I actually love being pregnant... I feel great (for the most part), I don't get many aches and pain, my husband is incredibly supportive, and watching the belly grow is kinda amazing! That being said, there are some things about pregnancy that always make me question, just for a second, what the heck women are thinking! There are also things that happen (many more things, actually) that make me question what the heck these non-pregnant people are thinking.
I'll start with the most obvious... because I think it happens to everybody who carries a baby. When it happened to me when I was pregnant with Gracie, I was stunned. I didn't know what to do, I didn't know what to say. So I'll say it now... what in the world would possess you to reach out and touch the belly of a person you don't know? It was a Sunday morning, and I was at our Sunday School hall, and I had just finished setting up and getting ready for classes when it happened to me. All of my teachers were in class, so there was no one to even intervene. I know most of the kids (and their parents) by name, but this was my first time meeting this particular parent. She introduced herself by walking over and saying "oh my gosh, look at your belly, it's so cute." And she put her hand on it. That was weird enough for me. But then she started to tell me all about her two pregnancies and how difficult they were... all with her hand on my belly. It was around a 5-minute conversation. I backed up a couple of times, and she followed with her hand out. At one point she said, "oh I just felt her kick." Fantastic! This stranger had felt the baby kick before Danny had. I would just like to say, I mostly don't mind people touching the belly. Especially friends and family. Old women at grocery stores are okay too. But for goodness sakes, boundaries people!!
I'll start with the most obvious... because I think it happens to everybody who carries a baby. When it happened to me when I was pregnant with Gracie, I was stunned. I didn't know what to do, I didn't know what to say. So I'll say it now... what in the world would possess you to reach out and touch the belly of a person you don't know? It was a Sunday morning, and I was at our Sunday School hall, and I had just finished setting up and getting ready for classes when it happened to me. All of my teachers were in class, so there was no one to even intervene. I know most of the kids (and their parents) by name, but this was my first time meeting this particular parent. She introduced herself by walking over and saying "oh my gosh, look at your belly, it's so cute." And she put her hand on it. That was weird enough for me. But then she started to tell me all about her two pregnancies and how difficult they were... all with her hand on my belly. It was around a 5-minute conversation. I backed up a couple of times, and she followed with her hand out. At one point she said, "oh I just felt her kick." Fantastic! This stranger had felt the baby kick before Danny had. I would just like to say, I mostly don't mind people touching the belly. Especially friends and family. Old women at grocery stores are okay too. But for goodness sakes, boundaries people!!
My next favourite pregnancy experience... the "whoa you're huge" experience. This one's pretty obvious. It's when you walk into a room and people stare and point and say "whoa, you're huge!" Really? Huge? I hadn't noticed. No, seriously... I just thought my toes miraculously got 4 inches shorter... that's why I can't see them anymore, obviously! And really, the fact that when I drop money I refuse to pick it up unless it's made of paper... that's because I'm lazy, not huge! The fact that I sleep with 74 pillows now, instead of 2... purely comfort driven. The fact that strange people come up and touch my belly... it's because I'm just that damn sexy! Please believe me that every pregnant woman knows how huge they are! You want to call me huge? Try this one, "whoa, those boobies are huge!" Damn straight! :)
