Tag Archives: pregnancy

Things Strangers Should Not Say to Pregnant Women

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I’m 40 weeks 5 days and feeling sassy, this should be a good read for you all.

Dear manager at the local bagel shop,

This morning you told me my son hasn’t dropped yet. No shit, Sherlock. Do you think that after carrying this child around for 40+ weeks, I’m still not in tune enough with my body to know when a 7lbs human drops into my pelvis? Trust me, I’ll know. Also, I don’t appreciate your implication that because he hasn’t dropped, it will still be quite a while until I go into labor. Are you a medical professional? No, you aren’t because if you were, you would know what my midwife, an ACTUAL medical professional, knows and that is that babies drop differently. Some weeks before, some days and some don’t drop until labor actually starts. I come to you for delicious bagels after my dr appt (during which a medical professional informed me that I was making progress and could see a baby this week) and all you do is rain on my parade? Not cool, man, not cool. 

Dear Carls Jr Manager,

You really shouldn’t guess the gender of your customers babies. You’re much better off just asking. And if you do guess wrong, don’t try to prove yourself right! Yes I’m carrying high, but that doesn’t automatically mean that I’m having a girl. I’ve had an ultrasound tech, radiologist and midwife all look at my ultrasounds and confirm that my baby is a boy. Do you honestly think that your 10 second assessment of my belly is more reliable than that? I don’t care that you’ve correctly guessed the gender of 100 pregnant women’s babies. In fact, that kind of creeps me out. But anyways, its not even that impressive because each time you have a 50% chance of getting it right. But this time you got it wrong. If you want to be in obstetrics so bad, go team up with bagel guy and head to medical school, otherwise give me my Santa Fe chicken sandwich, congratulate me on having a boy, and walk away.    

Dear fellow customer at the grocery store,

Generally, it’s not a good idea to comment on the size of babies or pregnant moms that you don’t know. See, you thought you were just making conversation by telling me that my baby “looks big.” What you don’t know is that my husband was 12lbs when he was born and my biggest fear this whole pregnancy is that I will birth a toddler. So now you’ve just freaked me out AND made me feel like a whale. Seriously, you’re like 60, how do you not know that the best thing to say about a pregnant woman’s looks is simply “you’re glowing”? 

Dear everyone in the world,

Please stop telling me to sleep get in all the sleep i can before the baby comes. Do you think I’ve suddenly decided that this is the time in my life to pull all nighters? Do you think I’m lugging this belly out to the clubs at all sorts of ungodly hours?  Let me put your mind at ease…I’m sleeping. Is it good sleep? No, because I have to get up to pee every two hours and my hips hurt like a mo fo. But I’m doing the best that I can. Also, its not like I can store that stuff up and use to give myself extra energy when the baby comes. No matter how much I sleep now, I will be exhausted when the baby comes. Even the dumbest parents know that. I’m definitely open to advice, but please please please stop with the sleep concerns. 

Where Is My Nesting Hormone?

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Here’s the thing. I was under the impression that pregnancy came with a magical nesting hormone that motivated all women to start cleaning, organizing, decorating and even cooking. Seeing as I’ve never been one to enjoy any of those activities, I was really looking forward to the biological change that would suddenly transform me from a passive Pinterest user into one that actually did the projects she pinned.

And yet here I am at 30 weeks and I’ve got nothing. Over the long Memorial Day weekend I tried to muster up some nesting feelings and went into the babies room to start organizing. BORING! I lasted an hour. Yes, I did get some necessary cleaning and organizing done, but it felt the same way cleaning and organizing felt before I was pregnant. It felt like a chore. A chore I was happy to do because I knew it would prepare for the baby, but a chore nonetheless. There was nothing magical about it.

Meanwhile, Mr Alexander is in nesting overdrive. That man has knitted three hats and four stuffed animals for his son, painted the baby’s room by himself and he just finished making a pallet headboard for our bed. Next on his list is refinishing some shelves and creating some art for the babies room. And now that he has a Pinterest account, the good Lord only knows what other types of projects are going to pop up around the house within the next 10 weeks.

The real kicker in this whole scenario is that while I didn’t get the nesting hormone, I definitely got all the other crappy hormones that come with pregnancy. My lack of a nesting hormone (combined with the fact that I ruined the homemade granola I tried to make) triggered my emotional hormone last night and I was fighting back tears as I verbalized my frustrations to my husband. While hubs listened dutifully, he wasn’t really in the comforting mood and so I was forced to “self soothe.” (Yes, he actually uses that term with me when I’m upset over things he considers trivial…”B, you’re gonna have to self soothe with this one”). And the conclusion I came to was this: I don’t have to be a nesting mom. I’ve got other good mom traits. I can help with homework. I can give advice on friends. I can teach Aaron how not to be annoying on Instagram. I can cheer at sports tournaments and encourage him in musical endeavors. And I can take him a gazillion field trips. Seriously, I cannot wait until he is old enough to go places like the zoo and Discovery Science Center, and do activities like fish, camp and play with sidewalk chalk. Hopefully we will keep him so busy he won’t even notice that his room is lame. Unless of course this nesting hormone of daddy’s sticks around. In which case he’ll have an awesome room and awesome experiences. Which will pretty much make us awesome parents.

