Not for the easily offended

This (an extract from the book 'Skinny Bitch') made me choke on my saliva:

Go suck your mother's tits. The perfect line.


I'm writing this from the nail salon. I'm having a mani/pedi and I couldn't be happier. If you said to me you HAVE to go through another pregnancy but could have a mani/pedi twice a week then I'd do it. I'd do anything for a pedicure.

Another good nights sleep last night, I think she's finally established the difference between day and night and it's about bloody time. My only grumble today is backache and sore ribs. I wish she'd hurry up and drop, if it gets much worse I'll have to stop wearing a bra and they've already started to sag.

The joys of pregnancy.

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I'm rolling my eyes...

'A positive outlook and cheerful disposition throughout the pregnancy period will ensure a safe pregnancy and healthy baby.'

I cannot print my reply to this...

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'Not long to go now...' everyone keeps bleating. Whatevs.

I am now struggling to walk. I look like a ninety eight year old granny that's messed her granny pants. I'm also weighing in the same as a beach whale so to console myself I just ate two chocolate cupcakes. That will be another 4lb gain. Excellent.

The bump has grown overnight, it's fucking huge. I'm going to start measuring it, if it gets any bigger I shall be housebound until she gets here. I really am struggling with this extra weight which, I guess, is a good thing because it means I'll never be fat.

The reality

At some point everyday I have to pinch myself. Not because I can't believe how amazing my life is but because I can't believe I'm married and pregnant.

This time last year I was living with my boyfriend, I had a wardrobe full of fabulous clothes and shoes and I could go out and get drunk whenever I liked. Now I'm sitting on my bed after hauling myself out of the bath (which took a while), wondering what happened (you don't need to spell it out for me, I know exactly what happened).

I don't like children. They whinge and whine and get dirt on their faces. I like to hiss at them when I'm standing in queues. If I could, I'd flick their ears when they weren't looking (I don't do this before you call social services). I'm a bit like one of those witches out of The Witches (Roald Dahl), actually I'm a lot like those witches.

Babies are just as bad. They cry and pull weird faces and smell like poo all the time. When my brother and sisters were babies I'd blow on their faces so they'd catch their breaths. Ugly little idiots.

So why am I having a baby you ask? I dunno, I just am. It's what you do ain't it. I've got to give my two little nieces (whom I actually adore) a playmate for when I see them and a grandchild for my parents. And anyway, could I really rob the world of my beauty? If she looks anything like me she'll be gorgeous (yes I'm arrogant), as long as she doesn't have my husbands nose (I'm also mean).

It's not as if I'll have to look after her everyday. They have boarding nurseries, right?

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A peaceful nights sleep, could this mean she's calming down now because she wants to come out? Probably not.

My only grumble today (so far) is that I'm in agony with my pelvis. She's putting so much bloody pressure on it, I feel like it's broken. I'm walking like a granny with a football between her knees, not an attractive sight let me tell you.

So far today I have cleaned the floor in the kitchen and dining room and painted the skirting board and door frame in the hall way. I'm having a lunch break (chocolate) and then I shall clean the bathroom (my favourite part of the day).

Yesterday I played with the bottle steriliser to get my head around it, that took all of three minutes. I'm ready for her to arrive now, if she leaves it much longer the whole house will be redecorated by the time she gets here. I know how to make her bottles up, bathe her, change her nappy, wind her...her wardrobe is immaculate, her clothes are washed.

All thats missing is her Royal Highness.

Wrong, again.

I guessed I'd go into labour on 23rd Feb... Hang on, have I told you this already? I can't remember and the computer is off.

Anyway, I got it wrong. Today has consisted of hiccups and pokes in the ribs. That's all. No broken waters. Only Braxton Hicks contractions.

So you'll just have to put up with another moaning rant tomorrow.


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I went to the doctors this morning to get my iron tablet request signed off by the doctor (hello constipation) and told him about my bruised pelvis. He tested my water and whaddaya know? I've got another water infection. My sixth in the past eight months. The bruised pelvis I just have to deal with. He was Dr Tan, possibly the most helpful doctor I've seen (except for Dr Taylor at my old surgery who gave me Codeine on request and when I didn't have any holiday left, signed me off sick for two weeks). Even more helpful than my midwife, Heather, who resembles Heather from Eastenders.

