One of the first things every expectant mother encounters upon announcing she is pregnant is not the symptoms, the sickness, the tiredness, the emotional highs and lows, the overwhelming feeling of change or the excessive weight gain… Nope, the first thing every mother gains upon announcing she is pregnant is everyone else opinion and advice.
Mental abuse is often hard to spot, unlike the glaringly obvious marks and scars left by physical abuse. The mental trauma hides deep below the surface, often unseen—sometimes even by the person in the relationship.
I first met Misha Cross in April 2014. I had recently returned from states and was shooting in Prague, and there she was: Chipped blue nail varnish, messy hair and a Marilyn Manson shirt. This girl was a bit of me. I had heard of Misha. She was the new slut on the block, I had watched her trailers on Evil Angel and thought ‘damn this girl goes as hard as me.’ We were put together with Nacho Vidal for what can only be described as one of the nastiest scenes of my career (a pretty impressive title, if you know my back catalogue) from that moment I knew we were going to be friends.
When I wrote my original article about my first trimester woes, I was so excited to be entering the second trimester, hoping to settle comfortably into the magic of pregnancy that I had heard so much about, but that didn’t happen. Although I am now very excited to meet my son, I’m starting to plan and nest. We have started buying baby things and the names list is getting more and more concise. There are still things that haven’t quite fit into this idyllic pregnancy scenario that I had painted up in my head since I was a kid. Everyone from my friends, to my midwife, to the internet had told me: Your second trimester is the best bit, you will have an energy burst, your sickness will go, your hormones will settle! It’s supposed to be the enjoyable bit before the gruelling third where you drag around a huge belly and can’t tie your own laces. Well, as I head swiftly toward my third trimester, here is what I have to say about my second.
I’m not here to pretend that I’m a relationship expert, not even close. But at age 30, I have had to navigate my way through a series of not nice boyfriends, some abusive (mentally and physically), drug addicts, mama's boys, commitment phobes, total fuckwits, ghosters, alcoholics, and sex addicts, to name a few, and I’ve managed to wind up in a long term, stable, happy relationship with someone I love more than anything, but in a totally calm and non-obsessive way. Someone I want, but don’t need. Someone that I can share anything and everything with and not be afraid they will leave. Someone that lives with me and puts up with my mess, my quirks, my anxiety and my past…. however present it sometimes likes to be… and someone that I am expecting my first child with, and hopefully…. hint hint Tony… a ring at some point?
When I originally had the idea to write this piece, my plan was to hit up all my friends and ask what kind of porn they were into and why. But, upon doing so I realised that ALL of them are just like me. They don’t watch porn.