that goes by where I am not aware of how grateful and lucky I am to be growing this tiny human.

But it is also, objectively, one of the weirdest things that has ever happened to my body. And it's the things nobody has ever mentioned to me that have surprised me the most.

1. My biggest fear would be sneezing.

If you'd asked me, before I got pregnant, what I thought I would be most afraid of, I probably would have said labour.

Or, you know, the sheer terrifying responsibility of keeping another human being alive. 

I would not have said sneezing, and yet, here we are. 

A few weeks ago, I was sitting on the couch watching Eurovision when I felt a sneeze come on. When it hit, I heard — and felt — a distinct pop somewhere in my rib cage.

As a calm and rational person, I immediately assumed I had either broken a rib, punctured a lung or somehow sneezed myself into labour. 

Turns out, I had likely bruised my rib. The good news was that it wasn't particularly serious (albeit still very, very painful). The bad news was there was absolutely nothing that could be done about it, except to avoid anything that might aggravate it further.

Like sneezing. Or coughing. Or, you know, breathing. My normal bodily functions became high-risk, tactical operations. 

Nobody tells you about this part of pregnancy. They do not warn you that one day you may very well injure yourself sitting perfectly still on a couch watching Europeans dressed as intergalactic disco goblins while competing in a singing contest. 

2. My biggest craving would be Ibuprofen. 

Before getting pregnant, I assumed I'd develop a weird attachment to a bizarre food combination that would make for a funny anecdote I could recount later.

Pickles and ice cream. Peanut butter and bananas. You know, something quirky and fun. 

Instead, my biggest craving has been Ibuprofen (which I can't even take). 

Not because I particularly enjoy anti-inflammatory medication, but because I had absolutely no idea how much everything would hurt.

My hips hurt. My pelvis hurts. My back hurts. My ribs (see above) hurt. Sometimes, just to keep things interesting, an entirely new body part joins the chat to demand attention.

PSA: Everything hurts. Image: Supplied.

And every time a new ache, pain or discomfort arises, someone (i.e. my doctor) responds with the same phrase: "It's completely normal."

That is reassuring right up until the point you realise literally everything bad and painful appears to be normal. Hooray. 

(For those playing at home, anti-inflammatories are not recommended for use during pregnancy so it's strictly off limits for me!)

3. I would miss my pre-pregnancy body, but not for the reason you think. 

When people say they miss their pre-pregnancy body, there's an assumption that they're talking about appearance. 

I am not. 

Honestly, the bump is probably my favourite accessory I've ever had. What I miss is my body's functionality; it's quiet competence.

Before pregnancy, my body just… got on with it. It rolled over in bed, it walked up stairs, it bent down to pick things up and it breathed without complaint. I never had to think about any of it.

Yes, I went on a hike. Yes, I had to sit and rest on this rock for 20 minutes to catch my breath. Image: Supplied.

I miss walking up a flight of stairs without arriving at the top sounding like I've just completed a charity fun run, and putting on shoes without having to mentally prepare myself.

I miss getting out of bed without a strategy and I miss not being aware of my body every second of every day. 

I realise now, eight months pregnant, just how much I took that functionality for granted and how effortlessly my body just worked. 

4. I would become deeply jealous of a rotisserie chicken.

The biggest physical challenge of the third trimester? Turning over in bed. 

At some point, rolling from one side to the other stopped being an unconscious movement and became a full-scale operation involving momentum, deep breathing, and occasionally, a motivational speech (yes, sometimes said aloud at 2am). 

I've begun looking at rotisserie chickens with profound envy. The ease. The efficiency. The complete and utter freedom they have to just… rotate. 

Listen: Monique Bowley, Amelia Lester and Stacey Hicks are unpacking why parents are feeling so stressed out on Parenting Out Loud. Post continues below.

Meanwhile, I spend half of each night attempting what feels like a seven-point turn with my own body, only to finally get moderately comfortable and realise I need to get up and pee.

Again. 

5. The admin. MY GOD. The admin. 

Every day of being pregnant feels like a running checklist.

Have I taken my vitamins (as I write this I realise that, once again, no I have not)? Have I had enough water (also no)? Have I had enough protein? Have I felt the baby move? Why haven't I felt the baby move? Oh, good, there he is. 

Am I hungry? Am I tired? Am I dehydrated? Do I need a snack? Do I need a nap (yes)? Do I need both simultaneously?

Not to mention the endless stream of appointments. There are scans, blood tests, physio appointments, midwife appointments, hospital appointments and classes that teach you how to keep a baby alive. 

My calendar has never been more full and yet, somehow, I still can't remember whether I've taken my iron supplement. (You'll be surprised to learn the answer at this point in time is: no I have not.)

6. My subconscious would completely lose the plot. 

Nobody warned me about the dreams. The dreams that are not normal dreams but full-scale cinematic productions. 

Every night my brain seems determined to create an entirely new universe featuring people I haven't spoken to in twenty years, bizarre plot twists and emotional stakes that make absolutely no sense. 

One night, I dreamed I gave birth to a litter of puppies. Another involved my high school boyfriend and a hostage situation on a cruise ship. None of it made any sense, yet all of it felt emotionally devastating at the time. 

The only way to describe them: completely unhinged. 

I wake up exhausted because, apparently, my subconscious has spent the whole night producing a psychological thriller, a romantic comedy and a six-part true-crime documentary all in one. 

Pregnancy has taught me that the human body is both remarkably resilient and deeply, deeply chaotic. 

It's made me appreciate my body more than I ever have before, not because of how it looks, but because of everything it has quietly done for me for the last 36 years without ever asking for recognition. 

And while I would very much like to breathe properly again, roll over in bed like a normal person and stop fearing sneezes, every weird and wonderful symptom comes with the same reminder: 

There is a little person in there. 

And he's entirely worth it.

Feature image: Supplied.