Things I will (not) do while pregnant.

Before getting pregnant, I had a lot of thoughts about being pregnant. I had a lot of great and lofty goals. I couldn’t wait to be the best pregnant lady ever! False. Not even close. I have failed on almost all counts and I don’t even care. These are my (hilarious) pre-pregnancy thoughts/goals I have totally blown.

I will eat healthy. Hahaha. No. Some days, I eat kale soup and drink a gallon of water and have a well-balanced dinner. Some days, I eat a fucking bag of Sour Patch Kids, macaroni, bread, bread, more pasta, bread and a Gatorade. When you feel like you have been hungover for 8 weeks, the idea of a healthy meal does not even interest you and you go into survival mode. Right now, I am in survival mode. And if that means this fetus is getting pizza, an English muffin with peanut butter, a cookie and ten Swedish fish, then that’s what the fetus is getting. I did cut caffeine out of my diet almost 100% and let’s just say that’s sacrifice enough.

I will exercise. Oh, how cute is this! I ran my first half marathon last April. I don’t even feel bad saying this because I worked damn hard for it – for a couple of months, I was in amazing shape. The best shape of my life. And I kept up the running after the half and kept running through the summer. I actually ran a 5k right before I got pregnant. And then I screeched to a frickin’ halt. Basically since I peed on a stick, I have not so much as walked a block unless there was some sort of food item at the end of it. I had so many good intentions to keep exercising regularly, but that has just not happened. Right now, I have a steady schedule of coming home from work, putting on pajama pants, sitting on the couch and basically waiting until it’s dark enough outside to lay in my bed. It’s a glamorous life.

I will learn A LOT. I had grand plans to read all of those pregnancy books. I mean I bought them all. Like five different books about pregnancy and healthy pregnancies and what your girlfriends wish you knew about pregnancy and that type of shit. But I haven’t read past page 20 in any of these books. Now and then I will skim through, but for the most part, I realized, knowledge is power but it is also fear. The more I know, the more there is to panic about. So, I quit reading the books and I use Google when something super important comes up. Not always the best plan. If it’s really important, ask your doctor. When you use Google to diagnose things, that’s when you usually convince yourself you have Ebola.

I will get organized. Another hilarious goal which is not even close to being realized. Everyone speaks of this ‘nesting’ thing, and I know it doesn’t necessarily happen right away, but the only thing I am nesting is more saturated fat from brownies into my ass. I have a kitchen table that could double as an accounting firm during an audit (thanks tax season/husband who owns his own company), a crazy messy basement that is screaming for help, a ‘nursery’ formerly known as an office which is still housing our very extensive record collection and does not have completed crown molding and a closet (aka the extra space in our upstairs bedroom) that is more like a showroom for the clothing I will probably never fit into or wear again. I hope this burst of energy I keep being promised happens and I hope I take advantage of it, but right now there’s no such thing as organization in my house. It just looks like Hurricane Amy came though with a vengeance.

I will embrace my new body. For the first twelve weeks I was pregnant, it was cold outside. Which was very convenient when you are trying to keep a secret. Although I don’t think I was showing as much as I felt like I was showing, I started dressing like a homeless man to hide anyway, just in case. I was too scared to be outed to wear anything remotely tight, so I dressed like a crazy person in scarves, tights, dresses and jackets every day as if the temperature was hovering around 2 degrees. Now that I have a little bump and the secret is out, I am trying my best to embrace it. But it’s hard. You feel bloated and a little chubby. The in-between time is not as fun as I imagined. But I am trying to go with it because in 5 months, when it is a sweltering 90 degrees outside and crazy humid and I am dressing like a cheap prostitute so I can be as cool as possible, I will not be as into this belly.

I will not be crazy. This is the best. I wanted to stay calm ‘for the baby.’ Try not to get worked up. Try not to get mad or stressed or worry too much, about pregnancy or anything. But this is not working. At all. I went crazy on my husband about buying me a Bella Band the other day, even though he was trying to do something nice. I get so worked up about politics while getting ready in the morning that I yell at Donald Trump through the TV in my robe with a curler in my bangs. (sexy). I try to create a maternity leave plan for work but then freak out and work on something totally less important to pass the time. Basically, a lot of hormones are raging in your body during this time and your demeanor is not always in your control. It’s okay to let a little crazy out sometimes, even if it’s not very adorable.

The point is, nine months seems like a million years and also flies by. Just do what you can do, listen to your doctor, take moderately good care of yourself and your baby will be fine. Not smoking or drinking or riding roller coasters is a pretty good start. Other than that, just do the best you can. At least that’s what I am telling myself.

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