Which leads me to my next one... the "whoa, I'm huge" experience. That's when we catch ourselves in a mirror, or notice we've somehow picked up that waddle, or we've dropped a quarter on the floor. We know how huge we are, but sometimes it still catches us off guard. The other day I was in church and we have these "fantastic" new chairs instead of pews, with kneelers on them. I realized that the next 4 months at church aren't going to be easy for me... because I don't fit on the kneeler. There's no where for this belly to go. That was a little "whoa" experience for me. And 3 months ago, I used to invite Gracie over to pat my belly and show her where the baby is. Now she walks right up, lifts up my shirt, points and says "what's that?" Then she sticks her belly out as far it will go. I get it Gracie, I get it! This week I'm dealing with the expanding rib cage problem. It was the only part of my last pregnancy that really bothered me, and it's that time again. I'm getting "whoa" huge quickly, and the skin at the top of my belly and between my ribs feels like a constant indian burn. I know that's not a politically correct term, but that's what it was called growing up, and the only way to describe how it really feels. Like a fire, 24 hours a day. Whoa! This ever-expanding rib problem also leads me to walk around with one hand above my head, sleep sitting up, and drive with one hand on the roof of the car. It's really fun. :)
One thing that kind of goes along with the "whoa, I'm huge experience" is the eating. I have to admit, with Gracie I barely had a craving. I sent Danny out once or twice, mostly because I felt I had to take advantage of that God-given right to make him go. This time... oh my. I want food. I want food all the time. I try to wait 3 days before giving into a craving, just to see if it will go away. But if I'm still craving it by day 3, watch out! Early on, I wanted the usual. Pickles. We went through 4 jars. Then it was french fries. Then chicken wings. Chicken fingers. Chicken nuggets. Hamburgers. Fried pepperoni. Steak. I began to notice a pattern. I am, apparently, iron deficient. I craved meat, meat, meat. Which doesn't surprise me. Because when I'm pregnant, I don't really eat meat in my meals. I just don't like it, unless it's grilled at a restaurant, or cooked in a deep fryer. Or better yet, cooked somewhere other than here, where I can't see it or smell it. Yuck. Then there's my fallback. Chips. Chips can be a problem for me, because I know I want them, I just don't know what kind. Danny and I have had many a frustrated phone call with him standing in the chip aisle. "Okay, I'm here. What kind do you want? What do you mean you don't know? Well you have to tell me what you want. Okay... dill pickle, salt and vinegar, roast chicken, or doritos? That still doesn't help. Which one? Okay... dill pickle or roast chicken? Well... which one? Which one? Which one?" Usually around there, I scream, "oh just forget it." And once, Danny did forget it. He came home without any. That was a mistake. A big mistake. Because then I cried, and yelled "if I can't decide, just bring them all. I'll eat them eventually!" Danny's a good little grasshopper, because he learned, and has never done that again!! I also think Danny finds my cravings especially frustrating because when I give in, so does he! I made him pick me up a burger and fries the other night and he ended up with a full meal too. He brought them home at 11 p.m., and I ate a handful of fries and half the burger. That was it, I was satisfied. "How can you want something so bad, and only eat half of it?" *sigh* Men... they just don't get it! :)
The last thing I'll mention is a near and dear issue for me... let me start by saying, I can be emotional during pregnancy. Not crazy, angry, emotional, but teary cry-baby emotional (as I have mentioned in previous posts). Being pregnant can cause me to feel irrational things, or say things that don't make sense. But may I just say, right now, that it is not always horomones that make me upset. I have this discussion with Danny often, especially during the beginning of pregnancy. He'll say "Sammy, you're being awfully sensitive, are you hormonal today?" And sometimes, I have to admit... yes, yes I am. But there are times - a number of times, actually - when it is not my freaking horomones! Sometimes, dear Husbands of pregnant people, it is NOT our horomones. Sometimes (now brace yourselves for this), sometimes you are just being stupid. Plain and simple. No, I'm not hormonal. You're just being dumb. The minute we become pregnant, I swear, husbands and coworkers and most males in general, think they have a 9-month excuse for bad behaviour. If they act like stupid jerks, they can just blame it on our horomones. Even now, there is a male reading this paragraph, thinking... "oh, her poor husband, she certainly sounds hormonal." Well I take comfort in the fact that every female out there knows, it's not always my horomones. Sometimes... it's just you! So there. Neener, neener, neener.
Well that's it for now... I'm hungry. I think a want a burger... or french fries... maybe some chicken wings... mmmm....
