My Baby Is Not A Papaya And I Am Not Glowing

Every single pregnancy website I read presents me with sugar coated facts and photos of perfectly shaped women with basketballs beneath their shirts.  Today, at week 32, I was warned that I may be having some heartburn due to my perfect little jicama (WHATEVER THE HELL THAT IS) pushing up on my stomach, and that taking Tums and propping my head up six inches “may” help.  The truth is, for some reason, God decided it would be a brilliant idea to shove a 3 and 1/2 pound human body in a space that was originally the size of a plum.  Instead of it growing outward or skimming the surface of its host’s organs, it literally moves aside the entire digestive tract until said host’s stomach is literally in her throat.  This is insane.  INSANE.  And propping my head up six inches is not going to help my heartburn.  Nothing can help a person whose stomach is in their throat.

Pregnancy is a miracle.  It really is.  I’m not being sarcastic.  Mom.  I’m not.  Stop giving me that look.  I’m serious.  It is a miracle.  Two people’s DNA combine to make a person.  I look at my son Jack and see so much of myself and of my husband and it is NUTS that we made him.  He is us.  He started as a little ball of cells and now he is a walking, talking, pooping machine.  I get the miracle.  I appreciate the miracle.  I live in the moment, but if one more article makes getting uber fat, clumsy, constipated, sweaty, emotional, and physically ill sound like a piece of fresh fruit and a bed of crisp, fluffy pillows, I’m going to eat them.  With my chocolate.  That I’m not supposed to have.  Because heartburn-or whatever.

The best advice on the almighty interwebs is to avoid heartburn by “eating several small meals throughout the day”.  Some are even so kind as to post a sample menu.  “a piece of toast with peanut butter”, “half a banana and some fresh Greek yogurt”, “a handful of almonds and a glass of juice”.  OMG, ya’ll.  I’m not dieting.  I’m pregnant.  I’m not meal prepping for this shit.  Are you kidding me?  This is like, THE ONLY TIME, in my whole life where I can eat whatever I want without the world judging me (as harshly).  Do you know how exhausted we are?  We can’t sleep, we can’t eat soft cheeses, we can’t have too much caffeine, we can’t roll over or stand without grunting, we can’t put our underwear on without sitting down in a safe location, and we can’t see any sort of sexy body as a result from eating your stupid meal plans.  LET US EAT.  Just leave us alone,

When I was at the hospital (getting fluids after a stomach bug), the nurse asked me if I was taking anything for my reflux.  When I told her my mixture of Nexium, Prilosec, and Ranitidine she laughed, because they don’t work.  Because I’m pregnant.  Here’s the deal.  Here’s the real deal.  I’m going to tell you what you actually need to know and hear for the milestone weeks of your pregnancy-and it’ll only take a few hundred words:


First Trimester– You will probably be nauseated.  Not much is going to help.  You will want your bump so people won’t think you’re just bloaty.  If you have a bump, it isn’t because your baby is big.  (They are all the same size at this point)  It is because your abdominal muscles are incredibly weak and you should have worked out more.

Second Trimester– Hopefully, you aren’t nauseated anymore.  Your baby will start out the size of a golf ball and by the end it will be the size of a  three dunkin donuts stacked on top of each other, but will weigh significantly more than that.  You’ll feel cute and the excitement will soar if you decide to find out the sex of your baby.  This is the adorable phase and you are glowing!  Somewhere in this trimester, you will feel kicks and love your little angel so, so, so much.

Third Trimester– This little monster has pushed all your organs the opposite direction of what God intended.  Your lungs and stomach are pretty much sharing space with your trachea and esophagus, and your bladder has been squeezed to the size of the fiber gummies you pop as you fall asleep at night.  You are now producing so much extra blood that there is no where left for it to go and fluids begin to just randomly set up shop in tissues they don’t belong.  The only way to cure this uncomfortable tightness is to wear sexy compression stockings in 85 degree weather LIKE THE GODDESS YOU ARE.  You aren’t glowing anymore.  You are sweating.  This pregnancy will last forever and you will never ever have your body back to yourself.  At this point, your baby is literally a full-grown woman curled up in your uterus and her kicks produce something your friend had warned you about called “lightning crotch”.  Every time you move, you will get Braxton Hicks contractions.  They will freak you out the first few weeks and then become so normal that you’ll wonder if you’d even notice when you go into labor.  Gotta pee?  Braxton Hicks contraction.  Walk up stairs?  Braxton Hicks.  Thirsty?  Braxton Hicks.  Phone call?  Braxton Hicks.  This is your life now and it will last forever.

So hold on tight, mamas.  If you’ll stop googling what size of produce your baby is every day and focus your attention on your family and friends, this last trimester will go by quickly.  KIDDING.  It won’t.  It.  Won’t.







4 thoughts on “My Baby Is Not A Papaya And I Am Not Glowing

  1. So how many pregnancy websites say “it’s all worth it when you hold your sweet baby for the first time”? (Which is another lie because we all know they are bloody and slimy.)

    Liked by 1 person

  2. bahahahahaahahah this is great! All my feels right now. I look like a private school girl with my compression socks up to my knees. And yes, greek yogurt and almonds ain’t gonna cut it. I’m having whatever I want—then popping tums later. #sorrynotsorry


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