Now that I'm pregnant, I realize how crucial it is to have friends who have babies, or who will be having babies soon too. Now, I don't say this because your children-less friends won't like you anymore once you have the prego cooties, but because friends who currently have babies will understand a side of you that the other friends never can.
However, children-less friends are also crucial, because they will probably gladly keep up the normal course of gossip, witticisms, and work bitching that you so know and love. Since you'll desperately need breaks from all things baby, keep these ladies handy! FWC (Friends with Children, that is) can obviously talk about other things besides babies too, but it's so much harder, because babies are now something new and exotic and scary and cute and (insert adjective here) that you have in common AT THE SAME TIME. It is that "same time" thing that makes it necessary to have them. Your mama and mama-in-law and all other designated birthing female relatives are certainly helpful but too many years have blurred by them. They've selected the good times to remember only, kinda like you may do when you're sitting at home in hour three of a Hoarding: Buried Alive marathon with uterus cramps, and you daydream back to how much fun you used to have dancing on the bar and throwing back Jager in your carefree, selfish, irresponsible, pre-pregnancy days. You somehow glean over those nights that ended with tears by the toilet or the mornings-after of wide-eyed embarassment for what you may or may not have done the night before, God help you if you can remember. Older ladies who had children never think to tell you the real gritty details, the stuff that no one really wants to know...but actually really does want to know.
Like how it's going to feel like WWIII every time you have a bowel movement for weeks after birth. I, for one, hate knowing this but am thankful to know so I can prepare, both mentally and MiraLax-ally. Had I not had a friend who just went through this herself, I'd have never known and would have been blindsided because the mamas don't tell you this. They tell you about that instantaneous, overwhelming, unconditional love that nothing else compares to.
Which is sweet and I'm sure very true and, being the emotional lady I already am, will surely happen to me, but at this point in time, I really love the MiraLax advice. Sentimentality is already overflowing my hormone bank.
Another reason it's good to have friends with babies is so you can babysit. I'm doing it right now. And no, don't go thinking I plopped the kid somewhere so I could type. I actually already have him soundly snoozing for a morning nap. BOO-YEAH! Since from the moment you announce your pregnancy and happen to find yourself in the presence of someone else's infant, you'll be forced to pick the cute slobberbucket up and people will fall over themselves to say, "Ooooh, get some practice, Mama!!" so you might as well take advantage of that sentiment. I don't actually believe that any amount of infant-sitting can prepare you for what it's like to have your own 24/7 b-a-b-y, but at least it gives you an up-close-and-personal, hands-on sneak peek of what's to come. You'll freak sometimes, feel like an idiot other times, and feel like a rock star at the best times. And most of all, it'll let you know that if you can keep someone else's kid alive, you should be able to help your own survive just fine.
So thanks to all of my friends for being so important to me in so many different ways. I need you all...if for no other reason than to spare you! As long as I can spread my irritable mood swings out over all of you, hopefully I won't burn any of you too severely so that you'll continue being my friend until this too-many-cares, selfish (really when you think about it), overly-responsible pregnancy thing is over.
Not to mention I gotta keep good ties so I can bum babysitting duty for myself. Keep those thinkin' caps on, girls! The times they are a-changin'!
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
Sunday, July 25, 2010
Rule # 4: Realize Your Role as Sleepless Beauty
Okay, so you probably won't be feeling that beauty part of the title at all, but you should know something: sleep sucks. Already.
Perhaps not all pregnant ladies have this problem. Actually, I'm sure most don't, since we are all glorious little snowflakes in our pregnancy uniqueness. But I'm willing to bet the more you bloat up, the less sleep you are going to get.
This is why it's so important to nap at every opportunity. Being a schoolteacher myself, I am VERY thankful for my work-free summer days so I can catch up on the crazy sex dreams that are getting interrupted nightly by my need to: a) empty my overflowing bladder, b) eat something to satisfy the beast that is a baby in my belly, c) stare at the shadows on my ceiling as if Picasso had put them there, d) flail around uncontrollably in an effort to find a comfortable position, or e) glare at my husband's peacefully snoring-in-sleeping-bliss face and resist Urge # 45 to hit him square in his slightly parted sleepy lips. In an act of mercy (and to keep PETA off my back), I've left off this list my homicidal urges toward my stinkin' little doggy that jumps up and squeezes himself like half-used toothpaste between my husband and I. He cuddles up and puts his head on my tummy, though, so I just pet him while I admire Shadow Picasso and think of it as his bonding time with baby.
