Pregnancy is so not a social event.

Now, bear with me.

I know there are hordes and masses out there ready to scream about their right to rub the bellies of pregnant women everywhere, but just stand still for a second and hear me out.

How many times have we heard how pregnancy turns us into short-tempered, illogically angry, protected-by-the-halo-of-hormones crazy people?  I can't even count.  I refuse to even pretend to try.

The hormones of early pregnancy drive us absolutely bonkers.  We're upset if you try to help us pick up the trash, because you're doing it wrong.  We're upset if you don't help us pick up trash around the house because why the hell are you so lazy.  We're upset if you eat the dinner we made and leave no seconds for us, because hello who is the pregnant one here?!  We're upset if you don't eat our food because I slaved for hours over that dinner.  I mean seriously, you just can't freaking win.

If a stranger looks at you with a knowing smile and asks, "How far along are you?", you want to tear their head off for implying you are fat.  Then again, you're pissed when nobody can tell you're pregnant because you're DAMN well PERFECTLY aware of how pregnant you are, and people need to know so they can give you a wide freaking berth and shut their traps.

And God forbid someone forgot to get the Skittles you asked for.  It's on, then.

Husbands have the worst of it, of course.  They have no idea that we lay there in bed, listening to them snore peacefully, and plot their demise.  They have no idea that we slowly go through all items within arm's length in our minds, trying to figure what item would hurt their special place the worst.  They have no idea how close they've come to being smothered with pillows.

Basically... pregnant women are scary.  My advice is this:  If you see a pregnant woman, do your best to casually stay out of her way.  I would say about 10 feet is the absolute closest you ever want to get to a pregnant woman.  Never make eye contact.  Don't speak to her.  Treat her like she has the plague, and you just might get out of the meeting unscathed.  But there's no guarantee, because she might decide you're being incredibly rude and cut you off at the knees anyway.

Who am I kidding?  There's no safe way to handle a pregnant woman.  Approach with caution.

Math for the Pregnant Woman

This is math every pregnant woman needs.  It's also the math every pregnant woman does subconsciously.  It's really simple.  You just need 3 variables.

Want
Value:  1-10
10 - This needs to be mine. NOW.
1 - I suppose I could have it. Maybe.

Difficulty
Value:  1-10
10 - This is so easy. Like sleeping on a cloud.
1 - Climbing Mt. Everest

Lazy Factor
Value:  1-10
10 - Sloth
1 - Border collie.  Or toddler.

See?  Simple.  Now, we solve for Likelihood.

Likelihood has a fairly easy interpretation.
Value:  1-10
10 - This. Is. HAPPENING.  HALLELUJAH!
1 - You're fucked.

I'm a math genius.

There's never a perfect time to have kids, they say.

"It's never a perfect time to have a kid, so don't worry about the timing!  Things will work out."

On the surface, such a sweet and understanding remark.  It's great to have friends who will lift you up when you're sitting there going ohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygod and rocking yourself frantically in a corner like somehow that will make everything better.

And then there are days like today.

Days where your toddler just screams.  And clings.  And cries.  He's inconsolable.  Then he's independent for a little while and you think whatever it is has passed.  Then he's inconsolable.  Then it's naptime and blissful silence.  Then he's inconsolable.  Then he's happy.  Then he's inconsolable.  Then he's really, really, really mad.  Then he's inconsolable.

Which is why we are in the tub, hours before bedtime.  Why he is playing with his toys and splashing everything he possibly can.  He's playing Fill Up the Cup and Dump it Everywhere.  He's playing Hey, Let's See How Many Things I Can Throw Out of the Tub Before Mom Goes Insane.  I learned the trick to let the faucet only trickle some water.  Enough to fill a cup with, but not enough to run out of hot water too early (or fill the tub too fast).  He hates it when I turn the water off.  And he's happy.  He's laughing.  And I'm just sitting here like thank God.

Don't get me wrong; even on a day like today, I have plenty of joy.  Lots of smiles and laughter with his antics, his faces, the things he tries so hard to tell me in his own personal language.  Lots of cuddles and kisses and little bitty giggles.  Lots of squealing and shrieking when I pretend to eat fingers.

But I'm also sitting here realizing that I'm about to be pregnant through the terrible twos.

The.
Terrible.
Twos.

What have we done?!

Though... to be fair, I have heard that the threes are worse.  So, I mean, maybe the terrible twos were the better option after all.

See?

They were right.

There's never a perfect time to have kids.

