Pregnancy books are all fine and dandy when it comes to informing you about the joys of being pregnant, but there are some things that seem to get ignored by writers everywhere. Some books exist solely to petrify you into bed rest, while others glorify pregnancy and make it sound like some sort of holy experience. And I'm here to tell you, that while the end result is fabulous, pregnancy is not always a picnic in the park.
Pregnancy Glow
I really don't know what kind of Kriss
Angel mind freak voodoo they're trying to pull with this one: no part
of me glowed any minute for the entire ten months (and four days) I was
pregnant. I can't lie, I felt like my soul was being eaten and that I
was being completely taken over by my womb creature. I also feel like
those women who claim to not know they're pregnant till the baby drops
out in the toilet are more than kidding themselves. Let's be realistic
here: pregnancy is not easy. When/if you ever become pregnant, you may
encounter one of these "I can barely tell I'm pregnant!" women.
Warning: this will make you silently envious, but mostly furious. If
you end up being this exception, stay far away from me (trust me, this
is for your own safety).
Natural Births Are For Suckers
Oh epidural,
how I love thee. I'm sure if you're pregnant, you've heard all the
horror stories (See Scare Tactics) and the like about how epidurals
ruin your birthing experience. I really don't see the large deal. In
fact, I'm more than vocal about how much I loved mine. Hell, I'd take
it again now if you were footing the bill. It didn't completely
paralyze me from the waist down, and I was still able to sufficiently
push when it came time.
If that hippy-dippy all-natural "I'd rather
give birth in the back yard leaning up against a tree" works for you,
fine, go to town. However, it is 2008 and these things were invented
for a reason. In no way did having an epidural make me feel less
empowered, or make me less of a mother than anyone who refrained. I
tend to believe gung ho naturalists are less about "wanting the perfect
experience" and more about being a masochist.
DFS
Also known as Disappearing Friend Syndrome. Try to
brace yourself for this one. Once you get pregnant/have a child, an
unexplainable happenstance occurs: you become the victim of some
bizarro friend plague. Of course, everyone thinks they will be immune
to this one. "NOT MY FRIENDS!" you say. But trust me, it will be your
friends.
Granted it won't be all of them, but it will be at least a few
of them. You'll be lucky enough to keep the loyal ones around because
they're the ones who've been there through your worst anyway, so they
don't shock easily. If they dealt with your crazy, stalker, alcoholic
ex-boyfriend and your Spice Girl phase, they can deal with a baby. The
way I see it, Disappearing Friend Syndrome isn't always so bad: look at
it more as a social natural selection.
Scare Tactics
This one still frightens me. There's
something about being pregnant that will draw people toward you, a sort
of freak magnetism, if you will. They will then feel compelled to share
with you each and every frightening pregnancy or dead baby related
story they know. I'm still not quite sure what they're trying to
accomplish with this (Paranoia? Madness? Spontaneous labor?), but there
are several people I know who are lucky they walked away unscathed.
A
pregnant woman is scary business. Is it not enough that she's likely
more miserable than she's ever been in her life? She's not sleeping as
it is, so save your "mysterious third arm" or "73 hour birth" story for
those who possess a vacant womb.
The Name Game
Because I have little to no patience, we found out
our child's gender as soon as we were able. While this was a
blessing, it also proved to be quite a curse. Once the general public
found out what sex we were having, they immediately inquired about our
name
of choice. My husband and I decided to keep our chosen names secret.
Never would I have imagined this secrecy was an even larger blow than
spitting in their face. How dare I! It wasn't exactly like this was
some well thought out conspiracy, quite the opposite actually.
EVERYONE is a critic these days, so in attempts to keep this rain off
of my joy parade, we withheld. When the secret schpeel inevitably
proved
not enough to satisfy inquiring minds, I began announcing our
kidlet-to-be as
Formica. Few were amused. I still laugh though, and in fact, I'm
smiling now. Things like this shouldn't be of the utmost importance.
And besides, A MaKayla by any other spelling would still look
ridiculous.
Lauren is the mother of a beautiful one year-old daughter who wouldn't trade her anything... except maybe for the guarantee that she could be in a coma for her entire second pregnancy. Maybe.
Image from Getty, Royalty Free.