Don’t worry. This isn’t going to be one of those posts about all the things that come out of your body during pregnancy. I’ll leave those descriptions to Jenny McCarthy. These are non-gruesome things that have surprised me about being pregnant:
I am slow: And it annoys me. When I am at home, I have to lay down and put my feet up. I nap immediately after work at 5:30 p.m. before I even consider what we should make for dinner. Husbanks is doing more than his share of the chores. Getting to my car in the parking lot is an ordeal. I move as if I am holding a beach ball between my legs. I kind of am. Huh. Anyway, don’t get behind me in a narrow hallway unless you don’t want to get were you need to go anytime soon.
I can’t see: Is that a comma or a period? Blurred vision during pregnancy is real. But I am too slow to make an eye doctor appointment so I will just hope I don’t make any major mistakes if I have to write a letter to, say, The Queen.
How many people think I am having a boy: It’s an overwhelming majority. It’s such a majority that I will be genuinely surprised if we are presented with a girl, even though I know in my head that it’s a 50/50 chance. My “maternal instincts” are in a dead heat – in four dreams I have birthed a boy, and in four dreams, a girl.
Maternity underwear is immature: Even though pregnant women are welcoming a wee little baby into this world, they can still act like adults. But every pack of maternity underwear on the shelves? Is ridiculous. Big blue hearts, teddy bears … you get the drift. Recently, I thought I bought a simple pack of undies only to discover (when I opened and unrolled the underwear in the package) that Baby! is printed across the butt. I feel like I am wearing something Elisabeth Hasselbeck would wear. And that makes me throw up in my mouth a little bit.
How many things I spill on myself: I can’t get close to the table because there is a belly in the way, so I dribble on my clothes. Morgan – I owe you a shirt.