Happy and Glowing? I Think Not.

You know those happy, glowing pregnant ladies?  The ones who talk of motherhood and the blessings bestowed upon them in this ever-expanding state?  I am not one of them.  I am more of a "complain as I go" and just try to suffer through all the fun pregnancy symptoms without totally keeling over.  And as we all manage to get through rough patches in different ways, let me share some of my coping strategies that involve altering reality just a wee bit.  Here are some examples of how I cope with pregnancy, motherhood, and the simple break-down of the human body for nine months and beyond.

Robyn at 10 weeks.

First coping strategy is that I lie to myself!  Some sample statements for you: 

1) My clothes keep getting shrunk in the dryer- I swear these fit last week!  I gotta turn the dryer heat down again. 

2) My hair must be getting really blonde from the sun I am not basking in... interesting.  If I look closely, I'd almost call it streaks of grey, but it must be platinum blonde.  Perhaps I am channeling the inner-Marilyn.

15 weeks

Next coping strategy, lie to my hubby.  Examples being:

1) No, honey, I don't need a forklift to get me out of bed in the morning... maybe just Hanz and Franz at my bedside to give me a little boost. 

2) I probably shouldn't go into any sporting goods stores... they may accuse me of shoplifting a basketball under my shirt when it's really just a big phat baby.  That would be embarrassing for all parties involved.

20 weeks

I stretch the truth to the rest of the world when they ask how I am feeling.  Little white lies like:

1) It's so easy to sleep when you're pregnant.  It's like cuddling up with a cute wiggly puppy... only the puppy is on the inside of you... and it wants to party and dance with a strobe light anytime I am not physically moving. 

2) And when they ask if my morning sickness has gone away, I reply that I have my good days and bad days.  Translation:  Good days were before I was growing a mini-human inside of me and bad days are everything since.  But I thank you for asking and caring... did you want a tour of all the barf bags hidden in my car, throughout my purse, in the stroller, and in clandestine drawers all over the house?

25 weeks- ugh!

And my final way of coping is to try to believe that I sincerely, with all my 2 hearts, love this stage.  Practice with me now:

1) Oh how I love motherhood.  What a joy to scan the horizon about every 15 minutes for some nice facilities when we are out and about; ones that will allow me to take a toddler who likes to peek under the stall next to us to surprise an unsuspecting stranger.  It's just magical.

2) I also love hard-to-reach shoes, especially tying them.  And like Garfield, I can't see the ones on my own feet but I am sure they are there somewhere.  And yes I would love to put some shoes on my irmy-squirmy little wormy of a toddler.  I can't reach his feet either right now but I sure am happy I have a yoga video that helps me attempt stretches to someday get near my feet and the feet of my little guy.  (And on a side-note we discovered how much Toddler-man hates it when I pop in a yoga DVD and it is not a singing, colorful hippo teaching him Spanish.  He thought until this month that all videos had cutesy little dancing animals belting out songs of unity... yet some videos have rotund leotard-wearing ladies stretching their bodies in awkward positions while Mommy tries to copy.)

Robyn and Tristan a few months ago

And as someone who typically tells the truth and values honesty in relationships, this 9 month season I feel somewhat out of character, like a mouse in an elephant's body.  (Yet so glad I am not an elephant whose gestational period is 2 years long.)  So I'll just pretend that this abnormal version of me can wear right on my belly an "I'll be back in 30 minutes to 9 months" sign like they have at barber shops.  And since we are briefly lying and/or pretending, for now I am also going to act like my toddler's board book is not talking about me in his favorite line of the book, "Some pigs are big; some pigs are small, but this pig is my mom and she's the biggest of all."  Soooo not talking about me, right?  Right?