There is something that happens when I’m pregnant. A hormonal shift that is beyond anything I experience during the rest of my life. Even worse than me on my period and believe me, that’s truly bad. In pregnancy, I become angry. I mean Hulk levels of anger. I struggle to control it and very frequently I overflow.
Basically, what happens is that something will tick me off, something small, to anyone else it would be insignificant and then I become a ticking time bomb. The chain of events has begun and all it takes is anyone or anything doing something vaguely annoying/frustrating and I explode. Imagine Donald Duck with steam coming out of his ears. I begin to rant and rage, I behave appallingly and seem unable to cool back down until eventually I burst into painful tears.
Why is this particularly bad? Because it turns me into an awful parent.
Kids are annoying. No two ways about it. They are incredibly annoying. They’re very needy, they ask endless questions and don’t listen to the answer, they repeat the same behaviour over and over never seeming to learn and they never just sit still and stay quiet, no matter how tired you/they are.
While I know that kids are annoying and because I love my kids, I accept this part of their personalities, however when I’m pregnant my patience level is at an all time low. This combination of personality traits results in all out war.
As an example, today I just wanted to sit and eat in peace but Eloise decided that she couldn’t manage to eat her food without assistance. This is not a big request, nor is it entirely unreasonable but I needed just 5 minutes uninterrupted peace. The food I had made had not gone as planned thanks to distractions from the children whilst preparing it, things were burnt, things were uncooked and generally it was a disappointing outcome after hours of work. Anyway, for most people all of these things could be shrugged off. They wouldn’t link together and become this web of rage. However, for me, I can feel the power of the rage in my chest. I can feel the strength of it taking over my whole body and I stop being me. I stop being calm, nice Jennie. I become this other personality that I sort of recognise but don’t equate with myself. I start yelling, I’m cruel, I threaten to throw food in the bin and walk out the door (I never actually do those things, but I threaten it). I start feeling actual hate towards my kids and it starts to destroy me. I can see the sadness on their faces and I don’t stop – not right away at least. I want them to be upset, I want them to know I’m truly upset. It’s the worst I ever am.
I am currently 22 weeks pregnant and if this continues, my children and husband are in for a really rough Summer. When the rage subsides, all I am left with is the guilt, shame and horror at how I’ve behaved. There’s no way to apologise, no way to take it back. I will have to live with it, as will they and this haunts me.
Pregnancy is not easy for me, I don’t particularly enjoy any part of it, but this…this is the absolute worst part.
