Saturday, September 18, 2010

The art of pregnant shaving and other fun topics

A few months ago when I decided to start this blog and speak freely about the discomforts and unmentionables of pregnancy I didn’t take into account some of the topics I would feel the need to discuss.  There are several things I’ve been holding back talking about simply because I’m embarrassed.  It takes a lot to make me blush and the simple fact that my mom among others read this blog, I have refrained from discussing several pressing matters.  However, I’ve never been one to really hold back and today I’ve decided to go ahead and put it all out there.  I hope some of you can relate and will be brave enough to let me know your own experiences. 
 First off, let me say that I’ve done a lot of negative talking about being pregnant…the horrors of incontinence, hemorrhoids, etc.  I do have to mention that for the most part, pregnancy is awesome.  I have truly enjoyed most all aspects of my body being invaded by the little aliens.  It’s been super great to eat just about whatever I want and have zero guilt.  So what if I downed a half gallon of Mayfield Birthday Cake Ice Cream in one week, the babies obviously need the milk fat for their brains.  There is no need to ever suck in my gut at all, in fact, the farther out it sticks, the better.  I’m definitely in the honeymoon phase being 22 weeks.  I actually look pregnant instead of just fluffy or chub like the first 4 months.  I’ve also noticed that people are way nicer to me and go out of their way to open doors and be polite to me.  It’s nice to get all of this positive attention and I don’t want to secretly mass murder most of the population like I did in the first trimester.  Best of all, I can feel them moving around now and that is quite possibly the coolest thing I’ve ever experienced.
Of course, there are still some surprising and weird things happening that I feel the need to discuss.  I’m told that once this is over and slews of folks all over middle Tennessee get an up close and personal look at my lady parts and everything that will be pouring out of that region, all modesty will be long gone.  I’m going to try to embrace that mentality now as I openly discuss this month’s conundrums. 
I am finding that at 22 weeks pregnant I can no longer see my lady parts at all nor can I contort myself to see it, therefore making it difficult/impossible to shave “down there”.  Now, my husband can tell you that I do all sorts of things that gross him out like swig directly from the Scope bottle and go days without showering on occasion.  However, a hairy lady beave is not my thing at all.  I am slightly obsessed with not going full on 70s porn.  As I mentioned in an earlier post, being knocked up generally makes your hair thicker and grow in lots of new places (I’ve never really had any arm hair until now).  The private region is no exception and I am now in a serious dilemma as there are really only a few options to go with here;
1.     Go au’natural and just let the nappy jungle take over.  This is not really an option for me as I’ve never been able to let it get that way and honestly it gets itchy and just plain grosses me out and makes me feel dirty. 
2.     Let the husband shave it up for me.  This is something I’ve considered and he has said he would do, although I get the feeling he’s a little skeeved out by it, and quite frankly, the thought of anyone other than myself going “in there” with a razor is too scary for me to consider at this point although it’s not out of the question later on depending on how desperate I get.
3.     Get a Brazilian bikini wax.  I’ve done this once in my life.  HOLY SHIT.  I’ll leave it at that.  I truly don’t understand women who do this on the regular.  I mean, I really just can’t comprehend it.  If labor hurts worse than that, then I am glad I’m most likely skipping out on that with a scheduled c-section as well.  Obviously this is not an option as I will NEVER do this again.  Not to mention the one time I did undergo this Chinese torture hellacious medieval bat shit crazy procedure, I came home to show off the goods to my boyfriend (now husband), and his response was, “Eww”.  To be fair, the little lady was still pretty angry about what I put her through.
4.     Do it myself by “feel”.  This is the option I am going with for the time being.  After all, I guess this is what blind girls have to do, so surely it’s a pretty common thing.  So far, I haven’t done a great job, but it’s working out alright for right now.  It is certainly awkward and the potential for cuts or nicks with the razor are definitely a concern, but this is the only thing I can think to do right now.  I’m hoping I’ll still be able to do this because I’m fairly confident that I won’t be able to tie my own shoes in a matter of a few weeks.

The next topic on the agenda is sex.  I never really thought about couples who are expecting and how that would affect their sex life.  But really, of course it has to have an effect on anyone’s sexual relationship.  The only thing I ever read or heard about this before hand was how pregnant women are overtaken with the urge to ravish their husbands nightly, something about all the hormones turning us into sex craved maniacs.  I can’t speak for anyone else, but feeling and actually looking like a giant hippopotamus hasn’t really made me feel like a sex kitten.  In fact it’s become downright awkward these days.  Obviously the days of us staring lovingly into one another’s eyes is long gone.  As big as I am now, we have had to get creative and it has been an adventure.  Anyone who has been married or in a long term relationship for longer than 5 minutes quickly realizes that no sex equals no good.  I can tell you from personal experience as well as girl talk with my friends, that going without it for longer than a week or so is a surefire way  to lose your connection as a couple.  I truly believe sex is so important and without it you basically have a roommate who gets on your nerves.  So, all that to say, it is a constant changing landscape as I grow more and more zoo animal like.  I have to wonder what other couples have done about this since no one really talks about pregnant sex.  I guess I’ll be the first to broach the subject. 
So, please feel free to leave a comment or email me with your own thoughts on these matters as I must say I am fascinated that I never even thought about the day I couldn’t shave my own lady parts or I would have to get my freakiness back just to make love to my husband. 

