Please. Do NOT Provoke the Preggo.

Now that I’m at the tail-end of my pregnancy, I figured I’d let out a small rant. I think it’s warranted.

To begin, I’d like to make it crystal clear that I love being pregnant. I have loved each and every second of this pregnancy, even the morning sickness. Mostly because I didn’t have morning sickness badly with my first pregnancy, and we all know how that ended. I love my belly getting bigger. I love feeling Nellie move, even when she jabs me so hard it hurts or feels really strange. I love each and every moment that my little girl grows in my belly.
That being said, one of the things I could deal without in regards to pregnancy are the hormones. I haven’t had so much of the weepy ones (aside from the occasional commercial or movie) but boy, have I ever had the irritability. If I thought that 1st trimester irritability was bad.. Woo. I hadn’t seen ANYTHING yet.
Being pregnant seems to open you up to all sorts of random comments from strangers. I don’t know if people think they’re being helpful, or funny, or witty, or what but most often they are being obnoxious and ridiculous. There is something about the sight of a pregnant woman that makes normally smart people lose their brains for a temporary period of time, and think that certain things that should not be uttered are a great idea to blab directly to said pregnant woman. I will never understand why people think it’s OK to say such things when they know a woman is in a very delicate hormonal state; probably the most delicate hormonal state of her life.
So, here is a list of the things that have irked me most in my 3rd trimester:
  1. Demanding I choose my due date. For example:
    “When are you due?”
    “January 17th.”
    “Oh, you need to wait until January 22nd to have that baby. That’s when my son, little Junior So-and-So was born!”
    “Really. That’s great.”
    Honestly, people, I cannot squeeze my legs together and keep the baby in if she wants to come out. Nor can I jump up and down and shake myself like a Coke bottle until she erupts forth from my vagina like a mass of bubbles and fizz. This baby will come when she is ready.
  2. Repeatedly asking me when I am due, especially if I see you on a regular basis. I understand that not everyone is as invested in this pregnancy as my husband and I are. That goes without saying. But if I know you relatively well, and you ask me every single time you see me (which is weekly or more than once a week) when I’m due, I’m going to get tired of sounding like a broken record. I’m going to start making shit up, just to see if you’re paying attention. “FebuMarch 40th, 2010.” Another question that could set off a pregnant woman into a rage is, “When’s that baby gonna get here?” I swear, if I get asked that one more f-ing time, I’m going to lose it. How am I supposed to know when she’s going to be here, for crying out loud? My psychic abilities don’t kick in until I’m 30, sorry.
  3. Gawking at how big/small I am. You really cannot win with this, folks. It’s best when you see a pregnant woman to say, “Wow, you look wonderful!” I don’t need to hear that I’m huge, nor do I want to hear that I’m super small. I am aware that my belly has grown since you last saw me; that’s what happens when a woman is pregnant. The baby grows, and so does the woman’s belly. It’s been happening for thousands of years, so stop acting so shocked that I have a swollen tummy.
  4. Staring at me like I have three heads when I mention my birth/parenting style of choice. Or, giving me a sympathetic/condescending smile and tell me that “that’ll change”. Yes, I’m planning a natural childbirth. No, I’m not insane. Yes, I’m aware childbirth hurts. Oh, you had an epidural? That’s fantastic, good for you. Of course I’m aware that I may change my mind, but I’m going to try my best not to. Oh, you wanted a natural childbirth too but just couldn’t do it? I’m sorry, when did my life and yours become the same thing?
    No, we’re not planning on co-sleeping. I don’t care if it’s easier to breastfeed in the middle of the night. We’re not doing it. And stop looking at me with that LOOK and tell me to “wait and see, I’ll change my mind”. I’ll stick to my guns JUST TO PROVE YOU WRONG, because I am stubborn, so is my husband and THAT’S HOW WE ROLL.
  5. “When I was pregnant back in 1874” stories. I don’t care what was the breastfeeding style (or lack thereof), clothing style, parenting style, or childbirthing style when you were pregnant back in the Dark Ages. It’s 2009. Times have changed. Get over it.
  6. Making fun/poking jokes/openly criticizing my kid’s name. This one. Oooohhh, this one just makes my blood boil thinking about it. I’m aware that our name of choice is not run of the mill. Let me explain something. Nellie was my grandmother and she died when I was ten. I have wanted to name my first daughter Nellie pretty much since I was a teenager. I made this clear to my sibling, and all of my cousins: the name Nellie is MINE. I’ve had dibs for a long time. Upon hearing what we’re naming our daughter, I’ve mostly gotten a positive reception but I have gotten a few gems that made me want to fly off the handle and rage. Here are a few:
    “Nellie? Like that bitch from Little House on the Prairie?”
    “Nellie, huh? Are you gonna call her Nell, like that retard in that movie? HUH HUH.”
    “Like the rapper?”

