Pregnancy is pretty – pretty gross that is

It feels like forever since I gave everyone an update on how my pregnancy was going and unfortunately today, I was painfully reminded of how long it had actually been. So to speak, it was a pain in the ass that reminded me.

For weeks now I have intended to let everyone know the gruesomeness that is my pregnancy but have had better things to do. Now though, with the heat of summer kicking in (and I will never complain about sunshine), I find myself avoiding activities that make me sweat – which is anything that involves moving (seriously, I am like a 250 lbs man playing football on a hot day).

As far as updates go I think I will start out with my shitty day and then work my way backwards (a pun on a pun). Warning! If you don’t want to get to know me very well then I suggest you stop reading now. This blog is totally TMI (too much information).

Today I came to the conclusion that labour is really the worst thing that will ever happen to a woman. Why? Well, labour stories are the only really gross stories that pervious pregnant women pass on to current ones. They pass on lots of stories of aches, pains and cravings and then it is all labour horror – you know the ones where you hear about pooping on the table, people making comments about your lack of weed wacking and the rips and stitches. While I fully agree and believe that labour will by far be the worst and grossest experience ever I feel, it is my civic duty to report a few things that anyone who is pregnant or might get pregnant, or know someone who is pregnant should know.

Since I was not treated gently today, I feel no need to sugar coat things for you. So to put it bluntly, today I had a Q-tip put up my bum... Really... It was part of the Strep B swab, which I thought was exactly that – a swab, not a jab, poke or anything else. Swab sounds comfortable, or at the very least bearable.

The short of the long is that I went to meet the doctor that will be delivering my baby today and while I was there I got this test done. The nurse told me to drop my drawers around my ankles. Unlike a pap I was not draped in a sheet or given a Johnny gown. So I took my skort and undies off and hopped up on the table where she proceeded to swab my who ha and then followed with the poking of the dark dungeon... I didn’t even get to have a smoke afterwards (as is appropriate anytime you have been violated)... The nurse even had the audacity to make a comment about how it was uncomfortable... um hello! Way uncomfortable – a Q-tip in my bum for a longer period of time then it took her to say that is uncomfortable and from where I sat wayyyyyyyyyyyyy too long.

I followed my doctor’s visit with a little bit of retail therapy – I think I really needed a shrink. Although, retail therapy really isn’t what it use to be. I use to spend hours shopping for unnecessary, yet pretty things for myself. Today, I found myself in Walmart buying a blender, followed by a stop at Shopper’s for the super duper pads that I need to pack in my hospital bag (I’m sure I will talk about them more when I tell you about my personal labour story).

Okay so I have covered my swass as well ass in this blog. There is only one more gross thing to tell you about. I will call it my sniffling vag... wait maybe I can think of something cuter to call it??? Um nope... It is pretty icky. For those of you with children you will understand this, but for those of you without them, please take this as my way of giving you a heads up that a day will come when you will wonder if your who ha has a cold.

One night I found myself in the bathroom and after my business the TP got stuck... yes stuck. It stuck to something... I am not a dirty person, so I was a little bit freaked out. It wasn’t like a little got stuck, like the wad got stuck... So I peeled it back and found that my who ha appeared to have a goober... It was actually mucus... EWWWWW.... So I touched it and it stuck to my finger like a big booger that you get at the end of a cold.... a long, thick, sticky one.

Quickly, I went to the bedroom and ripped out my What to Expect When You’re Expecting, looked in the index and found the word MUCUS, it was followed by the word PLUG... So I read it and was sort of reassured that this was supposed to happen...
Meanwhile, I lay in bed next to a sleeping DH, contemplating the situation “the book says it’s normal, but how can THAT be normal?” Too late to call mama bear, or anyone else that I can freely divulge and ask TMI questions, I woke up DH. Poor guy was, among other things, completely disgusted and concerned, asking me if I had cleaned up properly, followed by “so are you in labour now?” to which I responded “no....... I don’t think so.”

The next morning I called a friend who I knew would be awake with her wee one and she reassured me that this is normal (how can it freaking be normal to have a goober coming out of your who ha? Ugh!)... I then left a message for my midwife so that she could call and reassure me again that it was in fact normal, which she kindly did...
Seriously women, do every other woman a favour and when you get pregnant please tell all of those people that have never been pregnant about what pregnancy is really like. I had heard of a mucus plug, but I didn’t understand what it meant... I also did not even imagine that a swab would involve becoming overly acquainted with my new boyfriend, Q-tip. 