At the start of the year, when I booked to perform my comedy show at the fringe, I was laughing in my kitchen, asking my husband: “Am I crazy?” Now I’m here, eight-and-a-half months pregnant, I can definitively say: yes, I am crazy.”

Lots of women feel beautiful pregnant. I don’t. I feel like Danny DeVito’s Penguin from Batman Returns. Skinny legs with a big round belly. Just walking around is tough as I’m three stone (19kg) heavier than I’ve ever been. And Edinburgh is one flipping hilly city. When you’re in your third trimester, gravity is not your friend. You’re top heavy and front heavy, which means it’s too difficult to walk uphill and too dangerous to walk down.

There’s nothing passive about pregnancy, it’s hard work. And it hurts – a lot. But when people see a pregnant woman they smile and ask: “How do you feel?”, hoping you’ll say something like “magical”. When I grumpily reply: “Big, hot and hungry,” I can see that’s not the response they were hoping for.

I think women have been conditioned to not complain about anything that ails us in the realm of reproduction. It’s all very secretive. Periods, pregnancy, menopause – these are all difficult experiences cloaked in shame for so many women. Why? They are a natural part of life. They are part of why our lives happen at all. Women are in the people-making business. And that business has terrible working conditions.

Here’s a list of the normal, and largely untreatable pregnancy symptoms: migraines, vomiting, frequent urination, exhaustion, dizziness, diarrhoea, constipation, haemorrhoids, bleeding gums, internal pain from your organs moving. Plus your breasts hurt, your nipples turn black and they grow to the size of small dinner plates.

Whether it’s a friend, family member, partner or paid assistant – you need help during pregnancy. My help comes in the form of a 6ft 2in friendly Irish man named Andrew. Some people call him my “husband”. I call him “The reason I’m in this mess.”

We drove up to Edinburgh thinking we were being very clever. It meant we could bring all of our gear; I mean all of it. Since I’ll be performing at full-term pregnancy in my last week we decided to bring up baby clothes, a car seat and a cot – just in case. We also brought our practice baby, AKA our tiny dog Charles Barkley, AKA my fur-born son. Add to that my massive pregnancy pillow and all our other things and my husband could barely see out of the back window.

But now, the thought of an eight-hour drive back to London at 37+ weeks pregnant seems impossible. The main issue is that I have to pee every 15 minutes, which is not conducive to making good time on the motorway. My husband suggested I get a Shewee. I threatened to divorce him on the spot.

Honestly, being pregnant with my husband’s baby feels like we’ve been paired up to do a school science project where I have to do all of the work for nine months but he gets the same grade because he brought the pen.

But he’s truly been amazing during the festival. He has driven me everywhere, helped run my social media, cooked, and stood on rainy street corners handing out flyers for my show.

I’m so happy that I get to do a show every night that addresses all the weird, awkward and difficult parts of pregnancy. Comedy at its best is cathartic. And it has been so cathartic to share my experiences of pregnancy and my fears of becoming a parent on stage every night to a room full of people who can all laugh together at how confusing and weird this stage of life is.

Pregnancy, as hard as it is, is a privilege. This isn’t my first time being pregnant at the fringe. This time last year I’d just found out I was pregnant. I spent the month feeling nauseous and resenting the fact that I couldn’t have a drink with friends or eat everything I wanted. But when we suffered a pregnancy loss in October I was devastated.

So when it came time to decide whether or not to do the festival, even though I’d just found out I was pregnant again, I didn’t want to put my life on hold. I think after a miscarriage you sort of assume you’re going to have another miscarriage.

But now, I will reach full-term in the last week of the fringe. And for anyone questioning my reasons for doing that, all I can say is that women can do anything. And my deposit was non-refundable.

I think it will be fine. I finish more than two weeks before my due date. And look, if the baby comes early, who knows? Maybe he’ll win best newcomer.

• Janine Harouni: Man’oushe is at Pleasance Courtyard, Edinburgh, until 25 August. Then at Soho theatre, London, 5-9 December.