    And this one, readers.. Was my personal “favorite”. It happened just the other day while I was sitting at work, minding my own business. The following exchange occurred between me and a woman who works in the building I do.
    “Hey there Natalie, when’s that baby due?”
    *trying not to scream, as I’ve told this woman at least 5 times* “January 17th.”
    “And what are you gonna call it?”
    “HER name is Nellie Rose.”
    “You know she’s going to hate you for naming her that, right?”
    This is what I heard in my head, ya’ll:

    What I wanted to do was calmly grab the coffee cup sitting beside me, and lob it forcefully at her head until I heard a satisfying CLUNK. What I said was,
    “Well, she doesn’t have much of a say in the matter, does she?”
    The woman replied, “Oh I know it, but you just know that when she gets older she’s going to be like, ‘Mother! You gave me such a stupid name. It’s so old fashioned!'”
    URGE TO KILL. RISING. RISING. I’m not sure what it is about people making fun of
    Nellie’s name. I think, to me, it’s like making fun of her and that raises my hair on end and makes me feel like an angry lioness about to defend her cub. I seriously want to rage at anyone who have something negative to say about my little daughter’s name.

I know this post sounds really bitchy, hormonal and ranty but really… I’m 9 months pregnant, I’m tired, cranky, and deserve a good rant every now and again, damnit. Hopefully my fellow pregnant women (and people who have been in my shoes) will have gotten a good chuckle out of this. If you are suddenly frightened by your friendly internet blogger, please don’t be. Just set down something tasty for me to eat, slowly back away, and you’ll be fine.


My Fat Fingers

I’ve been wearing my wedding rings on a chain (a sturdy one) for about a month now. I freaking hate it. My wedding rings have been a part of my hand for over 4 years now and my engagement ring has been nestled comfortable on my finger for over 5. I feel so naked without them. Even after 4 weeks of not wearing them, I still find myself fidgeting and panicking for a split second when I don’t feel them before my pregnant brain catches up and remembers they’re around my neck.

Also, my hair gets tangled up in my chain and that is also infuriating.

I’m trying a little experiment today. My finger swelling (which isn’t terrible, but enough to make my rings tight) is worse on my left hand. My wedding ring is tighter than my engagement ring, so I now have my engagement ring on my left hand; my wedding ring on my right. People will either think I’m crazy, or in the middle of a divorce or something. Ah, well. Let them think what they want.

I’ve often wondered if people notice my pregnant belly and then notice I’m not wearing wedding rings on my finger. I almost dare someone to say something to me; to make some kind of comment. Pregnancy has made me sassy and short-tempered and less prone to tolerate someone’s bullshit. I don’t have time for your judgements, sir, I’m busy MAKING A HUMAN BEING.

See what I mean? Getting all fired up over nothing. Maybe this baby is a hothead and her attitude is shining through me. Either that or I’m just a bitch. It could be the latter, I don’t really know.

Have I mentioned how impossible it is to get comfortable at work? My chair is uncomfortable, so I switched to a different one. Still uncomfortable. NOTHING HELPS. I wadded up a hoodie that I have here and slipped it behind my lower back. No dice. This is just another reason I wish I were a SAH mommy-to-be and not stuck at my desk, uncomfortable and whiney.

My body has started a new thing this week; constant discomfort in my lower abdomen. I don’t know if it’s ligament pain or what, but it sucks. I have this constant pulling, tight pain in the front of my lower abdomen. It’s worse when I have to use the bathroom, but it is uncomfortable to stand up from a sitting position, roll over in bed, and even sit in certain positions. I don’t know if this is normal, or something I should address to my doctor next week. I will probably mention it just to be on the safe side. It sure is irritating and painful.

