Invasion of the Body Snatcher

Pregnancy is weird. I guess in my mind I had always imagined my pregnancy like someone on TV or in a magazine. My growing stomach would be the perfect accessory, like a Louis Vutton purse, that people would admire as soon as I walked into a room. I was going to feel fine, give off a radiating glow like a pregnant model, and act like the best version of myself. The reality is that I’m not a pregnant model or the best version of myself by any means. Most of the time, I’m more like a pregnant hobo with a crappy attitude.

This blog will focus on the physical transformation I have made thus far. 

Heartburn: I swear, I took my second pregnancy test on a Friday at 6pm and when I laid down for bed that night I had heartburn. I haven’t suffered much heartburn prior to being pregnant but we are definitely making up for lost time. It’s so bad that I can feel it radiating up my esophagus. It wakes me up in the middle of the night. Lately, my nightmares are of running out of Tums and not being able to get to the store because of bad weather. I’ve heard that heartburn is a sign that your baby will have lots of hair when they are born. Well this little girl better come out looking like Rapunzel. Seriously, I fully expect to deliver the baby and for my midwife to still be pulling out hair after she is in my arms. 

Boobs: The second thing I noticed was my chestal region. I didn’t need any help in this area but this is where my pregnancy transformation happened during my first trimester. I was already at a point where finding bras in my size was limited to one store in town. During my preceptorship, I remember going to the bathroom and looking in the mirror. My cup literally runneth over and my uniform was getting tighter. I was forced to wear my lab coat everyday in an effort to not look like a hussie. From the time I found out I was pregnant (4 weeks, 3 days) to my first OB appointment (8 weeks) I had went up 3 sizes. At my 8 week appointment, I asked my midwife if there was anything I could do…. bind them down, wear a regular bra then three sports bras over it, cut an onion on the night of a full moon and throw it in the woods while keeping the other part under my pillow… I was up for anything. She simply replied, “Prepare to invest in lots of bras.”  This is not what I wanted to hear. Meanwhile, it’s the coldest weather we’ve had in 20 years and my boobs are so big my coat no longer buttons. My mother convinced me to buy a fleece cape thing from the Cracker Barrel which I have worn one time. What’s the problem you ask… first of all never buy your clothes at a restaurant, second all I’m missing is a monocle and a pipe and I’d be Sherlock Holmes. Not exactly the pregnancy model look I was going for. I also get shooting pains in my boobs, mainly the right one. It’s like a Charlie horse but more stabbing and less of a dull ache. Well what do you do when you get a Charlie horse? Like any normal person my first response is to rub it out. This gets me lots of awkward glances at Target. Karl has asked me to please stop doing this or at least go to the bathroom. I’m working on it. At my 12 week appointment, (the only one Karl has been home for) I asked my midwife what the stabbing was all about. She said, “It’s just your breast growing.” Karl, sitting quietly up until this point in a chair in the corner, lets out a loud, 7^th grade boy “YES!” while throwing his arm in the air and bringing his elbow to his waist (you know the move I’m talking about). I looked at him with cold, dead eyes in front of God and our midwife and said, “I’ll kill you for doing this to me.”

***On a serious note, if you are reading this and you know where I can get some freakishly large nursing bras, PLEASE LET ME KNOW!!! I read somewhere that the first bra was made out of two handkerchiefs and a ribbon. I’m thinking pretty soon I’m going to have to fashion something out of two tarps and some duct tape. ***

