Pregnancy Week 19

Baby size: Mango, although my husband is calling my tummy a “watermelon”, pftt.

Before I was pregnant, I always thought pregnancy was a piece of cake. I mean, even though you are carrying a small human inside you who weights around 3kgs (that’s not really heavy), you get a lot of perks coming with pregnancy.

My mind was doing a quick math then:

Free seatings at whatever places you visits, license to overeat and blaming it on the baby, free pass to excuse yourselves from chores, cut queues without feeling guilty etc. This might as well be THE GOOD LIFE, right? Right?

I was wrong. So wrong.

Free seatings and queue cuttings? Fine, those are nice perks.

That aside, the cons outweighs the pros. Don’t get me wrong, I love my unborn child more than anything in the world, in fact I already gave it a cutesy secret nickname that even my husband don’t know of(he wouldn’t approve if he found out). But I am just telling you that pregnancy perks are somewhat disproportionate if you want to compare the struggles you have to put up with for a whole 9 months.

My tummy is well, huge

Now 19^th week into my pregnancy, I feel more self-conscious than ever, not being able to fit into my favorite pair of jeans and tops because my bump is really huge, and have to resort to wearing jubahs and jersey dresses to accommodate the bulging tummy. That’s not even the worse part people, adding insult to injury (my heart broke), I have to start wearing granny panties soon because those sexy Xixili and La Senza lacey knicks don’t come in maternity sizes, gasp!, and yes, my newfound larger breasts also decided to find solace in comfy yet ugly cotton maternity bras.

Wait, I thought Rosie Hungtington was pregnant, wasn’t she always decked in gorgeous Victoria Secret’s lingerie? But sometimes these mat salihs don’t wear any undergarment, so, hmm, I wonder if I can pull of that look.

*Look at body.*

Perhaps not.

Fine, since I couldn’t wear fancy lingerie and fit into my old clothes, I will console myself with hours of shuteyes and wake up only when I feel like it.

Again, wrong.

I tussled and turn on the bed for hours, attempting to sleep. Then I peeled myself from the bed, sobbing and crying, because after trying to fit into those shrinking fabrics, I was emotionally tired and I wanted so much to just sleep and dream of a universe where pregnant women were all made to look like Kate Middleton, or at least Victoria Beckham when they were having their offsprings. The sobbing and crying were quite unnerving, I assumed, as I sounded more like a wailing dog.

Can I at least cry with grace?

The most frustrating thing on earth can be so simple, like being served runny sunny side up at mamak when you ordered a cooked through ones AND lack of sleep because your unborn is so active at 3am in the morning, begging you to either shove a fat cake down your throat or heck, he/she is just being naughty. I am half grimacing at this, does this mean that this baby I am carrying is the much hyped “all-nighter” baby, the ones that doesn’t sleep at night and wails not-so melodious cries for fun so mummy and daddy can’t have their beauty sleep?

Ps-I need those beauty sleeps, I am growing a farm of pimples on my face and my unborn child may not be able to recognize me upon delivery and may refuse to drink my breastmilk.

Finally being able to sleep after shifting weights of my baby to one side of the bed, I shrieked suddenly, my left leg was experiencing jolts of muscle cramps. It was so excruciating that I felt like breaking into tears, for the uptenth times for the day.

Beside me, my husband was snoring happily. Ahh, bless this lucky man, for his sleep was about to be disturbed by a whining wife in pain and unable to catch her winks.

I shook him, hard. “Can you rub ointments on my belly? I feel bloated. Your child is moving like crazy inside me,” I whined like a kid being forced to eat bitter medicines. *Also doing my best googly eyes here*

Of course, being the gentleman and a good father/husband that he is, he obliged without even wincing at this annoying woman he called “sayang” (wife). I know he is extremely exhausted from work, yet I am just being well, pregnant.

He opened the Eucalyptus Oil bottle and dropped the ointments on my stomach, rubbing gently away.

Ahh, this is the perks I can live with, being cared and loved by my hubs, who would never complain about my complains,  my cravings and absolutely unladylike behavior lately (I fart a lot).

 I love you, baby.