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A Mother’s Poem; Vaganus
I dedicate this poem to every mother who has gone into childbirth, not knowing whether she will emerge will her vagina intact. Vaganus I have many fears about birthing– Some parts are really unnerving. But I have to admit, I want to quit, When I think about getting a vaganus. The name implies that it’s funny, And I laugh till my eyes get all runny, Until I remember, and get quite tender Realizing it could happen to me. You try to do something nice, And you end up slathered in ice, When your ass rips to your vag and opens like a bag, And you’re left with…
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Pregnancy brain; it is terrible and it is real
During my first pregnancy, I didn’t completely lose my mind until I was further along. But I guess that the second time around, your body already knows the rhythms of pregnancy. The pregnancy brain hits harder, faster. It is more severe. Unfortunately, this means I wander aimlessly around the parking lot, multiple times a week. Everyone has had that moment where they walk out of the store and think, “Dude. Where’s my car?” But usually, you have a slight recollection of where you parked it. You remember it was slightly to the left of the main door or parked near the front. Being pregnant and losing your car is like…
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Come test pregnancy old wives tales with me!
Scientists decided long ago that many of the stories regarding determining the sex of your baby without technology are false. Sure, they may not be foolproof. Hell, they may not even be remotely true! But my very limited grasp of science, coupled with my tendency towards believing in all things unexplainable, make me curious. Let’s take a look at some of the most infamous and easy-to-test old wives’ tales concerning the subject of gender, and see how I fair. Any of you preggos out there, do them as well and we can compare our results. Test #1: Legend has it that if you are carrying a girl, she will steal…
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Somebody Needs to Call a Plumber
Somebody needs to call a plumber. Shit is starting to leak. The first pregnancy left its mark; literally. There are stretch marks that are etched into my stomach like translucent worm-shadows. They glint in the sunlight and remind me of just how monstrous my growing belly will get. My boobs…my poor, poor boobies that used to be perky and young, are now resembling deflated balloons. They look like those sad Mylar party balloons, a couple of days post-party. They aren’t dead yet– but they float sadly, crookedly, trying to will themselves back to their former position of height. They aren’t ugly, they’re just sad. I want to pat them and…
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Handling the DON’Ts
Learning that you’re pregnant can be such a crazy time. You’re excited, you’re scared and suddenly your body becomes someone else’s. Immediately people assume that it is their right, nay their duty, to ask you personal questions and give personal advice. There are literally lists of things you are not allowed to do and things you are not allowed to eat. It’s easy to get swallowed into the anxiety of keeping your baby safe. But I like to remember that women have been pregnant for a long fucking time and these guidelines are meant to help, not to give you a miscarriage due to stress. I am not a doctor.…
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Fireworks
I just realized something. You would think it would have occurred to me before this but it did not; my husband saw me poop. He didn’t peek in the bathroom while I was going, or come in right after. He didn’t see the remnants of my business in the toilet. It wasn’t a skid mark, or even a shart. This is the reality of labor. I get it. But my husband, that sweet man, was holding my legs apart. He was solely focused on watching our daughter be brought into the world, which was foreshadowed by me pooping. All over. And not just once. Four days past due-date, on a…
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The Awkward Stage
If pregnancy consists of any one stage, it would be awkwardness. There is some lovely form of awkwardness waiting at every turn. Currently, I am in the “Are you fat or pregnant stage?” It’s not a good one. I see people sneaking glances at me in the grocery store (yes, everything happens to me there). I can tell they’re pondering the height/weight/potentially beer-belly ratio. During my first pregnancy I wanted to tell random strangers that it wasn’t fat taking over my body but instead some alien life form who insisted I was a vegetarian. This time I just want to tell people to fuck off. It doesn’t help that I’m…
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The Second Time Around
It is official: This mama’s diary is beginning again. Someone asked me the other day if I thought the second pregnancy would be less scary, having done it before. In some ways– yes! At least I know what is coming. But that damn adage “Every pregnancy is different”, is unfortunately true. I read back over the brief blog from last time. It was funny. But it made me mad. Ohhh you thought it was hard being nauseous? You threw up a couple of times? You were tired? I want to kill that bitch that has enough balls to complain and enough brain power to crack jokes about it. I want…
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There Was This One Time…
There was this one time, where I could see my feet. There was this one time, where I could see my pubes. There was this one time, where I used to skip and jog and run and twirl. And then there’s now; I’m pretty sure my feet are still there because when it is really hot out, I can feel them swell. I know I still have a hoo-ha, but I forget what it looks like. And my movements, dear God, are no longer exuberant. I plop, drag, hurl, and push into comfortable positions. I am a beast. I had always heard that your body stop being yours when you’re…
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Week 16
Uh, I guess there really is such a thing as “pregnancy brain” because I completely forgot about this blog. The second trimester has been much easier then the first; no morning sickness, I have way more energy and I don’t look fat–I look pregnant. The “pregnancy brain” has been affecting me more lately. I made Twice Baked Potatoes for a 4th of July BBQ, and they came out a little strange. I cooked the potatoes, cut them and removed their insides. Usually, I toss them in the food processor to make them nice and creamy. Unfortunately, the mixer was out on the counter, and for some reason I thought this…