Then it was off to the hospital for a blood test. Didn't get as far as actually having blood taken as I had one of my divvy spaz attacks where I go all dizzy and threaten to pass out. They refused to do it so I've got to go back another day.

Now I feel like crap after going back to bed for a couple of hours so I'm sitting on the sofa feeling sorry for myself.

Someone bring me a life-sized bar of fruit and nut, a two litre bottle of coke and a bath sponge...

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I've been vile to him today. Really vile. He would probably argue that I'm vile most days but this evening I've been in a major strop. I've been in agony all day, tired, bruised and nothing has made it better. Especially not 'you haven't got long left' which I've heard at least twelve times today.

That's the thing with pregnancy, you can't really control your moods. Some may try and succeed but being quite an emotional person anyway, quadruple this then multiply by a thousand and you have a ticking time bomb that continues to wind itself up and set itself alight time and time again.

Alright, I'm not the only pregnant woman in the world. But this is my pregnancy and it's about me, not how Sally down the road is handling her pregnancy and how calm she is. I don't care how your friend found it easy or had the most wonderful experience. If you telling me this took the pain away then I might be interested but it can't and won't. I'm just going to keep suffering...

Looking back at previous posts I have bashed him a bit. He really has been wonderful even though he hasn't really done anything to make this easier (he has tried). I guess just not walking out on me has made it slightly bearable (yes, I have been that vile). I really should at least try not to be so mean although when you feel like complete crap, being nice isn't the easiest thing to do.

I'll just have to remember that there will be plenty of opportunity to get him back for all my suffering once the baby gets here. It's only fair.


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Well that curry was a huge mistake, she didn't settle down until four this morning and then woke up again at seven. I won't be eating spicy food again in a hurry.

I went to get my hair made all pretty this morning, my hairdresser only lives twenty minutes from me so I walked as I thought the fresh air would wake me up. What really woke me up was the actual pain of walking. The pressure on my pelvis has got so strong, walking has become very painful. I've been told it will get worse which fucked me right off, four weeks left of this? I cannot sit on my arse for the rest of my pregnancy, this will cause it to spread and it's large enough already. How can I make this go faster when all I can do to be comfortable is sit down?

I need one of those granny carts.
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Violence isn't the answer...

I had a curry earlier, it was very spicy. Is that how you spell spicy because it doesn't look right and spell check said it's correct? Anyway I know she won't be coming anytime soon (yes I've finally got over it) so in case you were wondering, that isn't the reason why I had curry. I regret it. Deeply.

From the second mouthful she had kicked off, literally. After a peaceful few days, she's back with a vengeance. At one point I do believe her foot got stuck in between my ribs. She hasn't stopped jabbing and kicking since I had my dinner, it's painful and I want to cry. She won't settle. I've tried rocking, patting, rubbing, eating lollies, drinking water.... She won't give in. The little fucker refuses to stay still. I think I've realised she doesn't like spice. I'm going to be up all night so expect a raging post tomorrow.

Oooowwwwwwwwwwwww it hurts. Her foot is sticking out of my ribs. I'm going to vom...

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I was supposed to be getting my bloods done today but after a funny turn last night I've been ordered to spend the day resting. I haven't cleaned the bathroom (yet) or hoovered (tomorrow) but I have managed two loads of laundry. Mwauahahaha.

This afternoon I shall watch an old black and white film. After last weeks 'Roman Holiday' with the handsome Mr Peck, I've decided to go back to black (and white) as I find them much more romantic than the crappy rom coms of today. We're getting Sky soon to go with the vulgar TV currently invading our lounge and they're supposed to show the classics but I won't tell the husband I'm excited about this.

The baby slept all night, stirring occasionally but again I was restless. I woke up drenched at one point which made me do a bit of sick in my mouth.

Oh my god I've just switched the TV onto channel 4 and Gregory Peck is staring at me. Gotta go...

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What to REALLY expect when you're expecting...

It's sad that women feel the need to lie about how their pregnancy was for them. I've heard women say how joyful it was, how they loved every moment. And then they read my blog and admitted that what they had previously said was utter bollocks and that their pregnancy was the same as mine. They just felt under pressure from friends, family and midwives to have the perfect pregnancy and anything other than perfect was not allowed. How they felt ashamed to say how it really was because they should be blessed that they're able to have children. And I completely agree with that last part. For all my moans and groans, deep down inside I do feel blessed. I just refuse to be pressured into pretending this has been wonderful because it's been hell.

