I’ve been a slacker. I know. I DO plan on writing about and posting pictures of our amazing baby shower, which was on Saturday. Until then, help yourself to this post, which I shared on HerDaily.com
Well, that headline is misleading. I did read Belly Laughs by Jenny McCarthy in one day. And, although that was more “anecdotes” than “helpful information,” it was still about a woman being pregnant and it still counts.
A few days after finding out I was pregnant, I promptly ordered What To Expect When You’re Expecting off of Amazon. It’s like a law that you need to read that when you’re pregnant, right? It explains all the triumphs and tribulations of pregnancy. It’ll tell you what is happening to your body and why. It will help you explain to your husband that science is the reason you’re crying all the time.
When we got it in the mail, The Husband and I both started reading it. It stayed on the coffee table in the living room, ready to teach me about ovaries and fallopian tubes at my beck and call. My husband ended up a couple of chapters ahead of me. He pointed out a section which was Q&As between mothers-to-be and the author.
This is when we stopped reading the book.
I’m paraphrasing here, but this is a pretty accurate account of most of the questions:
“I just found out I’m four weeks pregnant and I did ecstasy last weekend. Is the baby ok?”
“I’m only three weeks pregnant and I’m going out this weekend. Last weekend I did cocaine. Can I do that again this weekend?”
“How long into pregnancy can I keep drinking?”
Since that chapter, the book has been collecting dust.
Our thoughts are that:
A: A woman who needs to ask those questions is probably not taking the time to read up on pregnancy.
B: Women have babies every day. For all of time, every day – babies. Far less qualified women than me. Far less fortunate women than me. And they survive. We should be ok.
C: Why do people push the pregnancy books? Shouldn’t we be reading about parenting? It’s like spending all your time consumed with the wedding when it’s the marriage you should be worried about. I have a general jist of what’s happening to my body — it’s getting bigger. Not much I can do there. Take my prenatals. Limit caffeine. Got it. But what do I do if the baby doesn’t want to breastfeed or if she’s colicky or when we are really very tired but she wants to party? I need tricks for these things.
And, until I have to worry about that, I’ll continue following the sage advice I’ve learned from three chapters of What To Expect …
Try to lay off the recreational drugs.
Here’s my weekly pregnancy post, which you can find at http://herdaily.com/parenting/
Today, I’m six months pregnant. I have something the size of an ear of corn living inside of me. That is a very big size of something to be living inside of you. We had a check-up yesterday and got to see our little lady, who always plays shy for the camera. I love her. And I’m really ready for her to be out here and not in there.
I’m almost done with my second trimester and I’ve never reached the promise lands.
For those of you unfamiliar with the different phases of pregnancy, there is an urban legend out there that the second trimester of pregnancy is a glorious place, full of unicorns and no morning sickness (and an increased appetite for, um, “attention’ from your spouse). During the second trimester, you are rich with energy and spend your days giving off the most heavenly glow of pregnancy. You have a perfect bump and your feet aren’t swollen. Your pre-pregnancy jeans fit with the help of a belly band and your t-shirts are snug, but look precious covering up that stomach of yours. Everything is glorious, perfect. You are woman, creating life. Things couldn’t possibly be better.
I’ve labeled that rumor as an urban legend because I have yet to experience it. I doubt I will.
I will even go a step further and admit something that I haven’t heard many say — being pregnant sort of sucks.
Now, before you go ahead and rip me a new one as you lecture me on what a precious gift I am about to receive — trust me. I get it. And I started this post saying I already love little Lady S., correct? I’d puke every day for nine months (which I may end up doing anyways) if it meant bringing our happy, healthy daughter into this world.
But that’s where I want her — here.
I haven’t yet had a glorious day of pregnancy. I had a wicked first trimester. I woke up the morning of my second trimester with the hopes that things worked like a Disney movie. Perhaps a little blue bird was going to come to my window and sing away all my pregnancy troubles.
No such luck.
I’m tired. I’m so damn tired. And I know — I’ll be tired after I have the baby, too. But here’s the thing — at least there is a reason to justify that tired. You’re caring for an infant. You’re chasing a toddler around all day. Right now, I spend much of my time sitting at a desk. But I leave work every day craving a three hour nap.
And food? We’re frenemies nowadays. I spend nearly all of my waking hours despising it — the smells, the textures. Everything turns me off. Then, around 9:00 every night, I want to eat everything. Except nothing ever sounds good. Do you even understand that frustration?! (But if you’re my husband, don’t answer that. It may frustrate you more than it frustrates me.)
I wake up 3 – 5 times a night to pee.
I’ve gained weight and my pre-pregnancy pants have been relegated to a bottom drawer because they no longer fit my pudgey (NOT bump-tastic) stomach. But maternity pants? They don’t fit yet either! I feel like Goldilocks, except nothing ever fits just right.
I’m grouchy. I’m moody. I cry over everything.
They say the best things in life are worth waiting for, right? Gosh, that’s a lot of pressure to put on an infant.
(She better not let me down.)
(Not really kidding.)