The Shaving Incident

I'm constantly amazed at the speed and progression that your body immediately takes on once pregnant. As soon as you get used to your bra size, some other item of clothing is sneaking into your butt crack, cutting into your cleavage, or increasing in pant size. Yet another surprise came today. While showering I decided today was Shaving Day. I quickly and easily shaved my underarms and legs without thought or change in routine. Next up was the bikini line (as I try to maintain my femininity despite my ever-growing image). After lathering up, I reached down for the cut, but was momentarily forced to pause as I realized that my view was slightly altered. There was a bump in the way. I tried to suck in but my stomach didn't budge. I twisted but there was nowhere to twist. No matter which way I moved, I could not get full view.  For some reason, this obstacle never crossed my mind. I can now only laugh as I now make the connection of how the waxing industry stays so strong despite the torturous pain.  

To Suck or Not to Suck

As a woman, half of your life is spent sucking in your stomach. By the age of 13, kids are cruel enough for even adolescence to learn this lesson. And I am no different than the average woman. Every dress that I have ever tried on has always had two looks. The first look was sucked in, and the second was the what-if-I-let-it-all-hang-out look. Depending on the time of the month, how many cookies I ate for breakfast, and how long the dress had to be worn were the final determinations. This has led me to a recent predicament. 

As my stomach has finally popped, I want nothing more than to bear a belly and let the world see my pregnancy. But while substitute teaching for kindergartners (who are known to blurt the truth), as I was letting it all hang out not one child or adult mentioned or asked if I was pregnant. This could only mean one thing. I did not look pregnant, but instead was in that awkward stage. I like to call this stage the Questionably Fat Stage. Strangers don't know you well enough, but you know they are asking themselves the inevitable questions; Is she fat or is she pregnant? Even acquaintances are thinking it, but are just too embarrassed to ask. 

My entire life I have been training my stomach muscles to pull in. They were worked out daily, whether the gym was involved or not. The worse I ate, the more exercise they got. But finally, it is socially acceptable to let it all hang out. And, boy, am I glad! However, my stomach seems to be in denial. It's a moment of discomfort as the pull gets pushed and the suck gets crossed over. My stomach is actually going through a bi-polar complex. In the end, I know there is no choice. Nature will take its course and take over my body. I am ready to give in and push, push, push my belly out for the world to see. 

Kick Your Way In

If you ask any mom about the first time she felt movement, it is generally explained as butterflies or pitter-patters from within. For the last four weeks I've sat, I've waited, I've concentrated, and I've even tried meditating. Now for a girl who just can't sit still, this took quite a bit of focus and determination. Still, I felt nothing other than digestion and my heartbeat pounding in my head. All the while, to remind me of this disappointment, I was being told by numerous mothers that they were so connected to their babies that they felt it right away. Here we go again, being set up to question motherhood before it has even begun. Nevertheless, I pushed it all aside and waited.

Although pregnancy shows to the physical eye, it is easy to forget in your daily activities. I feel great, so it easily becomes a passing thought. So while out to dinner, the indigestion to come from a curry-based dinner was hardly even a passing thought. After dinner, as I was sitting through a movie, it hit. Out of nowhere without any warning, there it was. But this indigestion was nothing like I've ever felt. This was a full on attack of not my bowels, but further in than I have ever felt. It actually came in such force that I actually jumped from my seat with a gasp, and then a smile. This was not indigestion. This was my son saying,"Hey Mom! Back off the curry! And by the way, nice to meet you."

Being that I often daydream about my future son's personality, I can only assume that this kick is a direct link to his personality. Normal or not, my husband and I have always played the What-If Game. What if he has my husband's huge head and my tiny body? What if he was both of our stubbornness and my husband's childhood defiance? What if he has my little wrists on Marc's big arms? Or worse, my size 5 1/2 feet on Marc's giant calves? This game entertains us for hours. And with this first huge kick as the first movement I felt, I can only go back to this game. What if this kick is a direct correlation?"Hello world, here I am! Look at me! Hey Mom, move on over cause I'm here to kick and scream my way into your life!" 

Finding a Purpose/Size Means Everything

I truly believe that everyone has that one thing in which they find their hidden talent. I've been searching for mine for quite some time. The first, and only, time I went skiing, I spent more time on my butt than on the skis and left with multiple foot-long bruises and welts. As a matter of fact, I had children whizzing by me offering help.  I vowed to never ski again. That definitely was not my thing. My hand-eye coordination is about as good as someone who is missing hands or eyes, so I'm obviously horrible at sports. I was even known to cry when forced to play second base in softball as a child. There went that idea. Being that I'm a clutz, I became no shining star while dancing. One more niche down the drain! Still, there has to be something. 

Earlier this week, at my nineteen week sonogram, as I was making out the difference between aliens and my son-to-be, it came to me. I may not be athletic, and I may not be the best artist or singer, but maybe my purpose has more to do with what comes from within, literally. I couldn't help but feel an overwhelming urge to care for and love this little being that was growing before my eyes. Maybe my purpose is to be a mom and love with all of my heart. 