Waking up at all hours of the night is not the only problem you'll have, either. As a matter of fact, on many of those hourly nightly vigils, you probably won't even feel that mad because you'll convince yourself this is just like practice for those first nights of newborn to come in however many months.
What annoys me more is my inability to fall asleep in the first place. How can I feel so damn tired all day, only to finally stretch my disfigured lump of a body out on my comfy bed and my specialized pillow and find myself still wide awake during infomercial territory? If I could smack sleep in the face, I would. Don't know who he thinks he is, playing around with me like that. He should know that just 'cause I'm pregnant doesn't mean I won't shank him if given the chance.
So keep popping those prenatal pills every night, ladies, and make sure you've got a good book, a glass of water, a decent light, and a straight path to the fridge, because you're in it for the long haul. God bless mother-to-be-hood.
Perhaps not all pregnant ladies have this problem. Actually, I'm sure most don't, since we are all glorious little snowflakes in our pregnancy uniqueness. But I'm willing to bet the more you bloat up, the less sleep you are going to get.
This is why it's so important to nap at every opportunity. Being a schoolteacher myself, I am VERY thankful for my work-free summer days so I can catch up on the crazy sex dreams that are getting interrupted nightly by my need to: a) empty my overflowing bladder, b) eat something to satisfy the beast that is a baby in my belly, c) stare at the shadows on my ceiling as if Picasso had put them there, d) flail around uncontrollably in an effort to find a comfortable position, or e) glare at my husband's peacefully snoring-in-sleeping-bliss face and resist Urge # 45 to hit him square in his slightly parted sleepy lips. In an act of mercy (and to keep PETA off my back), I've left off this list my homicidal urges toward my stinkin' little doggy that jumps up and squeezes himself like half-used toothpaste between my husband and I. He cuddles up and puts his head on my tummy, though, so I just pet him while I admire Shadow Picasso and think of it as his bonding time with baby.
Waking up at all hours of the night is not the only problem you'll have, either. As a matter of fact, on many of those hourly nightly vigils, you probably won't even feel that mad because you'll convince yourself this is just like practice for those first nights of newborn to come in however many months.
What annoys me more is my inability to fall asleep in the first place. How can I feel so damn tired all day, only to finally stretch my disfigured lump of a body out on my comfy bed and my specialized pillow and find myself still wide awake during infomercial territory? If I could smack sleep in the face, I would. Don't know who he thinks he is, playing around with me like that. He should know that just 'cause I'm pregnant doesn't mean I won't shank him if given the chance.
So keep popping those prenatal pills every night, ladies, and make sure you've got a good book, a glass of water, a decent light, and a straight path to the fridge, because you're in it for the long haul. God bless mother-to-be-hood.
Monday, July 19, 2010
Rule # 3: Learn to be Lazy
When I first told her I was pregnant, my grandmother assured me she wouldn't be giving me any special treatment. "Nothing worse than a pampered woman," she said.
Since that time, I've been allowed to do exactly two things at her house: keep an eye on my pap for her while she runs around outside, and eat. Every now and then, I'm allowed to use the riding lawn mower, but it's been so deadly hot the grass hasn't needed mowed for at least a month.
Something you quickly learn after everyone finds out you're pregnant is that no one wants to let you do anything. Well, except your husband, who will be clueless that there actually are some things you shouldn't do. Like inhale paint fumes in a closed-off area you want to make the nursery, or lift 50 lb. bags of dog food. Or spend five hours in the 90 degree heat to weed and tanbark all day. Everyone else, though, will be quick to prevent you from doing anything remotely dangerous.
Now, at first, you may think this sounds like an awesome state of existence. A built-in, rock-steady excuse to get out of any hard work, or even mediocre work. And sometimes, you are glad for the excuse just for the pure fact that you didn't feel like doing it anyway. But when it gets to the point where you feel like it's amazing you are allowed to even walk anywhere without a protective bubble around you, you become...well, exasperated.
