It’s Pregnancy, Bitch
I’m not exactly what you’d call a joyful pregnant lady. Women I know have actually said to me, “Oh, I love(d) being pregnant,” and I’m always like, “Huh? Seriously?” From my last pregnancy to this one, I’m perplexed by what there is to love: the mood swings, weight gain, swollen extremities, constipation, fatigue?
Of course, this pregnancy has gone a lot more smoothly than the previous one because I didn’t break my leg immediately after getting knocked up. (To those who don’t know: I found out I was pregnant on the gurney as I was being wheeled into the operating room.) Spending your first trimester immobilized is not fun. AT ALL. Yet despite having the use of all my limbs this time, I still managed to bitch for a good two-and-a-half months about the nausea, exhaustion and headaches that plagued me–as they do the majority of expecting women–in the beginning.
Things are better now, except I’m huge. But what bothers/amuses me the most about this veritable miracle-in-the-making (and I’m not being facetious; I believe creating a new life is miraculous) are the conversations I wind up having. What’s appropriate for polite society really goes out the window… at least in my case.
On constipation after spending an hour on the toilet:
Dman: Is everything ok? You were in there for awhile.
Me, breathless with beads of perspiration on my forehead: It’s like war! Every time I go to the bathroom, it’s a freakin’ battle and I’m usually losing. I can’t even tell you what I have to do in there to get some relief.
Dman, sorry he asked: Uh… maybe you should try some suppositories? [He's French so far more comfortable with the idea of them.]
Me: Will you get them for me, please? I’m too embarrassed to do it.
Dman, even sorrier he brought it up, but being a good sport about it: Ok, love. [And he actually did get them for me—whatta guy!]
On bodily transformation:
Me, wailing on a daily basis to anyone who’ll listen: I’m fat! I’m enormous! I’m chafing from the sweat underneath my giant boobs! I look like a National Geographic photo of a mother-of-five from an indigenous, vaguely Asian-Indian tribe!
Anyone: Congratulations?
On boobs:
Me, to my other pregnant-for-the-second-time friend: So after all the breastfeeding, did your nipples go back to the size they were before?
Other pregnant friend: Nah, totally not.
Me: Really, you too? Do you think they’ll stay like this forever?
Other pregnant friend: Pretty much. They’re mom boobs now.
Me, horrified: Mom boobs! I’ve got mom boobs?!
Other pregnant friend, consolingly: Well, there’s always plastic surgery.
On the Alien boxer in my belly:
Me, not at all pleased with having my insides turned into a punching bag at only 20 weeks: What is up with this baby? He won’t stop pummeling me and it’s really getting annoying. Gossip Girl is on and I can’t even concentrate!
Friend who was pregnant 20 years ago: Oh, I remember that. Isn’t it nice to feel your baby moving inside you?
Me: No, I was being serious. It’s starting to piss me off.
Friend: <silence>
On mental acuity while pregnant:
Me: What were we just talking about?
Other pregnant friend: I can’t remember. Oops! I left the stove on. Brb.
Me: Ok [contemplating nothing during her two-minute absence.]
Other pregnant friend: I’m back. What were you saying?
Me: Where were you?
On preparation (H or otherwise):
Me to my single, straight male friend: Hey, did my packages from Amazon arrive yet? You can’t forget to bring them when you come here.
SSM friend: Ugh. Did you really have to have “New Mama Bottom Spray” delivered to my house?
Me: I’m sorry, but this stuff is essential post-delivery—and even before.
SSM friend: I don’t want to know!
Me: I’m preparing you for when you have a wife who’s going to give birth. She’ll really appreciate you knowing about these things. You can’t imagine what it’s like down there for us pregnant ladies…
SSM friend: Gaahhh!!! I told you I don’t want to know! [hangs up]
Me: Hello?
So you see, I am not fit for proper society while pregnant. I’ve got too many bodily woes and mishaps to function normally at a high tea, let’s say. But while I may endlessly complain about this looong baby-making process, I do enjoy the cute, cuddly thing you’re rewarded with at the end. Three months to go!
Me looking deceptively happy with my big belly in Times Square
Ok. What is New Mama Bottom Spray and what is it for? *currently pregnant for the first time and no clue whatsoever* *perspiring*
Congrats!! I don’t know if you had a chance to look it up, but New Mama Bottom Spray is for whatever woes you have down below. After giving birth naturally, you’ll see that it’s a bit uncomfortable down there for a week or so. And you might not have the same constipation issues as me, but it’s supposedly helpful for the physical side effects of that condition, too. Good luck!! When are you due??
Thank you!. New Mama Bottom Spray sounds so tempting after reading the description!
Still a long way to go. I am due in August.
When in August? My little D was born at the end of August. Summer babies are nice!!
Until that first pregnancy, you really have no clue as to all the gross things that happen to your body. In general, people seem to play up positive aspects like looking radiant and carrying a new life. I suspect it’s so that women aren’t permanently frightened off from having children before they give it a chance. Your dialogues gave me a good laugh as I could relate to most of those situations, including the one about mom boobs. As we all have our insecurities about ourselves, when I find myself envying how I looked at 20, I tell myself that when I’m 50, I’ll be missing how I look now, mom body and all.
Even with your gargantuan belly, the rest of you looks like your usual slender self and you pull off the beautiful, radiant glow thingie quite well. I wish you a more comfortable last trimester!
The dreaded mom boobs!!! lol. And I hear what you’re saying about looking back on pix and thinking, “i was so young and gorgeous and skinny!” You’re probably right that at 50, I’ll look back on my current Nat Geo boobage and be thrilled about it (that is, unless I get all plastic surgery-ed up
And thank you for the compliment, Jenny. XO
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