It’s Not Your Vagina… An angry toddler-mummy’s guide to second pregnancy

This post (or at least a slightly less naughty version of this post… *sniggers*) originally appeared as a guest post on Mumsnet, and you can read that version here… The slightly juicier version is below… I know you cheeky minxes won’t be able to resist… *winks* 

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That’s right.
You read the title correctly.
At almost seven months into my second
pregnancy, I have now become oh too aware that no part of my body is actually my own anymore…
Physically speaking, the toddler has taken
full ownership of any accessible area of skin and/or hair she can do mild
damage to, including the removal of several small yet concerning chunks of
nipple and leaving my vagina like a badly assembled hammock… My husband seems
fairly content with my ever-expanding general breast area… And clearly every
other human person, including those in front of me at the checkout queue in
Waitrose, has ‘bump-rubbing’ rights… which is nice.
Metaphorically speaking, your womb becomes public property the moment you announce
your first uterus-tenant. Now you’re onto the second it’s far worse… the
advice, the questions, the assumptions, the patronising glances from those
women able to manage lipgloss even when it’s not their birthday… Yes, I’m sure it’s not twins… but that
joke is so hilarious and original I nearly gave birth RIGHT HERE IN THE MIDDLE
OF THE SHITTING STREET… and do you know, it hadn’t occurred to me that two
children might be slightly more work than one but thank you so much for
highlighting that, are you free for weddings and Bah Mitzvahs too because you
are A F@*KING BLAST. 
Yes.
Get used to it.
The joys, the unknowing, and the blind optimism
of your first pregnancy are a long and distant memory now… this time around
it’s just restless leg syndrome and a big fat dose of reality ALL the way.
In my last pregnancy, I took baths, read
actual ‘books’ and ‘magazines’ (I know… what the f@*k are they…?), did yoga,
spent weekends planning nursery colour schemes and generally spent time cooing
over the tiny-ness of the tiny clothes and teeny-toys while floating around in
kaftans and shit.
This time around, in-between fending off toddler-related
spaghetti-GBH, I’m mostly just crying and eating enormous pieces of cake like
apples. Giant apples of unrelenting sugary happiness that distract me from the
fact I am now officially the size of Russia. In leggings.
I don’t think I’ve actually brushed my hair
this month… let alone managed a lengthy soak in the tub. And the idea of any
physical exercise after wrestling a potty-training 2-year-old in a mermaid
costume round Debenhams for an hour is a joke…
Aside of the removal of any visible carpet
raisins and actual human faeces, the nursery will be staying exactly as it is right now. And as far
as teeny, tiny cuteness goes…? Well, last week I picked the crusty bits off
some slightly yellowing muslins and babygros at the back of the wardrobe and
used about twelve packets of baby wipes to get the carseat back to an
acceptable standard for human-beings to breath near. A true #win for pro-active
parenting I like to think.
Frankly I’m so busy running around after my
miniature ninja poo-wizard, (she curls
off magical toddler logs which sometimes remain hidden for days… quite a skill…
),
I barely remember I’m pregnant until I go to stand up to quickly and my womb
says ‘Hell No Lady’, and thumps me and my cankles back down to earth. I’m so
angry and hormonal I’d happily cut out and auction off a lung on eBay for a
large gin and tonic most days… and if you made it a triple I’d chuck in the
poo-wizard too…
So far, this pregnancy has mainly consisted
of introducing the toddler to the exciting world of DVDs so that I can micro
nap whilst eating Snickers Bars on the toilet, and discovering that I am now a ‘two at a time’
sausage-and–egg-McMuffin-lady when it comes to Sunday morning visits to those
golden arches…
Yes. I think it’s fair to say that my second
baby-growing-journey may have somewhat lost its magic and mystique… and I will
be counting down the days until my new baby arrives and I can finally get on
with those beautiful first few weeks of projectile shit, sleep deprivation and
split nipples again…
So good luck to any second time mums-to-be
reading this… As this time around, it really is just you, your slightly saggy
hammock vagina and those tutting lipgloss bastards.

#passthegin
#vaginahammock

7 Comments

  1. Steph Douglas September 26, 2014
  2. BabanBach September 26, 2014
  3. Tom @Ideas4Dads (And Mums Too!) September 26, 2014
  4. Californian Mum in London September 26, 2014
  5. kelly Finn September 28, 2014
  6. Mardy Kerrie September 28, 2014
  7. The Brick Castle October 1, 2014

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