Riona O Connor - The Unnatural Woman

Actor. Singer. Mother. Songwriter. Vlogger. Blogger. Eater. Pop over to to view more blogs by Riona.

Tuesday, 19 May 2015

8 Weeks To Go - Bum Nuggets & Bedfordshire

32 Weeks Pregnant

Baby size : Pineapple

How I feel : Yoyo-like but rallying!

Poo, shit, kaka, crap, bum nuggets, chocolate bananas, doodoo, faeces, turds, sewer trout. Whatever I decide to call it, I’m going to get close to it, embrace it, become immune to it, be excited by it, be covered in it. Its going to get in my clothes, in my hair, in my couch, in hubby’s beard and most probably in my mouth. Yup, in the next few years I’m literally going to eat shit. This isn’t some lucrative porn business, oh no, it’s just having a baby. My fondness for poo will begin in labour I'm told.  You positively shit yourself while having a baby, and here’s the big news - it ain’t no thing! Midwives love it apparently. When I feel the need to poo I should be delighted as it means baby is close to being OUT. Shitting myself = champagne. Who knew? When those little nuggets of joy pop out they will be followed by my big nugget of joy - baby. Wohoo! Then The Big Turd Immunity of 2015 will really begin. Starting with a sticky black substance called meconium (babies first poo) and followed by years of wiping and cleaning and changing and washing. Yes, the poo phase of my life is about to begin and I must welcome it.

We attended a hypnobirthing course this week. I hadn’t heard of Hypnobirthing before a colleague recommended it, but in a nutshell, it’s a birthing technique where you work with your birthing partner and aim to breathe your baby out using self hypnosis and breathing techniques. I loved the course. Labour need not be painful it suggests. Labour can be a calm and beautiful experience it says. I really want to have this beautiful experience, so we’re doing our homework - the massage, the affirmations, the relaxation exercises, the breathing, the whole shebang! I’ll let you know how it turns out… We stuck up the recommended affirmations around our house. YOU ARE A STRONG AND CAPABLE WOMAN shouts the toilet. ALL THE STRENGTH I NEED IS WITHIN ME barks the fridge. I’m forcing myself to get used to these phrases because as of now, I feel like my fridge and toilet are bullying me. What if I’m not strong? What if I’m not capable? I reserve the right to be a blathering mess goddamnit! It’s at this point I realise the hormones I’ve heard rumours about have finally found me. I feel incredibly vulnerable and incredibly capable all the time, at the same time. They’re co-existing and I’m telling you now, it’s a minefield in here. My mind at the moment - ‘Riona, you could totally climb Everest you heavenly goddess you’... 30 seconds later… ‘FOOOOOOOOL, get your fat arse under that duvet and don’t come out until you’ve eaten all the pringles and dairy milk and have had someone bring you potatoes.’ I’ve had Brene Brown’s TED talks (watch them if you can, they’re amazing) on vulnerability and shame for breakfast, lunch and dinner - as well as chocolate of course, and they are brilliant. My sneaking suspicion is that confidence in life, leads to confidence in birth so I’m working my bum off to make that happen. There have been some interesting obstacles, for example I’ve had a few insults wrapped up in friendly laughter this week. We all know these little phrases. ‘Haha remember when you wore THAT dress, oh it was lovely but, haha it was so different haha’. I didn’t even know the ‘dress’ was up for debate or discussion, and to channel Carrie Bradshaw, it was ‘fabulous’, so feck off. I’m not sure why some people feel the need to put others back in their boxes. Well, I’ve not had an overconfident day in my life so if I’ve managed to fool some feckers into thinking I’m too big for my boots, I’m going to take that as a sign of success with a modicum of wohoo! and a pinch of screw you!!!

This week I also found myself half naked in a room with ten techy men with lots of hair. Now, in my student days this would have sent me into a horny sex fuelled frenzy. Hairy techy men are my thing. So there I was, lying down on a luxurious carpet, trying to be all nonchalant about it all, with the sexy hairy techies bringing me pillows and water and making sure my every need was catered for. Oh god it was good. The sex fantasy was rudely interrupted by the reality of my glistening naked bump being stared at by all. Hubby and I somehow managed to fool a big company into employing us to be ‘happy pregnant couple’ in a commercial! One of these sexy hairy techies was my non actor husband who had to pretend to feel baby move for the first time. He valiantly held his own in front of a big production team by channelling Jeff Goldblum when he first saw those dinosaurs in Jurassic Park. It was big people, it was big. I’m hoping we’ll get to see him in all his acting glory (I was more the background figure, the baby vessel) on telly. It would make me laugh certainly (as long as I don’t look like a beached whale, then I’ll cry) and also pay for this (tiny) car we need when we move to the country.

Yes! We get the keys to our new house TOMORROW. We’re about to become homeowners. I daren’t say it out loud, because….

Donovan : ‘As you can see now Dr Jones, we’re on the verge of completing a quest… we’re just one step away’
Indiana : ‘That’s usually when the ground falls out from underneath your feet’.

So, we MIGHT be moving outside of London this week - only 40 minutes mind you but it’s not my beloved London is it? It’s Bedfordshire for crying out loud! I thought this was somewhere Bridget Jones had made up. Now I’m going to (maybe!) live there, on a quiet country road where we know zero people. Zero. We’re going to have to be SOCIAL. The introverts among you will understand this pain. We’ll have to speak to strangers, constantly, everyday, in REAL LIFE. We’re going to join all the groups we can but it’s a conundrum when you’re half introvert half extrovert like me and the hubby. I crave people, friends, contact, community, interaction, chat, but the creation of really good friends is a long process. I don’t really make instant friends unless I’m wankered in a toilet at 3 in the morning, then all bets are off and we bond over crazy men, tampon needs and vomit and we exchange numbers and can’t believe how fantastic we are. However the one’s I do make sans whiskey and wine over time - they last. Pretty much forever so far, and yes they’re all amazing, I’m riddled with them, the bastards are just not in Bedfordshire!

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