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The Pregnant Lady’s 12 Days of Christmas

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On the first day of Christmas

my true love gave to me:

A wedge pillow for under my belly.

 

On the second day of Christmas

my true love gave to me:

Two grams of melatonin and

A wedge pillow for under my belly.

 

On the third day of Christmas

my true love gave to me:

Three cups of decaf,

Two grams of melatonin and

A wedge pillow for under my belly.

 

On the fourth day of Christmas

my true love gave to me:

Four bra extenders,

Three cups of decaf,

Two grams of melatonin and

A wedge pillow for under my belly.

 

On the fifth day of Christmas

my true love gave to me:

Five colace pills,

Four bra extenders,

Three cups of decaf,

Two grams of melatonin and

A wedge pillow for under my belly.

 

On the sixth day of Christmas

my true love gave to me:

Six pairs maternity leggings,

Five colace pills,

Four bra extenders,

Three cups of decaf,

Two grams of melatonin and

A wedge pillow for under my belly.

 

On the seventh day of Christmas

my true love gave to me:

Seven belly bands,

Six pairs maternity leggings,

Five colace pills,

Four bra extenders,

Three cups of decaf,

Two grams of melatonin and

A wedge pillow for under my belly.

 

On the eighth day of Christmas

my true love gave to me:

Eight pairs of bigger panties,

Seven belly bands,

Six pairs maternity leggings,

Five colace pills,

Four bra extenders,

Three cups of decaf,

Two grams of melatonin and

A wedge pillow for under my belly.

 

On the ninth day of Christmas

my true love gave to me:

Nine panty-liners,

Eight pairs of bigger panties,

Seven belly bands,

Six pairs maternity leggings,

Five colace pills,

Four bra extenders,

Three cups of decaf,

Two grams of melatonin and

A wedge pillow for under my belly.

 

On the tenth day of Christmas

my true love gave to me:

Ten prenatal vitamins,

Nine panty-liners,

Eight pairs of bigger panties,

Seven belly bands,

Six pairs maternity leggings,

Five colace pills,

Four bra extenders,

Three cups of decaf,

Two grams of melatonin and

A wedge pillow for under my belly.

 

On the eleventh day of Christmas

my true love gave to me:

Eleven Tums for heartburn,

Ten prenatal vitamins,

Nine panty-liners,

Eight pairs of bigger panties,

Seven belly bands,

Six pairs maternity leggings,

Five colace pills,

Four bra extenders,

Three cups of decaf,

Two grams of melatonin and

A wedge pillow for under my belly.

 

On the twelfth day of Christmas

my true love gave to me:

Twelve Tucks pads,

Eleven Tums for heartburn,

Ten prenatal vitamins,

Nine panty-liners,

Eight pairs of bigger panties,

Seven belly bands,

Six pairs maternity leggings,

Five colace pills,

Four bra extenders,

Three cups of decaf,

Two grams of melatonin and

A wedge pillow for under my belly.

Beware the Barbacoa

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I was contemplating what to order at Chipotle for lunch today and remembered a story from when I was pregnant.  Since page visits are down, it’s high time share something embarrassing to get my numbers back up.

While I was pregnant, I practically lived on Chipotle burritos.  One day, in my first trimester, I had a barbacoa burrito for a late lunch; marinated, delicious beef and lots of it.  I ate the entire thing quite quickly and got a tummy ache.  As many of you know, your body can do some strange things during pregnancy, and even though your baby is in your uterus, your tummy and digestion go all nutso.  I spent the rest of the afternoon stepping away from people.

Ben, being supportive and a nervous expectant dad, was picking me up from work everyday, so I would not have to ride the bus home. 

It was a cool fall day, Ben had been working outside and was anxious to warm up.  He objected to the open passenger side window.  But my colon was busy objecting to the Barbacoa burrito.

“Can you close that window?  I’m freezing over here.”

“I can, but I don’t think you want me to, because I had a barbacoa burrito for lunch,” as I was saying this, Ben was rolling up my window and I let go of perhaps the stinkiest fart in the history of the Pacific Northwest.

“Oh, dear GOD!” Ben cried as the smell wafted to the drivers side. ” You had a what?  A FARTAcoa burrito?” 

My body convulsed with laughter, releasing even more gas as Ben groped for the switch to roll the window back down.

And down it stayed.

My Modern Pregnancy, or A Nine Month Bout with Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder

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The title of this post is a bit misleading.  It was actually more like twelve months.  When we started trying to get pregnant, I began taking pre-natal vitamins and avoiding microwaves and deli meats.  I read every book on pregnancy and followed virtually every recommendation, from abstaining from over-the-counter medications to sleeping on my left side.  If I knowingly went against a recommendation, I not only felt guilty but also worried myself sick over the possible birth defects I could be causing.  In my first trimester, I took a Gas-X to prevent what felt like an alien trying to explode from my lower abdomen.  With the level of guilt I felt, it may as well have been high-ball.

I took gestation seriously.  I remember going out to lunch with a co-worker (and mother of two) and telling her we couldn’t go to a deli because I couldn’t eat cold cuts.  (Listeria, you know.)  She looked at me like I was wearing Kleenex boxes on my feet.  I remember walking with another co-worker downtown and scolding him for trying to cross against a light with a pregnant lady in tow.  I’m certain I was insufferable. 

I’m not sorry for being careful, but with all the hormones coursing through my body, an unfortunate side effect of being this diligent was that I blamed myself for any complication that arose.  At twenty-eight weeks, I took the obligatory glucose tolerance test.  I got a call that I’d need to take it again.  The second test came back with border-line results so I took it a third time.  I was diagnosed with gestational diabetes.  Ridiculously, I was devasted.  Clearly, I was to blame for endangering my baby with a high birth weight.  I cried in self-recrimination — even after reading that the cause is simply hormonal.  I followed the guidelines laid out by my nutrionist to the letter, but my blood glucose levels were still too high.  I flogged myself when I had to go on medication. 

Looking back, I can see how needlessly obsessive I was.  But could I have helped it?  Probably not.  Hormones will have their way with you and there’s no telling how they will manifest themselves.  My husband once took a course of steriods to reduce some inflammation in his back and became a raging lunatic for four days.  I took the opportunity of explaining that he was experiencing something akin to PMS.  A cartoon lightbulb appeared above his head.  And PMS has nothing on pregnancy.  I should just be thankful the hormones didn’t give me the urge to go play in cat poop.  (Toxoplasmosis, you know.)

What guidelines did you follow (or not) while pregnant?