I said from the start I wasn't going to sugar coat it so if you're squeamish or don't want to know how pregnancy has really affected me, DO NOT read on...

The hardest part was the morning sickness. It didn't hit me until I was about six weeks into the pregnancy and although I was never sick, the nausea was overwhelming. There were days when I couldn't get out of bed, it was worse than any hangover and I have experienced hangovers that not even the most hardcore of drinkers could handle. I couldn't eat except for dry crackers and the odd banana and no matter how much water I drank, I still ended up in hospital with a water infection and dehydration at eight weeks.

That settled down at fourteen weeks and was replaced with the constant need to pee. There were nights where I'd get up no less than sixteen times (no exaggeration) and of course this was followed by severe tiredness the next day. I'm a huge fan of sleep and from week fourteen it was all over for me. It's been broken sleep ever since.

Week sixteen saw a quick fall down the stairs which woke the baby up. Since then she's been kicking off for the majority of her stay inside, it's only now that she's started to limit her violence to a few times a day.

Then there's the wind (burps and bum noises), the constipation, piles, nosebleeds, more tiredness, extreme grumpiness, tourettes (yes my swearing was bad before but now....jeez) which includes wanting to tell everyone to fuck off, the inability to put on your shoes/tie your laces/paint your toenails, sneezing and wetting yourself (yes, I've been doing my pelvic exercises), waking up feeling like you've been kicked in the ladyparts, the dizziness, being prodded by the midwife, the internal exams (that fucking duck beak), blood tests, spots, runny nose, people assuming you're ill just because you're pregnant, the phrase 'you haven't got long left', catching yourself waddling, not being able to eat chocolate mousse, indigestion and heartburn, massive boobs, sore ribs......sob, I could go on forever.

But then I have yet to experience childbirth although I'm not sure, in fact I'm adamant that I won't be experiencing pregnancy again...
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She slept all night again last night, it would have been bliss except for the fact I couldn't get comfortable and then when I did dose off, I woke myself up dribbling. Very sexy Charlotte.

We spent the day in Portsmouth with my ginger best friend and her boyfriend, eating and walking and drinking tea. I got jacked up on candy floss and somehow ended with it up my nose. It was all very civilised until the dog farted on gingers lap...

After a lovely day laughing, I'm truly shattered. I think it's sunk in that I have four weeks and a few days left (or three days left if it was up to me) and my body has realised that all this faffing about has to stop. I don't have the energy to clean the bathroom three times a day anymore which breaks my heart as how else do I get my Flash bathroom spray kick without inhaling it from the bottle?! I can't even walk up the stairs without sitting down for five minutes. This pregnancy has finally taken its toll. I do believe it is time for me to start winding down before all hell breaks loose (and if she's anything like me, it will). The question is...what am I supposed to do?


Five weeks left (five days if I could have my own way). I slept like a baby last night and for once I slept like my baby, she hardly stirred which meant apart from a few trips to the loo I slept blissfully.

Today I am cleaning (yes I do it everyday) and the husband appears to be 'nesting' which is really quite sweet. He has spent the morning tidying out the garage and taking stuff to the tip and he has a few things to put up in the baby's room. It's the most productive he's been without me nagging him so I'm letting him get on with it. I'm not sure whether this is part of his nervous breakdown or not, he might not actually be 'nesting' but frantically keeping busy so as not to think of the impending event. Either way, it gets things done.

I can hear him sweeping up in the garage. Ha ha! I had better go and make him a cup of tea. Now where did I put that Valium...

No, seriously...

How the hell am I going to push her out?

Nervous breakdown

Last night we went to Lakeside (the shopping mecca of Essex). We needed to get a chest of drawers for the baby's room anyway but it was his idea to go so soon. And yes, him being a man (obviously), he had his reasons and one of them was not IKEA.

No. His main reason being, he wanted to buy a new TV. Other than ours being on the slightly small side, there was nothing wrong with it. You could watch it happily without squinting. I thought maybe he wanted to upgrade to a 32 inch or whatever the norm is these days. Turns out the norm is 40. Forty fucking inches of television. Now please tell me why you'd need a TV this big? It just looks ridiculous. He is clearly heading for a nervous breakdown, he's reached thirty and has realised the enormity of having a baby, is about to start a new job and has an ever increasing neurotic wife. That has nervous breakdown written all over it.

