Posts Tagged ‘
growing a baby ’
Friday, October 26th, 2012
your life more closely mirrors that of an animal than a human. I’ve reached it.
Let’s talk pandas specifically. Apparently, pandas are extremely sedentary, eat for 10-16 hours a day out of necessity, and spend the rest of their time sleeping and using the facilities. Never has my life so accurately been depicted by wildlife. We are kindred spirits.
By the end of the day, I feel just like a panda, an eating, lounging, giant, and in my mind, adorable thing. I’ll be honest, it ain’t a bad life. These pandas, they know what’s up. At almost 6 months pregnant, I’ve noticed a general pattern. After an exhausting day of eating, I do the horizontal slow roll off the couch and sluggishly meander to my bed to sleep off my food coma. See, totally adorable.
Let’s just say what we’re all thinking, heaven help the end product I become by the 9th month of pregnancy. There is no up from charming, squeezable, panda comparisons. Where do I go from here? Don’t answer that question.
This panda-esque lifestyle has led to another pregnancy milestone though.
PANTSGATE: That awkward moment when you shouldn’t be wearing your pants anymore but you are.
These days, wearing pants is a debacle that just makes me feel like a Vienna sausage putting on its casing. What’s the saying, if you love something set it free? The time has come. We’ve had a good ride pants, but it’s not you, it’s me. It’s not goodbye, just I’ll see ya. Well that is unless you’ve got some sort of stretchy waist to offer a girl.
It makes sense seeing as how at 24 weeks, my uterus is the size of a soccer ball (there is no sexier sentence in the English language).
I have to admit, I felt a bit embarrassed at my lady doc appointment last week. She was giving the indentation marks of my jeans on my aforementioned uterus the Mad-Eye-Moody swivel eye of judgment. I felt like a teen whose mom had caught her dressed in a shorter skirt and hoochier top than when she’d last seen her leave the house that morning. To her credit, she didn’t openly chastise me. But I knew that she knew that I knew that she knew that my non-pregnancy pants days are over.
It all hit a little too close to home while catching up on Modern family episodes this week and Sofia Vergara’s pregnant character also underwent her own PANTSGATE. Granted, she still looked every bit the Latina hotness while pretending her clothes didn’t fit. As for the rest of us, when we reach the same milestone, the phrase “muffin top,” and an admiration for pandas come to mind.
I don’t begrudge it. I try to appreciate all pregnancy milestones. I welcome my healthy, growing uterus with open arms. And mouth.
Now if you’ll excuse me, the food in this house is not going to forage itself…she said as she horizontally slow rolled off the couch.
Image: Sleeping Panda via Lee Yiu Tung/Shutterstock.com
Wednesday, October 17th, 2012
23 weeks/5 months
There is something about the pregnant belly that causes people to lose their filter. As a pretty filter-less person myself, I still manage to pick my cartoon jaw up off the floor every now and again at people’s
Most queries are harmless: When are you due? What are you having? What are you naming her?
Other comments, they hurt a pregnant lady right down to her heartburn induced core. As my burgeoning belly is a little slower to show, (all’s fair in love and pregnancy and it will be nice and massive by the end), I, along with a little help from my pregnant friends, recorded a few inappropriate, yet true “observations” many women endure during pregnancy.
Ladies and Gentlemen of the jury, I submit as evidence an airtight case of things never to say to a pregnant lady:
- “You have HOW many weeks left??”
- “You just look miserable.”
- “Wow, you could fit two basketballs in there!”
- “Was that an accident?” (mother of 5)
- “I hope you’re done now.” (mother of 5)
- “Are you allowed to drive? Can you even fit behind the steering wheel?”
- “I don’t know much about having babies, but you are BIG.”
- “Are you sure there’s only one in there? You look like you must be having twins.”
- “I thought you couldn’t possibly get any bigger, but you sure did.”
- With 8 weeks left to go, “WOW, someone’s ready to POP!” or “Any day now.”
- “You must be having a boy because your nose is so wide…. how much wider would you say it’s gotten?”
- “Oh you’re pregnant? I just thought you were getting fat.”
People, there are a finite number of appropriate things to say to a pregnant lady. Ever. Commenting on belly size is rarely a good idea. Especially if you’re going to be using the descriptors: uncomfortable, big, huge, massive, enormous, whale, or “large and in charge.”
Whether the pregnant lady you’re “wishing well” is leo-the-late-bloomer and looks like she’s rocking a serious beer belly for the first six months, or she looks six months pregnant the day after conception, it’s not really polite or helpful to point out the obvious regarding a sensitive topic.