Which leads me to my next one... the "whoa, I'm huge" experience. That's when we catch ourselves in a mirror, or notice we've somehow picked up that waddle, or we've dropped a quarter on the floor. We know how huge we are, but sometimes it still catches us off guard. The other day I was in church and we have these "fantastic" new chairs instead of pews, with kneelers on them. I realized that the next 4 months at church aren't going to be easy for me... because I don't fit on the kneeler. There's no where for this belly to go. That was a little "whoa" experience for me. And 3 months ago, I used to invite Gracie over to pat my belly and show her where the baby is. Now she walks right up, lifts up my shirt, points and says "what's that?" Then she sticks her belly out as far it will go. I get it Gracie, I get it! This week I'm dealing with the expanding rib cage problem. It was the only part of my last pregnancy that really bothered me, and it's that time again. I'm getting "whoa" huge quickly, and the skin at the top of my belly and between my ribs feels like a constant indian burn. I know that's not a politically correct term, but that's what it was called growing up, and the only way to describe how it really feels. Like a fire, 24 hours a day. Whoa! This ever-expanding rib problem also leads me to walk around with one hand above my head, sleep sitting up, and drive with one hand on the roof of the car. It's really fun. :)
One thing that kind of goes along with the "whoa, I'm huge experience" is the eating. I have to admit, with Gracie I barely had a craving. I sent Danny out once or twice, mostly because I felt I had to take advantage of that God-given right to make him go. This time... oh my. I want food. I want food all the time. I try to wait 3 days before giving into a craving, just to see if it will go away. But if I'm still craving it by day 3, watch out! Early on, I wanted the usual. Pickles. We went through 4 jars. Then it was french fries. Then chicken wings. Chicken fingers. Chicken nuggets. Hamburgers. Fried pepperoni. Steak. I began to notice a pattern. I am, apparently, iron deficient. I craved meat, meat, meat. Which doesn't surprise me. Because when I'm pregnant, I don't really eat meat in my meals. I just don't like it, unless it's grilled at a restaurant, or cooked in a deep fryer. Or better yet, cooked somewhere other than here, where I can't see it or smell it. Yuck. Then there's my fallback. Chips. Chips can be a problem for me, because I know I want them, I just don't know what kind. Danny and I have had many a frustrated phone call with him standing in the chip aisle. "Okay, I'm here. What kind do you want? What do you mean you don't know? Well you have to tell me what you want. Okay... dill pickle, salt and vinegar, roast chicken, or doritos? That still doesn't help. Which one? Okay... dill pickle or roast chicken? Well... which one? Which one? Which one?" Usually around there, I scream, "oh just forget it." And once, Danny did forget it. He came home without any. That was a mistake. A big mistake. Because then I cried, and yelled "if I can't decide, just bring them all. I'll eat them eventually!" Danny's a good little grasshopper, because he learned, and has never done that again!! I also think Danny finds my cravings especially frustrating because when I give in, so does he! I made him pick me up a burger and fries the other night and he ended up with a full meal too. He brought them home at 11 p.m., and I ate a handful of fries and half the burger. That was it, I was satisfied. "How can you want something so bad, and only eat half of it?" *sigh* Men... they just don't get it! :)
The last thing I'll mention is a near and dear issue for me... let me start by saying, I can be emotional during pregnancy. Not crazy, angry, emotional, but teary cry-baby emotional (as I have mentioned in previous posts). Being pregnant can cause me to feel irrational things, or say things that don't make sense. But may I just say, right now, that it is not always horomones that make me upset. I have this discussion with Danny often, especially during the beginning of pregnancy. He'll say "Sammy, you're being awfully sensitive, are you hormonal today?" And sometimes, I have to admit... yes, yes I am. But there are times - a number of times, actually - when it is not my freaking horomones! Sometimes, dear Husbands of pregnant people, it is NOT our horomones. Sometimes (now brace yourselves for this), sometimes you are just being stupid. Plain and simple. No, I'm not hormonal. You're just being dumb. The minute we become pregnant, I swear, husbands and coworkers and most males in general, think they have a 9-month excuse for bad behaviour. If they act like stupid jerks, they can just blame it on our horomones. Even now, there is a male reading this paragraph, thinking... "oh, her poor husband, she certainly sounds hormonal." Well I take comfort in the fact that every female out there knows, it's not always my horomones. Sometimes... it's just you! So there. Neener, neener, neener.
Well that's it for now... I'm hungry. I think a want a burger... or french fries... maybe some chicken wings... mmmm....
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