Pregnancy isn't pretty. Motherhood isn't either.

 Spent some time today reminiscing about some of the information given to me as a newly pregnant, first time mother.

• "Use lotion with vitamin E/coconut oil/other random thing every night so you don't get stretch marks."

I heard this a lot with my first pregnancy.  The truth is that you either will or won't get stretch marks... And it's pretty much out of your hands.  I remember slathering my belly in oil every night, frantic not to add to my fatty fat stretch marks.  In the end, it didn't work.  I got a few more.  Oh, well.  My husband doesn't even notice them, and that's all that really matters in the end. 

• "Pregnancy is wonderful and amazing and just a beautiful experience!"

Everyone who told me this?  They lied.  I'm convinced that they lied through their teeth.  Either that or they really did have amazing pregnancies, in which case... I hate them.  I hate them with the fire of a million stinging needles.  Pregnancy can be beautiful, from what I hear.  In my case, the reality was that it sucked.  It was painful.  Everything ached, or had a shooting pain, or twinged.  I hated the feeling of my clothes against my skin.  Water made me sick (and guess what you're supposed to drink a lot of when you're pregnant?).  I was always cramping.  And bleeding.  And tired.  And cranky.  And bitchy.  And prone to crying.  I was huge.  I had reflux that made it impossible to sleep.  I couldn't sleep because I was too busy being cranky.  I couldn't sleep because I was too busy researching all the ins and outs of pregnancy and all the fun things you buy for kids that you never actually use.  I enjoyed the kicks, the flutters, the hiccups, the ultrasounds, and the fact that it didn't matter if people saw my belly.  That's pretty much it.  I was a miserable, horrible, cranky, bitchy mess.  The fact that I wasn't divorced by the end of it is kind of a miracle. 

• "Pregnancy gives you a 'glow.'"

It's called acne, and I don't appreciate it. 

• "People are so nice and helpful when you're pregnant!"

This can be true.  I can't count how many times a stranger helped me with packages at the post office or helped walk me to my car when my hip would give out.  There was a lady who ran all the way to the front desk at the hospital to get me a wheelchair when I was visiting my mother and only made it halfway to her room before my hip gave out and I couldn't walk anymore.

But, there are also those strangers who come up and just touch your belly without asking about your personal space requirements.  There's the unsolicited advice.  There's the judgmental looks.  There's the pointed glances at your hand to see if there's a ring there.  There's the intrusive questions.  There's the overshare of information (I'm SO guilty of this one).  Sometimes strangers don't really want to hear about how your vagina tore with your third child... especially when they're obviously going to give birth themselves at some point. 

• "Don't worry.  You'll forget all about how hard your labor and pregnancy were when you hold that baby in your arms."

Liar.  I waited all that time for that amnesia moment and it never happened.  Two years later... I still haven't forgotten.  LIAR! 



With that said, let's take a look at motherhood, also known as "After Pregnancy."  That's not all glamorous either.  Here's a passage from my old blog (which shall remain anonymous, as people are subscribed to that who are as yet unaware of my current predicament):

July 9, 2012

Separation anxiety.  It's heartwarming, heartbreaking, and utter wall-climbing misery.

I haven't been able to put my child down in his own bed for a week.  I know there are many moms out there thinking (and please hear this like a fabulous gay man says it, because that's the voice in my head... No, it doesn't make sense, and I totally don't care), "Panda, if you would just properly sleep train your child, he would sleep in his own crib every night.  Co-sleeping is bad, mmkay?" but my answer to that is... nonexistent.  Okay.  I'll get back to you when I figure out something witty.

I co-sleep.  That is, I bedshare.  All these words for parenting techniques drive me crazy.  Technicalities, blah blah blah.  My baby sleeps attached to my boob.  That is what I do.  And let me tell you; I never even considered it while I was pregnant, and long before I had a cute parasite attached to the side of my uterus.  I even thought, from my lofty pre-child days, "How lame that they can't even deal with crying long enough for their child to fall asleep in their own, wonderful, decorated crib in a beautiful nursery."

I'm ashamed to even think about it.

Okay, back on subject; separation anxiety.  Ugh!  He will not only cry in the middle of smiling at a stranger because ohnowhere'sMommy! and Lord knows he would totally fail at finding Waldo on the best of days, but he refuses to sleep without being held by either one of us.  He wakes up, scrunching his cute little nose, grunting, whining, fussing, not sure what to do with any of his limbs, and circling his one arm in this demented little baby way like maybe at some point it'll suddenly become awesome which of course it won't and he just keeps circling it over and over until he cries hysterically because nothing is happening.  It's great to watch, actually.  If you were a terrible parent.  Which I'm not.

