What a woman is thinking in her final month of pregnancy, I’m going to let you in on a few secrets.
I got to thinking tonight in the checkout line in Target. Well first, I was mortified at my scene on the conveyor belt. 1 package of cupcakes, soy sauce, swedish fish, sour watermelon slices, oreos, tortilla chips (organic of course…I’m trying to behave over here), sour patch kids, and a gallon of milk. The rule don’t go shopping hungry clearly doesn’t apply to me. I glanced down as the lady in front of me started eyeing my purchases. Slowly her eyes moved down the belt in a way that was only semi-judgemental. She either assumed I was a stoned college freshman, or morbidly obese. Then her eyes fixated on my belly. My belly which was currently stuck between the shopping cart and the display of travel size everythings.
“Oh my goodness sweetheart, when are you due?? You look just about darn ready to pop.”
“Go fuck yourself lady.”
No, I really didn’t say that. Out loud at least.
What I did say was…”well I have been waiting on this line half praying my water would break so I get the dramatic delivery I have been expecting…but honestly not for another 17 days. Hell, whose counting.”
A little taken aback, she wished me luck and went to go argue with customer service about the price cut on her damn lamp.
The whole interaction made me think. The entire way home as I devoured the bag of swedish fish before Mike and Mini could see them I wondered, why do people say stupid things to pregnant woman?
Men, I can understand. They have never been pregnant. And well, they are men. They sometimes say stupid things.
A woman who has been pregnant telling another pregnant woman, “oh I bet you are so ready”, deserves to get smacked. Of course I am ready!
I was ready 12 stretch marks ago. 8 lbs. 1 maternity support belt. I was ready when I wore my black pajama pants to music morning at the library and prayed no one noticed. 3 sleeves of thin mints ago. When the scale tipped 180. Last week when I sat in the bathtub 15 minutes after all of the water drained because I literally had no strength to lift my body out of the tub and swore my husband was going to have to find me in there butt naked in all my pregnant glory when he got home from work. I was ready the past 10 nights as I laid in bed swearing I was in labor until the cramping finally stopped. When I realized my feet are now going to be a size 10 for good. The day I couldn’t turn my steering wheel because my belly got in the way and I almost crashed the car turning into the McDonalds drive thru.
Yes, I am ready.
No one warns you for the final month. How your bones feel like they are going to snap in half every time you do the “turn and roll” to get out of bed to pee during the night. How everyday you look at your belly and swear this must be it. It cannot possibly stretch any bigger. Until you look the next day. No one tells you how picking something up off the floor takes superhero strength. How everytime you walk up the steps you breathe so heavily one could mistake you for a water buffalo. Don’t believe me? Call me one day and tell me I left the light on in my bedroom. Then listen.
It is rough ladies. The last month is no piece of cake. Yet, the days do go by. I started counting down at 56 and I am at 17. Somehow you just get through it. Complaining helps. Ask my husband. (The man who vows we are done having babies because he can barely stand me at this point.) Chocolate helps too. So do it. Complain and eat your chocolate. You deserve it. I said so.
To anyone that wants to know just how I’m feeling. Why don’t you swallow a watermelon and guess.
And to you, Baby Joey. Mama is ready whenever you are. See you soon precious boy.