I've always been the kind of person that felt guilty about spending a day doing next to nothing, even when sick. Now don't get me wrong, I have had plenty of them, but I always would feel bad about it. If you are a similar kind of person and you now find yourself pregnant, please, LEARN TO BE LAZY. Fact of the matter is, there are a lot of things you shouldn't do, and you should take it easy. Things that you don't think are pushing it, probably are actually pushing it. I actually did take what had to be less than an hour one day about three months in to my pregnancy to spread some tanbark, and I was knocked out the entire next day, not feeling all that well. I thought it was preposterous that something so little could have such a huge effect the NEXT day, but I must admit, it's the only thing that makes sense. So I've come to terms with my newly inflicted laziness. If I accomplish one thing a day, no matter how small, then I let myself lie around the rest of my free time guilt-free.
And, really, you should too, because as every woman who has ever been a mother will tell you, you won't have much guilt-free time once the kid is out of your stomach. And you won't have a whole lot of relaxation/nap time either, so we might as well get it while we can! Like making deposits in our rest banks for when the funds are running low over the next couple of years. Or decades.
So become a pampered woman, squash the ego when people tell you that you shouldn't do something (trust me, I know how hard THAT is!), and get yourself a big cold glass of sweet nothing-ade. Sip it nice and slow, for about the next nine months of your life.
Saturday, July 17, 2010
Rule # 2: Power through the Pudge
When you think of pregnant women, you probably picture full and round little tummies, pleasant little ladies just glowing with cuteness and fertility. No wonder everyone wants to rain beauty and sunshine on these women. So, when everyone else finds out you are pregnant, guess what they picture? You, with that cute little bump of a tummy, decked out in the latest of cute maternity-girl wear, just radiating rainbows.
Everyone wants you to get a good little baby bump. Including you.
What everyone neglects to mention or, I suppose, actually think about--since we are intelligent, rational beings that overlook the things which don't interest us so much--is that it takes FOREVER for a bump to actually form. A noticeable one, anyway. Instead, you are left with the equivalent of a dying balloon for at least the first four or five months. That's been my experience so far. By a dying balloon, I mean that some days, you'll think to yourself, Okay, yeah, that looks as if there's a baby in there and not just fat from the extra serving of Oreos I've been indulging in each night. Then, the next morning, when you wake up and look in the mirror, your tummy will appear deflated and droopy. Not round and cute like an obviously pregnant woman, but slouchy and just plain pudgy, like someone who has given up on the gym or resisting anything fried. Coupled with the zits and the extra chafing in your thighs, you'll feel more unattractive than ever.
And supposedly this is when you're to be feeling your best during pregnancy. Oh, awesome.
Whenever you go out, you'll feel pressure to produce a bump. You want to please the crowd, after all, and they've been waiting 8, 10, 12 ( or in my case, 17) weeks to see the physical proof of this procreation. They want that bump to be there just as badly as you do, if not more, because without it, it's weird if they touch your stomach. And, man, do they ever want to touch all up on your stomach as soon as awkwardly possible.
This is where you have to just power through the pudge. Work it. I tend to choose looser dresses when I have to deal with the public, so that when I talk to people, or when they ask me the usual questions (about morning sickness or breastfeeding or knowing the gender or feeling movement), I can drape my hand just below my gut in that pregnant woman caress so that it looks like more of a rounded mass than it actually is. Ladies and gentleman, I present you the Pseudo-Bump. People will always see what they want, anyway, so this has worked quite nicely so far. The crowd always goes wild.
As every woman you meet who has already been pregnant will be eager to tell you, you'll get a bump soon enough. And by the time that balloon is stretched to the max and ready to pop, you'll look back on what is now this aggravating stage with a misty eye and the film of nostalgia. So suck it up, stick it out, and give the people what they want.
Because if you can learn anything else from these formerly-pregnant women, it is this: once you actually have the baby that is supposed to be in your pudgy stomach, you'll forget about this stage entirely, and in later years will continually refer only to the most gracious, amazing moments of your pregnancy, developing mother amnesia over those first 20 or so weeks when nothing very gracious or amazing happened.
Everyone wants you to get a good little baby bump. Including you.
What everyone neglects to mention or, I suppose, actually think about--since we are intelligent, rational beings that overlook the things which don't interest us so much--is that it takes FOREVER for a bump to actually form. A noticeable one, anyway. Instead, you are left with the equivalent of a dying balloon for at least the first four or five months. That's been my experience so far. By a dying balloon, I mean that some days, you'll think to yourself, Okay, yeah, that looks as if there's a baby in there and not just fat from the extra serving of Oreos I've been indulging in each night. Then, the next morning, when you wake up and look in the mirror, your tummy will appear deflated and droopy. Not round and cute like an obviously pregnant woman, but slouchy and just plain pudgy, like someone who has given up on the gym or resisting anything fried. Coupled with the zits and the extra chafing in your thighs, you'll feel more unattractive than ever.
