Hi, I’m Caitlin and I’m hella pregnant.
Me before bath time – (I don’t regularly sit on the bathroom floor and take pictures, sans makeup, just so you know) and this is me with the first tiny human I made. (Cute right?)
Its 5am. I am hungry and I am tired. Have a healthy snack and go back to bed you say? fuck you.
You realize sleep is elusive right now, right? Like Gollum coveted that ring – I covet sleep (my precious!) and I just can’t get it. – I’m in my third trimester of pregnancy and my bladder has become a trampoline for the tiny human I’m growing. Could you sleep through a person rhymthically kicking you in the ribs at 4am? Ponder that for a moment, will you? Especially if you’re a guy.
This is the fetus version of your child tugging on your shirt and interrupting you mid-conversation saying “mom, hey mom – MOM!” Ah, it starts so early…
When I can’t sleep, I scroll through Facebook or check out the pregnancy app I naively downloaded when I found out I was expecting.
This particular pregnancy app makes me mad (spoiler alert: Its called BabyBump and yes I’m calling it out)
Like a prisoner making tally marks on his cell wall, the app tells me how many days I’ve been pregnant (228 to be exact). It also offers a “fun” pregnancy tidbit day by day. Which would be great – if the tidbits weren’t so….snarky. I’m sure the designer of the app wasn’t trying to throw shade like that bitchy friend you have but the blurbs seem to be well-meaning but they end up reading something like this:
Day 228 “Are your eyes puffy? Probably – cuz you aren’t sleeping, are you? Use concealer on those bags sweetie… I bet you’re retaining water like a camel in the desert too.. Pregnancy is SO cool though right?”
Day 207: “You’ve got gas really bad don’t you? Try eating smaller meals fatso. Haha- just kidding!… you’re also probably sweaty- I mean… glowing! But for real – get the flatulence under control girl. You’ve heard of gas-x right?”
I read this and think: you’ve got to be kidding me. This is not my first rodeo and I’ve given birth in front of like 9 people – you think a little gas is going to throw me off my game? Nope. (Catch me shitting on the table as I birth a baby in like 8 weeks.) What do you have to say about THAT pregnancy app?? I have no shame anymore. None. Zippo. Zero.
I mean seriously. I’m so pregnant that I look like I’m smuggling a watermelon out of the supermarket under my shirt, my vagina is swollen as fuck and it looks like Homer Simpson’s mouth, turned sideways, I’ve got heartburn like a motherfucker and I wake up to eat twice a night. Gas? HA! Least of my worries. I’m growing a fucking baby like its a magic trick – I’ll fart when I goddamn please.
Yes, this comes off as angry, but you’d be angry too if you were constantly hungry but had barely any room in your stomach for food because, you know, there’s a baby butt sitting on it.
For anyone that’s never grown a person – this is what it’s like: Have you ever stumbled drunk and hungry into your kitchen at 4am, gone into your pantry or fridge and consumed whatever edible thing you could find? (ya you have! don’t lie) I do this sober a few times a week. THAT is pregnancy in a nutshell.
Its 5am and I just feasted on crackers and ginger ale like it was going out of style. I stood half awake and half naked in front of the cabinet as I stuffed whole saltines into my mouth like a stoner devouring pizza. Who has a food orgasm from eating dry-ass crackers in the glow of the stove light? A pregnant lady, thats who.
My sweet husband asks me “what do you want honey” (as if I’m rational enough to know right now with all these baby hormones coursing through my brain)
What do I want? I want to lay in a bubble bath in a bath tub deep enough that the water covers my huge tits and stomach. I want waffles- no! I want ice-cream! No – I want to watch commercials featuring puppies so I can cry at their sweetness and I want a shoulder rub. I want to pay someone to hold my boobs up for me because they’re so heavy. I want a crane by my bedside to effortlessly lift me up when I get up to pee 8 times a night so I won’t have to roll around, trying to gain momentum to lift up my gargantuan midsection like a turtle rolling around on his back on the side of the road. But what do I want most of all? I want to be holding my sweet newborn in my arms. (Cue the tears)
I feel so done being pregnant. I’m just reaching for that moment after I give birth when I have my new baby on my chest, asleep in a onesie thats too big for him and the little hat the hospital puts on newborns to hide their crazy-looking cone head.
I want that moment when the rest of the world fades away and I finally won’t have to get up to pee a million times a night. I want that sleeping newborn, barely a few hours old, snuggled into me.
Then I won’t care that I want waffles and that I can’t sleep through the night because I’ll have the greatest reason in the world to get out of bed at 2am – a tiny human that needs me. THATS the glow that everyone talks about.
It just doesn’t happen for me during those 9 months of gestation and that’s ok. That glow happens for me when its 4am and all the world is asleep except for me and my baby that I’m feeding and rocking back to sleep. The world is silent and nobody exists except for me and him.
When my husband asks me “what do you want” and I can’t articulate what the hell I want, and I say I want waffles and then cry for no reason ^ that is what I really mean: I want to be done being pregnant and I want my sweet baby here, cone head and all.
But alas, I have 6 to 8 more weeks of waking up by myself in the wee hours of the morning and stuffing my face with crackers. Pregnancy for me is a hellish marathon of puking, crying, eating and peeing. But I’ll push through the next 2 months of waffles, nausea and tears because I know whats at the finish line: the best fucking craft I’ll ever make (Take THAT pinterest).
So mommies to be that feel pregnant as fuck: I feel you. (#solidarity) We are so damn close. That glow the snarky prego app talks about is coming – I promise and its WAY better then those orgasmic crackers will ever taste.
So if you are pregnant and reading this: go easy on yourself. Fart when you goddamn please, eat when you goddam please and do me a favor? Delete the bitchy pregnancy app or at least put those rage-y hormones to work and go and rate it poorly on the App Store.
Hang in there, other mamas to be. I’ll go and eat a cracker in your honor. We just have to have hang on a little bit longer, the finish line is in sight and let me tell you: its glowing. 😉