Increased security around a Los Angelos hospital sent the Beyhive Twitter into a complete frenzy with speculation that the current high priestess of procreation, Beyonce has given birth to her hotly-anticipated twin babies and I for one am feeling her pain as any mother knows the birth countdown is the absolute WORST.
While the internet loses its mind over the new arrivals – disparate sources (the New York Times reported that DJ Khaled was apparently spreading the word in a Harlem restaurant that “it was a done deal”) have been quoted on the subject of the babies’ arrival – I can’t help but wish everyone would leave her alone. Don’t get me wrong I am excited for Bey’s babas (beybeys?). Well, as excited as I can be about a stranger’s forthcoming progeny but what the whole frenzy has stirred up in me is actually a reminder of just how irritating the whole birth countdown is.
What I’ll never understand is why people feel the need to antagonise the very pregnant. When very pregnant, we are already in a state of extreme discomfort and irritation, so why do friends and family and even random strangers feel the need to goad us?
Nearing the end of my last pregnancy I was getting the ‘still here?’ comment on average about forty times a day. And I didn’t even go over my due date. I was feeling a strong urge to start crowning at people by the 38-week mark. Once you hit the eighth month it can start to feel like you’re about eight years pregnant and being bombarded constantly with questions and cliches does nothing for the mood. Maybe it is just well-meaning strangers trying to make chitchat but seriously ask a heavily pregnant woman about anything other than the bump and I’m sure she’ll thank you. If I ever get knocked up again I’m going to have a tee-shirt made for the final few weeks proclaiming the answers to every single, annoying, repetitive, damn question randomers insist on plaguing us with. Here is the proposed text for my intensely grumpy pregnant lady tee-shirt:
“No, not long now. Yes, I’m excited. No, I don’t know the sex. Yes, I’m very tired. Yes, I’m aware that I don’t know the meaning of tiredness yet. No, it’s not twins (seriously, everyone needs to stop asking this). Yes, I’m sure (seriously it’s 2017 I know how many babies are in there). Yes, I have the bag packed (I don’t but p*ss off I’ll get to it alright). Yes, I’m looking forward to not being pregnant anymore (there is an entire human INSIDE me, I’m going to perform a self-c-section if it doesn’t get out soon).”