Yesterday I went in for my 16 week baby checkup. Listened to the heart beat. Bunnyfrog still lives and is still in there. Bonus: I only gained 3 lbs. Small victories. Not that I’m like RESTRICTING my weight gain, but it is always best not to gain 20 right off the bat (I always say).
Body changes are an interesting part of pregnancy. In some ways they are the most straight forward. It’s not a shocker to grow an egg on the front of your person, it’s pretty standard pregnancy folklore that you do round out.
The part that is always so startling for me are the changes of who I am. I’m not Dr. Jekyl and Mr. Hyde-ing it over here. I don’t hulk out or have intense mood swings. I don’t feel like I’m on one giant PMS roller coaster. That’s not what I’m talking about.
For me it’s about motivation. I mean, you see it here. The emptiness is echoing around this blog. Where is the content? Where is Lauren? Where are all of the things she is supposed to be writing about and doing? Echo echo echo.
Non-pregnant Lauren, Lauren of “Ordinary Time” (a catholic reference if there ever was one), is high functioning, insanely motivated, and a massive work horse. I am exactly the mother I want to be, making my own baby food, working full time, running around at the park, writing a ton, having adventures, taking on new and exciting projects.
Pregnant Lauren is exhausted and mentally incapable. I do not juggle. I do not where all the hats. I wear 3: I go to work so I don’t get fired, I love my child and am mostly phoning in motherhood, and I am mindful of the other human I’m growing so I try to make positive choices regarding that. I’m also married but that reads mostly like: Thank you darling for not letting the house burn down and all of us starve to death while I sit her being pregnant.
I don’t think other pregnant people are like this. I think other people are like the homesteading pregnant folk who came to the west coast via the Oregon Trail and walked 13 miles a day. When I am not pregnant I am building a house with one hand and nursing a baby with the other. When I am pregnant you need to push me around from place to place in a wheel barrow. I am a potted plant and my brain go boom.
I hate this. It is part of why I hate being pregnant. It doesn’t matter what my intentions are. It doesn’t matter how many balls I had in the air before getting pregnant. They fall. They all fall. It doesn’t matter how many pep talks I give myself about really pushing myself this week, really working on xyz, really making it happen… I’m still asleep by 10pm and I am still a walking sack of goo after 6pm.
On Tuesday I threw up at work. Just a normal pregnancy activity. I thought I was doing so much better but then guess what? I didn’t take my meds the night before and that morning barf city in the handicap stall in my office before I could even make it to my desk. Hoo-fucking-ray.
My body can come and go, but my ability to get shit done, my mental capacity for doing-it-all… I miss it. I want it back. I have so many more months.