Monday, August 26, 2019

On Jokes, Jugs, and Joy

I am not often disappointed by the wealth of weirdo crap on the internet. Just the other day, I searched for a lady chicken in business attire and am pleased to say that the web offered up an array of professional hens. Yes. Thank you, internet.

However, the selection of decent pregnancy memes is sorely lacking. I'm expecting again and while I languished for weeks with crippling morning sickness and overwhelming fatigue, the internet could only console me with badly-drawn moms and the occasional listicle. Not cool.

Here is a list of smells that made me sick early in this pregnancy:
- My own clean hair
- My own deodorant
- My own breath
- My own son

I couldn't even sniff the hair of my first-born, one of my all-time favorite activities.

This level of self-pity requires military-grade memes.

And so, I offer to you a few homemade memes that might have alleviated my spirits:

pregnancy doge
I made this last maternity go-round, but who's keeping track?

Is doge not the greatest meme? It is. So wow.

I know you think it's weird, Karen.*

*Based on an actual Karen.

This is all I picture when wiggling into maternity britches.

Remember last pregnancy when no one touched my tummy? Yeah. Apparently, I look much more approachable now. 

Dream Meme
Based on a true story.


I reached what I feel is a turning point in my motherhood journey: I threw away all my old bras.

Those who know me will not be surprised to learn that I pitched nearly a garbage bag full of unmentionables that hadn't been worn in more than two years. All the cups that kept me up before I got knocked up were sent adrift on the thrift sea and may be seen at a Goodwill near you.

Tiaras are here to stay, however.

Unlike my first pregnancy, where I thought I would just duck into maternity life and then skip back to my previous condition like a I was hopping off a carnival ride, this time I'm coming to terms with the permanent changes that occur when evolving into a parental persona.

It felt both slightly sad and liberating to acknowledge that I'm moving on without my old stand-by supports. But I do not know when I'll wear non-maternity, non-nursing bras again. I do not know what size I will be when I do return to that condition. And, I have no clue what style of underpinning I'll be pining for.

I will find out when I get there. And in the meantime, I will not carry the baggage of neglected negligees.


Hey, remember when I blogged about my sister sighing about how Fate tends to bend to my wishes?

Well. At the risk of tempting said Fate, I am pleased to announce that said sister Laurie and I are both knocked up. At the same time. Just as I had dreamed.

I basically had to arm-wrestle Laurie to get her to take bump pics with me. WORTH IT.

When chatting with a friend a few weeks ago, Laurie was asked if she's having a boy or a girl. At the time, she didn't know, but replied, "Well, Becky wants me to have a girl. So I assume I'm having a girl."

And hey, guess what? Laurie's having a girl.

This is all to say that I'm over the frickin' moon and trying my best all day every day not to inundate my sibling with my "expert" opinions about what she should do. (Giving unwanted advice is second only to criticizing other peoples' parenting as the top perk of generating progeny.)

Each holding something we love... Laurie would like the internet to know that she did not partake of any libations

So, between my squelched beseeching of my sister to invest in a bouncer and take a breastfeeding class, I've really struggled to hone my own best guidance as one of my favorite people on Earth creates someone who I am sure will also be one of my favorite people on Earth.

And my greatest advice? Trust yourself.

I know it's cheeseball and unsettlingly reminiscent of a sepia-toned Insta meme, but learning to trust my own instincts when it came to caring for my infant changed everything. Not that I was always right about everything (though it pains me to admit that, especially in front of my younger sibling), but I knew I never had to do anything that felt crappy.

If "crying it out" feels crappy, don't. Cuddle that pup.

If you feel crappy because you're worried that the babe might be unwell, call the doctor. Don't think twice about looking dumb.

If breastfeeding feels crappy or the novelty onesie a friend gave you feels crappy or visits from well-meaning acquaintances feel crappy, do not discount your discomfort.

Never question your own intuitions. You're going to be a great mom. It's Fate.

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