Eamo fully embracing the joys of pregnancy with some soothing nipple cream
The internet is a wonderful place, overloaded with information, you’re just a click away from finding an answer to everything. But it’s also a batshit crazy place, where batshit crazy people, write batshit crazy things (yes, yes, before you all think it, me included).
So I, like I would imagine a large percentage of the population, turn to Google when I need an answer. The only thing I try to avoid the internet for is medical advice, mainly because some of said bat-shit crazy people are determined to convince you that whatever symptoms you might be facing are unequivocally life threatening.
That said, I have relied on Google quite a few times throughout my pregnancy to see if it holds the answers to a few of the more random/disgusting/embarrassing questions that have cropped up. I won’t traumatise you with them all, god forbid I should share all my deepest and darkest secrets with the internet so they are logged and able to haunt me forever. Oh, wait… 😉
But I will share this one. Yesterday I came across a new ‘symptom’, which troubled me somewhat and so I turned to Google for help, making sure to stick to the reliable old NHS website. And, sure enough, I was reassured and satisfied with the response it gave me.
Having forgotten all about said earlier Google search, later in the day, Eamo and I went out for dinner with our close friends, Lottie and Hoppo. At one point during the evening, Eamo mentioned wondering what the rugby score was. So, being the amazingly helpful and wonderful fiance that I am, I took out my phone to find out for him. As I opened the internet, I was met with the history of my earlier pregnancy-related search.
Highly amused by it, and knowing Lottie would be too, I handed her my phone, chuckling:
“Look what my last Google search was”.
As a smile spread across her face, swiftly followed by laughter, Hoppo made the mistake of leaning over to take a look. And the look of horror on his face will amuse me, I think, forever.
“What the fuck, Kerrie?” as he reads the screen…
‘Flaky dry skin on nipples during pregnancy’
Yes guys, the struggle, or flaky nipples, in this case, really is real.
Too much information
Don’t get me wrong, I’m totally aware at how gross and unattractive the thought of flaky nipple skin is. I was not overwhelmed myself, I can tell you. However, I’ve never been one to hold back when it comes to discussing bodily functions (I’ve been told more than once in my lifetime to ‘stop the poo talk’). So until Hoppo’s reaction, how guys and Eamo in particular obviously, might react to or feel about such news didn’t really cross my mind.
In my defence, I’ve been pretty good at keeping conversations about the gross bits of pregnancy – cramps, discharge and constipation, etc – to a minimum so far. (Actually that’s a lie, I’m always very quick to tell Eamo when I can’t poo. But that’s a different story, for a different day (look out for poogate – coming soon!)). But when I have, he’s been good as gold so I haven’t really held back on a lot of it. I’d like to point out that this is a man who regularly comes home telling me that he’s had to ‘shit in a bag’ because his IBS kicked in and there were no toilets on site, so it’s not like he’s easily phased.
But even so, Hoppo’s reaction, as funny as it was, got me thinking that maybe it really grosses him out. Is he just reacting well and saying what I want to hear whilst dying a little inside? Does he never want to go near or touch my flaky nipples again?? I’ve read and know of men who have really struggled with how their partner’s body has changed during pregnancy and it really started playing on my mind. So I just asked him straight:
“Babe, would you rather I didn’t tell you when stuff like that happens? Is it really gross, does it really turn you off?”
“No. In all honesty, I don’t think of it as disgusting, I just think of it as part and parcel of pregnancy. If you’ve gotta suck it up babe, so have I.”
And there you have it.
Normal service resumed
You’ll all be pleased to hear that my nipples had returned to being silky smooth and flake free again this morning – HURRAH!
As much as I’d like to say I will be more mindful when airing such issues in future, I probably really won’t be. There are many, many aspects of pregnancy that are anything but glamorous, but it’s all part of the process and I’m lucky that I have an amazing man beside me who takes it in his stride when I tell him the most undesirable things that my body seems to be doing.
All that aside, I will forever love Hoppo for his reaction to this brutal and unwanted introduction to pregnancy. And I hope it’s not still playing on his mind like it clearly was on the way home from dinner…
“Kerrie, flaky nipples, mate, that is some baaaad shit,” he said, laughing.
My work here, ladies and gentlemen, is done. Sorry Lotts 😉 ❤ xxx