Nostalgia, want, and reality.

Let me preface all of this with saying:  I'm not much of a drinker.  Seriously.  Three to four times a year is like... Wow.  I must have just had an awesome year.

But for some reason, when I'm pregnant I find myself craving some alcohol.  I know what it is, really.  It's the fact that such a choice has been taken out of my hands for the foreseeable future. Now that the choice isn't mine, I find myself wanting, wanting, wanting. Even if I am not really all that fond of it.

See, here's the thing. Alcohol turns me as red as a baboon's behind in about 2 or 3 sips. It just does. It's apparently something with Asians and our metabolism. We like to look like raging alcoholics when we're sipping on some wine at a dinner party. It's our thing. My throat also tends to close up and refuse any more alcohol when I'm at about the level of mildly tipsy (this usually takes about, oh, 5 or 6 sips of my coke with a dash of whiskey in it).  It gets all raw and burny, fast, and my reflux starts kicking in like oh no she didn't.  And when I'm tipsy, which I never am so it's an incredibly foreign and not always fun feeling, I get all worried that I'm going to look like a bumbling, red-faced clown, so I end up sitting in a chair and trying really hard not to talk too loudly (a problem even without alcohol) or too fast (again, a problem even without alcohol) and try not to make weird faces at people who try to offer me beer (ew).

So, really, I'm not missing out on anything.  At all.

But damn do I want a drink!

After I gave birth to our son, 2 years ago, my husband went out and bought me some whiskey.  It was sweet.  I drank some of it probably 5 or 6 months after that.

As you can see, I drink a lot.  In two years, I've barely touched the big bottle, and the little one has mostly disappeared into things like steak marinades and barbecue chicken.

Yet I find myself opening the cabinet and staring at them wistfully.

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.

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.

I should just buy a stack of cards that say "I'm sorry that I suck."

Dear Pregnant Lady at the Office,

I didn't mean to give you nasty looks.  It's not your fault that you're having every woman's dream pregnancy and are tall and skinny and cute with the perfect little baby bump and almost no side effects.  It's just that... You see, I still look 6 months pregnant from my firstborn's delivery 2 years ago (which of course is my own fault for not doing anything about it).  And I'm short (not my fault; I blame genetics for this one).  And my belly looks more like a big puffy marshmallow just attached itself to me (once again, I blame genetics).  And you're all perky and gorgeous and healthy and side-effect-less.  So, don't mind the nasty looks I give you.  I just hate and detest you with every fiber of my pregnant body, which is nauseated when I eat and nauseated when I don't eat often enough, which really boils down to me saying I'm nauseated all day long.

With love and severe jealousy and hatred,
Me.



Dear Lady on the Phone at the Doctor's Office,

I'm sorry if I may have sounded a little bit exasperated when I answered your questions.  You see, I thought when you asked, "And how may I help you today?" that you would actually listen to my answer, which was quite concise.  "Hi!  I'm pregnant, and I need to schedule an appointment with an OB/GYN."  I don't understand how that could be taken any other way than "I'm pregnant" and "need to schedule appointment with OB/GYN".  I'm fairly certain it is unnecessary to ask what I am being seen for (PREGNANCY!  It's PREGNANCY!) and which doctor I need to see for it (Seriously? You don't know what kind of doctor pregnant women need?  Especially when I already told you?).  Oops, I'm getting a little judgey again.  Please don't take my snarky and impatient tone personally.  I'm just bitchy when I'm pregnant.

With love,
Me.



Dear Person By My Car,

I'm sorry if I looked slightly insane as I sniffed after you.  Your food smelled delicious and I hadn't eaten yet today.  It was no time to be polite or even have basic manners.  I was not only starving, but starving my unborn child.  My nose sniffed after you of its own accord.  I apologize.  I've since beaten my nose into submission.

If it makes you feel any better, I managed to stop myself from tackling you to the ground and grabbing your boxes of take-out.

With sincere thanks for you not calling the cops,
Me.

"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.