Why Pregnancy Rocks!

My last post was all about the top ten reasons why pregnancy sucks. I decided this time to tell you all ten reasons why pregnancy rocks!

1. Big, stretchy pants. Ohhh…yes, this has to be number one. Because maternity pants aren’t just big and stretchy and comfortable, they are also stylish! In 2010, gigantic pregnant women can sport everything from professional slacks to sexy-ass jeans. And the best part? They have these huge panels for our bellies and these sweet elastic waist bands that NO ONE ELSE CAN SEE. They make our butts looks good, while keeping our fronts safely covered from being exposed. And as a side benefit—we can eat as much as we want! Big Thanksgiving dinner? HA! No problem. Just let me go put on my pants! Seriously… I don’t think I’m going to be able to go back to regular jeans after this.


2. New BOTTIBONS! Don’t know what BOTTIBONS are? It’s a word my daughter Charlie came up when referring to breasts. And let me tell you…pregnancy has done wonders to my BOTTIBONS. I’m enjoying them now because I know that all too soon my new C-cups will disappear and I’ll be left with two things that will barely make me look like a woman. Did I just make you blush? Just keep reading…

3. No guilt. Well…maybe a little, but definitely less than usual. Do you ever feel bad about eating too much? Feel shame over that extra piece of pie you had on Thanksgiving? I don’t. I’m growing a human. I deserve the pie.

4. An excuse. And a valid one. I go to the gym at least five days a week (it helps mellow the small amount of guilt I do retain) and when my instructor (yes, I totally claim her) is yelling at the class to load up their bars with fifty+ pounds of weight and heft it over their shoulders like mules, guess what? I don’t have to. Because my doctor said so.

5. Understanding foot and back rubs. Now I have a great husband. He’s pretty much up there with awesome and Antonio Banderas but lately the foot rubs come quicker and last longer. I’m not complaining.

6. The right to act like a witch with a B. Let’s get one thing straight. I really don’t think that I’ve been crabbier than normal. Occasionally I’ll have a meltdown over something really serious, like Brad taking the last piece of pie, and start screaming. But most of the time…I’m the same pre-pregnant Meagan I always was. Only now, my dear sweet husband chalks any of my outbursts up to hormones and backaches and sleepless nights. At first, I’d get angry when he’d sympathetically pat me on the back and tell me that I was just acting like a crazy person because I was pregnant. Now? Well…whenever he brings up my “excuse” I smile inside and think “SUCKER! This isn’t hormones…this is just. me. But, hey... I’ll let you think whatever you want.”

7. People are nicer to you. It’s as if you have a disease or something to some people. Because they treat you like you're about to die. There’s a cashier that I run into at Wal-Mart at least once a week. She is crabby and mean and I avoid her checkout like the plague. Occasionally, however, I’ll get in her lane without realizing it. The last time this happened, she looked at my belly and proceeded to put ALL of my groceries in my cart. How often does this happen to you at Wal-mart?

8. If you can’t see it—you don’t have to worry about shaving it. And that’s all I’m gonna say about that.

9. Lately I don’t feel the need to hurry through my day. The truth is…I can’t. I’m like a walking carpet and moving fast is just not in the cards. This isn’t to say that I’m not getting stuff done. I’m still productive, but I don’t feel the intense stress of having to vacuum the entire house in less than a minute so I can move on to making dinner and scouring the tub all before nine in the morning. I’ve accepted that right now…I move slow. And guess what? It’s kind of nice.

10. This last one is one of the best. Feeling those little kicks and turns and hiccups. There’s nothing like it in the world, and I have to be honest—I’m enjoying every minute of it.

Ten Reasons Why Pregnancy Sucks...

Have I ever said that pregnancy sucks? Well, I should have because it does. Oh, sure, there are the great parts…the whole life force thing, yada, yada, yada. But who wants to talk about that? Here are some reasons why it just sucks.


1. Can’t sleep on my tummy.

2. Can’t sleep at all.

3. Have to pee all too often.

4. Have this urge to scream at people—both people I know and others I’ve never met, like certain cashiers at certain stores. Sometimes I feel like I’m on a war path. Watch out.

5. Can’t bend. Yes. Already. It sucks to bend over. And do you all know how often a person bends down in a day? Just keep a record for one day and you’ll be surprised. We are always bending. Except now I’m doing this weird squat sort of thing where I have to pull up my pants before I start to lower myself to the ground. Honestly, it takes wayyy too much energy, and I find myself just staring at the object I need or want and then making a plea for someone else to get it for me when I see them walk past. Pathetic.

6. Pregnancy brain. At least that’s what I call it. Did you know your brain actually shrinks when you are pregnant? Yep. It’s a scientific fact! So showing up two hours early for a class at the gym and forgetting about my daughter’s field trip until she reminds me twenty minutes before school??? It’s all part of the package.

