I’m pregnant. I’m pretty you sure caught that in my last post. There are many facets to pregnancy. There’s the warm and fuzzy God has blessed and allowed me to take part in the creation of a human life aspect and there’s the nitty gritty truth. My first pregnancy (from what I can remember) was absolutely sublime. Caught up in the newness of it all, I didn’t get hung up on a lot of things. The novelty of it had me in la la land. Nevermind the whole will I marry my baby daddy, we’re pregnant out of wedlock thing, and the whole living in sin thing; I was sublimely happy. I was blessed enough to not have to work. No worrying about maternity leave and how long can we afford me not to work postpartum (which I know God is working on!). I didn’t watch what I ate. I just ate it all. I gained 40lbs and gave birth at 170ish. I didn’t care. I wasn’t exercising during the time I conceived, so I didn’t start. I didn’t care. This time, I know better. Sometimes ignorance truly is bliss.
1. I miss caffeine. Like you wouldn’t even believe. Before I knew I was pregnant I was a solid 12oz (maybe 16?) a day coffee drinker, plus a Coke Zero (sometimes three). I work nights so it was completely necessary (at least in my head). I miss the warm goodness of coffee after coming home from working 16 hours and then getting stuck over a little in the morning too. I miss the fizzy burn of the Coke Zero for my pre-run drink. I miss it all. I cut it out completely for about 4.5 weeks. I even held off an extra week after my Dr. said not to worry about it, just drink in moderation (does three Coke Zeros and a coffee count as moderate? I doubt that’s what she had in mind). But I gave in last week. But in a moderate way. I’ve limited myself to either a Coke Zero, just one a day, or a small regular cup of coffee. But I miss it. And I’m sick of water. Which sucks because Dr. said to drink more. I do love OJ. Oh, I need to move on to number 2 now.
2. I miss running more than I miss caffeine. This one is hard because it’s a self-imposed rule. Kind of. I’m a runner. I’ve learned that over the past year. It’s in my blood to run. But the magic heart rate during pregnancy is 140. I thought I could fudge on that number a little since I’ve been running forever, but sadly, at my last Dr. appointment she said: “No, 140 is kind of the limit. You wouldn’t want to go over that for very long.” Nice. I push 140 walking up the stairs. Running Jogging Walking really fast I’m in the 160-170 range. I am pushing a stroller. Not a fancy pants jogging stroller, a hand me down from 2004 (which is totally fine with me) that weighs 10lbs plus the 35lbs of my toddler. But I’ve always run like that! I miss running. And since a heart rate that is too high apparently diverts blood flow from the placenta at some point, I just can’t risk it. I’m gonna borrow a heart monitor and see what I can do. But right now I’m stuck with some ankle weights and walking. Sigh.
3. I may give our expensive dog away on the down low one day. We have an 8 month old Boxer. She’s beautiful, do you want her? Ay yi yi that dog drives me bananas some days. Dogs are infinitely more work than children. So all you couples thinking you can’t handle a kid, try a dog. I can’t even begin to explain it. Husband and I had a puppy about a year old when we brought our first born home. Token (the dog) started peeing on her stuff. Her little papasan chair, the boppy. So we gave her away. Token, not the baby. Good choice, ay? We actually paid for Leah (the Boxer that our daughter named), so it’ll be a little more painful to get rid of her, but I swear, if that dog is upstairs chewing on my flip flops right now, she’s outta here.
Ok, not really. The family would revolt, but the dog is driving me crazy.
4. I really hate showering. I can see your inner Judge Judy whipping out the gavel. I didn’t say I don’t shower. I said I didn’t like it. Maybe it’s because 85% of the chances I have to shower I’m having to simultaneously break up fights between my daughter and the dog. And shut the bathroom door that they keep opening when they run in and out. And hop out to let the dog out. Or help buggaboo potty. Or whatever. It’s just not a pleasant experience anymore. It’s just a lot of work. It’s far from relaxing. Then when I get out I’m still breaking up fights and letting the dog out and trying to hold my towel up and plan snack time. Goodness.
I’m growing my hair out for locks of love. Its long enough to cut but not without leaving me with a Demi Moore-esque hairdo circa 1990; not ok with me or hub. So sometimes, I don’t even brush it because again, too much effort. But not to fear, put those Judge Judy thoughts away! It gives me a beach-y wave-y look. For about an hour.
5. Strangers who want to touch my stomach make me uncomfortable. This hasn’t happened yet with this pregnancy, but at the rate I’m going, it could be any day now. And to be perfectly honest, it didn’t happen with my other one either, but I know friends who it has happened to and frankly, just the thought of it skeeves me out a little. Where I come from, bellies are private, like, well, other private parts. I wouldn’t go up to a bald man and start rubbing his head. That would be weird and awkward, so I just don’t see the difference with pregnant bellies? And honestly, even friends should probably ask or give a warning. Don’t you think?
6. I’m not interested in perfect strangers’ horrific tales of labor. True story. My first pregnancy, hub and I were at the Dr.s office and this lady started talking to me. Small pregnancy talk at first (Is this your first? How far along? Do you know the sex?), but then she said, “Well, I loved being pregnant, but I didn’t love what came out.” I’m not even kidding. Then, during my last meal before induction, the cashier told me this horrible tale of 27 (or something like that) hour labor, her epidural didn’t work, etc. Look, I’m truly sorry you had a bad experience, but we don’t know each other, and this isn’t ok. I want you to say nice, stranger-appropriate things like, “I’m sure it’ll be great. Enjoy your new baby. God bless you!” Is that so hard?
Friends are totally different though. Be honest. We’re supposed to share things like that. But be gentle with first timers.
7. I eat deli meat and hot dogs. Like a champ. Listeria shmisteria. I actually forgot about this little rule until I read it while perusing a pregnancy forum. Which was unfortunate, because a lunch staple ’round hea is homemade sub sandwiches. With ham or turkey. So anyway, I heat it up until steaming hot now, which actually adds a little something to it. How gourmet of me.
That’s enough for now. Shew, I got carried away! :) This is all fun and games, but don’t get it twisted, I truly love being pregnant. Like I said, there are two sides of it, but the bigger side is the beauty and amazement part, not the sarcastic, man, that’s hard part. Thankfully, this pregnancy is a lot like my first. Although hopefully the end will be different, i.e., minus the complications! No sickness in either. Praise God for that. I can’t imagine and feel for the sick mommas. So you know all those people that tell if you had a smooth first pregnancy you’ll pay for it on your second? I’m your new anecdotal response. I also don’t believe that if you had a dream boat first child you’ll have a little heathen for your second. Who speaks that over their child?! Not me. I’m fully expecting an equally awesome child. God’s really cool like that.