But I'm Pregnant!

I am now regretting the decision to not carry our zygote. Despite the pain, the nausea, the constant need to pee and the eating disorder, it seems that you can get away with pretty much anything as long as each sentence ends with "but I'm pregnant".
"Fix the TV!"
"I thought we didn't want a TV in the bedroom, baby."
"But I'm pregnant!"
"Yes dear"

"I would have done the dishes today, but I'm pregnant"
"What's that got to do with the dishes?"
"They smell"
"Yes dear"

The heightened sense of smell is killing me. The pregnant one can smell better than a starving hyena! I have resorted to cooking in the uninhabited cottage at the bottom of the garden, because she can't stand the smell of anything cooking. God help me when we get a tenant...I'll have to rent another house so that I can cook dinner!
She spends most of the day with her T-shirt pulled halfway up her face because the neighbours three blocks up and two over have the audacity to braai when they should know better.
I have to find new and interesting routes to the shops because cars in general are "smelly", so TomTom and I have to discover routes that no other vehicles have ever used and it doesn't matter if it takes two days to get there, just make sure that there are no cars anywhere! And while you're at it, don't hit any bumps! Right....this is of course possible on SA roads....after three months of rain...in speed bump central!!

This sense of smell also dictates what is eaten in our house. Now don't get me wrong, she's not asking for pickles deep fried in peanut butter batter and dipped in Chocolate ice cream or anything, but the food she can eat is generally just white. For two weeks I spent a fortune at Wimpy cos the only thing she would eat was Wimpy Chicken Mayo toasties. We then decided that we could probably stomach something different, so plain bread dipped into Veggie Cup-a-Soup became the flavour of the week, but only if I first removed all the floatie bits! This became lunch and dinner, while breakfast consisted of instant oats (the disgusting Peaches and Cream option!). We have now graduated to Mash, but only if I cook it in the cottage!

To be honest, pregnant women have sometimes got the short end of the stick. Pretty much every website you look at has a list seven pages long of forbidden foods for whatever reason. No Sushi (cause raw fish is bad for you. Tell that to 200 million Japanese women!), no Soft serve (cause you could get Listeria - whatever that is!), no Deli meats (unless you heat them up!) etc, etc. Of course the only things that the wife really wants to eat is Sushi wrapped in Hickory ham washed down with a Steers soft serve! Don't get me wrong, I'm not advocating that pregnant women poison themselves with raw puffer fish, but I do think that some of the things on the lists are a bit ridiculous. I doubt that pregnant women in the fifties gave up eating ham sarmies and I'm pretty sure there were loads of healthy babies born subsequent to the chowing of said sarmies.
Luckily for us, our midwife is "listen-to-your-body" pro.

The result of course is that I now have to take new and interesting routes to find her biltong and anything Granadilla flavoured!

Pregnant Brain

I understand the physiological changes that happen to women during pregnancy. I know, for example, that the uterus expands from an organ that weighs 70g with a cavity space of about 1ml to an organ that weighs more than 1000g that can accumulate a fluid area of almost 20L. What I didn't realise is that the brain also has to make room for this little tyke!
At the best of times, the wife has always had the most entertaining brain. Believe me, she has come up with some pearlers in her time. However, with the addition of the zygote, her brain cells have all packed their bags and relocated to more suitable climates.

From one minute to the next, she completely forgets what it is she's talking about and subjects chop and change at will and God help you if you don't keep up. You could be discussing what to have for dinner and the next sentence has something to do with how viscous the mucus is.
"In the soup???"
"No, silly," eyes rolling like you're the most dense person to walk the face of the planet, "in my uterus! Keep up for heavens sake!"

Another new turn of events is the way she just makes up words for things because in the heat of the moment, she can't for the life of her remember the proper names. Let me give you an example...

Picture the scene: It's about 10pm and we're getting ready for bed. The wife has just been for her seventeenth visit to the WC and is now complaining about this.
"It's like this neverending circle of Fafa!"
"I'm sorry....circle of what??"
"Fafa!"
Cue dumbfounded look on my face.....
"Fafa!! You know, I lie in bed and get sleepy, then I need to pee, so I get up and pee, then I have to wait to get sleepy again, then just as I'm about to fall asleep, I need to pee again... a circle of Fafa."
"And what exactly does Fafa mean??"
"You know....Fafa!!. Just Fafa!"
And the eyes roll again like I'm the densest person around.

The descriptions also get "Krissified".
"How you feeling today, my love?" gets a response similar to "I'm twitchy....and pully". Not quite sure how to take that, but generally nodding and saying something like "I'm so sorry, baby...can I rub your tum?" is normally the right way to go.

Either way, if I don't keep up with the conversation or if I'm not sympathetic enough to the twitchy pullies, I'm generally in a world of Fafa!!