And Also, I Don't Miss My Ass
I never thought I'd say it, but this weekend I actually
(I can't say it)
(Oh my God not possible)
(must...resist...must...resist...)
missed being pregnant.
(Sigh.)
Considering it was 95 degrees in New York with 197,098% humidity at the time, I was not missing bearing 45 extra pounds that taxed my cankles and spread my feet to the actual dimensions of your standard-issue clown shoes. I was not missing setting the world's record for hourly bathroom visits. I was not missing chicken teriyaki as I ordered not one but two spicy tuna rolls from Iron Chef House for dinner, finally killing the multi-million dollar gift certificate bequeathed to me by two formerly pregnant friends who get it, big time.
I was not missing cervical checks.
The fleeting nostalgia for my formerly gestating self entered my consciousness only as I struggled to haul eight boxes about seven blocks away to the post office.
That's right, I didn't want to carry stuff.
You read about women faking a pregnancy to lure men to marry them and here I am considering faking a pregnancy to lure men to do things for me.
I want to be able to tell Nate that it's just too hot for me to take the kids to the playground so can't he just do it? After all I'M PREGNANT. I want to tell him that I'M PREGNANT so I really need all of his pillows tonight, and you know, since I'M PREGNANT I could use a backrub and a kilo of Reeses cups to ease the HELL OF PREGNANCY.
(Also, I no longer have an excuse for weeping when he comes back with the Reeses and they are just a little bit melty and stale. Even if it is totally warranted.)
Indeed there is something bittersweet about knowing you've just completed pregnancy number last.
You'll never again get those kind looks from strangers on the street as their eyes dart from your belly to your face and back again. You'll never again have that guaranteed seat on the subway--even if you really have to work it to get it. You'll never again have fifty people a day asking you how you are and actually caring what the answer is. You never again caress those teeny weeny newborn clothes, carefully prewashing them in Dreft and folding them gingerly while you daydream about the child who’s going to fill them.
And you'll definitely never again dare to say, "Honey, you bring the suitcase down then go get the car, drive it to me, load up the car, get the kids buckled in, and bring me a milkshake while you're at it. I'll meet you downstairs."
I was not a good pregnant person. Not by a longshot. Even after doing it twice, I never quite got used to sharing my body with someone else. The random unwanted hairs. The Colace.
Nate jokes about “slipping another one past the goalie,” but I’m done. I have no interest in going for number three. My ovaries are old and tired, and they’re waving a white flag while pleading, “No more, please! We beg you! Let us retire and live out the rest of our days in peace.” I plan on honoring that request.
But boy, I would like someone to carry my 25-pound tote bag.
It's hot outside.
---
Every Monday you'll find Mom-101 cross posted at Time Out Kids, which makes me happy.
(I can't say it)
(Oh my God not possible)
(must...resist...must...resist...)
missed being pregnant.
(Sigh.)
Considering it was 95 degrees in New York with 197,098% humidity at the time, I was not missing bearing 45 extra pounds that taxed my cankles and spread my feet to the actual dimensions of your standard-issue clown shoes. I was not missing setting the world's record for hourly bathroom visits. I was not missing chicken teriyaki as I ordered not one but two spicy tuna rolls from Iron Chef House for dinner, finally killing the multi-million dollar gift certificate bequeathed to me by two formerly pregnant friends who get it, big time.
I was not missing cervical checks.
The fleeting nostalgia for my formerly gestating self entered my consciousness only as I struggled to haul eight boxes about seven blocks away to the post office.
That's right, I didn't want to carry stuff.
You read about women faking a pregnancy to lure men to marry them and here I am considering faking a pregnancy to lure men to do things for me.
I want to be able to tell Nate that it's just too hot for me to take the kids to the playground so can't he just do it? After all I'M PREGNANT. I want to tell him that I'M PREGNANT so I really need all of his pillows tonight, and you know, since I'M PREGNANT I could use a backrub and a kilo of Reeses cups to ease the HELL OF PREGNANCY.
(Also, I no longer have an excuse for weeping when he comes back with the Reeses and they are just a little bit melty and stale. Even if it is totally warranted.)
Indeed there is something bittersweet about knowing you've just completed pregnancy number last.
You'll never again get those kind looks from strangers on the street as their eyes dart from your belly to your face and back again. You'll never again have that guaranteed seat on the subway--even if you really have to work it to get it. You'll never again have fifty people a day asking you how you are and actually caring what the answer is. You never again caress those teeny weeny newborn clothes, carefully prewashing them in Dreft and folding them gingerly while you daydream about the child who’s going to fill them.
And you'll definitely never again dare to say, "Honey, you bring the suitcase down then go get the car, drive it to me, load up the car, get the kids buckled in, and bring me a milkshake while you're at it. I'll meet you downstairs."
I was not a good pregnant person. Not by a longshot. Even after doing it twice, I never quite got used to sharing my body with someone else. The random unwanted hairs. The Colace.
