Pride & Pregnancy

I had a marriage counselor who liked to say,

"Marriage is God's way of beating selfishness out of us. Literally."

If that's true, then I think the accompanying adage is,

"Pregnancy is God's way of stripping pride from us. Literally."

The way I see it, pregnancy is 9 months of beating you down in one way or another until the point that you finally give up, submit and willingly go through an ordeal terrible enough that no sane person would want to do it unless it meant ending the months of misery. Sorta like those torture scenes in the movies where they beat the guy so bad he is begging for death. Yeah. Like that.

You think I'm kidding? Over-exaggerating? Being a little dramatic?

Maybe.

But let's examine the evidence:

at the beginning of your lovely journey you have the option of announcing or not announcing. Wisdom would dictate that not announcing could spare potential pain and added grief if things go bad. But then, it leaves you at your most tired and most sick without any explanation to anyone not privy to your secret. OR, you can announce, risk having to make another announcement that you would rather not make, and then start the time-table ticking for everyone to constantly ask, "When are you due? Really? That far? But haven't you been pregnant forever already?" Why yes; yes I have. Thank you for pointing that out.

After a good few weeks of this, you are told you can at least look forward to the part of your pregnancy where you "feel great." Ha.

That, my friends, is a contradiction of terms: "pregnancy" and "feeling great." What a scam! Build you up, make you think you're through the worst of it, and that soon all the puking and nausea and queasiness over random smells will magically end. Sucker! As an added insult to injury, there actually will be a few lucky ones who do feel better. And they'll do all sorts of impressive things with their time and energy to make you look and feel like a lazy lump on a log, with your only comfort being that you're still having to make a mad dash to the sink or toilet at randomly-timed intervals through-out the day. Oh wait...

Next comes "pregnancy brain." This is the time when you think you are functioning as a normal person. No. In reality your memory is shot, your concept of time is completely out of whack, simple instructions magically complicate as you try to follow them, conversations become increasingly difficult to keep straight, hearing is impaired, thought process gets fuzzy, and soon speaking coherently without mixing up phrases or forgetting words takes brain power you would normally reserve for the MCAT or Bar Exam.

This takes us to the next phase - the stupid question/comment phase. As your "pregnancy brain" becomes more pronounced, so does your belly. And people CANNOT resist telling you so. Mostly in ways that are unhelpful, unflattering and generally just undesirable. Unless you enjoy a good, demeaning statement emphasizing that you are the size of a house from each random stranger who feels you deserve a good, public humiliation. Add to that the included invasion of personal boundaries when people suddenly forget you are not Buddha, or that it is not generally acceptable to reach out and rub other peoples' bellies.

At this point you can either develop some great defense moves or come up with some great retorts that will undoubtedly increase the awkwardness of the already painful situation. Or grow a "thicker skin." Yeah, cos you haven't already grown enough...

One thing that does not grow, however, is the time between potty breaks. In fact, this may just disappear altogether. As a bonus, your ability to 'control' the situation will disappear as well. This will leave you violently crossing your legs each time you cough, laugh or sneeze, peeing your pants 20x a day, or wearing Depends. Or all three. Oh, and this feature is one you get to keep forever more!

And for those of you who think running to the bathroom is an option, I regret to inform you that you will no longer be able to run. Or even walk. Waddling becomes your only possible method of transportation, and that is only after waiting a sufficient amount of time after sitting/standing/laying that your muscles are actually able to move again. Be aware that it is also highly likely that at this point you will start retaining ridiculous amounts of water and storing it in your legs on down. Feet turn to footballs and ankles are traded in for cankles. The upside is that you are now free to wax your legs without feeling even a sting. That is, if you can still reach them.

And lest any of you think that staying in bed and hiding out from the world is an option, as tempting as it sounds, it is not actually possible or feasible. Remember that asteroid-sized protrusion on your middle? It's now going to start kicking your innerds - ribs, organs, whatever. Especially when you lay down. And if you think finding a comfortable way of laying down is manageable, you will be sorely disappointed. Obviously sleeping on your belly is not an option. Even if you don't mind laying as if high-centered over a boulder, it isn't advisable for the baby. Neither is on your back, as the weight of your globe-sized extension will actually squish veins inside you and prevent jr. from breathing. On your side, the pull from your projecting appendage will strain your back; slightly elevated can alleviate some of the acid reflux, but crams your distention up into your ribs, thus preventing you from taking anything more than short, strained gasps of air.

Folklore would have you believe that through this whole time you will "glow" from the magic happening within. I think of it more in terms of how radioactive material glows to warn you to stay away. Folklore would also like you to believe that the reason behind your face breaking out like a teenager is because you're either having a girl and therefore 'giving her your beauty,' or because you're having a boy and therefore have too much testosterone in you. Either way, you're a crater-face. And the lush, luminous hair? Sets you up for disappointment all the more when all your hair falls out after baby arrives. Oh, you thought you got to keep that? Sorry to burst the bubble.

The cherry on top is the ever-present need to express to anyone and everyone each complaint you have and let them share in the suffering with you. Except, people don't generally like suffering. Or complaining. Multiply it by nine months and you may not have much of a sympathetic audience left by the end. What to do?

Blog.