Now if only learning to appreciate my purpose from "within" will help to erase the knowledge and fear that "within" will soon enough rip it's way out... which brings me to the topic of delivery. 

Those who know my husband know he is no small man at 6'1'' and 225 pounds. Being under 5'2'', I can only stress knowing that my fetus is carrying his DNA. Based on my track history, I can only imagine that my delivery will involve more than simplicity, but rather a story to remember and a story of a doctor saying, "Well, this is rare!" as they so often do say to me. Just so you know just how much of a stressor this has become in my life, I actually brought this topic to my obstetrician's attention. As we discussed vaginal delivery verses cesarean, only one neurotic focus was on my mind and there was no way to explain this delicately. "HAVE YOU SEEN THE SIZE OF MY HUSBAND'S HEAD!?"  But good news to me, my doctor agreed to do a sonogram at week 37 to determine the babies size and the practicality of vaginal delivery. Obvious to me, my doctor DID take note of the size of Marc's head. 

Swimming to the Winner's Circle

A flashback to how it all started. Well, not how, because you should all know how that happens...

I shrieked, I actually shrieked when I knew I was pregnant. But Marc was at work and I had to wait to tell him until he was home. I couldn't exactly call my mom as she'd be a nervous mess only 4 week in. And as tempted as I was, I wouldn't dare tell my best friend without telling my husband first. But I had to tell someone. I had to tell anyone. I just had to say it aloud, "I'M PREGNANT". So I called the first person I could think of; My doctor. Once the receptionist answered the phone, I blurted it out, "I'm pregnant!" She asked how far along, and that's when I had to laugh. "Oh, maybe five minutes?" After a quick chuckle, she realized my excitement and agreed to set up an appointment to put my anxious mind at ease. 

And the next two hours were spent pacing the house and squeezing my dog as I waited for my husband to come home from work. It only took six "Where the hell are you!" phone calls for him to wonder what my problem was.  

When he finally got home, I told him in the most creative way I knew how. In the bathroom was where I peed on the stick, so why would I tell him anywhere else? As a matter of fact, this is where I peed on the stick twice, just to be completely sure and just to shake my body out of shock. Knowing he'd be home soon,  I shoved the sticks in the medicine cabinet because apparently I felt that I needed more proof than nine months would bring. Then I quickly made a card. On the front was a sperm entering an egg with the caption "X + Y = " and the inside read "We cracked the code!" Marc came home and I did all that I could to not jump on him, but instead just screamed to open the medicine cabinet. He pulled out the card, read it, and drum roll...nothing. Nothing! Just a "What do you mean?" (Enter thirty second pause here.) And then it hit!  He started to cry, tears streaming down his face. And that's when he said those romantic loving words that I longed to hear... "I'm just so glad that my guys can swim!" 

My Interpretation of Pregnancy Myths

MYTH:  Sleep becomes nearly impossible during pregnancy in order to prepare you for your future of sleepless nights.

MY INTERPRETATION: I can't stop eating. When you are pregnant every food is game at all hours of the day and night. A full sandwich followed by an entire package of cookies at 11 p.m.? Perfect!  A bag of popcorn followed by a bowl of pasta right before bed? Why not!! You can't sleep on an overstuffed belly. 

MYTH: Your breasts get larger in order to prepare for breast feeding.

MY INTERPRETATION: Since the rest of your body becomes alarmingly huge, you need larger breasts to counter balance your butt. This also happens in order to keep your partner attracted to you. 

MYTH: You become hornier and more easily aroused because of the increased blood flow "down below".

MY INTERPRETATION: God has a cruel sense of humor. Your butt keeps growing, your fat keeps jiggling, and all you can think about is having sex, but only with the lights off of course. 

MYTH: Avoid soft cheeses and fish in order to maintain your pregnancy health.

MY INTERPRETATION: Have you ever actually taken the time to smell fish or soft cheese? Ugh. It's nearly as bad as a man's gym socks! This is a horror to a pregnant nose!

MYTH: Your nose becomes stuffed during pregnancy because of the increased blood flow.

MY INTERPRETATION: Your nose is very sensitive to smell during pregnancy. When was the last time you rolled over and smelled your husband's breath in the middle of the night?! Plus, have you ever noticed the smell that men give off when they sleep? It's not always that clean and fresh scent that we women love. Our nighttime stuffiness is our savior during pregnancy!

MYTH: Hormones in pregnancy can cause mood swings.

MY INTERPRETATION: When women live together, they eventually get on the same menstrual cycle. Their hormones align. Since women are so easily affected by each other, it is only natural that men react too. Men think they have us figured out, but things change once we become pregnant. New hormones are soaring and men start to react to this increase in hormones and estrogen by becoming more feminine.  They become more womenly and overly sensitive to basic situations. Naturally, this causes a woman to become irritated, which men try to pass off as a mood swing.  So I believe that all pregnant mood swings are at fault of men. (Plus, they got us in this position anyway!)

 

MYTH: Your nails and hair grow extremely fast and look healthier than ever due to pre-natal vitamins.

