Let’s be honest, pregnancy can be a real bitch.
You are overweight, uncomfortable, and the fluctuations in hormones are enough to make a semi-sane woman appear certifiable. Not to mention the unexplainable things that are happening to your body make you feel as if you have morphed into an alien from the outer galaxies. Pregnancy is not for the faint of heart.
But much to my delight, there are some pregnancy perks — besides the beautiful bundle — that make the undesirable symptoms a bit more bearable.
1. I’m in a constant Zen-like state.
The Dalai Lama ain’t got nothing on me this pregnancy. I live in a constant euphoric state that before pregnancy could only be achieved with copious amounts of wine or prescription drugs. Everything is very “it will all work out” and “the universe has a plan,” which is a far cry from my Type A, control freak nature. People keep asking me why I’m so calm and rational and happy. I really have no explanation; I’m just as surprised as those around me. You’re welcome, universe! (Please also refer to No. 8 — zero fucks.)
2. I get to park closer.
Better parking is awesome. And in turn, I don’t have to feel my thighs rub together as much when I have to walk long distances. OK, any distance. Can I get an amen for those “expectant mother” parking spots? They are a hidden oasis in the middle of a desert, like central air conditioning on a sweltering hot day, or even a regular day because I’m pregnant and all I do is sweat.
3. I get to cut in line to use the bathroom.
I had really underestimated the term “pregnancy pity” until I was waiting in line to use the bathroom at a gas station — in the middle of nowhere — and a lady offered to let me cut in front of her because I was “with child.” I think she could tell I was about to pee in a nearby mop bucket if she didn’t help a sista out. It felt amazing on so many levels — liberating in fact. They say to soak up every moment in pregnancy; you can’t blame me for embracing that philosophy.
4. I get my order faster at restaurants.
I honestly think this is because people are legitimately scared of pregnant women, but I’ll take it. The other day I was dining at our favorite restaurant and the waiter could tell by my huffing and puffing and profuse sweating that I needed my food pronto, or I was going to go batshit crazy on him. He delivered my order at lightning speed and even gave me a free dessert. Score! It should be mandatory to get food out to an expectant mother ASAP.
5. You get free rein to pass on social functions and not feel one ounce of guilt about it.
This is not limited to baptisms, kiddie parties, and “Dirty 30” birthday parties. I thought being a mom was the jackpot of excuses until I was a pregnant mom. There are so many loopholes that I wasn’t privy to before this. I’m going to be brutally honest here: No one likes kiddie parties, but somewhere along the way, we have become a slave to them. I usually determine which kiddie parties I will attend based on what time of day they’re scheduled (aka whether or not booze will be served). Well, now that I’m forced into sobriety, I am off the kiddie party circuit. Ain’t nobody got time for that.
6. You get to ride in the front seat.
This has been my signature move since about the age of 5 because I get car sick. Only now, I actually have a real, concrete reason to call dibs on the coveted front seat. It would be totally insensitive of someone to shove a pregnant woman in the backseat. First of all, she is large and in charge and fueled by unpredictable hormones. And secondly, she could projectile vomit on you without warning. It’s just safer to keep her in plain sight and comfortable. End of story.
7. You are limited on the amount of housework you can do.
I think even if you don’t have any pregnancy restrictions like lifting or exercise, you can still milk this one like nobody’s business. My back hurts intermittently so obviously I cannot do anything that involves bending, like pulling clothes out of the dryer or unloading the dishwasher. I also get dizzy spells when I stand too long so mopping, sweeping, and vacuuming are out of the question. And we all know about the dreaded Toxoplasmosis from cleaning the litter box, so I’m out there also. It’s really unfortunate that I can no longer help around the house like I would like to, but my husband understands; it’s for the health of the baby.
And last but not least…
8. There are very few things I give a fuck about besides growing this baby.
It may sound harsh, but it’s just the truth. I am a people-pleaser by nature, so my newfound attitude is a breath of fresh air. It applies to anything and everything in my life right now.
My kid just drank apple juice out of a cup that he peed in. I don’t give a fuck.
To be clear, usually something like this would make me cry and then Lysol like a mad woman.
My husband forgot our anniversary. I don’t give a fuck.
Right now, I don’t care right now, but he will be hearing about this later when I’m not high on hormones and rolling in Cheetos.
I decided to try on clothes at Target and forgot to wear underwear — again. You guessed it. Don’t give a fuck.
The same day at Target, my child spilled my latte on a bitter old lady who was giving me the evil eye for my kid’s bad behavior. I don’t give a fuck.
No, seriously, I really didn’t give a fuck. It should be illegal to be angry at Target.
I’m using the F-word in a blog that my parents, my son’s teacher, and my Bible study group will read. I don’t give a fuck.
You get the picture. Zero fucks.
I would like to say that all these kind gestures and hidden perks are a result of my newfound attitude and people having a love affair with pregnant women. In all honesty, I think they are just scared to death that we may go “hormonal” on them. Or sit on them. Or pee on them. Whatever the case, I’m soaking it up while I can. And I’m not giving any fucks what you think about that.