Preggo vs. Food



My life has come full circle. I have struggled all of my life with food. When I say “struggled” I mean, it was my best friend. My confidante. My everything. I had a very hard time seeing the point in eating egg whites for breakfast when I could have chocolate french toast. I have always been either happily chunky or trying not to be chunky. I have always stepped on a scale hoping my metabolism became an overnight superpower and I really lost weight, only to be hit with an extra pound or two. I read Women, Food and God and sobbed hysterically promising myself that I wasn’t going to live to eat, I was going to eat to live. Then forgot about it during my McGriddle the next morning.

Then came pregnancy.

So, I know most of you might be thinking, “Well, pregnancy is basically nine months of obesity. She must have taken this hard.” Not the case! When I went to my first doctor’s appointment I was told that I needed to gain at least 25 pounds. I was shocked. I am already chunky, you want me to get MORE chunky? Did I forget it was backwards day? Nope. The baby apparently needs that extra weight and I wasn’t complaining. I stopped at McDonald’s and super-sized on my way home.

Then it became war.

I couldn’t even catch a whiff of a pizza without hurling until I wet my pants. My appetite is slim to none. Now, I can’t even finish a kid’s meal without feeling like I’m suffocating my child with my massive stomach. I just can’t do it. Every meal is a chore. I have to sit for 30 minutes before a meal and decide what food I will be able to keep down. By the time I decide and it is either cooked or purchased, most of the time it makes me sick again.

So, since becoming pregnant, I am DOWN 12 pounds. I have NEVER, EVER in my LIFE lost weight accidentally. I used to wish for a double-leg amputation just for the joy I would feel after stepping on a scale. Every time I have ever lost weight it was through painful determination. I remember being a teen and laying on our kitchen floor whining about feeling weak and helpless on my new diet…that I started by eating raw veggies a mere two hours before. If I was going to lose weight pre-pregnancy I needed a support group, daily meetings, a trainer, brain stabilizers, a personal gym, a carton of cigarettes and a stomach virus.

Now, I am getting reprimanded for my weight loss! I don’t know how to gain weight! It was a natural talent I was born with. How can I re-invent it? This baby must be my weight’s Kryptonite because I don’t know how I’m going to recapture my superhero weight gains…

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The Highs and Oh-So-Lows

So, as most of my readers know from my previous blog, (www.pulpofitall.blogspot.com) I am a bit neurotic. I over-analyze, emphasize and under-rationalize almost every aspect of my life. So, pairing that with a fetus that is growing off my body just adds a little kerosene to the fire. I have read every book the second I found out I was pregnant (some a couple seconds before I found out…) to prepare mentally for the months/years to come. I now know What to Expect When Expecting, I Belly Laughed right along with Jenny McCarthy and my iPhone is busting with pregnancy apps that alert me every time my baby is suppose to grow and eyelash. Needless to say, I thought I was prepared. Well, as many of you mothers may know, I am in no way even remotely prepared for what treats my body had in store for me. The saddest part? I’m only four months in. Here are a couple curveballs from good ol’ Mother Nature:

1. Puking. OK, I’m not a nimrod. I knew that there would be morning sickness. What I thought it was going to be like? Maybe a slight watery puke while getting ready in the morning and then I would feel relieved and revived and go about my merry way. What it’s really like? Well, I feel like: I have the flu, mixed with a UFC punch to the guts, mixed with no food besides chocolate raised donuts looking even remotely appealing. I have puked on my garage, in my sleep, in my toilet, in the restaurant toilet…all in the same day. And considering these heaves are so powerful my bladder gives out midway… this makes for a pretty hot mess.

The funniest part about morning sickness is you are willing to try anything. And EVERYONE has a cure for you. I have chugged Coke, only to immediately have it come back up (not so fun, by the way). I have sucked lemon drops while eating crackers and chugging a Sprite at the same time. Same end result. I have eaten in the middle of the night, before getting out of bed, standing on one foot and hanging upside down from the ceiling while whispering the Rosary backwards. Still puking and now just a little more creepy.

2. Breast pain. I was prepared for the same tenderness that came along with my Aunt Flo. What I wasn’t prepared for was the feeling that Species 5 is about to take place with slimy aliens ripping through my chest.

3. Mood swings. Can I just say, “My poor, poor husband”? I have cried every single day since conception. This isn’t even remotely a stretch. I have cried because: the dog pooped on the floor, a restaurant forgot to pack my chicken dumpling soup (which resulted in me making them deliver it to my house), someone ate the last Toaster Strudel…and the most ridiculous: bawled like someone slaughtered my entire family while watching The New Girl because Zooey Deschanel is on there and my husband has a celebrity crush on her and I was jealous of her cute/dorkiness while laying in my over-sized muumuu in a shroud of Kleenex.

4. The way you don’t really feel pregnant. I don’t really feel like something is growing inside me. I mean, I feel pregnant in the, I’m-puking-crying-and-screaming-at-the-same-time kind of way. But I don’t feel the baby yet. I expected to feel like this hearth of birth right from the get-go but, really, I just feel fat and like I might need overnight surveillance at the loony bin.

5. And lastly, I just wasn’t prepared for this. I am scared in more ways than one. I am scared that I’m unknowingly poisoning my baby with something I’m eating but didn’t read about it and now it’s going to come out with no arms and I’m going to worry about it for the rest of my life. I am scared that motherhood is going to be more than I can handle. I still feel like I’m a child and a little worried that these motherly instincts just aren’t inherited. And most importantly, I’m scared of giving birth. Right now, my baby is supposedly the size of an apple. The thought of having an apple come out of any orifice of my body makes me weak in the knees. But, I have fast-forwarded to the fruit equivalent of week 40, and let’s just say I can’t even talk about it…