Toilet call

I’m not a stranger to the concept of visiting the bathroom regularly. I like to maintain a water and tea intake so accordingly, in the past I’ve been like clockwork. The frequency of toilet visits precisely correlated with how much I’d drunk; therefore, the habit of sipping from a bottle of water in the car directly relates to my fondness for nice service stations (Beaconsfield on the M40 is a particular favourite). I rarely used to go at night because I tended to restrict liquid before bedtime to avoid an annoying wake-up call. And if I knew I wouldn’t have access to a ladies for a longish period of time, I would plan to not drink much and I’d be fine. I even felt rather smug that I seemed to have such autonomy in that area of my life at least.

However, that was all BST (Before the Second Trimester). I can’t believe what is now happening to my previously well-behaved bladder! Sometimes, I need to go every half an hour. And unlike BST, I seem to have no control over my body any more. I consume the bare minimum of liquid in the evening and go twice just before bedtime, yet most nights I still wake up with a painfully familiar feeling.


Many trees and small puppies have been sacrificed…

One of the most frustrating things is I can be absolutely desperate and then when I actually get relief, nothing much happens. It’s like my now very disobedient bladder is lying to me! BST, that type of urgency would have meant I was full to bursting. Now, it doesn’t mean a thing.

These days, I only need to look at a car to need to go. The other evening we drove five minutes to our local DIY store. Naturally, I’d been just before we left our house, but as soon as we arrived, it was necessary to pay a visit to the unpleasant unisex facilities which I would normally avoid like the plague (literally because I don’t want to catch the plague from touching anything).

This is all to do with the uterus pressing on the bladder, which is typical in pregnancy. The weird thing with me though is that while frequent bathroom visits is THE classic pregnancy symptom, it is supposed to be worst in the first and third trimesters and ease off in the second. I was actually fine in the first trimester and it is only since January that I’ve really noticed anything different. I dread to think what the third will bring!

One unfortunate side effect, apart from going through forests’ worth of toilet paper, is dry hands. I get this anyway in winter, and always moisturise after washing to prevent chapping. When I’m washing my hands every few minutes, however, it seems pointless to moisturise each time, only to wash off the moisturiser soon afterwards. So my hands are suffering as well as everything else. Well, once spring is here (will that ever happen?) that should improve!

Occasionally, I do surprise myself. We’ve been to the cinema and theatre a couple of times recently, and despite fretting that I would have to be one of those annoying people who stumble their way out in the dark while stepping on people’s toes and handbags, I was fine. This even included a performance of A Chorus Line which is nearly two hours with no interval! And last week we watched a film at home for around two hours and I didn’t leave the sofa once. Neither did I have to rush there after the movie had finished – frankly, I was too distracted by my own bawling (Hugo: I can’t believe that film has a U rating! It should carry a warning of emotional distress).

Since beginning this post I’ve obeyed a call of nature maybe a handful of times (I don’t like to keep count; there are some things, like my weight, that I really don’t need to know). And wait a minute… is it?… yes. Got to go and that means NOW!

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