And supposedly this is when you're to be feeling your best during pregnancy. Oh, awesome.
Whenever you go out, you'll feel pressure to produce a bump. You want to please the crowd, after all, and they've been waiting 8, 10, 12 ( or in my case, 17) weeks to see the physical proof of this procreation. They want that bump to be there just as badly as you do, if not more, because without it, it's weird if they touch your stomach. And, man, do they ever want to touch all up on your stomach as soon as awkwardly possible.
This is where you have to just power through the pudge. Work it. I tend to choose looser dresses when I have to deal with the public, so that when I talk to people, or when they ask me the usual questions (about morning sickness or breastfeeding or knowing the gender or feeling movement), I can drape my hand just below my gut in that pregnant woman caress so that it looks like more of a rounded mass than it actually is. Ladies and gentleman, I present you the Pseudo-Bump. People will always see what they want, anyway, so this has worked quite nicely so far. The crowd always goes wild.
As every woman you meet who has already been pregnant will be eager to tell you, you'll get a bump soon enough. And by the time that balloon is stretched to the max and ready to pop, you'll look back on what is now this aggravating stage with a misty eye and the film of nostalgia. So suck it up, stick it out, and give the people what they want.
Because if you can learn anything else from these formerly-pregnant women, it is this: once you actually have the baby that is supposed to be in your pudgy stomach, you'll forget about this stage entirely, and in later years will continually refer only to the most gracious, amazing moments of your pregnancy, developing mother amnesia over those first 20 or so weeks when nothing very gracious or amazing happened.
Rule # 1: Never Let 'Em See You Down
Pregnancy is a super emotional time. It's literally like going through puberty again, mentally and physically. I personally have had to deal with terrible skin conditions on my face since this all started. Not to mention random--and I mean VERY random--weepiness.
Again, pregnancy sounds fantastic, doesn't it?
You will begin to experience many small things that add up to huge annoyances as you travel the pregnancy road, but be warned: DO NOT DIVULGE YOUR COMPLAINTS ON THESE ISSUES TO ANYONE. Well, anyone other than your mom, best friend, and husband. Mainly divulge every detail to your husband to remind him why you actually deserve to sit around most of the day and do nothing but sleep and eat snacks.
Why not, you ask? Because you cannot dare let them see through the veneer of extreme happiness you are supposed to now radiate. How dare you complain about anything, when you are experiencing the most awe-inspiring thing we humans are capable of: the creation of life!
So, when friends, co-workers, casual acquaintances, or members of your grandmother's church congregation ask you the unfailing, "Ooooh, how are you feeling?" or "Have you decided if you are going to breastfeed?" or "How far along are you?," don't bother to tell them how you really feel: annoyed, bored, sick, ugly, useless, irritated by their presense, not much different than you did last month when you weren't pregnant, like you've wasted precious nap time by talking to them, or any of the other million answers that might run through you rhead when they ask you this. Oh, and also, do not punch them in the face. This urge is understandable when you are, oh, let's say at a wedding, for example, and everyone around you is whooping it up in celebration of the happy couple and free alcohol, and Person #60 decides to give you a big hug of congratulations and shout at you, "So how are you feeling? Any morning sickness? Do you know what you're having yet??" as she spills a little Captain all over your bubbling-over boobs. You, like me, could not be blamed for wanting to smash in her teeth, or wishing you could just snatch that Captain and Coke out of her unsteady hand and slam it down yourself to avoid wasting any more of it on your boobs. But you cannot do that. That would be Bad Pregnant Woman form.
So, instead, when everyone in your immediate radius asks you how you are feeling 10-85 times a day, to be a Good Pregnant Woman, you must simply grin, fake that twinkle in your eye, touch your pudgy belly in that "Thank-be-to-God-for-such-a-beautiful-blessing-of-cells!" way, and tell them you feel great, fantastic, wonderful, important, purposeful, hear you roar. Because they don't actually want to hear about the pimples, puking, pains, and pudginess concerns. That would shatter the romanticized view they all have of what it's like to be presently pregnant. They want to hear that you are a woman who feels as if she is fulfilling her human purpose. So, for their sakes, try to be that.
