Pregnancy 101

Four years ago I was sitting in my gynecologist’s office listening to her tell me I would probably not be able to get pregnant on my own. Well, technically no one can get pregnant on her own, but I got the message. Three months after that appointment I was staring at two pink lines on a pregnancy test. During the following ten months I would eat countless boxes of macaroni and cheese, learn that morning sickness is a misnomer, and throw the television remote at my husband's head. Hey, I did not turn into a hormonal, human growing mess "on my own".

Although my pregnancy was a surprise I had always dreamed of being a mother. I took joy in the birth of my nephew and nieces and lived vicariously through my sister in law during her pregnancies. During college I worked as a nanny for adorable, vivacious twin toddlers who still hold a special place in my heart. Clearly, watching someone else's pregnancy and taking care of someone else's kids made me an expert in all things pregnancy and child rearing.*(Cue laugh track) I would later discover that I am not a child development expert and one day it would be MY KID kicking and screaming on the floor of Babies R Us, but more on in a soon-to-be released.  I bet you can’t wait.

Just as I had my own idea of how motherhood would look, I also had dream like images of pregnancy: a growing belly, the pregnancy glow that everyone talks about (which is actually caused by the excessive sweat produced when one is trying not to throw up), giddy joy, and an excuse to eat gluttonous amounts of pasta. Pregnancy was all of those thing and more. Much, much more. The most thrilling moment of my life was seeing those lines on the pregnancy test. From that moment on, I devoured every pregnancy magazine and book in print (it turns out What To Expect When Your Expecting does not tell you to expect hormonal rage that may put your husband and any objects in close proximity in danger). I looked at baby clothes and tried out different baby names. I bought maternity clothes weeks before I actually needed them because it would just be so exciting to grow a belly and not be able to fit into my normal clothes! Soon enough I realized that wearing jeans with a band that came up to my bra was less than comfortable.

During my magazine reading and macaroni and cheese eating I was also doing something else: I was worrying. I was also throwing up excessively but you probably would rather not hear about that. During the whole first trimester I worried about miscarriage. I figured I would stop worrying once I made the notorious twelve week milestone. I did not. I worried about the beers I drank before I knew that I was pregnant, I worried about birth defects, I worried that ingesting the fumes from pumping gas would cause my baby to be born with two heads. I worried that I would get listeria by driving past Subway. Finally, I worried about my worrying because stress must be bad for a growing fetus. I wish I were exaggerating.

The nurse at my OBGYN's office was unable to suppress a sigh while fielding my phone calls and answering perfectly reasonable questions such as, "I just read online that sialic acid causes birth defects and I have been using face wash containing sialic acid for this ENTIRE PREGNANCY! Will my baby be okay?" and "I have a weird stomach ache. Should I be worried?" You would think that I would worry less the second time around, but much to the chagrin of my OBGYN's office, this was not to be the case. In my defense I graduated to more sophisticated questions such as, "I am having weird abdominal pain, should I be worried?", and, "I think the plumber used toxic glue to secure my pipes. Do I have to move?!" Okay, I didn't really ask that. In spite of all of my worrying, Elliott turned out just find and the extra arm is actually quite useful. Kidding! Although maybe moms should grow an extra arm. That would be a much more useful side effect of pregnancy. I could definitely use a third arm when I am maneuvering a stroller and a shopping cart while wearing my baby who refuses to ride in said stroller, and trying to keep my three year old from "accidentally" knocking things off the shelves and throwing random useless items in the cart, like the chili lime mixed nuts that I didn't notice until I got home and unloaded my groceries. (Kindly direct your attention here for more on those trials and tribulations:  http://workdayofsahm.blogspot.com/2013/04/adventures-of-grocery-shopping-with.html)

Anyway, I learned that pregnancy is growing and changing, planning and worrying, battling nausea and dealing with gestational diabetes (so much for my gluttonous pasta eating). Pregnancy is just the beginning, and it is all worth it. Of course, it is possible that I am still high from the toxic plumber's glue.