So you're going to kill your husband...

 

I’m not a violent person, I’ve never punched anyone or been involved in a brawl. But lately I really feel like I could stick a knife into my husband without feeling a shred of guilt!

 

Cue horror film music!

Those of you who aren’t quite on the same wavelength as me might think the poor bloke has done something awful; potentially cheated, called me names or worse but actually he’s just being a man.

My biggest bug bear at the moment is that he hasn’t quit smoking. This has been a huge argument between us for some time, we both smoked when we met but I quit pretty early on and even though I used to enjoy the odd drunken cigarette, I would never consider having one during the day (or 20 for that matter!) Back when I used to smoke, cigarettes were approximately £4 for 20, my husband now spends up to £7 a day on cigarettes. Let me break that down for you:

 

£49 a Week

£196 a Month

£2352 a Year

 

But the biggest concern I have of course is his health. I am absolutely terrified of my husband going to an early grave, (Ironic, given that I now want to kill him!) he is my absolute life and I was convinced when we did have a baby he would give up without a minute’s thought. But sadly no and now every time I smell that awful stink on him I get so angry that he would expose his pregnant wife and unborn child to it.

 

But seriously, that’s about the only rational reason I’m angry.

 

I think my main problem is how I viewed pregnancy. In my head, I’d look as graceful as Kate Middleton, glow like the Mediterranean sun and my husband would wrap me up in cotton wool for 9 months.

Why don't I look like this?

I imagined him leaving the house at 2am for ice cream and pickles, cooking and cleaning while I lay on the sofa with a blanket and cuddling and kissing me every night with his hands placed on my swollen belly.

 

In reality, the house still needs cleaning, meals still need cooking and shopping still needs doing. And while I used to be able to cut grass and lift mop buckets I just can’t do it at the moment and it’s really frustrating.

 

So if you have any homicidal urges, put down the knife, loosen your grip on hubby’s throat and do the following:

 

1. Take some deep breaths and grab the tissues, once you’ve calmed down you’ll probably cry, and that’s okay!
2. Try and relax over the house, get a cleaner in if you can afford it, and don’t stress over it if you can’t.
3. Talk to your husband (again, grab tissues) explain how you’re feeling and see if there’s any way he can help – even if it’s just a cuddle.
4. Remember it will pass, and very soon you’ll have a bundle of joy in your arms that will make you forget you ever felt like this.

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The day my jaw unhinged.

It was the 28th January and I was feeling extremely happy.

 

After a rough few months things were finally starting to look up and I was packing my case ready to get married in two days time!

I danced around the house ticking items off my list as I threw them in my bag, deodorant? check! Toothpaste? Check! And then as my hand hovered over a box of tampons, a small frown came over my face as I started to do mental calculations in my head. Where the bloody hell was my period, I'd worked out it should have been and gone long before the wedding!

 

I usually have a test or two knocking about so I grabbed one and did the business. You know the drill, pee, put the cap on, stick it on the back of the loo and wait three minutes. Usually this process resulted in a quick glance, a relieved sigh and chucking the stick in the bin.

However, I didn't even get round to putting the timer on, as I was washing my hands I glanced at the little white stick...with the big blue cross on it!!

Shit.

I frantically grabbed the instructions and double-checked, yep, cross meant pregnant.

I was pregnant.

Shit.

 

Still sinking in...

 

I slowly stumbled down the stairs in a daze, to where my partner was sat on the sofa. I walked towards him, white pee-covered stick thrust out towards him. "Peter, I'm pregnant!"

In my head he would jump up to greet me and hug me and tell me everything was going to be okay. In reality he gave me the briefest of glances before saying "ha-ha"

"No, Peter, I'm pregnant"

"Yeah - sure you are"

 

"Peter! Look at the stick!!"

 

He looked at it puzzled and said "Well I don't know what that means!"

I stormed up the stairs in a sudden rage, he he followed me up and I shoved the instructions into his hand. I stood panting waiting for his response.

"Cool" he said, a big grin on his face. What was the matter with him? Did he not understand? I was pregnant, with child, up the duff!!

"Peter you have to go and get me another test right now" I shrieked, on the brink of tears.

For once he didn't argue and disappeared swiftly out of the door.

Quickly I dashed to the bedroom and grabbed my phone to call my sister.

"Hello" - thank god for once she'd answered.

"Kelly I'm pregnant" - well there was no point mincing my words.

The response was inhuman. A mixture of sobs and tears but when I explained I'd only done one test she told me to ring back after test two.

 

Bless him I think he broke the record for dashing round Sainsbury's and returned with one of those digital ones from the cheesy TV adverts.

 

Approximately 90 seconds later I was staring at clear blue words

 

PREGNANT.

 

And 60 seconds after that 5+ weeks popped up onto the screen, I was really pregnant!

 

Peter's Reaction

 

Mine isn't a fairy tale story, I had a big life-changing shock, but as my next few posts will prove, it's all going to be okay, so if you're in a similar situation, don't panic!

My new motto!