Last week, as I smeared natural yoghurt all over a sanitary towel with a tea spoon, I had a feeling my life had taken a somewhat undignified turn. I also have a feeling that this is only the beginning. A UTI led to antibiotics, which led to raging thrush, which, along with the burning sensation when weeing and the fiery sensation in my vagina, led to my knew life anthem becoming Alicia Keys’ “This Girl is on Fire”. With question marks over what a pregnant person is allowed to take for thrush, the overwhelming suggestion was natural yoghurt. Something which, I have to say, did not work and which also means I will never be able to enjoy eating said diary product ever, again. Ever. Again.
Since my last post I’ve realised that there isn’t a huge amount of dignity in pregnancy and childbirth, and from what I hear, childrearing too. I am now completely okay with carrying a pot of my own urine around in my handbag. Sometimes I forget it’s in there and if I’m buying a magazine to pass the time in the doctor’s waiting room, end up placing it on the newsagent’s counter whilst rummaging for my wallet. I don’t even stay embarrassed for long when that sort of thing happens. In days gone by I would spend at least six months recalling the moment at random intervals and groaning with unease about the whole thing. Now, it’s forgotten pretty quickly.
Yesterday I had my 20 week scan and didn’t really even flinch as the male radiographer attacked my trouser waist band, shoving tissue paper down there and exposing the shrubberies in my lady garden. I’d had no idea that a scan would involve needing to have one’s bikini line waxed. But whilst Chris was a little alarmed at the scanning process, it didn’t really bother me. I’ve let go of silly things like thinking my vagina is a private place, where private things happen – and I haven’t even gotten to the birth yet!
But it’s all worth it because seeing my baby’s beautiful face on that screen is something I’ll never forget. My heart was beating so fast for the rest of the day. I’ve seen feet and hands and lips and eyes that all belong to the little person I’m growing inside me. It’s the most remarkable feeling in the world. And if dignified behaviour can’t be the reason I walk around with my head held high then that feeling certainly can!
Dignity be damned, I’ve got work to do!