If you're one of those people who had glowing, beautiful pregnancies, congrats. Also, I hate you a little. My pregnancies
sucked. I don't want to be accused of not being grateful for two healthy, welcome pregnancies, much less my children, but being pregnant was a fairly miserable experience and while I know it wasn't my kids' fault, it brings me comfort to personally blame them for everything that occurred. I'm not alone, either. When it comes to the things a baby does in the womb, you can bet your you-know-what your fetus self did some 'ish your mom isn't going to forgive you for anytime soon.
Whether it was something you
did or something that happened as result of you being in your mother's uterus, it's best for you to just take one on the chin and apologize for whatever it is you're being blamed for. Look, did you actually, cognitively do anything? No, of course not. You were a fetus. You didn't have anything resembling a consciousness, let alone the wherewithal to deliberately engage in pregnancy espionage. Because, again, you were a fetus.
But being able to blame someone feels so good. It's cathartic, especially when you're navigating the trials and tribulations of pregnancy; trials and tribulations you can't always circumvent. Your mother gave you free room and board
inside her body for about nine months, so the least you can do is give her the satisfaction of having someone to blame you for a crappy pregnancy, no matter how irrationally that blame is placed.
Even if you're not violently throwing up every hour or every day or every week or
ever, the nausea that often accompanies pregnancy, especially early pregnancy, is absolutely awful. It just makes you so damn cranky. And since the hormones that are surging through every cell in your body are also making you cranky, it's a total double whammy.
So any time you annoy your mom, she will remember that initial crankiness that you stirred in her before you were even born... and she's going to resent you just a little bit for it.
Every Single Kick To The Bladder
Or, more accurately in my case, every single headbutt. Because even under typical circumstances, you're just barely holding it together anyway in
the pee department. The last thing you need is a tricky little fetus slamming into your bladder because LOL.
Who the hell do you think you are, kid?
The Hours Spent In A Doctor's/Midwife's Office
On the one hand we're not holding it against you because you're worth the million and five appointments that appropriate prenatal care requires. On the other hand, WTF, man? Once a month then every two weeks then every
week. Seriously? I'm never getting that time back.
I couldn't tell you every time I threw up over the course of my two pregnancies, but I can tell you some of the more interesting places I managed to heave. They include, but are not limited to: my work bathroom, the middle of 14th Street just off Union Square, Central Park, a tappas restuarant in the East Village, and several garbage cans on various train platforms on the N line.
They were mostly memorable because I had an audience. So, you know, that was fun.
Look, we're all mammals and there's nothing wrong with body hair, but when you start sprouting way more of it than usual it gets to be annoying.
Especially when you can't reach down to shave very comfortably. My pregnancies had me resembling an exotic black shrub for several months. I haven't forgotten, and I never will.
Even a good pregnancy gives you extra
stuff to worry about. Is the baby OK? Am I eating everything I should be? Should I be better about the kick counts? Did I take my prenatal vitamin? Do I have everything I need? Am I going to go into labor at an inopportune moment? Am I going to pass my gestational diabetes test? And this is to say nothing of pregnancies that are either physically or emotionally complicated.
That Awesome Party/Vacation/Weekend She Missed
a number of fun opportunities I could not take part in when I was pregnant, including a particularly hedonistic birthday weekend for a friend, a Memorial Day horseback riding trip with my family, and water tubing on a friend's boat.
I remember these opportunities because they do not come around every day and I'm
still bitter I missed out on them... because of you.
Like enormous hoagie rolls at the end of ciabatta loaves. Just...
There was this one day that I actually had to go out on my lunch break to buy new shoes because the ones I went into work with
didn't fit me by noon... and those were flip-flops. Also, like, your feet stay a bit bigger. I used to wear size 8 and now I'm an 8.5 and it's clear that they're never shrinking back down and you owe me new shoes.
The sciatic nerve runs from your lower back down each leg. And when an oh-so-cozy little fetus decides to hunker down into a particular position it can put pressure on that nerve and result in a literal pain in the ass.
and it's terrible. It doesn't really happen after pregnancy, as far as I know, but the memory of it lives on, enshrined in bitterness. Your vag can just never be the same after something like that. exactly what it sounds like
Braxton-Hicks contractions are kind of like practice contractions.
Allegedly they are a way for your body to get ready for actual labor. But considering they can start as early as the second trimester, they're really just an awful way to freak out pregnant women and stokes fears surrounding preterm labor Personally, I think it's just babies trying to make us panic.
Whatever you did to cause that trademark pregnancy walk, the one that made everyone around her laugh in spite of themselves? Yeah, not cool. Just you wait until your prom: your date is going to see
all the most embarrassing baby pictures.
Oh yeah: it's a thing. Some people don't know it's a thing
but it absolutely is a thing. Doctors and researchers would have us blame this phenomenon on the hormones, but, like, if I have to unpack what it means to dream about a three-way with Princess Jasmine and Tyrion Lannister then, you know what? I'm blaming some one, and I certainly wasn't having these dreams when you weren't living inside of me.
Whatever Your Favorite Position Was
Whether one's baby was riding high, pressing up against their lungs (thank you, child number one) or so low they were painfully pulling your belly button down (thank you, child number two) there's no
comfortable position for a 5- to 10-pound creature to grow inside their host.
And the host will hold it against them, as well they should.
Even a relatively minor scare was enough to send your poor mother into a panic
because she loves you. And you had the gall to not have complete and total control over every situation in order to calm her nerves? Tsk tsk. For shame.