Whilst his was messing around with his new bit of stuff, I built the chest of drawers. That's right, I built them. A heavily pregnant, tired, aching, mess of a woman sat there and built the drawers. And I did it properly. With a screwdriver. I broke a few nails and gained a few scratches along the way and boy did my feet ache after. Now surely that deserves a manicure and pedicure, DOESN'T IT? (I know you read this. The answer to my question is yes. Unless of course you want me to add to your list of reasons why you're heading for a nervous breakdown?!)


The baby slept all night last night. All night. Did I sleep well? No I did not. I couldn't get comfortable then I was too hot. Then when I finally did get to sleep I woke up thinking I was dead. I had excruciating stomach cramps and a horrid backache, I was convinced I had died but then I felt her move and realised that I was, in fact, still alive. I don't think falling asleep wondering how the hell I was going to push her out helped. For those of you who do not know me, I'm quite small. Five foot hardly anything with a tiny waist (large hips though, but still...) and I'm not exactly large in the pelvic area either. How am I supposed to push her out without breaking myself in two? I'm actually petrified, horrified at the thought. Cringing at the pain that's yet to come. The word 'tear' (not tear as in cry, tear as in rip) makes me want to vomit. What on Earth have I let myself in for? I was going to avoid an Epidural but I'd like one right now, please.


Another day, another moan. Today I feel like I've been kicked really hard between the legs, apparently due to the ever increasing pressure the baby is putting on my lady parts. She hasn't dropped yet though so no sign of going into labour anytime soon. Hmpf.

I'm actually waddling more and more like a duck everyday, it's quite embarrassing. I just waddled home from seeing my Nan after my appointment with the midwife (I got some strange looks from passers by and had to keep rubbing my bump so they could see I hadn't actually shit myself, I am in fact pregnant), which went like this...

Blood pressure - fine.
Urine test - fine.
Baby's heartbeat - fine.
Measure bump - 31cm (oh yeah, I'm small...)
You need to get your bloods done.
Any questions? No.
Ok see you in two weeks, bye.

They like a chat don't they.

I'm off to clean the bathroom.


Would you like to see a post where I am hormonal/angry/raging/taking it out on the opposite sex/being sexist etc? You would? Oh jolly good, better keep on reading then...

Tonight I had dinner with my Dad and the man I married. Two men that I don't care much for right now. Whilst one sat there and ripped me apart for voicing my feelings, the other sat there and let them do it. And do you know what one of the main themes running through this argument was? Sexism.

Now I agree everyone can be sexist every now and then so I feel like it's my turn, you can blame it on the hormones or you can not. I don't really give a shit. I'm going to say it anyway and you can like it or leave it.

For the last eight months or so, I have carried a baby. I have given up my body, which is a totally selfless act (for me anyway, seeings as I used to be the most selfish person I knew), and taken everything Mother Nature has thrown at me. Alright, I have moaned about it but I feel I am entitled to seeings as I've decided to do something as big as this and anyway, it really hasn't been easy. Now please tell me, do you think a man could ever understand what it is a woman goes through when she's pregnant? They can read about it and bear the brunt of the mood swings but they can never know how it really feels to be pregnant. When I wasn't paralysed with morning sickness in bed, I was trying to find the energy to live. When I wasn't in hospital with a water infection or having a doctor or midwife prod me to the point where I thought I was going to pass out, I was sat on the stairs sobbing because the old me had died and I felt so alone. Some days I'd think about going to the shops to buy a bottle of vodka, on others I'd look at baby clothes on the Internet and go all fuzzy inside. A few times I wished I'd never met the man whose baby I was carrying. I thought about jumping in front of train, running away and sometimes just not being pregnant anymore. My hormones were all over the place, they still are.

Some people will say that I was 'off my head' before I was pregnant and that may be so, but don't tell me I need to see a shrink when I'm five weeks away from my due date and completely petrified that this baby is going to change my life so much that I drown in fear. And don't fucking sit there and let that person say it. How about you wrap me up in cotton wool? No? What, don't I deserve it? Do I deserve to feel like this then? I gave up the lifestyle I was quite happily engrossed in because I fell pregnant. I said goodbye to a huge part of my life and what do I get in return? A foot rub? Not having to cook for one night? Help with the hoovering? Why don't you fuck off. If a man really knew what it felt like to be pregnant, to wrestle with your hormones everyday, to use all your strength not to tell everyone to go to hell, they certainly wouldn't ask you if you wanted a foot rub.

