DIZMOMMY > The Opposite of Pregnant Chick Envy


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September 30, 2015

The Opposite of Pregnant Chick Envy

A reoccurring phenomenon takes place with each of my pregnancies: I become possessed. Somehow the positive, happy, relaxed and sharp lady that I normally am is replaced with a wretched woman that lacks patience, focus, energy, and enthusiasm. I’m just not myself. Though I’m trying…I really, truly am…but pregnancy isn’t for me. Sure, I’d like to enjoy these nine months of baby growing and bask in the miracle that is the creation of life; however, I can’t get past the swollen kankles and back pain to even acknowledge a so-called glow. And these ever-growing boobs? No thanks. 

Before I became pregnant with my second child, I suffered from pregnant-chick-envy. I saw the little protruding tummies and longed for a wee wittle baby of my own. My first born was growing up, his baby fat was melting into big-boyhood, and my ovaries yearned for the scent of newborn flesh. What a fool. You see, somehow, in between post-pregnancy with my first and pre-pregnancy with my second, I lost all memory of the shit show that takes place during these nine months. And okay, not all women have such disdain for the days of alcohol free, sushi free, weight gaining, gel-brained living, but I look at myself in the mirror and I don’t even know who I am anymore. It’s like… 

When I drove to a restaurant to pick-up my to-go order that I never placed. No, I swear I ordered it. Look, I’ll check my email for the confirmation that I don’t have. 

Going to Las Vegas (which a pregnant person has no business doing), and buying new shoes every two hours because each pair is SO uncomfortable, only to realize six pairs later that the shoes ain’t the problem- these swollen feet though…*

Cutting out my daily meditations because I can’t focus, sit still, or even stay awake long enough to mediate. Three words: Attention Deficit Disorder. 

Coming home from Hawaii at 1 in the morning to a house with no power because I forgot to pay the electricity bill…probably since I… 

Ignored the mail man’s note on my front door advising me to “COLLECT YOUR MAIL, MAILBOX FULL!!!” because uhm…I just don’t feel like it. How long has it been again? Oops. 

Inadvertently teaching my two year old the term “fucking idiot” because that’s what everyone on the road is now. My patience? Dead.

Passing my iPhone to Dylan so that he can watch 34,000 monster truck YouTube videos while I try to nap. Questionable (and lazy) parenting alert.

Arguing with my doctor about my weight gain and reminding her that I gained 57lbs last time and NO, I still don’t drink soda or juice. 

Looking at my blog and realizing I’ve only posted twice in September and it’s already the 29th. Pathetic. And reading blogs? Sorry Tamara, Echo, Jessica, Jennifer, Tawyna, Liv, Camille, Karen, Danielle, and so many more I can’t think of at the top of my head. I’m hopeless!** LIKE VANESSA!***

So while all the other pregnant women of the world indulge in the wonderment of baby growing, baby glowing, and all things special within these 9 months of expansion, I’ll be counting the days until I can serve an eviction notice upon my unborn child because quite frankly, I miss myself. But hey, at least I'm getting a little baby, right?

With the man that did this to me
*Once the swelling goes down, I'm left with 6 brand new pairs of shoes that are two sizes too big. But of course.
**This makes 3 posts, so I'm celebrating with pie. 
***Couldn't be more embarrassed I forgot Vanessa. Aw fuck.

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