Sunday, June 22, 2014

Baby-Needs-A-Name & Other Pregnant Thoughts of a Mom-To-Be

I need to name my kid. I have 7 months to come up with something appropriate to call the tiny human I'll be responsible for raising. For now, the 8-week-old minion is referred to by my husband and me as, 'baby'.

Baby sucks all of my energy and brain power into its tiny body on a daily basis. I misplace stuff more often now that I'm pregnant. Finding potato chips in the refrigerator and replacing my debit card twice within the past month are some examples of how 'baby' is literally stealing my ability to think properly. Some of my coworkers warned of this phenomenon, saying things like: "You're going to get dumber"- and reasoning attempts along the lines of, "Don't feel bad- you're fighting another person for your brain now."...

They were right.

I am tired 90% of the time. My patience for rudeness- or what my hormonally-charged-self even perceives as slight impolite behavior, is... slowly vanishing. Saying things like, "I'm really not in the mood for..." or just crying randomly about stupid stuff... that's what I do now. I do it WELL.

I blame 'Baby'.
'Baby' steals my food, forcing me to eat more and more things like chicken biscuits with grape jelly... for example.
The cravings and aversions are real.

It's weird being pregnant.
Somebody touched my stomach not too long ago, saying... "Awww..., I can already see your little baby bump!" I barely know this person and since "Baby" is not old enough to make any sort of 'bump', I blame those chicken and jelly biscuits for whatever she was talking about that day.

Why the hell people feel like they can touch me and my belly is beyond me. I assume this urge will be expressed more often by complete strangers as I continue to grow. It is not welcome now, nor will it be in the future. Luckily, I have decided how I will react to this in the future. You touch me- regardless of your good intentions- and I touch you. You will be poked or pinched for your inability to keep your grubby hands to yourself. You're not touching the baby. You're invading my space. You're making me angry and since I am an unpredictable mess of emotions, I am not responsible for how I react to your unwelcome advances.

'Baby' likes cupcakes.

So much, in fact- that Baby can't have any more cupcakes.
Okay, Baby gets a ration of 2-3 cupcakes...every now and then.

This kid needs a name.
I'm tired of just blaming 'baby'.
A proper name is needed to explain what my first child has done to me.

Since we don't know the gender yet, 'Baby' kind of stuck.

I don't hate being pregnant.
I don't love it, either.

Everybody expects you to be thrilled when you initially find out you're preggo.
I was in shock for the first week or so.
It wasn't because I didn't feel excited, but because of what I knew needed to happen next...

I don't think myself a selfish person, but quite a bit of sacrifice was required upon the blue plus mark that changed my life.

no smoking.
no drinking.
no caffeine.
no meds.
healthy food.
more sleep.
more water.
no hot baths.
don't touch this.
don't eat that.
don't do that.
don't lift that.

Why aren't you acting excited, Regina? You're going to be such a great mom! You don't seem that excited about this....

A few people said this stuff to me.

I was excited. I was also in shock about how much and how quickly things had to change.
I have wanted this baby since before it evidenced itself in my body. I just... had- and still have- a LOT to think about- a LOT to do- to get ready for this little Baby Needs-A-Name.

Baby-Needs-A-Name and I don't care to go to work this morning. We must go, though.
We would rather nap and snack today.
All in good time...


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