I'm the Pregnant Girl You Hate

Meredith Black Photography - Decker Maternity Shoot

I have easy pregnancies. I never throw up, nausea is a mystery to me. I’ve never had heartburn, back pain, or belly stretch marks… easy. (I feel the need to clarify that I’ve had stretch marks on my thighs since I was 12 so there’s no way to tell if I added to those during pregnancy - but I suspect I did. And no one told me to oil up my ass so I got some more there, too, I’m sure. That’s okay, they’re just proof that this booty’s still juicy - and when I’m 80, I’ll have a visual qualifier that it used to be a nice thick thing). I digress. Point is: Pregnancy isn’t a dreadful experience for me and that makes it easier to remember how much of a blessing it truly is to usher a soul into this world.

Why do I have it a little easier?

I’d like to think my consistency with working out, especially in the first trimester when it’s so easy to just take a nap instead, contributes to my easy pregnancies. But I think it’s more likely that I’m just lucky. My mom had great pregnancies and I think I just got that gene. So while grazing all day on food, drinking a ton of water, being vigilant about my vitamins, and working out consistently helps - I think I’m probably just the pregnant girl you hate. I’m in that lucky 15ish% of women that don’t get morning sickness. I still play volleyball, I do high intensity workouts (like Orange Theory), I lift weights, I run, I sprint, I get randy, I maintain my active lifestyle that most women aren’t lucky enough to feel well enough to do in their first trimester.

With my last pregnancy, I could at least complain that Decker was stealing my beauty - but so far this baby hasn’t given me the same problems. I’ve been waiting for the pregnancy acne and melasma but have been pleasantly surprised that it’s stayed away so far. Now, I’m only approaching 20 weeks with our second, so I’ll have to update this if the second half of the pregnancy takes a turn for the terrible. But, so far, so good.

On Pregnancy Weight Gain

When I got pregnant with Decker, I was overweight (for myself, by my standards for me and my preferred BMI for the happiest, healthiest me that performs the best). Please, don’t read more into that than is stated. I’m not body-shaming or insecure, or suggesting I’m not beautiful and great. I’m just suggesting that, for my standards for myself, which are backed by medical guidelines and my own feelings at that size, I was overweight. Now, just let that be what it is and move along.

After doing some research, I learned that if you’re overweight the recommendation from the medical community is that you should only gain 15-25 lbs while pregnant. I worried about weight gain (like most women do - pregnant or not). I booked early morning appointments wearing a thin dress and would take off my watch before stepping on the scale - BECAUSE IM HUMAN AND DAMNIT THAT CLIMBING NUMBER MAKES ME FEEL ANGSTY.

The nurse admitting me the day I gave birth had the chutzpah to say “Oh you’re just shy of 200lbs, I bet you’re so happy you’re delivering early so you don’t hit that 200 mark!” Ya’ll, I could have killed her. Doesn’t she know the first rule about Pregnancy Club? YOU DON’T TALK ABOUT WEIGHT GAIN. But, um, the thought HAD crossed my mind, so I decided not to Tyler Durden her ass. Full disclosure: I ended up gaining 25lbs with Decker and she was 8lbs, two weeks early. (For more on Decker’s birth story, check back in to The Pushover Project later).

Point being, I can’t REALLY complain about pregnancy. Except the itchy butthole. That I complained about. Plenty. What even ARE internal hemmies? I guess they’re like Ghost Hemorrhoids - you can’t see them but you can feel their presence.

The Post-Partum Shitshow

So while I may be the pregnant chick you hate, God made sure all was balanced in the end by taking me for a wild ride postpartum. In order of appearance:

A five night hospital stay due to jaundice and a broken clavicle for the baby,
My milk coming in with such a fury that I had an ultrasound on my armpit to rule out a tumor (But, just as Arnold said: It’s not a tumor),
Mastitis,
Thrush (for forever - shout out to Gentian Violet for doing the job when two rounds of antibiotics for each of us could not),
The shingles (ON MY LABIA, DOWN MY BUTT AND ALL THE WAY TO MY DAMN ANKLE)
Hand, Foot and Mouth Disease (to which my mother, Jeana Keough, interrogated: “Well, what the hell are you doing hanging out with FARM ANIMALS?!” - much to my confusion, but then I realized she’s thinking of Hoof-and-Mouth Disease.)
Type A Influenza (Not the flippant “Oh I think I have the flu,” flu but the “OMG I’m dying, what is this, why does it feel like I was beaten, why can’t I move, when will the hurt end, holy hell please deliver me from this evil” the FLU flu),
Strep Throat (See all symptoms listed above, but with 12 hour resolve upon the receiving of antibiotics), and
Painful sex for roughly what felt like 84 years (Shout out to the Flesh Light, which I gifted to my husband - much to his confusion - along with the sage advice: “This is your girlfriend now, I’ll let you know when that changes”).

So try not to hate me too much. It sucked for me, too. It just sucked a little later than I expected.

Why do I have it a little easier?

On Pregnancy Weight Gain

The Post-Partum Shitshow

When You're Not the Baby Anymore

How Do I say This?