All that to say, if any of you mommas are feeling insecure about a certain aspect of motherhood, just take a moment to self soothe and think about all the good mom traits you have. Write them out, stick them on your mirror, dashboard, coffee pot or any place where you will see the list often and then daily remind yourself of your strengths. As for your weaknesses, either work on them or be content with letting your partner shine in those areas 🙂

P.S. I hope that the whole self soothing thing doesn’t make my husband come off as disinterested or uncaring. This is not true at all as he is one of the most caring people I know. But he knows me well enough by now to know when I’m genuinely upset and when I’m just temporarily upset. And he knows I usually work out the temporary upsets better on my own, hence the whole “self soothing” thing. It works for us 🙂

Three Boxes of Nerds is One Box Too Many

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The following conversation happened at about 2:30 am a few mornings ago, when Husband came home from his closing shift. I found it humorous and thought it would bring some laughter to your Monday.

Me: Did you bring home food?

Husband (hesitantly, because he knows what that question means): Yes

Me: Can I have some fries?

Husband: I didn’t get fries.

Me: What? Who gets fast food without fries?

Husband: Well I went to Del Taco and I never get their fries.

Me: Oh (and I look at him with my saddest puppy dog eyes)

Husband (now slightly annoyed): Do you want one of my tacos?

Me: YES!

Husband (as he hands me the taco): Why are your fingers so red?

Me: Because I ate three boxes of nerds before bed.

Husband: What?

Me: Hey, they were apple watermelon flavored, the perfect combination of sweet and sour. I couldn’t help myself! Although, I’ll admit, the third one was definitely a mistake. I didn’t feel so hot after that.

Husband: Do you still want the taco?

Me: Duh! Hand it over. With some hot sauce too.

Husband later complained that he had a taco sized hole in his stomach. I just blamed it on the baby, rolled over and went to sleep. That poor man, pregnancy has not been nice to him.

Just Give Me The Drugs and Make It Stop

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NOTE: This blog was written about 3 weeks ago. So in case any of you are keeping close tabs on my health and how far along I am, the timing in this blog is going to sound off. For those of you who have a hard time remembering that I’m even pregnant, this small factoid has no impact on your enjoyment of this article whatsoever.)

I’ve never been one to use medication at the first sign of sickness. I’m not against using medicine, I just prefer to tough it out or use natural remedies. About 80% of the time that works and I don’t need medicine. But then there’s that other 20%…

I haven’t blogged about it much, but those of you who know me personally know that I’ve been nauseous all day every day since I found out I was pregnant. (Side note: I’ve written that word at least 100 times and can never spell it right. I always have to look it up.) For the past 13 weeks I’ve been toughing it out, using natural remedies such as peppermint, change in diet, acupressure, etc. But instead of getting better, it kept getting worse. The last two weeks it was so bad that I had no appetite and every time I ate it was followed by a bouts of pain and serious research into the possibility of stomach transplants.

Yesterday was the final straw. Remember my last post about the wonders of Tums? Those wonders lasted a day. After that,  I went into work and after 40 minutes had to leave because the sickness was so bad. I got home and called my Dr office, choking back tears as I begged for medication.

“Do you want Zofran?”

“Sure, whatever you normally give people in this situation, I’ll take it. Just make it stop!!!!”

As I was waiting for my prescription, I struggled with feelings of failure. I had wanted so badly to stay away from medication, to eat healthy and to exercise to provide the best environment for the little bean. I’d learned early on that exercise wasn’t going to be a regular thing, and eating well would be doable but a struggle, but I thought surly I could stay away from meds for nine months. I rarely take meds when I’m not pregnant! But alas, that was not that case. I felt like I’d failed to take care of the baby.  But then, a dear friend of mine, who is pregnant with her second, sent me a wonderful bit of encouragement.

First rule of mommyhood, you are not a failure. Ever! You will always do the best you can with the circumstances you’re given. That’s all God asks of us & that’s all our baby asks of us. You’ll forget to change your baby’s diaper and he will get a diaper rash but that does not make you a failure. You’ll be one step too far from him and he’ll fall and get a bruise on his head, not a failure. You’ll have a kid that bites another kid or hits another kid… Still not a failure. These are just parts of parenting that every mom goes through.

