Hormones are sneaky fuckers. In the first 12 weeks of pregnancy, you’re completely at their mercy. What they say goes. Then they lure you into a false sense of security, where you go through a period feeling somewhat ‘normal’, and by that, I mean not wanting to burst into tears for no reason or fly into an uncontrollable rage because your fiance has left his pants on the bathroom floor. Again (Have I mentioned that Eamo leaves his pants on the bathroom floor before?) But during that ‘normal’ period, they pop up with a stark reminder that they never fucking left. And that they are well and truly in charge.
I’ve felt pretty in control of my emotions recently, in comparison to early pregnancy. But yesterday was prime example of mother fucking hormones just waiting for their moment to pounce. And it’s always when you’re least expecting, just to really put you – and those around you, mainly – on your ass.
McCafe. Yeah, my fucking ass
Hard as it probably is to believe, I woke in a spritely mood on Saturday, excited about Eamo, Freddie and I heading off to Minehead for a weekend of long beautiful walks and time with friends and family. About an hour into our journey, it went to total shit.
So what, I hear you ask, could possible have gone so horribly wrong?
McDonald’s gave me a black coffee instead of a hot chocolate. Black. Fucking. Coffee. The utter, utter bastards.
As I came to this realisation after 10 minutes after we’d left the drive-thru, there was no resolving this heinous crime, which is probably a good job because I dread to think what I would’ve said to the guilty employee. To say they got off lightly, and to say that I was absolutely livid was a huge understatement.
I told Eamo and he, bless him, did his best to make light of it as I sat there, quietly fuming. I’ll be the first to admit I’m a pretty hot-headed person, I always have been. But I’m also a (fairly) reasonable and logical one too and, while this mistake would always have been mildly annoying, today it pushed me right to the fucking edge of my emotional capacity. I genuinely felt like my world had ended. Seriously. I wouldn’t have minded so much if it had been something I could still fucking drink. But no. It was like a big, heavily caffeinated, shitty brown, laughing cup of ‘FUCK YOU’, and my want to launch it across the van was overwhelming.
It was like a big, heavily caffeinated, shitty brown, laughing cup of ‘FUCK YOU’
I had turned from a happy, entertaining Eamo with my incredible wit person to the devil in seconds. Being totally aware of what an overreaction this was, I stayed calm, but it took absolutely everything in me to not give into my hormones and absolutely lose my fucking shit about being given the wrong drink.
As I sat in silence, I could feel how anxious Eamo was. How was I going to react to this situation? And was he going to bear the brunt of it? I think he was quite relieved when I explained, surprisingly calmly, that the only way this situation was going to be remedied was if I got the drink I fucking asked for. And quickly.
It immediately became his sole mission to find his 25-week pregnant, on-the-edge fiance a hot chocolate. And fast. Which he did. And he couple it with a Creme Egg, just for good measure. 🙂
Look at the relief on his face! 😉 Legend xx
Credit where it’s absolutely due, Eamo has pretty much mastered these outbursts now. He’s learnt that often all he needs to do it just listen and/or do whatever he can to help me solve whatever issue it might be. And if not just keep his head down and take cover. And fair play to him for putting up with it as he does. I can only begin to imagine what must go through his mind when I lose my mind about something as trivial as a fucking hot chocolate. But there are never any questions asked, he just does what he can to make me happy again.
I know how lucky I am to have that support from him, and I do really appreciate it (I should definitely tell him this more. Babe, I do appreciate it *said with a big cheesy grin which will immediately make him forgive all my prickish behaviour*) He’s just the best and when he walked towards the van with a delicious Costa in one hand and a Creme Egg in the other, coupled with his best impression of Tom Hardy’s Taboo swagger, I genuinely couldn’t have loved him more.
Sorry, I can’t stop being a bellend
I still find it amazing how heightened your emotions are during pregnancy. I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again, it’s like you have no choice in your reaction. Whether that means crying, laughing or a being in an angry black coffee-induced rage, it’s like you’ve been possessed and no matter how much your logical brain tells you to stop behaving like an utter, utter bellend, you simply can’t stop.
As much as I said in my last blog post that I’m enjoying being pregnant, unpredictable hormones is definitely not something I’ll miss when they eventually return to normal. However, if I listen to every mum I’ve ever spoken to, I’m not sure that ever happens. So I guess all that’s left to say is to apologise to Eamo in advance? Sorry babe, and, er, good luck? 😉 ❤
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