This brings me on to a very controversial and sexist point - Women are superior to men. Make of that what you will, burn me at the stake. But I'd like to see a man survive nine months of pregnancy, get mocked because of your raging hormones and be offered a foot rub...

P.S Asking if you can bring your pregnant wife anything will only be answered with a) Jude Law, b) a divorce or c) some forceps.


It took me a while to remember how pregnant I was then, that's baby brain for you.

Well my waters still haven't broken, even after eating a whole bag of mint humbugs although thinking about that now...she's going to be bouncing off my uterus walls shortly. Bugger.

I slept ok last night (aside from the husband snoring - he was allowed back in our bed for one night only...because my brother stayed over, not for any other reason) but was violently awoken at 8am with another one of those vomit inducing kicks. It's all about sore ribs today, wearing a bra is super painful but without one...well, lets not go there. I should probably book the boob job now.

That's all there is to report really, just another day gone by without any sign that she's coming out soon. I did sneeze earlier and half wet myself, that's about as exciting at this day has been. I had better start my pelvic floor exercises I guess...

Real love (alright it was acting, but still...)

In between washing more baby clothes and disinfecting everything in the kitchen (the whole house smells of Milton sterilising fluid now, better than paint I guess), I watched 'Roman Holiday'. I'm a bit of a sucker for old romance (bet you'd never guess that) and even though I hadn't a clue about the storyline, I found myself engrossed after five minutes.

I won't tell you what it's about, if you want to know then watch it. I will tell you that it made my heart warm and fuzzy, more so than any rom com ever has, and I'm now in love with the late Gregory Peck. If you want to know what love really looks like, just notice how he looks at Audrey Hepburn. Even the baby stopped moving and that is not a regular occurence these days...


I'm well rested today, I managed about seven hours sleep on and off. At one point when I got up to go to the toilet it felt like she was about to drop out of me, I don't know if that means I've 'lightened' but I guess I'll find out when I see the midwife on Thursday.

She's back on form this morning, kicking my ribs and prodding my bladder which is fantastic. I thought maybe she was going to calm down from now on but who am I kidding? She is my daughter after all.

I watched 'One Born Every Minute' last night and I must say I was pretty shocked at some of the girls on there. I thought I could scream and shout but jesus! It made me feel slightly better about myself although I must work on my swearing as unless the midwife really fucks me off I don't really want to call her a stupid old arsebag (I'll call her worse than that but it's a bit too early in the day for my x-rated potty mouth). That woman's Mother who said she wasn't allowed to have Pethadine?? If my Mum says that to me I'll knock her out. I'm epidural all the way after speaking to a few others who have done it before, I've put up with enough shit from this baby and I refuse to go through any more pain unnecessarily.

I have been thinking about how I've been feeling for the last thirty four weeks and decided that I'd rather live with an eternal hangover than do this again. And that is exactly what I shall do once I am no longer +1.

Valentines? What is that?

Today I feel like a complete lump. On a day that focuses on love and the other business, I couldn't be less sexy or in the mood for being a loving wife if you paid me (yes, I know that's prostitution). Backache, stomach cramps, heavy boobs, sore ribs and the feeling that my uterus might just fall out put me in the mood for a number of things: a hot bath, a vodka tonic, some strong painkillers, a foot rub and a hot water bottle. Hardly romantic or sexy.

I tried to practise sexy this morning: I pouted and did a burp, started strutting and ended up waddling, sprayed perfume in my eye, seductively ate a banana that gave me heartburn and ended up settling for a huge pair of granny pants and the most unflattering bra I have ever seen.

Someone please tell me how sexy works when you're nearly eight months pregnant?


Last night she stopped moving at 3am. I slept until 6:30 and then got a kick so hard in the ribs it made me gag. Finally, at 8:30 she had stopped moving again so I went back to sleep until 10am.

I'm still tired and very ratty. Today I'm on the hunt for the spiciest curry paste I can find. I don't care if I still have six weeks left, I want her out. I've given myself until 23rd February and after that, well I haven't thought that far ahead.

This pregnancy has completely drained me. Don't tell me once she's out I'll forget all about it, because I won't. And don't tell me once she's out I'll want her back in because I most certainly will not.

Now, where's that bottle of castor oil?

Slowly going insane...

