I’m basically a walking billboard for birth control

There were a few posts that I had started before Ryker was born.  Rather than throwing them in the trash, I figured I would go ahead and finish them.  Enjoy!

Before I get tons of hateful comments about how I should consider myself lucky to be pregnant let me just preface this post by saying that I am.  I am lucky.  I really really am.  And my heart breaks for every single woman who cannot have a child or that has struggled with infertility.  I’m not a completely insensitive asshole.  And this post is not intended to rub it in their face or make them feel bad.  It’s just a post about a girl who is 37+ weeks pregnant and I have a few hilarious (probably more so to any other woman who has been pregnant but is not currently) observations about the end of pregnancy.

Exhibit A:

This weekend, Greg and I were sitting on the couch watching TV.  And I use the term “sitting” incredibly loosely.  He was lounging and I was perched on the very edge in a near-lunge because it’s about the only comfortable way I can sit down anymore.  As I started to scoot forward, I said, “Well, I guess I’m going to go take a shower.  And while I’m in there I should probably shave my legs since I don’t want leg warmers while I’m in labor.”  The problem with shaving your legs when you’re 37 weeks pregnant?  You can’t see above your knees so, at best, you’re taking an educated guess where you need to shave.  And to reach below the knees, you have to take a break every 20-30 seconds so you can breathe.  I’m also a big proponent of lady-scaping pre-labor because I was scarred for life during my OB clinicals as a nursing student.  I will spare you the gory details but the nurse that did this patient’s internal, had to wash her forearms afterward.  I will give you a few moments to think about that one.  While I was in the shower shaving my legs, I also decided to shave my vag.  The same rule applies to shaving your vagina as shaving your upper legs when you’re 37 weeks pregnant.  You are making an educated guess and hoping that you don’t nick anything important.

Exhibit B:

Since about the second month of pregnancy, I’ve been having to wear a panty-liner due to snot crotch.  If you don’t know what that is, I will tell you.  And then I will hold you and stroke your hair and promise you that it will be okay.

As of 35 weeks, it has been an absolute have-to.  I even had my OB do an ultrasound because I was afraid I was leaking amniotic fluid.  I knew that I wasn’t peeing my pants because, well because I know what pee smells like and it wasn’t pee.  When I told my OB that I was sure that I wasn’t peeing my pants so what the hell WAS that, she just laughed and said, “Because your amniotic fluid level is okay, I’m sure that it’s just extra vaginal fluid.”


Exhibit C:

In addition to not being able to bend over to shave my legs or tie my shoes, painting my toenails has become a 2-hour fiasco.  And if it smudges, that’s just too bad.  And no nail place will touch an obviously pregnant woman’s feet because of the pressure points in your feet/legs and they don’t want the liability of putting you in labor.

Exhibit D:

Chocolate gives me heartburn.  Meat gives me heartburn.  Food with any seasoning at all gives me heartburn.  Drinking water gives me heartburn.  I’ve had to give Tums their own layer on the food pyramid.

Exhibit E:

If I have to change position after I go to bed, it requires a 3-point turn.  And lots of laughing from my husband.

Exhibit F:

Now that I’ve reached full-term, every time a woman has a baby before me, I turn into an emotional wreck.  Yes, I know that I’m not even to my due date yet and yes, I know that I won’t get any sleep after he’s born.  But it still makes me crazy when I see that another of my friends have had their baby and I have not.


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