MY INTERPRETATION: This happens in order to give pregnant women something else to obsess over instead of their ever-expanding stomachs. 

The Ever Growing Woman

Just yesterday I saw a woman, maybe five feet tall and at nine months pregnant no more than 110 pounds. She was all belly, and absolutely adorable. That's when I realized I wanted to throw my shoe at her.  Not just any shoe, but a spiky stiletto (since I won't be wearing them again any time soon). Women like that set a bad example for the rest of us. Pregnancy does not just mean larger bras and larger bellies! There are also larger ankles, larger thighs, larger butts, larger arms, and larger chins. 

So after this wonderful realization, today I spent over 3 hours trying to close buttons on not just waistlines, but bustlines, as I exchanged my wardrobe with maternity options. Anyone who knows me well knows I am more than happy to upgrade my bra size. A wish come true in filling a cup! But then I realized something rather alarming. Only four months in, I've already gone up in size and gave up the idea of ever going braless again. I've even resigned to wearing bras while at home, which was always my number one no-no. Still, I have 5 months to go plus nursing. And when my own husband actually questions when and if they will ever stop growing, I can only think, "Oh crap! When does the growing stop?" And that's when I remembered reading; Your chest will never again be the same. Goodbye perky boobs, hello pencil eraser nipples! Now don't get me wrong, I am more than willing to give up certain things in exchange for a baby. But I guess I just never realized just how much of your physical shape would be given up not just for nine months, but forever.  So in the meantime if you see me over the next few months and my neckline plunges, please know I am embracing my curves the only way I can - by making YOU embrace them as well!

To begin with (my pregnancy).

I've had several friends and family members frequently ask about the silly little nuances that come along with pregnancy. While giggling over life's "side effects" a friend recommended blogging. For those of you who are interested, whether it's to compare your own stories, or to wonder, with horror, where your future may take you, or for the man who simply has no idea, I'll be writing about my nine months of pregnancy. Family and friends beware - I won't be censoring my words. Pregnancy comes with gas, with pains, and with hormonal mood swings that will send any man hiding and I'm here to share and laugh at my own expense. Please feel free to join me in this journey.  

Being 17 weeks in, I'll have to recapture the first trimester in memory.  

After peeing the fourth time within a two hour period, I found myself wondering if I had developed a bladder infection or if pregnancy side effects really happen that fast. Upon telling Marc that I was either "knocked up or suffering from the fastest explosion of a UTI ever" he laughed at me and claimed that no one knows that quickly. Lo and behold ladies - YES I DID! As a matter of fact, 6 days after having sex I secretly took a pregnancy test. Of course it said "Not Pregnant" but I knew the truth. The day before my period was due, I tried again.  Even though I already knew the diagnoses, I still screamed like a little girl and had to immediately take a second test just to be sure. 

Within the next week, the scale never changed, but my pants yanked at my waist and my stomach bloated like a balloon. The gases trapped inside of me were intolerable. I think it was at this point that Marc actually turned his head completely around on his shoulders when he realized that his wife was replaced by a farting and burping machine. No way to hide it. It's either love me in whole, or leave the room. F.Y.I - things have settled down in the second trimester. But, learning from the first trimester, I can now laugh and appreciate anyone else's gas. Having to hide it can be excruciating. And I hear that it just gets worse in  the 3rd trimester!

Trying to keep this short, the other most notable thing to mention was the sonograms. Due to my medical history, our first sonogram was at barely 6 weeks. And there was my little dot. In disbelief, staring at a poppy seed doesn't actually help to fill the maternal instinct. Flash forward two weeks and the dot has a pulsating heart beat. I didn't see it, Marc did. Have you seen that episode of Friends where Rachel couldn't make out her baby in the sonogram and thought she was already a bad mom? Who knew I could relate. Marc saw it. The doctor saw it. The assistant saw it. I didn't... This was still just a dot. 

December 17 - 10 weeks: The baby is an alien tadpole. More than doubling in size, it was becoming more real, but still inhuman. There were arms and legs that belonged to a tadpole, and there was a head that had protruding eyes like an alien. But it was mine. It was my alien frog and I knew I'd love it no matter what. 

January 9 - 13 weeks (and beginning 2nd trimester): It has a heartbeat, it has a spine, it has a brain. And according to my mother-in-law, it has my profile. I then began laying on my back at least 20 minutes a day waiting to feel something. All I felt was my elevated heartbeat.

January 22 - 15 weeks: An assistant did this sonogram. Once the head technician walked in and took a look she asked if we wanted to know the sex. Yes!! "It's a boy" - and there it was. Although still a bit early to find out, our little boy was wide-legged and ready to show the world (or Mom and Dad) his goods. My eyes swelled with tears and the only thing I could think of was, "Why am I staring at the back of Marc's head? Why won't he look at me?" After a moment of hormonal rage accusing my husband of not caring, it turns out he was having a "masculine" moment. Not wanting to be seen with tears in his eyes by strangers, it finally was real to Marc too. This was our little boy, but this was his little football player. 

And so now we are caught up. Next blog- more exciting news. My boobs are bigger!!