1. I can no longer enjoy a hearty laugh or even experience an impromptu sneeze without peeing myself a smidge. I’m inventing Depend’s EasyFit PREGNANCY SLIMS for those of us who wet ourselves just a tad throughout the day.
2. The dead-of-night surprise of sudden foot cramps so painful I shoot out of bed from a deep sleep and start hopping around on one foot while holding the other and yelping, “Ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch” like a cartoon character. Somehow hubs sleeps right through this drama every time. Which just makes me want to poke him awake and then say, “Man, those cramps are rough. Sorry I woke you.”
3. Suddenly having my early pregnancy nausea change its mind and return after leaving for 2 months. Last week, Asher, who is extremely attached to his little frog potty and refuses to use a regular toilet while at home, both peed and pooped in the little potty, making a delightful poopy soup. I started gagging as soon as I picked it up and once I’d deposited it in the big potty, I threw up on top of it. This shit is glamorous.
4. Hitching up my stretchy waist-band pregnancy pants ALL DAY LONG. I sit then stand — I pull them back up. I walk 4 steps, somehow causing them to work their way down my hips a couple of inches — I pull them back up. All day long, yank, yank, yank, yank, hitch, hitch, hitch, hitch. Bitch, bitch, bitch. I think I may just go full mu-mu for the remainder of my pregnancy.
5. Boobs so big that there is no bra in existence that can handle them. I’m thinking of hiring a couple of midgets to carry them around for me all day. I don’t mean to offend little people, but clearly there’s a (lack of) height requirement, and kids can’t do the job because of those pesky child labor laws.
6. Areolas the size of silver dollar pancakes. Without any exaggeration. Yummmmm.
7. The inability to see anything under my belly, most regrettably, my bikini line. I grab the razor, shave blindly, and bravely hope for intact labia.
8. A recently acquired inability to sleep through the night, which I’m sure is an indication of the future sleeping disposition of the child I’m carrying. I toss and turn all night — no easy feat with a big belly and a giant body pillow. And then there’s the handy internal hormonal alarm clock which goes off every morning around 5am and refuses to shut off or even snooze for 4 minutes. Just what everyone welcomes with great joy — an already cranky, hormonal pregnant woman who’s added bitchy blobzilla to her resume because she can’t freaking sleep.
9. Tears, nay — crying jags, that appear out of nowhere for beyond ridiculous reasons. With my first pregnancy, my husband caught me hiding in the kitchen with the water running at full blast to cover the jagged breaths and wails of a complete meltdown. When he asked me what was wrong, I said — no kidding — “I dripped red popsicle on my shirt.” A few weeks ago, I started blubbering while watching an episode of “Dance Moms.” A show I am so mortified to admit I watched that I feel like crying again right now.
10. Well-meaning strangers, usually in the check-out line at the grocery store or Target, who all ask the same questions. “When are you due?” Followed by, “Is it a boy or a girl?” Followed by “What are you going to name him?” And then proceed to reach out and try to rub my belly.
I swear, this time I’m having a t-shirt made that says:
Please don’t touch me
The boy with no name
Due April 2013