Instead of making a lady feel pregnant-er than she already does, please remember any sort of comments made to her should inspire confidence and honor at what the human body can do. Okay, and flattery. Ain’t nothing wrong with stroking a pregnant lady’s ego. I highly recommend the following forms of pregnant flattery, especially if you see me in the next 17 weeks.
- You look beautiful/stunning/gorgeous (heck, I’d even take your unbelievable use of the word “hot”)
- You are so tiny (or any synonym for tiny)
- You’re all belly
- I can’t believe you’re that far along. I would have never guessed.
- Bless you my good woman
Or a cat call would suffice.
Image: Baby bump via Blaj Gabriel/Shutterstock
Wednesday, September 26th, 2012
I sat alone in the bathroom during the bright but chilly dawn of an usually cold June morning, surreptitiously awaiting the results of a pregnancy test. My period was late. My stomach was bloated with more than just a food baby, and my boobs were as sore as if I’d finally had them done after years of talking about it. There was no denying these tell tale signs. But there I sat, unglamorously, humbly, obediently waiting. A Cheshire Cat grin crept across my face as the two little lines intersected into a positive plus sign, confirming what I knew.
I very much regret being alone when I found out I was pregnant. I count it as my first with you, new baby, in the slew of regrets that holds hands with parenthood.
I snuck a pregnancy test on a quick trip home to see my parents that your dad couldn’t make. It coincided with the earliest I could find out. Patience is not my best virtue. I needed dollar store pregnancy test proof that this wasn’t just a wish that my heart made. But I regret that I didn’t have your dad there to immediately share our secret. I missed running into our bedroom at an ungodly hour, like I’d done with our first pregnancy, shouting the news and seeing his joy. I didn’t want to text him. It seemed too Teen Mom. Too impersonal for something so grand.
But regret eased as elation took me by surprise. I knew I wanted to be pregnant. I knew I wanted another baby more than anything in the world, but I didn’t know if it would feel just as moving, just as thrilling as the first time I found out. I was terrified it would lack the first kiss-type thrill of my previous pregnancy. I half expected, and prepped myself for the surge of panic regarding the impending sleepless nights, inconsolable crying, painful engorgement, projectile vomit, breastfeeding stress, and mesh hospital panties that accompany new babies. It didn’t come.
Instead, I stared down and felt certain that there are few signs in life sweeter than the plus of a positive pregnancy test. Those intersecting lines mark the crossing of two lives that are inextricably linked for the good, the bad, and the heart-wrenching. Regardless of when either of those lives ends, they cross forever.
I stared at those lines and prayed that they crossed for a long and healthy life, and not in a few short, nerve-wracking first trimester weeks.
I wistfully thought of the hundreds of lines they represent and we’ll cross with you new baby: The line into parenting two children, the line at the front door when we first bring you home, waiting for the school bus lines, everyday grocery shopping lines. And the bigger lines: The cruelty of others, heartbreaks, disappointments, mistakes, successes, loves, leaving home, the millions of lines that make up this crazy but beautiful life. And as I looked at those lines that I needed so badly to confirm my tell-tale pregnancy symptoms, I didn’t feel a twinge of nerves, just unadulterated joy.
I can’t wait to be a mom again, your mom, to keep another baby forever.
Monday, September 17th, 2012
1. Your ideal bedtime is 7:30.
2. You own the hemorrhoid waddle.
3. You use to cry for silly reasons; now you cry for no reason.
4. You realize cleavage may not be a myth or something only “seen on TV.”
5. Your sense of nutrition is thwarted and the most important food group, “the grease tooth,” only sounds appealing.
6. Your daily schedule now includes time for multiple outfit changes because pants wetting is all part of the routine (I am up to 4 changes in a single day, no shame).
7. You look forward to going to bed at night because that means when you wake up in the morning you get to eat more food.
8. You reminisce about politely leaving the room to pass gas, but now recognize that would mean a life of solitude (sorry husband).
9. Your heightened sense of smell allows you to differentiate what everyone on the block is having for dinner (three houses down, you always smell good; end of the street, too much fish).
10. You want time to move faster. I’m sure there will come a day when I can’t remember why I wished my belly would pop sooner or I plead with the bambino to stop moving so I can get some sleep, but right now, those are highest on the wish list.
Photo: Positive pregnancy test via Rob Hainer/Shutterstock.com