Before I was pregnant I imagined myself in amazing maternity-wear, rocking my belly like Blake Lively all the way up to labour – at which point I would arrive at the hospital in a pair of flattering yoga pants with a messy but fashionable bun in my hair and just the right amount of makeup to look good in photos with my newborn.
WELL. Firstly, I couldn’t even get my big toe into a pair of yoga pants once I hit about sixteen weeks. My belly sat so far forward that people in the street avoided walking in front of me in case I toppled over and crushed them – and my feet had swollen up so badly that I bought thongs two sizes bigger than the ones I already owned. Secondly, I stopped wearing makeup at about 25 weeks because I was so sweaty that it would wear off by the end of the day anyway, and plus I was too tired to lift my hand to my face.
I wore the same dress in two different colours for the last month of my pregnancy, rocked up to the hospital in a pair of $10 Kmart lounge pants, and any hospital selfies I took were so bad that they needed 58 Instagram filters before they could safely be viewed by the human eye. There are some women who will tell you they just loved being pregnant, “it was so beautiful and natural and i’ve never felt so in touch with myself as a woman”.. yeah nup. The only thing I was in touch with was a can of deodorant a week, and way too many donuts.