Nate jokes about “slipping another one past the goalie,” but I’m done. I have no interest in going for number three. My ovaries are old and tired, and they’re waving a white flag while pleading, “No more, please! We beg you! Let us retire and live out the rest of our days in peace.” I plan on honoring that request.
But boy, I would like someone to carry my 25-pound tote bag.
It's hot outside.
---
Every Monday you'll find Mom-101 cross posted at Time Out Kids, which makes me happy.
posted by Mom101 at 12:01 AM
47 Comments:
SIGH. I know what you mean. It took me a long time to admit that those days were behind me, and when I did, it really was a relief. But there are times.....
I liked pregnancy, but my body didn't. I nearly died giving birth to DO, and I'm really not ready to tempt fate again. Plus...I really couldn't do another kid like him. I love him, but...well, you know, you've read.
All that just to say...I get where you're coming from. I think every woman does. Except maybe Michelle Duggar.
Oh I so relate to this post and you made me laugh too. Thanks.
You know, it's hard getting away with complaining about anything while you're pregnant if you have suffered a loss or gone through IF.
Honestly though, at 15 weeks and counting, I'm still waiting for something to complain about.
I take that back. The boobs. They are ginormous. And heavy. Ow.
But don't tell anyone, because I am oh so incredibly grateful and wouldn't complain one bit about any of it.
I know what you mean.
I was not happy as a pregnant woman, but it was awfully handy when we moved our entire household and a small child from DC to Southeast Virginia. I just stood in the doorway and directed people. Sigh. Those were the days....
You mean all those people who went out of their way to do nice things for me at BlogHer weren't doing it because I have finally attained rock star status, but simply because I'm WITH CHILD?!
I knew it. I KNEW IT.
In a houseful of men, one worries that being pregnant will be seen as weak. Therefore I've always done more than I should to dispel the notion that a pregnant woman is to be...um...protected from heavy burdens. The result? Because they knew I could do just about anything? I did. Wow...I feel like...a genius.
sigh. for the first time in my entire life something inside me is asking for a baby. and yet it's not on the horizon.
sigh.
What is it about post-pregnancy that zaps our memories of how awful it is. Oh, wait. I know. It's that scrumptious baby smell.
I totally relate, because I hated being pregnant. But for some reason that didn't stop me from getting pregnant again just 10 months after the first one. I think I hate it even more this second time around. But after this, it's heavy duty birth control, or the big V.
i thought i was done. but lately i want a baby so badly. i think it's because i'm turning forty in a couple of months.
but it would be the wrong move, i know it.
and yet.
oh, and it would be nice to get some help around the house by playing the pregnancy card. you're so right about that. ;)
I remember leaving the grocery store after Alex was born, I was on one of my first solo trips without baby or baby belly - I couldn't figure out why people in the parking lot weren't stopping to let me pass like they had been all winter and spring. Then I realized - I was just another punk on a cell phone with a Starbucks cup - They didn't know I was someone's mommy. No more being treated gently for me.
Sigh.
My husband washed my hair for me when I was pregnant. He painted my toenails. He rubbed my back EVERY NIGHT.
And now I can barely get him to bring me a glass of diet coke.
So, yeah, I miss being pregnant too.
from the 28-week-old throes of pregnancy, let me just mention how jealous i am of those NOT pregnant. in august. in texas. gah!
i forwarded this post to my fiance. (i think from reading mommy blogs) she's not so pumped about the idea of being pregnant. it sounds like her fears are more or less accurate, but it's good to remember that it makes it way easier to get people to do stuff for you. (plus, you know, the baby you get at the end)
Ack. It's posts like this that feed the "just one more....." thing I have plaguing me. Plus I could use some help carrying stuff around here.
I hear you. LOUD and CLEAR.
My ovaries are shrivelled and in hiding.
I'm not birthing any more babies.
But that hasn't stopped me from asking my husband to pack in the groceries, fight with my garden hose to water my flowers or mow the lawn.
Because I'm expecting a child too.
However, apparently ADOPTING said child does not carry the merit and weight (hee hee) as being pregnant with one.
Not stopping me from trying to use the excuse though...
Wish I could believe I'll ever feel like that.
Seventh month and counting....
I get to feeling nostalgic about my pregnancies of days gone by, too, but then I look on the bright side. Some of my maternity clothes still fit me two years later :).
WAAAAHH! I never want to be pregnant again, but I sure as hell will miss the brand-new baby stage.
I know how you feel because I'm feeling much the same way. I miss the attention - people who are normally crabby will go out of their way to be nice to a pregnant woman.
I also miss feeling the baby move inside me, I didn't like the weight, the backaches, or a foot (or head) in my ribs, but I did like feeling those gentle movements.
I miss having a good excuse for having an ever-expanding ass.
I used to miss it....and then mine got old enough to go to DAY CAMP!
And I realized that older can be pretty darn good....
P.S. Tell Nate to keep his forwards to himself. The goalie is closed for business
If you and Nate are definitely done, make sure you DO something about it, and soon. My friend just got pregnant with NUMBER FOUR, three days before her husband's scheduled vasectomy. She will now have four kids, ages 7 and under. And, you do remember how old my second was when I got pregnant with number three? It can happen quickly! After #3, hubby was 'fixed' three months later.
