Maniacal rage and the joy of knitting

Do you ever have moments in your pregnancy where you wonder who the hell you’ve become? I didn’t – until I hovered above my own body this past Saturday night and saw myself on the couch in my PJs knitting a baby blanket at a time when most my friends were out having dinner or drinks. Yep, Week 23 and in the space of a few days I’ve discovered both the joy of knitting and maniacal rage (they’re not related, but given the right conditions, I could see how they feed off each other).

It started off innocently enough – I was at my desk about to eat the rice, yogurt and vegetable lunch I had made and all was calm - until I poured the can of corn and peas I’d opened into my bowl and discovered two large dark pools of mushy matter that looked suspiciously like mulch. Any normal person would be annoyed sure, but when you’re a pregnant woman realising you and your baby are not getting lunch? Someone had to pay and that someone was the poor person on the other end of the complaint line at the company which shall remain nameless. I started punching away strongly worded prose emphasising my PREGNANCY and how they’d DENIED MY BABY FOOD (have I mentioned I have a flair for the dramatic?). As I typed, I remember even leaning back and taking a long hard look at myself and thinking, who the hell have I become?  When did I become the person who writes ‘I’m just so disappointed with your product’ to corporations? But I know the answer to that – it’s when my maternal instincts kicked in. The phone call came immediately and she was very apologetic and sent Coles vouchers to make up for my delayed feed but by then my pregnancy hormones had kicked in and since then, it’s been one big emotional rollercoaster.

I cried down the phone at my husband about Colin the hungry baby whale suckling on a boat in the harbour, I cried at the birth scene (of a calf) of Farmer Wants a Wife and, at my lowest point ever, I cried during Unbreakable. Yes, the Bruce Willis movie. (Topping my last low at 16 weeks when the craving for smoked salmon got so bad I bought some, sniffed the packet for 20 minutes like a dog and when I couldn’t take it anymore, microwaved it until it melted into one big congealed mess which I then ate with a spoon). Remember how I wrote that my husband was finding my pregnant self sexy? Yeah, well I think we can nip that one in the bud right now.

And then, just when I could no longer recognise the pre-pregnancy Dilvin any longer, I decided I wanted to learn to knit so that I could make something for my baby. So, on Saturday night at 8pm, I found myself opposite an internet tutorial learning to knit one, purl one. So far, I’m crap at it but I figure the baby won’t notice how hideous the blanket is for the first couple of years and then later can pass it off as ‘so bad, it’s good.’ Is anyone else going through something similar? And more importantly, have you started questioning who are you, or what you’ve become? If so, I’d love to hear from you.

Dilvin