She's still moving around in there and I'm still in a foul mood. The labour ward tour was dull and every mother that arrived for it seemed like the Earth kind and we all know I'm not down with that shit. The husband was in one of his annoying moods and it took all my strength (and I haven't got much of that at the moment) not to grab a pair of forceps and shove them up his arse. I learnt nothing new, they just reiterated the fact that they frowned upon those that decided not to breastfeed. I've let that one lie until I give birth, I'll row with them then if they want to raise their eyebrows in disbelief. Idiots.

I think I just saw a midget do a cartwheel in the kitchen. Or I've started to hallucinate due to extreme exhaustion. One of those...

Oh Jesus...

I've just read something that has made me giggle. I know I'm supposed to be mature and grown up seeings as I'm now married and pregnant etc but lets be honest, that will never happen.

Here you go:

"Just six weeks to go before you reach your due date, so you should be aware that studies have shown that daily perineal massage is most effective in helping pre-stretch and prepare your perineal tissues for birth if started six weeks before birth. Just five to ten minutes each day can help to lower the chance of you needing an episiotomy or tearing during the pushing stage of labour, so at 34 weeks it's truly time to trim your thumbnails and stop procrastinating!"

I have read about this before but the bit that made me laugh was 'It's truly time to trim your thumbnails and stop procrastinating!' Ahahahahahahahah! I'm off to trim my nails! (That is a joke)


I don't think I have it in me to rant this morning. Lets see...

The baby has been awake since 5pm yesterday. I have had about an hour sleep (in ten minute sections). No amount of rocking, tummy rubbing or tossing and turning could get her to settle. At one point I thought about having a drink then I remembered I was on antibiotics. I got so desperate at 5am I thought about throwing myself down the stairs (drastic, I know, but when in pain and sleep deprived...I'm not going to lie). I am in a royal grump this morning: my legs ache, my ribs hurt, my eyes sting. And what has made it worse is another stupid email:

"Your baby is running out of space in which to move about..." No she isn't, in fact she's moving more now than ever and I know it's because she's getting stronger but come on...this is just taking the piss.

Anyway, I'm up and dressed and I've had my Coco Pops. I just need to try and send her to sleep before we get to the hospital at one (labour ward tour) otherwise I'll bribe the midwives to get her out of me today. And that is not a joke.

It's not ALL bad (just most of it)...

There are some positives to being pregnant (and remember - these are my views, every pregnancy differs). You can burp like a man and blame it on the baby, your boobs get considerably bigger and attract a lot of glances from the opposite sex (although after a while the veins on your boobs resemble a road map, you can see the M25 on mine), when you cry at nothing one minute and scream your head off about nothing the next minute you can say it's your hormones (you can practically blame everything and anything on your hormones and the baby).

When you first feel the baby move it makes you smile the biggest smile possible (even if you have a black heart like me), the first kick, the first hiccup, even the first jab in the ribs...knowing an actual person is growing inside you makes you so proud (although after the first few rib kicks you forget about being proud and just want to jab the little devil child back).

You get a seat on the tube/bus/train (only if your bump is visible), although there are some rude arseholes out there (men mostly) that ignore the fact you are carrying a child. And old people still think they have priority over you which drives me mad.

I'm struggling here, there must be

You can have that extra slice of cake if you want it (although don't go overboard unless you want your arse to quadruple in size), get away with eating four Vimto ice lollies in one go and send your other half out to Tesco express at 11pm to get you some chocolate.

Pedicures! Ah pedicures. You soon get to the stage where you can't paint your own toenails so a pedicure is the perfect excuse to keep your feet looking pretty. And whilst you're there, you may as well get a manicure. Courtesy of whoever got you up the duff, naturally.

You get to palm some of the housework off on other people, especially the hoovering or taking the rubbish out or bathing the dog. Although he is yet to do the ironing.

You're allowed to sleep in until 1pm if you wish, because by jesus do you need to. The baby sucks the life out of you, especially during the first and last trimesters. Some people (men) will call you lazy but sleep is so important, and anyway what the hell do they know? Unless they've been pregnant themselves they really can't comment.

Every spa has mother-to-be treatments now so that's another perfect excuse to be pampered!

Just the whole 'I'm pregnant' line in general. It can get you out of so much and why shouldn't it? You're growing a little person inside of you, your body is working overtime all the time and as soon as it's time for you to pop it out, well that's when the madness really begins...


34 weeks pregnant, oh the joy.

