PMS, if you suffer from it badly, is a terrible thing. I have two close friends who, for two weeks of the month, are somewhere between slightly emotional and practically suicidal. It must be terrible; my heart really goes out to them.
As for me, well, among the not-so-fun things about having polycystic ovaries (i.e. infertility, olive on a toothpick body shape), there is the advantage of hardly ever having your period. No period means no PMS. And even when I do get it, I get it mildly.
I normally know when I am PMS because 2 days before I get my period, I eat as if the end of the world is nigh. I also get a bit weepy the day before, but the most obviously signal that something is up, is that my husband irritates me immensely.
Now, my husband usually irritates me anyway. Which is understandable as he is particularly annoying at the best of times. But during that brief one or two day PMS spell, he drives me absolutely bat shit crazy. The way he drives irritates me. Even his breathing irritates me. I look for places to hide his body wherever I go.
As if that is not bad enough, it is usually around this time that for some reason unknown to logical man, I decide we need to have The Talk. Suddenly, after months and years of being absolutely fine, I decide that he is not: caring enough / helpful enough / loving enough / sensitive enough etc. And then I will tell him that We Need to Talk.
Now, if there is something Marko hates even more than loud people, stupid people, slow drivers and his German ex boss, it is having The Talk. The words “Sweetheart, we need to talk” is enough to make his sphincter loosen.
Marko does not do The Talk well. Which is probably why we do it so seldom. First he gets defensive, then he gets cross, then he shouts, then I cry, then he calms down and then we both say sorry.
This morning I felt not unfamiliar feelings of intense irritation at my husband. He has been particularly insensitive and unloving lately. Last night I stormed out of the bedroom in a huff and slept in the spare bed the whole night because HE TOOK MY FAVOURITE PILLOW. He clearly hates me and everything about me because if he loved me he would willingly offer up the favourite pillow to me. I AM PREGNANT AFTER ALL!!
And then it hit me. Early pregnancy is a lot like permanent PMS. The food cravings, the moodiness, the bloating, the intense husband hatred…..except that it lasts for three months, not three days.
Poor Marko. Let’s hope it passes before I find that perfect spot to bury his body.
PS If you are ever fortunate enough to be
pregnant for the first time, enjoy and relish every single minute of it. When the second (or seventh in my case) time
comes around, there is no peace for the wicked. No rest, no special treatment. In
the words of my
immortal husband, you will just have to “suck it up, you are
pregnant, not disabled”. Where did you
say that shallow grave was?