Because the drugs are wearing off.


I should be grateful, really.

Here I am, 44 damn years old* and pregnant, and it’s been easy. Ok, relatively easy.  Growing a whole new human being in your uterus is actually NOT easy, and those people who don’t give up their seats for pregnant women on public transport definitely have a special circle of Hell reserved just for them.  But given my Advanced Age and compared to What Some Women Go Through, I really can’t complain.  The standard round of nausea and vomiting in the first trimester. An expected amount of fatigue. A little flirtation with anaemia, but nothing some iron supplements couldn’t beat into submission. A little bit of H/C/D** off and on down under, but that’s pretty much it. No gestational diabetes. No puffy ankles.  None of the varied assortment of horrible things that can make having a baby nine months of hell***.

Except the heartburn.

Or as I like to call it, “The Fifth Horseman of The Apocalypse”.  War, Famine, Pestilence, Death……..and Heartburn.

It was EPIC.  It was George R R Martin five-novel-unfinished-saga level epic.

Now, IF I didn’t eat within six hours of lying down, and I avoided “trigger” foods (AKA, all the foods), and I propped myself up so I was sleeping at a 90 degree angle, well then – I could get away with only waking up in agony to pop Tums about ten times a night. Plus of course waking up to pee about six times.  But hey, I don’t need sleep, I’m just making a person here.

You know what it says on the Tums bottle? It says not to take more than seven tablets a day. Unless you’re pregnant, if you’re pregnant, you’re not supposed to take more than five.

Excuse me while I engage in bitter, hollow laughter. HahahahahahahahahahahahaHA!!  

Clearly something had to change. And that’s how Little Miss “I don’t need an epidural” Hippy Natural Homebirth here, found herself at Target buying a bottle of Nexium OTC.

And oh – sweet mother of candy coated dragons, those little purple tablets were magic.  Within 48 hours the heartburn was gone. GONE. I could lie down. I could drink orange juice and lie down.  Ahhhhh…….the relief was absolute.

For 2 months, anyhow.

Now …..the heartburn is back. Just like a Stephen King monster who you thought was dead but was merely laying low until you thought it was safe. I guess The Kicker, in her quest to be my biggest baby ever (The Voice, at 9lb 6oz, is the one to beat), has pushed my poor squished organs around so much that my stomach and esophagus have actually had to move in together, and Try To Get Along (cue The Odd Couple theme music, it’s not working).

Ok, it’s not as bad as before. Yet. I’m only taking a few supplementary Tums. So far. But I know, it’s a race. Will The Kicker vacate the premises before the tension between my stomach and esophagus erupts into a full-blown acid apocalypse?  Who knows?  Will I actually get MORE sleep when I have a newborn?  Possibly.  Should I have bought stock in Tums 20 years ago?  Definitely.


*when mentioning your age before the fact that you’re pregnant, and the age is over forty, you are legally required to insert the word “damn”.

** the “H” is for “haemorrhoids”. You can guess the others. Or not.

***but not as bad a hell as the one reserved for douchebags on the subway, obviously.

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