Of course this all happens about 5 minutes after I put him down for the night.  It doesn't matter if it's the first time or the tenth time.  He just wants boobs nuzzled against his face.  That's all there is to it.  Manboobs are a poor second choice, but still a choice.  Pacifiers are gruntingly accepted if his belly has decided there is no vacancy.  And Mom is glued to an adorable little boobsucker all night.

Good news:  He's cute when he finally wakes up in the morning, all toe-grabby and cooing.

Bad news:  I have to wait until morning to see his cute side.

During the day it's all anxious whining, wanting to be held (nothing new here, really), wanting Mommy to whip out the magic boobs of wonder and light, wanting Daddy to play nonstop, wanting Doggie to give him attention, talking to the ceiling fan, crying angrily when the ceiling fan doesn't talk back, fussing when he's tired because obviously sleeping isn't going to help him which is why he never wants to fall asleep and babies know freaking everything didn't you know that, and other obnoxious baby things.

I love it.

Most of the time.

Okay; pretty much all the time.  Because face it; when will they ever want us this much ever again in their lives?  I mean.  Besides when they're flat broke.

And yet here I am, doing it again.  And you know what? ... It's awesome.

Random and Unsolicited Advice for the Newly Pregnant Mom

Here is some unsolicited advice for you.

I'm great at unsolicited advice.

I hate unsolicited advice.

1. Buy a lot of underwear.  You'll be peeing through whatever you're wearing when you laugh, throw up, sneeze, or just take too darn long to get to the bathroom.
2. Your doctor makes a lot of $$$ off your Google results.
3. If you are ever unsure... Call your doctor or nurse.  The internet cannot truly help you.  We don't know your medical history and, more importantly, we aren't doctors.
4. Seriously, call the doctor.  Bleeding can mean nothing or everything.  Cramps can mean nothing or everything.  An ultrasound that doesn't match with your EDD can mean nothing or everything.  Bloody poop is probably hemorrhoids.
5. Get thee a body pillow.  But you will probably eventually want to upgrade from a body pillow to a full-body Boppy or Snoogle or other pregnancy pillow.
6. Stop giving a damn if someone is going to breastfeed, or formula feed, or cosleep, or babywear, or cloth diaper, or poop in their toilet.  It doesn't concern you.  It doesn't affect you.  It doesn't reflect badly on you.  And it's none of your business.  If you can't say anything nice, shut up and stab a teddy bear.  If someone is being a bitch to you, think about if it really matters.  They're just random strangers on the internet.
7. If someone calls you stupid and paranoid, cut them.
8. If someone tells you to calm down, punch them in the face.
9. If someone says you look too far along for your gestational date, hide a fresh fish in their trunk.
10. Advice numbers 7-9 probably should be thrown out the window.
11. Everything in moderation.  If you're truly worried if something is safe to eat when you are pregnant... call your doctor.  Don't rely on the advice of people online, because you will get 3 to 72 different and contradictory opinions.
12. Research.  Research.  Research.  Fill your brain with knowledge.  Even though you will probably throw half your decisions out the window after the baby is born, at least you have the knowledge there.
13. Research will drive you insane, so maybe you shouldn't research everything.  Just important things.
14. If it's on the internet, it's probably true.
15. If it's on the internet, it's probably really bad information.
16. If it's on the internet, there's probably a meme about it.
17. Slow down and breathe.  You have time.  The first trimester goes fast.  The second is (generally) bliss.  The third slows to a crawl.  And no matter how much you hate pregnancy, there will always be something you miss about it.  Fluttering baby kicks, maybe.  Knowing when your baby is hiccuping inside your womb.  The fact that you can go to the store at midnight and not worry about the sleeping baby because travel is so much easier...
18. Don't worry about your weight.  Worry about what you're putting in your body.  Instead of thinking, "OMG!  I don't want to gain more than 15 pounds!", try thinking, "Maybe I should ditch the Oreo shake and go for some apples."  (Who am I kidding... I'd never give up an Oreo shake.  Haha.)
19. If your husband/significant other/baby daddy is being a dick, slap sense into them NOW.  Very few of them suddenly reform when you have a screaming, crying, inconsolable newborn who has a weird sleep schedule and refuses to let you have any semblance of sanity.
20. Your extended family's opinions and decisions don't matter.  Take what you want and ditch the rest.  YOUR family is now you, husband/significant other/boyfriend, and your child(ren).  Your mother and father are now EXTENDED family.
21. Your in-law's family's opinions and decisions don't matter either.  Teach your spouse that YOU and the CHILDREN come first - always.  Stop being afraid to stand up to mommy.  You're a mom now, and he's a dad now.  You have bigger issues than worrying about mom being mad at you.
22. The cost of 'free' babysitting given by family is usually too high for what you get.  Think it through.  You can't bitch that your mom never listens to you when she babysits if you aren't paying her.  Either find new childcare or -- frankly, you'll have to suck it up if she doesn't listen to you.  There is nothing you can do to uphold your parental authority in that kind of situation if you keep handing your child over because it is 'free'.  This works for some families, and for some... it really, really, really doesn't.
23. Seriously, that neighbor with the loud music at 2 a.m. should probably be clubbed with a bag of Skittles.  I'm just saying.
24. Lock your doors whenever your car is parked.  Learn to watch your surroundings.  Make smart decisions.  You're pregnant.  There's a baby inside of you.  Once you are larger and less able to run like a spring chicken, you are a prime target.  Pregnant women are the ultimate target for rapists, robbers, kidnappers, and unsolicited advice.  Also, women with children.  It's easy to threaten a woman with children tagging along (they usually comply in hopes to keep their children from being hurt).  Practice situational awareness and start becoming a little paranoid.
25. This baby is YOUR child.  If you don't like how someone else is 'dictating' your pregnancy... Don't let them.  This is YOUR time.
26. Seriously.  Buy more underwear.