Then just go home and call your mom. Or take a nap. You'll have earned it.
Again, pregnancy sounds fantastic, doesn't it?
You will begin to experience many small things that add up to huge annoyances as you travel the pregnancy road, but be warned: DO NOT DIVULGE YOUR COMPLAINTS ON THESE ISSUES TO ANYONE. Well, anyone other than your mom, best friend, and husband. Mainly divulge every detail to your husband to remind him why you actually deserve to sit around most of the day and do nothing but sleep and eat snacks.
Why not, you ask? Because you cannot dare let them see through the veneer of extreme happiness you are supposed to now radiate. How dare you complain about anything, when you are experiencing the most awe-inspiring thing we humans are capable of: the creation of life!
So, when friends, co-workers, casual acquaintances, or members of your grandmother's church congregation ask you the unfailing, "Ooooh, how are you feeling?" or "Have you decided if you are going to breastfeed?" or "How far along are you?," don't bother to tell them how you really feel: annoyed, bored, sick, ugly, useless, irritated by their presense, not much different than you did last month when you weren't pregnant, like you've wasted precious nap time by talking to them, or any of the other million answers that might run through you rhead when they ask you this. Oh, and also, do not punch them in the face. This urge is understandable when you are, oh, let's say at a wedding, for example, and everyone around you is whooping it up in celebration of the happy couple and free alcohol, and Person #60 decides to give you a big hug of congratulations and shout at you, "So how are you feeling? Any morning sickness? Do you know what you're having yet??" as she spills a little Captain all over your bubbling-over boobs. You, like me, could not be blamed for wanting to smash in her teeth, or wishing you could just snatch that Captain and Coke out of her unsteady hand and slam it down yourself to avoid wasting any more of it on your boobs. But you cannot do that. That would be Bad Pregnant Woman form.
So, instead, when everyone in your immediate radius asks you how you are feeling 10-85 times a day, to be a Good Pregnant Woman, you must simply grin, fake that twinkle in your eye, touch your pudgy belly in that "Thank-be-to-God-for-such-a-beautiful-blessing-of-cells!" way, and tell them you feel great, fantastic, wonderful, important, purposeful, hear you roar. Because they don't actually want to hear about the pimples, puking, pains, and pudginess concerns. That would shatter the romanticized view they all have of what it's like to be presently pregnant. They want to hear that you are a woman who feels as if she is fulfilling her human purpose. So, for their sakes, try to be that.
Then just go home and call your mom. Or take a nap. You'll have earned it.
An Introduction, Of Sorts
So, if you are anything like me, you awoke one morning and found yourself married to your high-school sweetheart, in the process of fixing up the small home you own, in your mid-twenties, and sick to death of being hounded by that incessant question everyone else seemed to have on their mind since the second after you pronounced the syllables in "I do": So when are you going to have kids??
This question, for the longest time (about two years, to be exact), annoyed me. Honestly, I could have developed morning sickness on the spot just to puke all over the person asking me this for the six-billionith time. But then one day, I realized that I, too, wanted an answer to that question. Everywhere around me, I was seeing babies. The already-born and the not-quite-born kind. Images of dimples and toothless grins and tiny hands and tiny feet splayed everywhere, just for me. Nothing but Pampers Cruisers and Gerber cuteness splayed over the TV. Baby Week on Discovery Health. Marathons of 16 and Pregnant on MTV, even.
That's when it hit me: My God. I want one.
Now, I am a very rational, analytical person. Seriously. So I didn't arrive at this decision after one restless night's sleep. I agonized over it for months, turning it over and over in my head, little mental pros and cons Post-its cramming the space in my brain. I thought about it morning, noon, and night, in every aspect of my life. What finally tipped the scale was that my birth control prescription was about to run out. After a pretty quick and to-the-point discussion with the hubby, we decided to just let it run out and see what happened.
Within two months, something happened.
And as much as I cried and dreamed and felt so sure I wanted to be pregnant, the minute my pee on that stick came back with the digital word "Pregnant," my first thought was, F---! What the hell did I just do to myself?!?!?!?