Stomach: I honestly went from looking like a fat girl who was pretending she was pregnant to being pregnant with twins in four days. Thankfully, Karl was here to witness this transformation and to validate that I wasn’t losing my mind. On Sunday night as we laid in bed Karl said, “I was hoping there would be some kind of a baby bump when I got home this time (I was at the end of week 17).” I said, “well you know my sister didn’t really show until she was about 7 months, it might take me a while since I’m a meaty gal.” He said, “Don’t you ever talk crap about my wife being a ‘meaty gal’ (his usual response when I say something self deprecating).” Then we went to bed.  Apparently, the baby heard this conversation and she wanted her presence to be known. For the next four nights I would lay in bed with a miserably full feeling in my stomach, I couldn’t get comfortable and things just felt different. Friday morning when we woke up the proof was in the pudding. Four thin purple lines were on my stomach. I was devastated. My bikini modeling career was officially over before it had even begun. Not that I was in any shape to be a bikini model (I haven’t even worn a bikini since I was 4) but all my hopes and dreams of going on the Biggest Loser and getting that bikini body were dashed. Karl blew it off like it wasn’t a big deal. He said, “Babe, what do you think they have Photoshop for? I can’t even see anything. You look fine.”  Another thing no one told me about pregnancy was when I started showing in my stomach it wasn’t a cute round ball. It was more like I was suffering from a severe case of Dunlap Disease. Even now at 21 weeks I can feel people looking at me thinking, “Is she pregnant or has she been to the all you can eat buffet about 10 times too many?” I’m thinking of buying a shirt that says “This is a baby, not a burrito.” 

Hair: The next thing I noticed was hair growth. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve heard about women getting a majestic mane of hair when they are pregnant. It’s kind of like God making up for all the other bad stuff. Well I have a pretty thick rat nest on top of my head anyway so if it’s gotten any thicker I haven’t noticed. But do you know where I have noticed an increase in hair… everywhere else. I’ve always had peach fuzz on my face. Well that peach fuzz has turned into a full grown man beard. What the heck!!! I’ve even noticed peach fuzz growing on my stomach. This is gross. Between the big ole belly and white beard I’ve pretty much turned into Santa Claus. You want proof? Here’s a recent picture:

Clothing: Because of this weird body morphing that’s been going on I have adopted what I like to call my “Pregnancy Uniform”. Like I mentioned before, it’s as cold as Antarctic here in the Deep South and my coat doesn’t fit. Pants make me feel nauseous. I’m in this weird place between finishing school, taking my boards, and starting my new job. Being dressed on a daily bases is not a necessity.  My uniform consists of Karl’s royal blue Old Navy fleece pull over and an old pair of white and black leopard print Old Navy fleece pajama pants. I wear it every day. I wash it every few days at night when I have on my night gown. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve slipped out of the house with it on… to run to the Redbox, Walgreen’s, Sonic, Tiffani’s house, Dominos, etc.  I wanted to mention this because if you see me at the store in my uniform PLEASE PRETEND LIKE YOU DON’T KNOW ME! It’s not that I don’t want to say “Hi” it’s just that I don’t want to have to feel guilty for choosing comfort over style. 

I feel like I’ve rambled on enough about all this for now. Next time, I’m going to talk about the emotional stuff like the time I was practically in tear on the phone with Karl putting out an Amber Alert on a box of Sour Patch Kids.

Daddy had to take one for the team.

This story is 100% real. Names have not been changes to protect the innocent. As a matter of fact, a picture has been posted at the bottom of the perpetrator. 

I don’t usually describe my passing of gas as a “fart.” A “fart” is what your husband does in the middle of the night which causes you to wake up in full panic mode because you think shots are being fired outside your house. I prefer to describe what I do in a much more lady like term such as “toot.” But lets be real, sometimes you have to call a spade a spade. 

My first trimester was plagued with gas.  I felt bloated all the time and it wasn’t uncommon for me to toot often. Occasionally, a toot would slip out without my consent. 

One night, Karl and I were at Walgreen’s. We are a typical old married couple and when he is home we live for Redbox movies. We slipped in the store to look for something to go along with our movie (I forget what) and somehow I got stuck on the Christmas aisle. It was a few weeks before Christmas and I was looking for some cute gift tags. Karl was a few feet away from me looking at something I’m sure we didn’t need. As I stood there it happened. I FARTED!!!!!!! This fart was so loud it was like I could see it form a cloud that went above my head then went out like a sonic boom. People all over the store, including the pharmacy, went temporarily deaf from the loudness of it. 

You might be thinking well it was Walgreen’s so I’m sure there weren’t that many people there but you are wrong! There were people all over the store to include a group of three women on THE SAME AISLE AS ME!!!! In my panic, I ran over to Karl and grabbed his arm. He was so engrossed in the “Forever Comfy” that he had heard nothing. 

