Pregnant Pause: Generation of Whine

I.

I got my first, "Wow!" the other day.

Jabba the parturient at 29 weeks

You know, the loaded Wow that says, "Girl, you're huge! I never knew a human body could take up so much space! How are you physically upright at this point? AND YOU HAVE THREE MORE MONTHS TO GO???"

I laughed at the time, but it continues to roll around in my head.

I mentioned the unfortunate encounter to my father-in-law, and in his thoughtful Kentucky drawl, he said, "You know, people get so excited when they see someone in your condition. Men, especially. And I don't think they know what to say. But they see you looking beautiful and they just react."

blockin' and bumpin' at 29 weeks

Aw. Thank you for the perspective.

II.

I really struggle with the "rules" when comes to what I can and cannot do as a beautifully budding bumpmobile. I like to think I'm a rebel but, quite frankly, I'm worry-averse and will do nearly anything to avoid having to question my decisions later.

No regrets at 26 weeks

It wouldn't be so nerve-wracking if the body of research on gestational ingestion wasn't so nebulous, but conflicting and contrived advice abounds when it comes to what a expectant mom can consume. There are moments of doubt when I just want to call a fetal guru and demand, "JUST TELL ME IF I CAN HAVE A DAMNED TUNA SAMMIE."

I find myself tumbling into a google abyss on the most banal of topics. I'm strangely craving a latte... Is that off-limits? (I went with decaf.) Is nail polish poisoning my progeny? (Maybe? But I've always liked to have a reason to by nail polish, so non-formaldehyde varnish it is.) But seriously, what about the tuna?? (I'm eating it once a week. Damn the man.)

Even with my devoted vigilance to doing the right thing, I still screw up. At the farmers market Sunday, a radiant lady sold me a cup of the most beautiful ruby-colored iced hibiscus tea and only after I had slurped up half the glass did I pause for a googling.

LOOK HOW BEAUTIFUL THIS TEA IS.

Turns out, hibiscus tea can cause you to go into labor.

Thankfully, I didn't even get gas from the faux pas, let alone launch myself into preterm terror. It was demoralizing, though, to set down the cup with a sigh. I consoled myself with... You guessed it: a tuna sammich.

III.

Lamaze class is awesome, y'all.

This is how you practice, right?

Yeah, I knew I'd gain some skills and see birthing videos and further my insane research into all things natal. I expected that. What I didn't really expect was to fall in love with my husband a little more as he practiced massage postures and breathing techniques with abandon in a room full of total strangers.

There is nothing more rewarding than watching him become a dad.

We're awesome at practicing.