Sophie Cachia on sex at 40+ weeks: "It's like putting a watermelon through a pin hole."

I think I’ve been avoiding writing this blog. For many reasons, actually. Somehow your first pregnancy drags for what seems like an eternity, yet your second pregnancy is apparently over before you’ve had time to fart. That is until you hit being overdue.

I’m sitting here 160 weeks pregnant and I’m like ‘HOLD UP! What the f-ck just happened?’

I had all of these great plans. My intentions for my blogs were genuine. I had planned to keep you all up to date with my pregnancy via both YouTube and The Young Mummy (TYM) website, but it seemed moving house (interstate!) at roughly 20 weeks pregnant was going to make all of that difficult.

It wasn’t just the move itself… it was the unpacking that I find myself STILL doing. It was the work commitments I had in Melbourne once I returned. It was the massive fundraiser that I organised. It was the total and utter lack of energy and drive I found myself to once I finally did get home.

Yes, I was home. But boy it was hard work.

It was the big fat hole of anxiety I found myself in when I finally began my maternity leave from TYM. I allowed myself the whole of December/January off to just be ‘mum’, expecting bub to arrive around Christmas (pfft, good one f-ck wit) and then enjoy some seriously interrupted weeks at home with just my family.

It’s been an eventful pregnancy, to say the least. I think everyone’s pregnancy runs their own race and has their own story to tell, so I’m certainly not sitting here crying poor and asking for sympathy. I just find being pregnant difficult. But very different to my first.

It’s been shitty at times, yes, but I’ve enjoyed the experience much more. I was happy for it to drag out. I’m now sitting here having being told by my obstetrician that “baby is all ready to go” but yet I’ve been told that since 36 weeks so yesterday I quite literally went ‘shhh…! Zip it!’ to the midwife who started to begin telling me ‘it will be here sooo….’. I feel like I’ve been jinxed by every doctor and midwife so far so I didn’t allow her to finish.

I posted on my Instagram the other week about how it makes me sad to think my second pregnancy is nearly over. Like, how? When? Where did the time go! At that stage, I wasn’t quite ready for it to be over. To be honest, mentally, I’m probably still not. Physically I totally am. I suffered some really bad anxiety and subsequent postnatal depression when Bobby hit about eight months old.

And it wasn’t until recently – upon reading other women’s descriptions of their own anxiety/PND experiences – that I’ve realised how bad I actually was. It’s such a hazy period for me to look back at now… one that has scarred me so deeply but one that I’ve been able to – somewhat – shut off out of my mind. Until recently, that is.

Every fear surrounding another baby brings back those heart palpitations. The leg tingles. The ‘I’m going to spew any second’ feeling that you simply can’t control. The ‘fight or flight’ mode – where 99 per cent of the time – I’d go into flight. Take off. Escape the situation. What I have learnt throughout this is that A LOT of my anxiety stems from my hormone imbalance. I have PCOS and a thyroid condition… so combine those with being pregnant and you have a nice cocktail of ‘I’m a little bit f-cked up at the moment.’

I find being so open about this is my therapy. I find talking about it so freely helps me. Because it’s just crazy how many people are in the same position, and yes ladies, how normal it actually is! I have an amazing therapist saved in my phone ready to go shall alarm bells go off after B2 finally decides to greet us in this world, and I have no shame in admitting I’ll be knocking on her door day one if I need to.

In the meantime, I’m going batshit crazy over here doing sweet f-ck all waiting for this baby. Like I mentioned, we were told to expect an early baby. Well, that didn’t happen did it?

My pregnant ass is bored out of her brains. We could have been down the family beach house for the past two weeks but instead Jaryd, Bobby and I have been just chilling around home… never going to far ‘just in case’. Well f-ck me we could have flown to Hawaii and back and still had time to pack my bag at this rate. But hindsight is a wonderful thing, isn’t it?

Can you tell by my aggressive nature and tone in this piece that I’m ah… over it? Yep. And pleaseeeeee don’t give me the ‘enjoy it now, you’ll be so much more tired when that baby is here.’ This is in fact my second bub so I am well aware that your statements are actually true and meant with great intentions.

However, if you too have sat your fat ass inside for weeks eagerly awaiting your baby only to go overdue, you’ll know that every minute spent in the overdue period is equivalent to a week in hell. They say the last month of your pregnancy goes for what seems like 1236 days, but those days after your due date feel like months in themselves.

It’s painful. Literally. My body is in excruciating pain. Whether or not it’s a big baby, it’s bloody heavy. Is it possible for your vagina to flip inside out and land in the toilet? Because I swear that’s going to happen to me any minute now. And I’m pretty certain that my nipples are so big and dark it looks as if I’ve been bobbing for apples in a tub of fake tan and these big titties of mine have been completely submerged in the tanning liquid.

And do NOT get me started on sex at 40+ weeks. How is it even possible? Firstly, it’s like putting a watermelon in a pinhole due to the pressure of bubs head, and secondly… sex to me is meant to be SEXY. I’m meant to feel fabulous. Although my husband still reassures me that I am (and his downstairs has no issue with this either) I can’t help but feel like he’s rooting a dead warthog. I’m fat, I stink, I’m hairy and I can’t do anything but lay there like a stiff log.

To be honest, I don’t really know the point of this blog. I have no reason for it… there’s nothing other than an overly emotional overdue pregnant lady venting her thoughts without reading them back to herself. Good or bad move? Ah well right now I couldn’t care less.

My son is out with his Pa and Jaryd is working so for the first and last time in probably a VERY long time… I am sitting at my desk in silence and just writing. Such a release. All I need now is some extremely strong alcoholic beverage next to me and I’m sure I would have pulled out some much more entertaining words for you all today. Until then, my dears!

Xxx

P.S I don’t feel comfortable taking castor oil.

This post originally appeared on The Young Mummy and has been republished here with permission.

Read another post from Sophie here, or check out her website, Instagram and Facebook.