Monday, 23 February 2009
The Perils of Pregnancy (aka "Good Lord, is that REALLY my belly?"
I vowed that if I ever had the good fortune to become pregnant again, I would never, ever utter a word of complaint. And these are not complaints by any means - simply some obstetrical observations I feel compelled to share.
Here are Nine Perils in Three Blogs...think of them as trimesters!
1) The Queasies
I've experienced pretty violent morning sickness with all three of my pregnancies. This confession is met with puzzled looks from many of my formerly pregnant friends and family members, who perkily inform me that they never had any nausea at all. WTH? I thought EVERY woman who was up the stump suffered from the queasies. Apparently I am one of the chosen few. I think my many mornings of retching means my child will sleep through the night, learn to change his/her own diapers and despise Barney and Teletubbies. Right?
On the bonus side, The Queasies prevented me from having to attend early morning meetings for the first four months. And now that the Queasies have left the building, eating has become a near-divine experience, where all the flavours I once loathed taste fresh and new again.
Aside: I have to insert a few blessings here on the makers of Stoned Wheat Thin crackers. I should really write them a thank-you note for single-handedly ensuring I didn't starve to death between September and January. And blessings on D for learning to make fresh ginger tea, which he dutifully carted to my bedside for innumerable weeks.
2) Tipsy Doodle
Hormones are funny things. Being pregnant, I am apparently full of them. They course through my body, pausing to wreak occasoinal havoc with my emotional state and, recently, my balance. I'm not any dizzier a blonde than I used to be, but I tend to tip over more often than I used to. No spectacular wipe-outs; just gradual, slo-mo descents into snowbanks or walls for no apparent reason when I walk out to the barn or try to put on my boots. One minute I'm filling the bird feeder, the next I'm inhaling snow thinking, "Alright, who just pushed me?" I'm being very careful and walking slowly, but I think pretty soon I'm going to have to buy one of those funky carved walking sticks old Swiss men use.
3) You're going to put WHAT WHERE?
I suppose it's because of my venerable age and past medical history that I'm subjected to bi-weekly ultrasounds, poking and prodding from a variety of medical professionals and, most recently, hideous procedures that even really mean aliens wouldn't perform. The ultrasounds aren't too bad - I love seeing Bumbo making faces at me - but some of these other tests are hard on a girl's dignity. But not to worry: my friend R, who recently had a baby, informed me that after a few hours in the delivery room, I will not have any dignity left anyways.
Stay tuned for the second trimester...