I am done too! But I do miss that helpfulness of those around me. I loved being treated like a queen but I guess I'll get over it now since that won't be happening anytime soon. :)
I say, buy one of those pregnancy-belly things and keep it on stand-by for the really hot days when you have a lof of shit to carry around. I mean really, what's wrong with that?
Sing it. I am wearily counting down the last few days of this pregnancy, swearing up and down that it'll be the last. I am also not a great pregnant person, what with the complaining and random crying and all. But fortunately, there are men like our husbands out there in the world perfectly equip to handle such difficult cases like us!
I actually enjoyed being pregnant. Or at least having an excuse for being fat and emotional. LOL I do miss it sometimes, the big belly and feeling of not being alone. But eventually the pregnancy ends and a kid comes out. That part, not so thrilling.
Love it! The thing I loved most about pregnancy...the 1st time I can ever remember not worrying about sucking in my tummy. Something about taking ballet lessons from the age of 3 does that to you. It was a wonderful 9 months!
Hey... even I'm nostalgic for pregnancy - and no one in their right mind should be nostalgic after having twins. But there is something about closing up shop (your uterus) that makes you feel rather meloncoly. It's not that you really want to have another - but the fact that you won't is also bittersweet.
Meanwhile, I suggest that if you are really done with it you get your tubes tied. Otherwise, Nate may yet get a hat trick.
i second HBM - the only time i miss being pregnant is when i reach for that second (or third) dessert...when i was pregnant, no one cared...
I feel you. We invented heat and humidity here in Florida, and trying to get stuff done in the heat sucks. If you'll back up my story that I'm pregnant. I'll back up yours, indefinitely.
I'll never forget the first time a guy DIDN'T go out of his way to hold the door open for me after my son was born. Shocked the shit outta me. What the hell? Could he not tell that I was just pregnant? I was used to everyone bending over backwards to help a pregnant girl out, you know?
I hear you. I will do one more pregnancy (if it happens) and that's it.
I do get tired of carrying crap, though. SO much crap! However, if I really am at an end I just point the items to my husband. If he protests I just say, "Because you're stronger and you make more money than me in comparable fields, that's why."
I was at the OB/GYN today looking at the pregnant women waddling around in their Liz Lange for Target clothing and actually felt happy that I was only there to be papped.
At least you got to complain. I had to do so much begging to convince hubby that a baby was a good idea that every time I started to complain about being pregnant, hubby would say: "you're the one who wanted this!" He's pretty happy with the results though. :)
Bossy hasn't been pregnant for over a decade but she reserves the right to ask for Spoiled Momma favors.
I miss being pregnant quite often. But mostly, I think, because my water broke at 30 weeks and I had to be in the hospital until my son was born at 32 weeks. I kinda got gypped outta those last 10 weeks.
And you never get to be pregnant with your first again. :(
Hilarious! I don't wanna go for # 3 either. Colace was my best friend. But dangit I also miss the chivalry. Not the cankles though.
Canape - I went through toxoplasmosis.
Didn't stop me from complaining.
I'm whiny that way.
Oh, it's hard to imagine not being pregnant again. Then I remember the Flintstone feet, the hernia, those months of all-day nausea, the sideways-lying baby, burning herbs on my pinky toes to turn that sideways baby, and then the hey-is-that-a-friggin-foot-coming-out-of-me moment at birth. Oh yeah. Now I remember. DONE. Goodbye peri squirt bottle and sitz bath.
Thanks for the laugh!
And for explaining why, every time I say I miss being pregnant, my husband looks at me like I'm crazy!
Ahhh...the joys of pregnancy. I miss those things too. I hadn't thought about asking my husband to bring me a milkshake! along with every other thing! I'll have to do that 2nd time around. ;)
Thanks!...and great reading.
Julie
I'm still on the fence about having more children. Aren't THREE screaming girls enough?
Pregnancy is certainly not MISSED in my life...YET! I never felt like I received any special treatment being pregnant, but I did get lots of looks of 'pity' when they realized my 'knees' were really my 'cankles!' And that I could make a handprint on my calf that would stay there WAY LONGER than should be humanly possible!
A slightly stale Reeses is totally weep-worthy. Not at all the same as a fresh one.
How sad is it that I read all of that and all I can think about is a peanut butter cup..Pull out some old maternity pants. You'll feel better in a jiffy!
hey liz! come enter my giveaway for a micralite infant transportation system! it's supposedly quick folding with one hand + holds carseats, carrycots, seats, etc.
Not missing cervical checks, check! This time last year, I was about ready to pop, and the heat is unbearable, so I totally relate...
Amen and high five. (and another Amen for good measure.)
(and an Ice Cream Jesus.)
I was a terrible pregnant person too. But I NEVER wish I had it back. You are pretty newly post-partum, maybe you can milk that a while longer?
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