Me: “I just farted over there!!!” (pointing to the scene of the crime)

Karl: “Ooook” (with a “no big deal” look on his face)

Me: “Do something!!!!”

Karl:  (In a loud, deep tone projecting his voice several aisles over) “EXCUSE ME!!! I’m sorry…..it’s my stomach…. it’s really messed up….”

And because when we Schlomers sell something, we really sell it, I responded with…

Me:  (Cutting my eyes in Karl’s direction with a disgusted look on my face) “You are so gross. I can’t take you anywhere. Let’s go.”

We left and got in the car where I tried to explain to Karl that it wasn’t me it was the baby. He didn’t real mind taking the blame. He was actually quite proud of himself for defending my honor. I have to admit I found it to be pretty dang chivalrous too. 

ATTENTION WALGREEN'S EMPLOYEES AND SHOPPER: This is the man who farted in your story. It was not the blond woman with him. She and the child she is carrying are completely innocent. The fart was probably in some way related to all this food he had at the Chinese Buffett.

My husband is by no means a perfect man but is sure is perfect for me. I love you, babe! 

My First Ultrasound/Free Colonoscopy

I hate going to the doctor. I mean HATE IT! The dentist, I love but anytime I have to go somewhere and they have to weigh me I feel anxious. Since Karl didn’t know I was pregnant (and he was out of town anyway) my mom accompanied me to my first ultrasound appointment. 

I was extremely nervous in the waiting room and they were running 30 minutes late which was not helping. Up until this point I wouldn't really let myself think about having a baby. I kept thinking I’m probably crazy and this is a phantom pregnancy. I’m going to go in there and the ultrasound tech will be like “This is a turd. You’re really constipated (which I was) take some milk of magnesia and work this out at home.” (As a nurse, I realize the human body doesn’t work this way but, as one of my instructors pointed out in OB clinicals, when it’s you and your baby all of your nursing knowledge goes out the window.) 

When they called me back I walked into a dim room with two ultrasound technicians. I could already tell the woman who was doing the ultrasound was a pill. In a hateful voice she said, “Get on the table and pull up your dress.” I was appalled. We aren’t even going to exchange pleasantries. No “Hi, my name is ____ and I’ll be showing you your baby today.” no “How is your day?” or “Are you excited?” NOTHING! I mean I wasn’t asking for dinner but come on! At this point I was still modest  (don’t worry that only last another few weeks) at my 16 week appointment, I saw a doctor because my midwife broke her wrist over Christmas and his nurse said would you mind if a student who’s shadowing the doctor comes in since you won’t have to be undressed too much. I said, “Oh sure, he can see this (panning my body up and down with both hands) naked, it’s no big deal.” Back to the original story, I slowly climbed onto the table and lifted my dress slightly over my belly button. She came over and ripped my underwear down to my pubic bone.  

I lied on the table quietly. Ms. Pill, having no social skills didn’t say a word to me; she just moved the ultrasound wand (I don’t know what it’s called) around on my stomach for a while. I know I have some fluff in my stomach region but she was pressing down so hard I knew she wasn’t just checking out my uterus. I concluded that she must also be checking my colon. I must have been the special 100^th patient who got a free colonoscopy with their ultrasound.  I dare not say anything about how hard she was pressing out of fear that she was going to beat me with the end of her wand then choke me out with the cord. 

Finally, I saw something on the television screen in front of me. To my shock it wasn’t a turd… but it did look a lot like a gummy bear. I didn’t remember the last time I had gummy bears. Did one get trapped in my uterus? I wasn’t sure. But then Ms. Pill said in a cold voice, “You have one viable fetus with a heartbeat.” She turned the sound on her machine and I was able to hear my angel’s heart beating for the first time. It was seriously the most magical moment of my life. In that very moment, my heart leaped out of my chest and I said to myself, “That’s my girl!”

 

Next time, I'll be talking about the time I farted in the middle of Walgreen's. This is my current go to funny story. Hopefully, that will be able to translate to a good laugh in the blogging world.