Pregnancy

The Musings of a Madwoman at 3am

3am: Pssst. Psssst. PSSSSSST!

Me: Yeah? What? Why did you wake me up?

3am: Because I’m lonely. Turns out 1 isn’t the loneliest number.

Me: Boo hoo. I’m going back to bed.

3am: That’s hilarious. No you’re not.

Me: Yes I am. I’m the captain of this ship. I do yoga. I will yoga myself back to sleep.

3am: Well that’s just stupid. You’re terrible at yoga. And you’d be a terrible captain. Your crew would mutiny. You’d walk the plank. You can’t swim. You’d probably get eaten by a sea turtle.

Me: A sea turtle. Right. Goodnight.

3am: Your financial future is unstable.

Me: Well that’s just rude.

3am: And you have a bag of rotting mushroom liquefying in your vegetable drawer.

Me: Yes. Yes I do.

3am: Don’t you want to take care of that before the baby gets here?

Me: The mushrooms? Yes. It is a little embarrassing.

3am: No. Your future. You should figure out a way to solve all of your financial shortcomings before the baby gets here.

Me: But that’s in like, 10 days?

3am: Exactly. So let’s think. And just to be clear, by think I mean worry. Let’s just lay here and worry until my shift is over.

Me: I hate you with the fiery passion of a thousand suns.

3am: You should channel that fire into worry. There are so many things we can worry about! Like the rusty undercarriage of your car! And bills! And Donald Trump! And breastfeeding! And how fat your armpits are!

Me: My armpits are rather sizable. And The Donald is pretty concerning…

3am: Flint. Syria. Declining manatee populations. The number of fruit flies in your kitchen. Your inability to remember passwords. Your mother’s Christmas present that’s still sitting on the desk waiting to be mailed. Also your cat is so fat she looks like a baby panda who is about 12 hours away from a juvenile diabetes diagnosis.

Me: SHE’S ON A DIET.

3am: When was the last time you did the Macarena?

Me: The what?

3am: You know, that crazy song from the nineties… HEEEEY Macarena! Aaay!

Me: The Macarena. Of course.

3am: I just ask because whenever I’m feeling down I sing it and it perks me right up. HEEEEY Macarena! Aaay!

Me: I’m not down. I’m tired. And I hate that song.

3am: HEEEEY Macarena! Aaay!

Me: Aren’t there other lyrics?

3am: HEEEEY Macarena! Aaah! HEEEEY Macarena! Aaah! HEEEEY Macarena! Aaay!

Me: Oh look at the time, it’s almost 4! So much for worrying the night away.

3am: I was just playing. Everything will probably work out fine. Maybe. HEEEEY Macarena! Aaay!

Me: Jesus. Stop that.

3am: Macarena Macarena Macarena…

Me: Go away.

3am: One last thing.

Me: If you say Macarena…

3am: Having a baby is going to suck. I mean have you thought about the logistics of this? The baby is so big! You are so small. Hahahaha, oh man, this is great. There’s no way this is going to work. Do you remember how miserable you were last time? 41 hours of labor. The time we spent together then sure was entertaining, you know, for me. You looked like you were drowning on dry land. Or like you were having an allergic reaction to shellfish, while simultaneously being possessed by the spirit of an angry breakdancer. I can’t wait to do it all again. And so soon! Oooh, I gotta jet. 4 is here. HEEEEY Macarena! Aaay!

Me: Wow.

4am: Oooh I love the Macarena! Also it smells like rotting mushrooms in here.

Absolute Truths About Your Last Week Of Pregnancy

Congratulations. You’ve made it to 39 weeks. Let’s, ~~for the sake of being the hopeful, positive creatures we are at this point~~, because we are desperate, call this the last week of pregnancy even though we know there is a chance it continues for up to two additional weeks, in which case you are off the hook for murder,* paying taxes,**smiling at the elderly and peeing on the couch.

(*,** It should be noted you are legally not off the hook for murder, or paying taxes, but you don’t have to smile and you will pee on the couch.) (more…)

10 Questions Everyone Googles In Their Third Trimester

Pregnancy, it seems, is different for everybody. Some people love it, and glow like a dimly-lit wall sconce at a cozy Italian restaurant, while other people find their pregnancies about as enjoyable as eating an entire Italian restaurant, brick by brick. The differences between my first and second pregnancies were astounding, yet upon reaching 37 weeks (which is full-term according to the World Health Organization, and my weekly Pregnant Chicken email), I found myself submerged in eerily familiar waters. Waters that remind me I have to pee, again. Waters that make me wonder when my own water will break. Waters that swirl with questions only Google can answer. (more…)

Dear Ovaries: Thanks, But Your Work Here Is Done

Dear Ovaries,

Brain here, with an important message I’d like to share with you on behalf of the rest of the body.

First, let me say thanks. You really knocked it out of the park with your contributions in regards to the furtherment of the human species. The body and I will never forget your role in how little Baby 1.0 and Baby 2.0 came to be, and will always be indebted to you for jumpstarting this whole process by suddenly declaring, “I Need A Baby!” The message was loud and clear, and you were right. We did need a baby.

Thanks in part to you, we have remedied the problem with a speed and efficiency that would certainly guarantee our success if we lived in the 1800’s, and needed to quickly birth fifteen children to run our rutabaga farm. (more…)

To My Lovely Daughter: I’ll Be Back

To My Lovely Daughter,

Let me start by saying how sorry I am, for I’ve been a terrible playmate lately. I hid your recorder and your stupid popcorn vacuum you love so much. I threw away your finger paints because the smell makes me want to vomit. I don’t play chase, and we haven’t been to the park in weeks. Worse yet, I will admit to ignoring probably half of your (nearly constant) requests for my attention, in hopes that if I give you a little time, you will figure out whatever you are working on by yourself. (more…)

Fashionable Maternity Options for Ringing In The New Year

Maternity and fashion.

These words go together about as well as vegan and bologna.

Now of course there are exceptions to the rule. The mannequins at Old Navy, for example, always look especially good in whatever is draped and pinned to their plastic, headless bodies. And of course we all have that friend who actually knocked it out of the park, fashion-wise, while knocked up. But as a real-life actual person with a fleshy, over-inflated basketball for a stomach, maternity fashion has been a stretch. The pants sag. The shirts ride up. Everything is itchy. Don’t even get me started on the undergarments. (more…)

10 Questions I Have For My Belly Button In My Third Trimester

Where is my belly button? It no longer sits mid-abdomen, cheerfully monitoring my daily doings from the center of my body, but rather appears to be aimed more at the ground.
Is my belly button looking at the ground because it is depressed?
My belly button looks like it exploded. Is this why it is depressed? (more…)