Wednesday, September 1, 2010

The Pregnancy Police

One thing I've realized since taking this journey into Pregoland is that everyone – literally everyone – who has ever given birth even once in their lifetime is now the end-all-be-all authority on all things preggo. It really doesn't matter if said person gave birth and their baby boy is now 43 years old, she wants to recount each and every moment of morning sickness, or, worse, how great they felt the entire pregnancy, or how they only gained 12 pounds, and then regale you with a painfully long play-by-play of their labor and delivery.

I was somewhat mentally prepared for this as I know people (especially women) love to share their personal stories, particularly when it comes to the tales of their precious little cherubs entering the world. What I was not prepared for, however, was the barrage of know-it-alls to be cramming their opinions of what I should or shouldn't be eating or doing down my throat at a rate that is making my head spin… and my hormones rage.

When I first learned of my pregnancy I was determined to do things the right way: eat healthy, exercise, plan ahead for any potential problems, and mostly just have an overall game plan. It is also really important to me, however, to expect the unexpected and roll with the flow. I believe that a set of laid back, chilled-out parents will translate into a somewhat chilled kid.

Okay, all of you experienced moms out there, I know you are laughing at me right now thinking how funny it would be to be a fly on the wall at my house in 5 months when I have two screaming infants and the husband and I are stumbling around in our sleepless stupor trying desperately to grasp to our Zen-like states.

I get that it doesn't always turn out this way, but it has to be better for everyone’s mental health to chill out and try not to worry about every little thing you might do wrong to foster a little monster or a serial killer or worse not be able to keep them alive and breathing. Take a stroll through the aisles of Walmart and see how many rat-tailed, two-toothed, carney ride operating heathens of the world are actually raising children who are by all accounts still breathing and basically “thriving.”

Now, onto the Pregnancy Police. This particular species of women can be anyone who has previously given birth to a precious one of their own. They feel it is their duty to bestow advice, and especially admonish, any activity that you might be engaging in that is not up to their standards of the ultimate pregnant woman. The admonishment will almost exclusively come at a time when you are enjoying yourself and not at all seeking the opinions of any know-it-alls around you. I have a few examples of this in my own life...

First, I was enjoying a nice evening out with my husband and friends at a delicious sushi restaurant. Yes people, I realize that you aren't supposed to eat raw fish when you are pregnant, but, believe it or not, my physician actually has no qualms about me downing fried shrimp rolls with cream cheese and the like. There really is nothing more appealing to this pregasaurus than something fried and rolled in cream cheese. I made the mistake of mentioning that I had enjoyed a meal at this particular sushi restaurant and you would have thought that I had just mentioned I brought out a rubber penis on the playground.

Next, I have many friends who find utter joy in delivering their babies at home, with candles lit, soft music playing, and no drugs... doing what nature called them to do. All I have to say about this is: good for them. Seriously, more power to those women. I respect them for their courage. I think some of these lovely and brave ladies might take this to mean that I wish I had the strength and courage myself to throw on a little Stevie Nicks and shoot out several kiddos from my nether regions at home with nary a doctor in sight. Let me assure you, I do not have this desire. This gal here is going with modern medicine. I think its superdy-duper that pioneers and cave ladies popped a squat and pulled the little tot out and then continued on about their day, but those gals also didn't have airconditioning or hair dryers. I’m pretty happy I live in these times, where I can have a hospital and doctor and lots and lots of pain meds. The end result is the same, folks, and I'm very satisfied with my choice.

Third, I love to ride my bike. I am a huge klutz and I can fall just by putting one foot in front of the other, but my bike is pretty much a Cadillac. It is the largest beach cruiser anyone has ever seen. If I knew how to post a pic I would, but basically it weighs about 50 pounds and even a monkey (a really tall monkey) could ride the thing without fear of falling off. The seat alone resembles a chaise lounge chair. I rode my bike with my husband and step daughter the other day up to the local store only to hear friendly neighbors yell out that I really shouldn't be on the bike at all. I'm sure everyone means well, but really, if I'm free-basing cocaine off of a stripper’s back then feel free to voice your concern for my unborn fetuses, but I don't really feel riding my bike warrants any concern. [Neither does my doctor nor my husband, and the precious cargo I’m carrying are his, too.]

So, any Pregnancy Police deputies or sheriffs reading this little piece, if you see me out partaking in soft-serve ice cream, lunch meat, lemons, honey, splenda, laying on my back or – heaven forbid – the right side instead of the left one, or even... dum dum dum... taking a swig of my husband’s beer (don't call CPS, calm down, just a swig) you can keep your know-it-allness to yourself, thanks. Trust me, you don't want to go toe-to-toe with this incontinent, hemorrhoidal, evil pregasaur.

Besides, there will be plenty to lecture me on after they’re born.