And since this is advice on the internet, take what you will and throw away the rest.  I'm just a random stranger.

I take no responsibility for people harmed by actions taken after reading this post.

Pregnancy: The Hard Truths

People are always asking questions early in pregnancy... I figured, hey.  I've been there once.  (I hated it.)  I could probably answer some questions.

Disclaimer:  I am not any sort of medical practitioner.  I have less credentials than Dr. Google.  My advice is completely worthless.  I'd suggest taking it all with a grain of salt, but I hear high-sodium diets are bad for the heart.  I have come up with this pregnancy FAQ from hours and hours of research.

Is it safe to drive a car when you're pregnant?

• If you're asking me this question, I'm always going to answer "No."  I have no real reason for this outside of being snarky.  And also probably thinking you're slightly insane.

Is it safe to eat sushi when you're pregnant?

• Absolutely. People have been doing it for years.  Frankly, there's nothing wrong with eating sushi.  You know, the real problem is being so paranoid that you can't even step out your door for fear of being run over by a flying donkey.
• Absolutely not.  How dare you risk harming your child for a little luxury?  You're an awful mother.  Don't you read baby books?
• You know, every doctor says something different about sushi.  You should just make your own choices.  However, it is true that raw fish can get you sick... But, it's your risk to take.
• Ew.
• Mmmmmmmmmmmmm.  Suuuuuuuuuuuuuushi.

My toenail broke.  Is this a symptom of pregnancy?

• Everything is a symptom of pregnancy.  Everything.

Is it safe to drink caffeine when you're pregnant?

• Anything under 300 mg of caffeine a day is perfectly acceptable in pregnancy.  Did you know that caffeine also can help keep migraines at bay?  You know, you'll drive yourself crazy wondering what you can and can't eat/drink/do when you're pregnant.  Just do everything in moderation.
• Absolutely not.  If you can't get rid of your daily cup of coffee, you have no business being a mom.  I used to drink 5 cups of tea a day and now I drink none.  Why?  Because the health and safety of my child comes first and foremost.
• Absolutely!  That 300 mg of caffeine rule is stupid.  People drink pots and pots and pots of coffee every day and their kids have turned out fine.  Drink whatever you want.

Is it normal for my dog to be up my butt every second of the day?

• Yes.  I suggest keeping all your panties in a locked drawer before you wake up to a whole set of crotchless lingerie.  Unless you're into that thing.  In which case... Hey, go crotchless.  I'm not going to judge.
• No.  Dogs have no idea that you're pregnant.
• Sometimes.  Do you smell like bacon?
• Absolutely.  Dogs can smell the hormones.  Not that I'm trying to say you stink or anything.
• Why do you let your dog go up your butt?  I just want you to know that human fecal matter carries disease and other nasty things.  I don't suggest letting your dog live between your cheeks for any reason.  If your dog is cold, get them a blanket.