I’m irritable today. Everyone is getting on my nerves. Also, I’m hungry. And apparently a whiney little baby, from the overall tone of this blog. I apologize to all of you reading.

No, you know what? I take it back. Deal with it!

…I’m sorry, that was the baby, not me.

I’m still hungry.

Provoking the Baby

Nellie has been quiet today; more quiet than I like her to be. So naturally, being the overly-paranoid mommy that I am, I have been trying to provoke her into kicking me all morning. My efforts have included:

Sitting down.
Standing up.
Wiggling my body.
Prodding my stomach.
Gently shaking my stomach.
Eating four pieces of chocolate (covering my shirt with chocolate in the process)
Eating hot soup.
Drinking cold water.

Eating the pieces of chocolate evoked one kick from her. One lousy kick. You know, I always thought that when she started moving I would feel BETTER, and worry LESS. I don’t think that seems to be the case. Ugh.

Right as I started typing this blog, she gave me about 5 good kicks as if to mock me and my efforts to make her move.

I think that this proves that I officially have the world’s most stubborn baby. She is snarky and has a really strange sense of humor, even in utero.

The Dark Side of Pregnancy

Today is just NOT MY DAY. At all. I am sitting here at my desk, feeling so uncomfortable. My lower back hurts because my chair is a jank ass POS, and to top that off I am constipated and that’s putting more pressure and making the discomfort even worse. I’m tired and have a stuffy head/nose, and just feel worn out.

In addition, my BITCH factor is maxed out today. I don’t know what the hell my problem is, but ALL DAY I have been just a pain in the ass, straight up bitch. Everyone who has come into my vicinity (save for my husband) has probably warranted the look of death from me. I swear, if I could shoot lasers from my eyes this entire building and everyone in it would probably be incinerated by now. My coworkers are driving me insane, I want to throw something heavy at every customer I see and every time I phone rings I want to scream.

I love being pregnant, but DAMN! It sure does do some strange and unpleasant things to your body and mind sometimes. I’m seriously contemplating trying to get out of here a bit early today. I’m not doing any work because I’m so tired and just so over it (there’s not really much for me to do right now anyway) and could really use a hot shower and a nap. I have to go sing with the chorus tonight (already committed to it) and it would be nice to rest and relax before going out to stand and sing for 45 minutes.

Maybe I’ll try and make it to 3:00 or so before bailing.

On a slightly more humorous note, I just got an e-mail from the March of Dimes that said, “Protect Your Baby From Pertussis”, but I hastily read the headline as, “Protect Your Baby From Prussians”.

Preggo Smash

Also, I feel sorry for anyone who comes in contact with me today because my pregnancy hormone dial is turned all the way to RAGING BITCH.

I feel so cranky and irritable and have been impatient with every person I’ve come in contact with (except my husband) so far today. It’s not even 9 AM. It’s going to be a long, long day.

Pregnancy Irritations

So I’m only (nearly) 14 weeks pregnant, and already peoples’ comments/questions are starting to irritate me. Perhaps it’s the hormones that are making me so irrationally irritated, but some of them are just so grating to me it makes me want to scream.

Onethat gets me, and this is totally unfair of me because people are just being nice, is when someone asks me, “How’s that baby doing??”
Um, fine, I guess… I can’t feel the baby moving and I don’t have a window into my uterus, so I can’t really say for sure. It would be a lot nicer if you would ask ME how I’M doing. That one I can answer.

Also, when I tell you that we have our child’s names picked out, don’t suggest ten names that I could use. I’m not going to use any of your suggestions, because I already have names picked out. No, I’m not naming my son Hunter, Logan, Adam, James, or Tyler. I. HAVE. MY. NAME. PICKED. OUT. KTHXBAI.

Oh, and when I tell you that I want to try a natural childbirth, PLEASE DON’T LOOK AT ME LIKE I HAVE FOUR HEADS. Yes, I am aware that it will hurt. No, I am not insane. Oh, you thought you were going to do it natural but in the end screamed for an epidural? That’s nice, I’m going to try and avoid that. No, honestly, I’m really NOT INSANE.

Oy vey.