When I daydreamed about getting pregnant I had a lot of assumptions about myself. Similar to when you are a little girl and imagine getting married. You think you’ll ride off into the sunset and your husband will always put his dirty clothes in the laundry where they belong, opposed to on the floor right next to it. Or he will always keep the toilet seat down. Or he will always unload the dishwasher if he notices they are ready to be put away. Or neither of you will have jobs to hold you down and the two of you will just run around in La La Land telling each other how wonderful your life is…
Okay, I’m getting distracted. You get the idea.
When I imagined getting pregnant I just knew I would most definitely find out the sex… ASAP. I mean, how do people not find out? Don’t they need to plan their nursery and get gender appropriate clothing? What’s wrong with these people? Not to mention, I question anyone who has the willpower to wait long enough to find out. Freaks. Oh, and of course, it better be a girl. Boys? Ew.
I would most definitely get one of those creative chalk boards all those organized, creative, artsy-type people use to take their instagram worthy pregnancy bump shots. You know what I’m talking about… it’s a chalk board about the size of half my body. It’s really colorful and they write things like “Baby is the size of an orange” or “‘Baby’ is craving sushi, french fries, and sugar packets.”
I would eat only healthy food. Probably mostly vegetables. I would sacrifice my rent payment to get the best of the best food. I would never eat deli meat. I would never eat fast food. I would never drink caffeine.
I would exercise every single day. EVERY. SINGLE. DAY. A year ago I actually thought I would do this. Several years ago I ran into a woman at the gym. She is a mom of four. She told me for her fourth pregnancy she exercised doing something every single day and it was the best pregnancy she ever had. I just knew I would do this. Absolutely. No questions asked.
Well, here I am… 17 weeks pregnant. Hell yeah! And we are absolutely NOT finding out the sex. I absolutely have NO interest in spending hours drawing an elaborate portrait of the fruit that is currently the size of my baby. I absolutely have coffee every day, fast food when I want, and eat sandwiches. I absolutely do NOT exercise every day.
Infertility changed everything. That’s the answer. Had I gotten pregnant the instant we stopped birth control it’s possible I would’ve actually done most of these things. But infertility changed me. It taught me to be patient. To be realistic. To give myself a break. To give myself permission to relax. To not be everything. We aren’t perfect. I’m not perfect. And I don’t like people that try to be. We’re human. Let’s face it.
If I had a chalk board, my drawing of an onion this week would look like a round circle. That’s it. A circle. I would probably spend an hour debating should it be a white onion, purple onion or yellow onion?
If I exercised every day, even if it was just a walk, I would feel exhausted. I would feel physically exhausted. And mentally exhausted with the pressure to do it. #NoThanks
If I ate all healthy foods the baby and I would starve. I’d also be a really, really pissed off pregnant woman. #YouAreWelcome
And I don’t want to find out the gender because infertility taught me how to be patient. That the surprise is worth it. That the nursery won’t be perfect. That things won’t always go perfectly. And I can’t plan my life out perfectly. So, why not get the best surprise of your life? Infertility also changes the way you think about the gender of your baby. I seriously have zero preference. I seriously just want a healthy baby. And I seriously hope the baby has Brad’s brain. That’s not too much to ask. No pressure on gender. No pressure to have a perfect nursery. To have a perfect pregnancy. To have a perfect life. The pressure is off.
So I guess I could sum this long ass post saying this: Stop being perfect. It’s annoying. Nobody likes it. And go have a sandwich.
I’ll leave you with this, the one thing I do best: Self timed selfies.
17 week Bump Shot.
If anyone is curious, babe is the size of an onion. I also think I felt movement in the past week. Yep. I’m growing. #yay
Side note: You can observe my beautiful, artistic work on the left of this photo. It’s a picture of a barrel of wine, an even larger size bottle of wine, and a wine glass. I did this at one of those wine + painting classes. #SoTalented