Nobody really prepares you for how long pregnancy feels. Due a little girl in May, co-producer Hannah has had enough. These two humorous poems express their frustrations with the difficulties, double standards and unsolicited advice from conception to birth.
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A Pregnant Pause
“Rest while you can” they say
But I forfeited that right
The moment those two lines told me
What I had both feared and hoped for
“Don’t put too much pressure on yourself” they say
While questions abound
Asking if I’ve painted the nursery
Bought a pram
Kept up with my exercise
Started nesting
Eaten enough fruit and veg
Kept up with friends
Started journaling
Gone to work
Tidied up
And have I tried yoga?
“Follow your cravings,” they say
“But don’t eat too much sugar,
Or tuna
Or mango.
Cook your meat right through.
Sushi is forbidden
A little bit is okay
No pate though
And no liver
There’s too much vitamin A.
My mum drank through her pregnancy,
And well I turned out fine.
But could you risk your child’s wellbeing
For a night on the wine?”
All of it descends at once
And suddenly I know words
Like “subchorionic haemorrhage”
And “hyperemesis gravidarum”
And “gestational diabetes”
And I’m having to make decisions like
Will I consent to having a rod inserted into my cervix
Or would I prefer abdominal surgery?
Judgements are disguised as questions
“You named her without meeting her?”
“You plan to sleep train her?”
“You will return to work before a year?”
“You got vaccinated?”
“You aren’t enjoying the experience?”
“What’s it like being the only person in your friend group to be pregnant?”
“Are you scared?”
Someday
Very soon
I will hold the girl
Whose veins are filled with my blood
And the first thing I will teach her
Will be to pay prying bastards no mind.
Plain Crackers in Bed
First 12 weeks,
What a write-off.
Bent over bowl 5 times a day
My measly offerings to that porcelain alter
They joke
“They call it morning sickness,
But more like any time sickness, amirite?”
A weak nod in response
“More like all the time sickness” I offer.
“You know what helped my mum?”
I can already guess the answer
I mouth along as they triumphantly say
“Plain crackers in bed”
This well-meaning individual may not have known
That boxes of Carrs and Jacobs covered the floor beside my bed, like fallen autumn leaves.
Unable to sit, reaching my arm down the side of the bed, and grabbing the first box I can find.
Chomping on the tasteless, mushy, paste
So dry first thing in the morning.
I turn to my husband and snarl
“I hate plain crackers in bed”
“Would you like some eggs instead?”
Now he’s done it.
I’m up now, sprinting across the landing
Mouth still full of dry cracker paste
Filling up with saliva
Bye bye plain crackers.
They swirl down the bowl.
They make no difference to me at all.
Created by Hannah Kessler
Instagram: @hannahrkay