Is it normal to lose weight when you're pregnant?

• I hate you.  I'll give you some of mine.  But you can keep your puking juju, because I don't want it.
• OMG, go to a doctor.  Babies aren't calorie-free.
• Don't listen to the above comment.  The above comment was high on Skittles and fudge.

I'm tired all the time.  Is this normal?

• Please.  I sleep 28 hours a day.  Don't even talk to me about tired.
• Actually, pregnancy gives me all this energy!  I ran like 10 miles.
• I hate everybody who gets to nap.  I don't get to nap.  I want to nap.  I'm going to cry now.  Thanks a lot.

"I'm gonna pee on a stick," I said. "Just for funsies," I said.

At 1 a.m. I have this horrible and desperate need to pee.  Mind you, I haven't been peeing any more or less lately.  I just need to pee.  You see... I'd spent the last 3-1/2 hours putting my 2-year-old to bed, and my bladder was done playing nice.

"Oh," I think, browsing Facebook as I trudge down the hall to the bathroom.  "I should pee on a stick.  It's been a while.  Just for funsies."  I do this every so often to -- you know -- make sure I'm not pregnant.  We aren't trying, but aren't preventing.  But we're definitely not trying.  We had a chemical over a year ago and that was the last we ever heard from my uterus, except for a monthly massacre in my panties.

Since I am on Facebook, I decide to update my mom's group.  They're just inundated with pregnancies since our 2-year-olds were born ... you know, 2 years ago.  We have several mamas with subsequent babies.  One was just born this morning.  "I HAVE TO PEE," I say, using all caps because obviously that's what you do when you announce to a group of women that you have to pee for no reason.  "SO I'M GONNA PEE ON A STICK."

So I pee on a stick.

Cue hyperventilation.  Cue "OMG."  Cue "WTF AM I GOING TO DO."  Cue "HOLY SHIT HOW WILL HE REACT."  Cue "WE CANNOT AFFORD THIS."  Cue "THIS SHIT IS BROKEN."  I post on my little mom's group on Facebook, without thinking.  "Oh.  Shit."  I mean, what else can I say?  Then I forget about it, all busy panicking and whatnot, and people think I'm making a big joke with getting people's hopes up when I don't respond.  I hyperventilate a little more.

So I take a digital, because obviously this shit is broken, people.

I message 3 of my best friends.  Only 1 is online because, well, it's 1 a.m.  The other two are off sleeping or some other bullcrap excuse.  Whatever.  Darn them anyway, having their own lives and whatnot.

Friend squeals for me.  She's excited.  She's happy.  "More cubs!  Yay cubs!"  I'm like "I AM SO SCREWED.  WHAT AM I GOING TO DO."  I keep thinking that my 2-year-old is still breastfeeding.  Still in my bed.  We are planning to move at some point this year.  I wanted to wait until our 2-year-old was like, 5.  This.  That.  The other thing.

Oh, and my mother-in-law is visiting tomorrow and I don't want her to know yet.

I finally trudge out of the bathroom.  Oh God, I have to tell him.  I stop in the hallway and call out to my husband, who is playing some stupid wrestling game before bed.  "Yes?" he responds, pausing as soon as he hears my voice.  He's good at that; recognizing when something's wrong, just by the sound of my voice.

"Well."  My face scrunches up.  I half-laugh, half-cry.  I don't know how I feel.  I'm just in shock.  I start laughing hysterically.  Then I start sobbing like my mom just died.

My husband stares at me blankly for a second, then says, "Oh, no you're not."

I nod.  I climb over the baby gate and almost trip and kill myself.  He shrinks back into his recliner and shakes his head.  "Uh-uh.  You aren't giving that to me."  He sees now that I have something in my hand.  I start laughing and shove it into his hands.  He doesn't even look at it; he knows what it is.  He starts grinning wildly.  I cry harder.  He laughs.  "Why are you crying?!?!"

"WHAT ARE WE GOING TO DO?!?!?!" I wail, for all the world a 13-year-old who accidentally let her mom's car get stolen.

He laughs again.  "We're going to have a baby!"

And that's that.

I cry some more.  I laugh a lot.  I bend over, holding my belly, just maniacal in my laughter.  "I'm pregnant.  Oh my God.  We're pregnant."

We honestly weren't sure we would ever get pregnant again.  We didn't want one right now.  We wanted to try in a few years.  We wanted to just enjoy our first, and concentrate on him.  Obviously, life has other plans.