Despite the agonising, infuriating, two and a half hour waiting room delay to see the midwife at my local hospital, the woman I see still manages to get a smutty chuckle out of me by accident.
Her advice tip for my worsening pelvic pains is to, "try to keep my legs together as much as possible, especially when moving in bed."
I can't help but wisecrack, "If only I'd done that six months ago!" But I think the joke was totally lost on her as she rushed me through my appointment.
Diagnosed with SPD, in full the not very sexily named Symphysis Pubis Dysfunction, I feel like my time of being that nearly-smug, unsuffering pregnant woman has finally come crashing to a halt. Not least because I now limp at a snail's pace whenever I need to walk anywhere or use any form of stairs.
Is this my payback for skipping morning sickness and for the luscious hair, skin and nails? Or is this the payoff for not even looking pregnant as I approach the third trimester? I'd trade all of that in for me to be able to roll over in bed at night in anything less than eight individual movements. Well, some of it at least. The morning sickness would be over by now wouldn't it?
Apparently the ligaments holding my pelvic joints (the Symphysis pubis) have prepared for the birth and loosened way too early – complete with audible grinding and creaking noises - a common-ish problem, but unfortunately not fixable until after the baby is born.
A referral form for phsyiotherapy was dashed out, although there's no guarantee I'll be seen before the birth. They will give me exercises and a sexy pelvic support belt. I feel like I've doubled in age overnight. I can't help but have sympathy for older people now; I never want my joints to hurt this much again.
14 weeks to go. Yowch.