End is nigh for long lies and free time

I’M AT the stage of pregnancy where sleepless nights have pretty much become the norm.

“It’ll be good practice for what’s about to come,” laugh the matriarchs in my family.

They’re very supportive of me, they just seem to find it amusing that the end is nigh on life as I knew it before, my long lies and my free time.

I’m seven months pregnant now and officially in my third trimester as of Monday.

I’m an ever-expanding but proud vessel to a rapidly growing, living creature with a superstylish winter wardrobe assembled already despite the fact he’s not even born yet.

Last week he was the size of a head of cauliflower and this week he’s apparently more like an aubergine.

What I’ll never get over about pregnancy is the stuff they don’t tell you, or should I say the common knowledge we block out until we’re having to face it ourselves.

My main physical concerns at the start of all this centred on stretch marks, the dark line women get on their bump and my belly button popping from an “inny” to an “outy”.

So far, I’ve avoided all three but I’m aware what can happen in eight weeks.

What I didn’t know was in store (to list just a few things) was the heartburn and an inability to get a decent sleep from about five months.

Reasons for this include the crippling anxiety that now wakes me in the wee small hours of every morning (when I enjoy tormenting myself with helpful questions like “What am I doing?”, “How will I look after someone else when I can barely look after myself?” and “Shouldn’t I be reading some books about all this by now?”).

There’s also the overbearing and frequent need to go to the toilet all the time.

But as I lie here at the crack of dawn yet again, I’m simply reminiscing about the good old days when I could be vertical for a few hours without my hands swelling up to twice the size of rugby balls.

The days when I didn’t wake up in agony at the pain ripping through my fingers because I’d had the audacity to have a lie down (not on my back mind, I’ve not been allowed that luxury since August, I’m strictly a side sleeper now).

I don’t wish to sound like a drama queen but I will proceed knowing I do, nonetheless. And I must have it be known that carpal tunnel syndrome is a particularly underrated and torturous medical condition that must absolutely terrorise the poor sods who are stuck with it for life. I myself am hoping it’s a temporary issue for me, but we’ll find out in February if that’s the case.

By then though, I guess these swollen hands will have a lot more to deal with. And you can all look forward to my columns lamenting the loss of these luxurious sleepless nights back in November when all I had to worry about was a bit of carpal tunnel syndrome.