7. Strange eating habits. I can’t seem to say no to anything. Not the popcorn at the theater or the cake mix in my pantry. And it’s not just junk food. I went to Costco with Brad yesterday and bought a whole thing of raspberries. And I ate them. One by one.

8. Absolutely no patience.

9. Hot flashes. Brad told me last night he was cold. Seriously? It was 69 freakin degrees in the house! I had to open the window next to the couch to get some air while I read my book.

10. This is the last one. For now. NO DRUGS. I’ve had this annoying cough for the better part of the week and last night it turned into a sore throat. Ugh. I HATE sore throats. Normally when I’m sick I inhale twice the legal amount of Nightquil, give myself a good buzz, and wait it out—without feeling very much of anything, mind you. But not last night. At 2:30 in the morning, I was up googling how to take care of a sore throat without drugs. I tried gargling saltwater and ended up throwing up in my kitchen sink. It was very miserable.

So there you have it. Ten reasons why pregnancy sucks. This morning I am sipping a hot lemon/honey drink and my throat is feeling better. As for everything else? It’s probably best just to stay out of my way for the next few months. Well…unless, I need you to pick something up for me. ;)

Baby Elephant or Mac and Cheese?

I’ve been in a writing slump. I blame the pregnancy brain. It’s been really, really horrible. I mean, it’s hard to write when all you’re thinking about is how long you have to wait until you can “justifiably” eat again. And before that, before the I’m-starving-twenty-four-seven phase that I’m now in, I was constantly pondering how far away the closest toilet was and if I could make it there in time before my breakfast/lunch/dinner made a reappearance.

And there’s always the I’m-too-tired-to-write-or-do-anything-that-requires-me-to-move-from-this-exact-spot phase. That one has been with me from the start.

So I decided today that the important part is that I keep writing (don’t ask me why) and so what better to write about then the thing that is taking over my body and causing me to have night sweats…at least I hope they’re night sweats.

My pregnancy. I know, I know…you all don’t really want to hear how uncomfortable I am. If that’s the case, ignore my posts. They tend to be long and boring anyway.

So here it goes. I’m sixteen weeks along and already I feel like I’m carrying a baby elephant. No, let me rephrase that…already I LOOK like I am carrying a baby elephant. I don’t know what happened to the I-don’t-even-look-pregnant-until-my-pregnancy-is-half-over deal but apparently, this time…it’s a no go. My belly has decided to shoot out at an alarming rate, and let me be honest…this makes me a little nervous.

First of all…I’m hoping this isn't because of all the macaroni and cheese I’ve been eating and secondly, well, no…that’s it.

Today was my anniversary (Nine years and counting!), so Brad and I went out tonight to see that new Facebook movie, which, by the way, I found completely enjoyable. During the previews, I stood up and headed for the bathroom. Brad gave me a look that said “Didn’t you just go like, twenty minutes ago when we first got here?” To which I gave him a look that said “Yes I did, Honey Bun. Now are you going to let me pass or should I just pull down my drawers right here and cause a scene?”

He let me pass.

I quickly left the theater and found the nearest bathroom. Within one minute and thirty seconds (including washing my hands), I was headed back to the theater. I didn’t want to miss the beginning of the movie. I HATE it when I miss the beginning. So I was half running/half walking down the hall, determined to make it back before the previews finished when my nose caught a particular scent in the air, which in and of itself is quite remarkable because I have a cold right now.

Popcorn, my brain said. And my stomach rumbled. I stopped, torn between the movie and the magical smell down the hall. I took another step toward the movie, willing myself to be logical. “You don’t need popcorn,” I said aloud. "You're going to the Olive Garden in two hours."

Only I was wrong. I did need it. I needed it bad. I could see it in my hand, that red and white stripped bag weighed down with butter (Oh! Butter!) and filled with light, warm kernels. My fingers curled into fists. My forehead filled with wrinkles. The stress of the situation was almost too much. An older couple passing by both gave me odd looks as I staggered back and forth like a drunk between the door to the theater and the wide hall beckoning me to the concession stand.

I don’t remember what happened after that. It’s really all a blur. But when I finally made it back to the theater the movie had started (bummer!). I sat down and Brad turned to face me. “I thought you had to go to the bathroom?” he whispered.

“I did,” I said, putting a handful of popcorn in my mouth. He continued to stare me down until I looked at him. Mr. Frugal didn’t approve of me spending $5.25 on a bag of small popcorn—he wanted an explanation. Or maybe he was just aware that randomly buying popcorn at the theater was completely out of character for me.

“I’m sorry,” I said, not sounding sorry at all. I shrugged. “I’m pregnant.”

It was all I could think to say, because, honestly, it’s the truth. I’m pregnant, and right now food has never tasted so good.

Brad laughed. “You’re forgiven,” he said, reaching for some of my precious kernels. And let me tell you…I had to fight like hell not to jerk the bag out of his reach. It was not a proud moment.

What about you ladies? Has anyone else ever suffered with pregnancy hunger pains?