I shall tell you what has got right on my goat this morning shall I? Two emails I received from two different companies (these companies claim they help you throughout your pregnancy) of which I shall quote two different extracts....(beware - lots of swearing. From me not them, stupid.)

"Hi Charlotte. You are now in week 34! (am I? Well I never) Your brilliant baby (Brilliant?!) has been spending time asleep and awake for a while. (You have got to be fucking kidding me. Do these people think I'm stupid? I've felt her awake since I fell down the stairs and woke her up at week 16) She can also hear. (ah good, she'll know that she has a lot to answer for when she gets out then)"

"Dear Charlotte, you are now 34 weeks pregnant (I don't need reminding, thank you) and here's your update...Once your baby is engaged (head down, further into the birth canal for those that don't know), you can feel a little uncomfortable - (this rendered me speechless, a little uncomfortable???? Just a little? From when her head has engaged? I've been uncomfortable for the past fucking seven and a half months) it might make you waddle a bit (A BIT?). Having difficulty seeing and reaching your feet? (No, I can touch my toes you idiot...yes I haven't seen my feet for a while) How about a relaxing pedicure? (That would be nice seeings as I can't even tie my own fucking shoe laces)"

So you see, receiving stupid emails like that first thing in the morning after no sleep really does not help an already irate pregnant lady. Telling her something she already knows? How is that 'helping' me through my pregnancy?

I'm off to eat cake and be a grump for the rest of the day. Bye.


I had it earlier in between coco pops at breakfast and eating four mint penguins and a hot cross bun at lunch (don't raise your eyebrows at my diet). It burns. It doesn't really burn my heart though, that is as black as the night, it just burns my chest. It's a bit like doing a shot of vodka. Except you don't get drunk and it still burns after five minutes. So it's not like doing a shot of vodka at all.

Then it stopped. Now it's back again. It's either the bowl of chilli I had for tea or the four Vimto ice lollies I ate after. Either way, now I'm back on antibiotics I'm not sure if I'm allowed to take any heartburn remedies so I'm going to have to suffer. Oh well, what's six weeks compared to the last seven and a half fucking months?

Just another thing you have to contend with when you're pregnant unless, of course, you're one of these smug mothers that won't suffer in the slightest during your pregnancy. I know a few of those. Although they do say the harder the pregnancy the easier the baby so the last laugh may be on me...

P.S Something that has nothing to do with heartburn... my husband gave me a lovely necklace from Daisy Knights this evening (early valentines present), it's a hip new jewellery label (alright, hip sounds cheesy but when I fell pregnant I lost the fashion lingo) so if you're down with the kids (or at least think you are) go and have a look and buy something.

Flash bathroom spray

I have a bit of an addiction to it. It says 'DO NOT INHALE' on the back of the bottle.

I went out earlier and took a bottle of it in my bag. Now before you judge me as an addict, it was for cleaning purposes obviously. The nesting instinct has well and truly kicked in and anyway, I help my bachelor Dad out by giving his pad a bit of a clean every now and then. He uses Cif to clean. Cif. Yeah, that's what I thought. I wasn't having any of that so I took my own cleaning products and sponge (I am quite particular about which sponge I use for cleaning).

By the time I had finished the bathroom (and this isn't even an exaggeration) there was just over half a bottle left. Not because his bathroom was dirty, but because I needed my fix.

It doesn't matter though, it's three bottles for £2 in the supermarket at the minute and it sent the baby to sleep...

33 + 6

Well I had an exciting evening last night. Three bottles of Flash cleaning spray for £2. What a bargain! Then at 10pm, when I couldn't take the pain any longer, I called the mid-wife. Now I expected her to tell me to stop being a wuss, take two more paracetamol and go to bed but she said I should go in to be checked over. Cue a massive groan.

My first thought was, is my hospital bag properly packed just in case, followed by I'm too tired to actually care. I grabbed my notes and off we went. I knew what was coming - urine sample, monitor baby's heart ('oh your baby is very excitable!' Excuse me? Excitable? She had better calm the fuck down then because she has eighteen years of misery ahead of her) and any contractions I may be having, a long wait and then the doctor and her dreaded duck contraption. Now I don't know what the technical term for this is, but any woman who has had an internal examination will know what I mean. It looks like a ducks beak, they use it to open you up and it fucking hurts. Any man may think that it is quite enjoyable, any sick man that is. It isn't. Imagine having an internal exam in your willy, using tweezers to open the hole up. Yeah. That.

