I'm Going To Be Brutally Honest.

*Disclaimer! Cursing!


The media, namely TV, paints this falsified image of pregnancy as being wonderful, mysterious and a joyous occasion.

Bull-fucking-shit.

I'm going to lay it right out, here, on the web, for all you people who are living in this fantasy that growing a baby is lovely and all that crap. If you desire a child and/or the miracle of birth, you might want to click the X up there in the right hand corner, or locate a more humorous, light-spirited post of mine. If you decide to stay, don't say I didn't warn you.

1. You will be more tired than you ever thought was humanly possible. I mean, exhausted. Sheer, complete and utter inability to do much other than shuffle your newly-but-not-yet-discovered-as-pregnant-ass to the bathroom to pee. 12 hours of deep, unbroken sleep doesn't even make a dent. Your brain feels stupid, your limbs heavy.

2. Your boobs will ache. Sorta like right before you get your lady friend every month, but magnified about 3,000,000 times. Fucking kill. No joke. Bras will no longer be instruments of support-they will be your lifeline. You will live in them. Taking them off (and I say "them" because if you're sporting anything bigger than a decent A cup, you'll be wearing at least 2 bras to shield them from the world) is dreaded like a mammogram. Showering is goddamn awful. You will navigate the spray from a shower head with amazing skill, avoiding any sort of spraying water from hitting your mammaries. You will cry from the pain. Your nipples will get angry and stay angry and alert.

3. You will feel and look green. I did not get sick once, but I felt a little queasy once or twice. Some women are afflicted with the pukes for months on end. I'm so so very sorry for you.

4. Your clothes stop fitting. Even your fat clothes. Unless you are freakishly thin and able to wear regular clothes until you're about 7 months along. If that's the case, fuck you and your freaky waistline (I mean that in the nicest way possible). I was wearing elasticized pants at 8 weeks, AKA, 2 months. I felt like I continuously ate 4 Big Macs and a large lactose-injected egg-sporting milk shake.

5. As a result of #4, you will begin to cry at the departure of your body, which is now being taken over by a human parasite that you can't feel, can't really SEE but are supposed to believe is there. You will most likely have mini "spells" of crying, drawer emptying and closet purging. You will make it through this stage and accept that you won't be seeing your waist for another 8 months (if you're lucky. Real lucky).

6. Your ability to poop will cease to exist. I'm not kidding, and I know it's gross and TMI or whatever, but someone needs to lay it on the fricken' line here.
YOU WILL NOT HAVE A NORMAL POOP FOR MONTHS.
You will have urges, sure. These will be met with unsuccessful attempts. When you DO finally poop, you'll be awfully proud of yourself and probably want to shout it from the rooftops (or call your husband and mother at work to keep them posted). You'll also think it was a rather healthy poop.
It's not. It's little and angry. Sorry.

7. Everyone, from your spouse to your family to your doctor and friends will start making comments about what and how much you eat. Sometimes this is lighthearted. Sometimes it is a genuine attempt to stop you from eating whatever it is that you must have out of concern.

I'm going to let all you people in on a secret (those who have never been pregnant): there is no rationalizing with a pregnant chick when she wants to eat something. I ate a piece of cake and pickles for dinner one night. My husband said something involving the words "healthy", "sodium" and "crap food". The look I shot him was very scary and he retreated to the living room with nary another word (while he ate his pasta and homemade sauce I provided him). Do not take your life into your own hands. Do not ever say anything to a pregnant person about what they are eating unless it is not food. We don't care. We want it, we want it NOW and you're just an obstacle to overcome at this point.

8. You think that you look pregnant, but when you're wearing clothes (even pregnant lady clothes) you don't. You look like you're bloated. You probably want to yell (as I have done) in public that you are, in fact, pregnant and not just fat. No one cares. Trust me. You will look a little pregnant when naked. You will probably try to avoid seeing yourself naked as much as possible since the changes are a little overwhelming to absorb.

9. You will cry. There is no rational reason for this. You will cry over TV, radio, animals, plants, commercials, your family, your husband's family, your coworkers, your pink kitchen. It comes on fast like a tornado and leaves in about 5 minutes. Don't fight it. Just let it out. Scream if you must, but warn those around you.

10. The unsettling urge to kill someone or something will pass by from time to time. I slapped my cat across the butt one day, which caused her to scoot off the counter. I did this because she head butted my boob (see #2). I then cried really really hard because I thought I hurt the cat and felt terrible, like a bad cat-mother (#9). I then bitched at my husband, who made a comment about me freaking out (#10). There is very very little one can do to stop the crazy train once it has left the station. Husbands/boyfriends: RUN FOR COVER. She'll be over it in 7 minutes and probably crying because she feels completely and utterly out of control; not only the body but the mind now, too.

11. You're gonna fart like you never farted before. My husband finds this humorous, so long as my back is not to him in bed.

12. Have pets? They can, like, smell the baby or something. They will be on you like stink on shit. Have a dog? That dog, fun family friend and companion, will turn into a ferocious body guard. The dog, like mine, will lay at the bathroom door while you pee and shower. She will growl at nothing. She will make it her one mission in life to keep you within sight and safe from the world.

13. You will eventually accept that everything you did before you got pregnant (that brought you joy and/or pleasure) is now a distant memory. You will make peace with this (or it's gonna be A LONG 9 MONTHS).
For me, this meant not only not riding my horses but hardly seeing them. Every time I intend on petting, grooming or simply LOOKING at them at the farm, I have some sort of fetus issue that renders me couch bound (incredibly boring, by the way, and soul sucking). This happens. You deal. Whine about it, but deal.
Also, you cannot smoke, drink alcohol, bungee jump or eat delicious nitrate-filled hot dogs dipped in blue cheese.
All of these things were very hard to say good bye to, except the bungee jumping thing, that was thrown in for emphasis. I miss beer (O'douls, while putting forth a gallant effort, kinda sucks), Marlboro Lights and hot dogs and blue cheese (not really at the same time). I have done a good job at training my brain to NOT think about the horses much. They're livestock, they will be OK without me so long as they have food, water, shelter, the farrier and a brushing every now and again.

And, not that I've been even thinking about it since I feel weepy, angry, bloated, sore and fat, but you might want to keep in mind that sex, though it put you in this not-so-glorious state, might not be possible. Just sayin'.

And all of this has only occurred in the first 14 weeks. I only have 26-ish more to go.