Baby brain...

There has been some debate over the past few years about the existence of ‘pregnancy brain’, ‘pregnesia’ or ‘utter imbecility’ as my husband calls it.
The baby brain drain is an affliction, which affects mums-to-be and is characterized by short-term memory loss, clumsiness and forgetfulness.
Some medical experts say that it is a myth. I say to them, come follow me around for seven days and you’ll get your proof. You’ll also probably get lost, confused about what day it actually is, cry over washed-up pop stars and have any electrical equipment you own completely and utterly destroyed, maybe even blown up in spectacular fashion.
In saying this I don’t want employers to go around slapping this article on pregnant workers desks and showing them the door. I’m not saying all expectant mothers are imbeciles. Just me.
My normally highly functional brain has turned from sponge to sieve in a matter of months. In other words, my brain is mush.
There are days when I find it difficult to remember the most mundane of everyday tasks, like calling my mother on the telephone. My mother hasn’t changed her telephone number for 35 years. I’ve dialled that number without thinking every day for perhaps 15 of those years. Yesterday I dialled the local Credit Union by mistake and was further confused, if that is at all humanly possible, as to why a complete stranger answered.
I have placed the car keys in the fridge. I have gone to the shop for something really urgent and forgotten what it was. I have walked out of my house and left the front door wide open. I have forgotten the names of people I have known for years. I have parked my car beside a shopping centre and spent 40 minutes wandering around trying to remember where it was on my return.
Yesterday at the bank I had to calculate the total sum when one adds £200 and £80. I almost asked the cashier for a calculator such was my confusion.
And I’m also extra clumsy. I almost blew up the husband’s laptop by spilling a mug of boiling coffee over it. He has forbidden me to operate any form of machinery more complex than a vacuum cleaner until after the baby is born.
I’m now eagerly awaiting the crying and weeping phase of pregnancy, although to be honest I’m not as big a sufferer as some. My pregnant sister wept like a child for a solid hour when Peter Andre got to number one with his re-released ‘Mysterious Girl’ single a few years back. My friend spent the first two weeks of her maternity leave crying over NSPCC appeal adverts and set up a massive monthly direct debit from her already groaning bank accounts.
Pregnancy does funny things to us ladies – turns a lot of us into maniacal, gibbering, wailing wrecks – but we all go back to normal eventually. Well here’s hoping.