By 1am we were home, me clutching a box of antibiotics (suspected water infection although that wasn't confirmed by the urine sample, they 'wanted to cover all bases'), him clutching at straws. I think I've turned him into a nervous wreck, nothing more than he deserves for getting me into this state. Yes it takes two to tango, but shut up.

By 4am she had calmed down and I managed to get some sleep.

Now she's awake again and shit do I know it.


I have spent the day in pain. Yes I have moaned about it to pretty much everyone, including all on Twitter, and have I had an ounce of sympathy? No I bloody haven't. A few 'oh well you haven't got long left, have you' which was met with a silent 'oh fuck off'.

Not only have I had backache and stomach cramps to contend with, She has kicked the shit out of my insides so my ribs are considerably more bruised that what they were this morning. I don't think she likes pineapple.

Anyway, I have only just swallowed a couple of painkillers as I was trying not to be a wuss ('you'll be in a lot more pain when you're in labour' - er...did I ask you?) and they have yet to kick in. A slow walk around the supermarket may help as, according to my earth mother mid-wife, walking solves all aches and pains. It doesn't, I tried this at the beginning of the week when I had cramps and the result was me walking like I had shit myself. It makes it worse, you walk slow and then you need seven wees. I'm only going to the supermarket to buy some more Flash bathroom spray (I have a craving for cleaning products) and a sponge to suck on (not the Victoria kind) and I have run out of Vimto ice lollies (the only food that doesn't give me heartburn).

Is there anything else I have missed out? Hmm, apart from my ladyparts hurting (it feels like I've had sex with a bunch of razorblades), extreme tiredness (although I haven't really moved much today) and the urge to paint the entire house....I'm just dandy.


I got bored of watching TV, I couldn't get comfortable so I put some washing on. Her washing. For someone who hasn't even been born yet she creates an awful lot of it. If you saw her wardrobe, you'd know why. My own fault really, after remembering some of the major faux pas my Mother dressed me in as a baby I'm determined to make everyone well aware that: 1. She is a girl and 2. Her Mother is a bit obsessed with clothes. And shoes. And bags etc. (although if you could see me now, you'd never guess).

Her outfits for the first week have already been washed (they consist of sleepsuits, mainly) as have all her blankets, scratch mittens, crib sheets... Now I just have everything else to wash. Probably another 8 loads worth and seeings as I'm convinced I shall be going into labour within the next few days I had better shake a leg. I'm going to go and eat a pineapple and do a couple of cartwheels...

33 + 5

It's a miserable Thursday morning and I'm....miserable.

After ten hours of broken sleep, I'm exhausted. Now you might all be thinking 'wow, I wish I could have ten hours sleep' but it really isn't like that. Ten hours starts from the moment I get into bed. It usually then take two hours for the baby to settle and stop kicking me in the ribs or elbowing me in the bladder. Once I have dozed off, the next eight hours consist of constant trips to the loo. Each trip leaves me terrified that I'm going to wake her up. If I'm lucky, she won't stir. If, however, the devil child does wake up it means another hour or so trying to settle her back to sleep. This involves rocking my entire body from side to side. It doesn't always work. If she doesn't want to go back to sleep (and she rarely does) then I have to suffer with each kick or nudge. If you haven't been pregnant before then you may be thinking 'meh, it can't be that bad - she's obviously just a misery' but believe me, each kick makes me want to spew everywhere. It's possibly the most uncomfortable one can be (maybe except from having a rolling pin shoved up your arse but I've never experienced that so I can't compare). If you have been pregnant and have only experienced a pain free, wonderful, peaceful pregnancy then lucky you. I bet you're sitting there smugly reading this aren't you? I bet you're a right earth mother. Well, fuck off.

So I've had my coco pops and I'm now watching This Morning. I have a really bad backache and stomach cramps. I also feel, at some point today, I will need to go to the toilet with the runs (nobody said I was going to sugar coat this - oh no, you want to know what it's like so I'm going to tell you EVERYTHING in as much detail as I can). Now these three symptoms could well be the onset of early labour. I'm hoping that they are (I'm convinced she will be early) but she's probably just playing up because that is what she does. I want this little being out of me, she has caused nothing but trouble since day one. Of course I'll forget about all of the bad stuff once she's out (no I fucking won't) and be overwhelmed with love, sure. But in reality I have another six weeks left and I'm not sure how much more I can take.

Watch this space...