A Little Piece of Advice

Appropriate things to say to a pregnant woman:

• You look beautiful!
• From behind, you don't even look pregnant.
• Here - take my seat.
• You're glowing!
• Would you like to share my sandwich?
• You're all baby. 
• Can I help you carry [insert heavy item here]? 
• You are amazing. 
• I have snacks in my desk if you are hungry. 
• Yes. 

Inappropriate things to say to a pregnant woman:

• Are you sure you're only XX months along? 
• How much weight have you gained anyway?
• Are you eating again?
• My wife only gained 15 pounds when she was pregnant with our baby.
• Are you still pregnant? 
• I think you've gotten bigger since yesterday!
• Calm down - that's just your hormones.   
• I ate the last ice cream sandwich. 
• Oh my God, you're huge!
• No. 

Y'all best take note...or beware the wrath of the huge, hungry, about-to-pop, hormonal pregnant woman. 

Relax - Cool Your Jets

I had an upsetting doctor's appointment today.  Nothing's wrong with Bean, don't worry!  Bean's fine, but apparently, his mother hasn't been taking as good of care of herself as she should.

I can't believe it, seriously.  I feel like I've been doing everything right, and I've been so proud of myself for how how much I've been able to do, how healthy I feel I've been, how good I've felt for the majority of this pregnancy.  But I guess it wasn't enough.

I have to slow down.  Apparently, I am anemic so now I need to take iron supplements.  I need to sleep more, rest more, do *nothing* more.  I have to reduce hours at work.  I need to stay off my feet.  I need to relax and remain stress-free. 
Stress-free?  Has this woman MET me?!  I'm never stress-free. 

And these newfound guidelines have me even more stressed out than before.  Reduced hours at work?  How is that going to work?  Resting more?  But I have things to DO. 

I feel powerless and out of control.  And we all know that I do not like it when I am not in control.  I am emotional and kind of freaking out and feeling sorry for myself.  And at the same time, I am tired.  I am just so tired. 

Being a woman is exhausting. 

Don't Worry, Mommy

I read this Dan Savage article at lunch today, and I cried. 

The It Gets Better Project is about hope.  The article and the videos are messages of hope and futures and the-best-is-yet-to-come.  And I understand that and appreciate those that participated in this project.  But as I read the article and thought about Justin & Billy while simultaneously feeling my little guy kick and flip, I could not help crying. 

As I prepare for my new role as a mother, I find myself feeling these stories on a much deeper level than before.  I consider the possibilities in a much different way.  What if I (God Forbid, Knock On Wood, Shut Your Mouth) discovered my child as Justin & Billy's Mothers did?  What if my kid is bullied or picked on or beat up?  What if my kid is the one doing the bullying?  What if I can't protect him from this cruel world?  What if I protect him too much?  What if, what if, what if?

Along with a brand new name, this little worrywort has a whole new list of worries.

Let's Get Physical

Heard all together too often around the Cunningham/D'Andrea household as of late:

"Baby, look how ____ my ____ is!"
"Oh my God, your ____ are ____!"
"Um, why are my ____ purple?"
"Good lord, why do I have ____ here?"
"Holy shit, is that a ___ on your ____?"
"I'm having a meltdown because I just discovered a ____!" 

Yes, Gentle Reader, the continued physical joys of pregnancy are never-ending. And you will thank me for sparing you the details.  Tim is not so lucky. 

Mind/Body/Baby

It is a bizarre experience to have one's body change so quickly and so drastically.  One's mind simply cannot keep up.  I mean, in my head, I am still myself.  I still want to spend long afternoons drinking beer and bar-hopping with Tim.  I still have the urge to eat sushi and rare meat and runny eggs.  I still want to wear 4-inch heels.  I still want to lift heavy things and sweat while working out and walk up Pine without being winded.  I am still the fun-loving, nonpregnant girl I used to be.  But my body begs to differ.

Beer and nigiri and beef carpaccio are out.  Super foods and Omega-3s and vitamins are in.  Sexy shoes are out.  Shoe pads and (yikes) support hose are are in.  Running and hardcore cardio are out.  Mellow yoga while communing with my unborn child and slow walks around Green Lake are in. 

And then, of course, we have the physical changes.  The changes that shock me when I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror.  The changes that seem to continue each and every day without fail.  The changes that make me feel, well, not like me. 

I am exisiting in someone else's body.  And I am not alone.  I have company.  All of the time. 

And so, for the next 4 months, we will coexist.  The three of us:  Mind/Body/Baby, together in an ever-expanding vessel.

Compartments Where Stuff Can Go

So I haven't blogged at all since getting pregnant.  Seriously, it's pretty much to the day.  I've been thinking about it a lot, running through ideas and words in my head, actually crafting posts, but not quite getting aroung to writing them.  Why?  For awhile I assumed it was because we didn't announce our pregnancy right away.  But even after it was all Facebook-worthy, I still held back.  It's not lack of time or inclination or fodder.  Nope.  See, writing it all down would make it real.  When I write, I am forced to look fears and flaws head on.  Reality becomes tangible and visible and clear.

I haven't been denying the fact that I am with child.  Of course not.  It's just that there are so many thoughts, fears, hopes, worries, excitements that go along with it.  It's just *so much* to think about, to process, to take in.  And so, I compartmentalize.  Today, I will think about our birth plan.  Tomorrow, I will think about breast-feeding.  On the weekend, I'll tackle childcare and money issues. 

And so, after 21 weeks on hiatus, this blog is back.  I think I'm finally ready to put some of these thoughts on paper (or laptop, as it were) and bust down the dividers in the compartment.  And if not, well, as Scarlett might say in the year 2011 - I just won't blog today.  No, I'll blog about this tomorrow.

A Seasonal Haiku

Roast beef, stews, and pies
Potatoes, bourbon, cider
Winter makes me fat