The Unexpected Surprise

I’m pregnant. And I don’t know how it happened. I mean…I’m twenty-seven-years-old, and I’ve had two children, and I STILL don’t get it. Yes. I had sex. That part I get. The rest…well, it doesn’t quite make sense. But I’ve moved past that part....


It all started when I went in for a pap smear last Tuesday. The doctor, a cute little Asian woman, was very helpful. She gave me my pap smear, pushed on my uterus, and even warmed up the spectrum before…well, you get it.

I am all very happy sitting in the spread eagle position until she says, “Hmm…I can’t feel your ovaries.” She frowns slightly then adds, “Your uterus is swollen.”

I sit up on my elbows and give her a sheepish grin. “Oh…yeah… I’m going to start my period really soon, so I’m bloated….”

This is not exactly something you want to admit while another woman’s—who, by the way looks like she weighs a whole 98 pounds—head is in between your thighs, but honestly, what’s a girl to do.

The doctor grins and says in her cute, little accent, “No. No, it’s not bloat… your uterus is swollen.”

Hmm…obviously, she’s not getting the point, I think. My uterus is swollen because I’m BLOATED. But I don’t say this. Instead, I humor her. “Oh really?” I say. “What does that mean…?”

She shrugs still staring deeply into my vagina. “When was your last period?”

I close my legs and grab my monthly planner that I got only two months ago. Normally, I wouldn’t have had any clue when my last period was, but as it turns out, I had written that exact date down for the first time in years. I flip through the little book. “July twelfth,” I say, proud that I look like such a responsible person.

“Hmm…,” she says. Using her fingers, she counts. “That means,” she concludes, “that you ovulated July twenty-sixth.”

And this is when I start to get nervous. I stare at her, questioning her with my eyes. Her head bounces a few times left and right while she thinks and then she blurts out, “You might want to start taking a prenatal vitamin. Just in case.”

 Okay, perhaps I'm not as responsible as I thought. Pure panic is surfacing. She sees this and calmly waves her hands. “Oh don’t worry,” she says, “It’s probably nothing! Just take the vitamin, but don’t worry! You’re fine! You’re fine!”

Her words are not reassuring. It’s as if she’s telling me to walk off a plank into a pit of alligators, but not to worry about them biting me. You’ll be fine. Don’t worry about it! You don’t need arms or legs or a head! You’re fine!

“You’re fine,” she says again and pats my hand, pulling me off the plank and back into her office. “No need to worry. If you are expecting…well, it’s a baby!” she says, smiling and cradling the air in between her arms. “A cute little baby!”

I stare at her starkly and ask, “Do you have kids?”

She laughs. I don’t.

I try to forget the experience but five days later I’m not feeling so good and the worrying resurfaces with a vengeance. Sunday morning, long before any normal person is awake I pull out an old test from under my bathroom sink and pee on it. It’s the cheap kind, the kind that only costs a few bucks. I set it on the counter by my sink and began to wash my hands, watching with intense eyes as the test starts to work. A slow pink wash begins to work its way over the windows. Two single lines. I’m not pregnant!

“Oh, my God!” I say with the same amount of relief as someone who is coming out of a Vietnamese work camp. And I mean it literally. I am thanking the Lord. I finish washing my hands, pat them dry, pull back my hair into a pony tail, pick at my face, then reach for the test to throw it away.

And that’s when I see it.

The extra line. The one that makes a cute little plus symbol. The one that says I’m pregnant.

“Oh. My. God,” I whisper again, and this time I’m not so sure it’s a prayer. For those of you who don’t know, you’re supposed to give pregnancy tests a whole three minutes before you read them. Three minutes. NOT thirty seconds.

My heart drops and I start pacing back and forth in the bathroom like a crazy person. No, I think. It can’t be. Then the thought comes to me. It’s the test. It’s old and cheap and it’s just not a good test. I need to go get another test, a newer one, a more expensive one.

I fly out of the bathroom and grab my shoes. Brad is still dead asleep in bed, oblivious to my plight, the covers twisted around him like spaghetti noodles. I race to the nearest Wal-Mart in my pajama pants and buy another test. This time I do it right. It’s not a four-dollar test that I buy—it’s the twelve-dollar test. And it’s digital. I’m through with the sneaky pink lines.

I go back home and force myself to pee again. This time I jump in the shower while I wait. I do this for two reasons. One, I don’t want to read the test too early, again. I’m determined NOT to look at it for the full three minutes. And two, I’ve began to hyperventilate.

I think that the shower will help, but really, let’s face it, I shouldn’t have tried to shave my legs. Five minutes later, bloody and blue in the face, I get out of the shower and look at the test.

Pregnant

“Well,” I say aloud, speaking only to the test, “You’re just a BEEP, aren’t you.”





NOW, this was written a day after I found out I was expecting, and because I was still in utter shock, this little story might come across as harsh. Now that I’ve had time to adjust, I am very excited to meet this little person. :)