That lifted my spirits and gave me hope that maybe, just maybe, I really could do this mom thing. It also made me realize that I must differentiate between disappointment in a situation and feeling like a life failure. When things don’t go the way I plan them, or when I don’t achieve something I set out to do, my automatic reaction is to label myself a failure. The reality is, it’s simply a disappointing situation, not a sign that I suck at everything! I better get used to it, because from what I hear, raising kids never goes according to plan.

So, I got through the emotional aspect of taking meds (side note, now that I’m pregnant it seems that EVERY situation has an emotional aspect. Its exhausting). Then I actually took the drugs and felt even better! The nausea was greatly reduced, I had more energy, I could think a little more clearly and for the rest of the week I actually made it through 8 hours of work a day. I don’t want to get to far ahead of myself, but I’m thinking I might actually be able to start exercising next week. So, turns out the thing that I thought would make me a bad mom is actually making me a better one, as I now have energy to take better care of myself and baby. Thank you Jesus for good friends and prescription drugs!

I wish I’d gotten a degree in common sense

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What I’m about to tell you will make you loose a little respect for me. Maybe a lot. But here it goes.

I have been pregnant for 17 weeks. 13 of those weeks have been pure nausea. I’ve tried peppermint candies, paid a lot of unnecessary money for Preggie Pops, cut out dairy and most breads, drank tea and tried a number of other natural remedies for nausea. But do you know what I haven’t tried?

TUMS!!!!!

13 weeks and I didn’t pop a freakin Tums. Apparently getting a college degree does not mean you can properly take care of yourself, use common sense or logically think through problems. Awesome.

Tonight, however, I pulled my head out of my fat pregnant butt and took a Tums. It didn’t cure all my issues, but it turned me from a blubbering mess curled up in the fetal position to a normal human who was able to eat an entire bowl of oatmeal. So tomorrow I’m heading to Target to find the biggest bottle of Tums available and it will be by my side 24/7.

That is all.

A Letter to Babies R Us

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Dear Babies R Us,

This is a formal complaint about your use of 1 ply toilet paper. You are a company that caters almost exclusively to mothers, a people group known for frequent urination and hemorrhoids. Your use of 1 ply is disappointing and painful. I appreciate you trying to keep costs down so that we can afford hundreds of unnecessary baby items, but honestly, I would gladly pay an extra 20 cents for every item if that meant a healthy supply of 2 ply in the restrooms. Just sayin’,

Sincerely,

Bri

Well Hello There

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So for the past few weeks people have been assuring me that I’m not showing yet. I felt like I was, but since I’m the only person who has spend the past 20 ish years meticulously analyzing my stomach everyday, it made sense that I was the only one who had noticed. Even though I could tell I was getting bigger, it still just looked like I ate a large Thanksgiving meal…everyday…for 14 weeks.

But today, something changed. I looked in the mirror and was like “oh hello there, belly.” What had once looked like a flabby inter tube keeping me a float on the crazy Life River, now looks distinctly like a round, child holding melon. I definitely look pregnant. Which, of course, calls for a freak out! My first thought was:

“It seems way to early to be this big. Damn you, Joe! Your mammoth seed is going to make me HUGE! I’ll be like one of those big Russian dolls where tons of smaller dolls keep popping out of it.”

And then I was like

“Holy Crap, its real. This baby is real. I’ve known for a while it was real. But now its really making its presence known. This is happening. O gosh. I need to sit down.”

As I recovered from my mini breakdown, I suddenly sympathized with every pregnant woman who has ever walked the earth. I never understood why pregnant women worried about their weight or felt bad about being “fat.” I always thought “Hey, your growing a kid in there. Everybody knows it and nobody is judging you, so cheer up.” And of course, I vowed never to be like those women. But today I realized that isn’t really about the size, and it isn’t about what other people are thinking. Its about the fact that your body is no longer your own and no matter what you do that stomach is going to continue to bulge to sizes you have never seen in your life. It’s about the fact every day you have a very physical reminder of what has, and will continue, to change your life forever. And, lets be real, a little bit of the worry really is about your actual size. Society has embedded those skinny girl dreams pretty deep in our minds, and two pink lines on a pregnancy test won’t instantly flush them out.

My freak out is now over, and its time to look at the bright side. First, I get some new clothes which, maternity or not, is always exciting. Second, I have a Dr. appt next week and when she confirms that my uterus is a normal size I can stop having horrific visions of Russian dolls. Third, it a few more weeks it will become obvious to everyone that I am pregnant and the Thanksgiving dinner phase will officially be over. And lastly, I am thankful that I’m this big because of a baby and not because of an actual Thanksgiving dinner. Because that would be gross.

PS I hate baby bump pictures but since I’m talking about it, I figured I show you. The one in the white shirt was taking on Monday. The one in the pink shirt was taken today. Do you see what I mean? It has definitely rounded out in the past few days.

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I never know what face to make in these pictures. Gah, so awkward

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I think I need to start wearing make up for these bump photo shoots.