Let’s hope this venting works.

by

I am feeling crazy and hateful mean today.

I had a semi-fall earlier, which caused a ripping pain over Torre – think I have pulled or ripped some stomach muscle. This is especially handy as last night I had similar terrible pains on both sides when I was moving around. That, and my crotch feels like it’s been cracked in half and is repeatedly kicked by a Very Big Sporty Man every time I move at all.

So I texted TMD to say I’d hurt my bump, and no fucking reply. For ages. Then she rang and said she had texted back, but had gone into a training and didn’t see that the message didn’t send. I’m like –

YOU TEXTED BACK? WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?

Except what I said was, ‘Uh huh,’ in this deadly calm voice. She is coming home soon.

This feeling has been intensifying. I feel very isolated and scared. What if I went into fucking labour? Are you going to send me a text? To be fair, I guess I would keep calling, but really. I know she is very busy, and I know we have so much to do, but life is feeling a bit angry-making. And self-pity making.

Next week the fucking decorator will be painting all day every day. What the fuck air am I supposed to breathe? If I give birth to babies that are Contemporary coloured, with an Eggshell Sheen round the edges, I am going to be seriously pissed.

I just want to cry and cry and cry to someone who understands what it is like to be pregnant and all the fuck alone. And then I want to write really mean screamy blog entries and hope that TMD reads them. I tried to not go mental at her because she is a bigshot manager at work and was obviously surrounded by employees when we were talking. But you know? I am sick of being mature, because, GODDAMNIT, I AM PREGNANT WITH HER BABIES.

TTTTTWWWWWWWWWWWIIIIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNNNNNNSSSSSSSSSSSSSS.

My back hurts every time I sit upright for more than ten seconds. I don’t think I can go into work to pack up my desk because the car ride would kill me, I am worried about being out all day for that multiples antenatal class, I am freaked about the amount of work TMD already had planned for herself this weekend – and now she has to pack up the 8,000 books and assorted piles of bullshit crap we have in the three rooms being redone. When is there any time to just have fun?

I am so tired all the time. And I hurt. And I’m alone.

And now I’m crying.

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4 Responses to “Let’s hope this venting works.”

  1. mrsfinn Says:

    I know it’s hard- but try to think on the bright side- she works hard so that she can take care of you and those babies. And as uncomfortable as you are right now- the flip side of NOT being pregnant (when you want to be) is a whole lot worse!!

  2. grace Says:

    “I just want to cry and cry and cry to someone who understands what it is like to be pregnant and all the fuck alone … I am sick of being mature, because, GODDAMNIT, I AM PREGNANT WITH HER BABIES.”

    I’m pregnant, and have felt all angry and mean and hormonal and crazy a lot recently… and have done more than my share of ringing Beloved at work and screaming. I can so, so relate! And you write so well that your venting makes for such enticing, evocative reading.

    And yes, if your babies come out with an eggshell sheen, well, you could always see if the novelty would earn you a reality TV show about unusually contemporary-coloured multiple births šŸ˜‰

  3. Tatiana Says:

    Awwwwh hun *hugs* It’s tough to be alone, it’s tough to be pregnant, and it’s tough to be scared. TMD is working her ass off for you and the babies, so try not to let your hormonal anger towards her actually impact the way that you interact with her — easier said than done, I know.

  4. Jinxy Says:

    I’d just like to repeat everything Tatiana said.

    Take it easy and be careful.
    I have more to say but its taken me 5 minutes to write this. Lily is fighting her naps today.

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