Saturday, January 8, 2011

The Crap They Don't Tell You About Pregnancy

Some of the following was advice given to me in warning while pregnant, but not in the magnitude in which one gets to suffer thru it!

You fart.
A lot.
You fart while standing, sitting, getting up, kneeling, sneezing, walking, and sleeping. You can't escape it, yet it loves to escape you in the most inopportune times.

Your nose no longer works.
You smell phantom stenches... the one that seems to follow me every where is cat poo or pee. E.V.E.R.Y.W.H.E.R.E. And we don't even own a cat. Some raunchy smells you seem to pass over in oblivion. Like your farts.
And your nose gets wider. I blame the snoring strips my hubs begs me to wear at night.
You snore. Like it or not, you've been blessed with it. You snore because your nose is stuffy from being oblivious to your farts.

What you once used to eat in pure joy now gives you pure heartburn. Aka hell. And your tastes have done a 180* flip. What you used to love, you now hate and vice versa. My cravings during the first pregnancy were bizarre. Lemon juice. Loved it. I would take shots of it everyday. And a bowl of peanut butter sprinkled with Cheerios. Now I think of either I want to barf.

If you still have kids in diapers or have to change diapers in general it sucks even more than before. Barf.

To the women whom think labor is beautiful or enlightening, you are wrong, so very, very wrong. I labored for 35 effing hours before they figured out my little bundle of joy was heads up, ass down. Then I get the pleasure of having a c-section, which means I now have to have another c-section in a month.

You don't get stretch marks, you get stretch road maps. Mine is of Rhode Island.

Your bra size can increase up to and beyond FOUR sizes. There is no va va va voom to them. More like, "Crap? Who makes a 34 DD or 36 E?" No one, by the way. Unless you want to pay over $50 for a bra you get to use only a year.

Your belly is a target for talk, and touching.
You are told you are too big/small/wide/lopsided/high/low.
"Are you carrying twins???"
"Are you SURE??"
"Yes, Baby A already ate Baby B..."

You pee.
You pee when you sneeze, cough, laugh, or even talk.
Kegels are a waste of time.

Maternity clothes are definitely not great by month 8. The shirts no longer cover the belly, you are lucky to get it past your belly button (or what was once your belly button). Elastic pants cut off circulation.
Or the pants split in the ass, like what happened to me this morning. Nothing is off limits to your every-widening ass.

Kankles. Every woman gets them. Like it or not, your ankles have disappeared into oblivion.

You no longer walk, you waddle. If you play your cards right, you can get the sympathy nods and most will get out of your way. Most. There are those few (all seemingly reside in Oklahoma) that seem to find your belly is fun to bump. I compare it to adolescent boys "accidentally" bumping into your breasts.

I'm pretty positive I've left off a few (hundred) things... But these are the most potent in memory.

And yes, I love my first, and will love my second just as much...

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