Which is the first thing I wanted to tell all of you potential mothers-to-be out there. If you think you want to get pregnant and then become pregnant and then have this initial mental freak-out about it, you are NOT a Bad Pregnant Woman. In fact, you are quite normal. Much more normal than anything you will ever read in the gargantuan amount of informational pamphlets, emails, booklets, books, and all-knowing womanly family members which will be flowing your way over the next few months.
Now every woman's pregnancy is different. I've been lucky enough to not have morning sickness. I know, shoot me through the computer right now. I have, however, experienced mild nausea, major uterus cramping and pains (like the kind you get right before your period starts), dizziness, headaches, and fatigue. Lord, have I been tired for no real apparent reason. Other than, of course, I'm busy building miniature human organs and whatnot.
So far, pregnancy sounds wonderful, right? Mmm-hmm.
I am currently around 17 weeks pregnant. Since my husband couldn't keep his trap shut, most people knew around weeks 8-10. That means I've been dealing with the new revolving door of questions that everyone asks for at least two months already. And, oh, how tiring that is all on its own!
So beginning now, with this stage of pregnancy--the one where you're officially in the "honeymoon" trimester, as they call it, but feel like you just look chubby and not pregnant and are still experiencing some of the less-than-glamourous symptoms that you only had while on your real honeymoon if you were hungover--I want to offer you a guide. Based entirely on my own opinions and experiences, of course, I'd like to tell you how to be a Good Pregnant Woman, since everyone will be watching and waiting and weighing your every move and verbal reply over the next nine (or ten) months. I am not always a Good Pregnant Woman...but may you learn from my snafus.
Let the rules commence!
This question, for the longest time (about two years, to be exact), annoyed me. Honestly, I could have developed morning sickness on the spot just to puke all over the person asking me this for the six-billionith time. But then one day, I realized that I, too, wanted an answer to that question. Everywhere around me, I was seeing babies. The already-born and the not-quite-born kind. Images of dimples and toothless grins and tiny hands and tiny feet splayed everywhere, just for me. Nothing but Pampers Cruisers and Gerber cuteness splayed over the TV. Baby Week on Discovery Health. Marathons of 16 and Pregnant on MTV, even.
That's when it hit me: My God. I want one.
Now, I am a very rational, analytical person. Seriously. So I didn't arrive at this decision after one restless night's sleep. I agonized over it for months, turning it over and over in my head, little mental pros and cons Post-its cramming the space in my brain. I thought about it morning, noon, and night, in every aspect of my life. What finally tipped the scale was that my birth control prescription was about to run out. After a pretty quick and to-the-point discussion with the hubby, we decided to just let it run out and see what happened.
Within two months, something happened.
And as much as I cried and dreamed and felt so sure I wanted to be pregnant, the minute my pee on that stick came back with the digital word "Pregnant," my first thought was, F---! What the hell did I just do to myself?!?!?!?
Which is the first thing I wanted to tell all of you potential mothers-to-be out there. If you think you want to get pregnant and then become pregnant and then have this initial mental freak-out about it, you are NOT a Bad Pregnant Woman. In fact, you are quite normal. Much more normal than anything you will ever read in the gargantuan amount of informational pamphlets, emails, booklets, books, and all-knowing womanly family members which will be flowing your way over the next few months.
Now every woman's pregnancy is different. I've been lucky enough to not have morning sickness. I know, shoot me through the computer right now. I have, however, experienced mild nausea, major uterus cramping and pains (like the kind you get right before your period starts), dizziness, headaches, and fatigue. Lord, have I been tired for no real apparent reason. Other than, of course, I'm busy building miniature human organs and whatnot.
So far, pregnancy sounds wonderful, right? Mmm-hmm.
I am currently around 17 weeks pregnant. Since my husband couldn't keep his trap shut, most people knew around weeks 8-10. That means I've been dealing with the new revolving door of questions that everyone asks for at least two months already. And, oh, how tiring that is all on its own!
So beginning now, with this stage of pregnancy--the one where you're officially in the "honeymoon" trimester, as they call it, but feel like you just look chubby and not pregnant and are still experiencing some of the less-than-glamourous symptoms that you only had while on your real honeymoon if you were hungover--I want to offer you a guide. Based entirely on my own opinions and experiences, of course, I'd like to tell you how to be a Good Pregnant Woman, since everyone will be watching and waiting and weighing your every move and verbal reply over the next nine (or ten) months. I am not always a Good Pregnant Woman...but may you learn from my snafus.
Let the rules commence!
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