Comfy Clothes

Admit it. You all had that shirt. The one that you said, “I'll NEVER wear that. I wouldn't be caught dead wearing that.” before you stuck it on a hanger and stashed it in the back of your closet. The first few months of your pregnancy, you do fine, stretching your pre-maternity clothes tightly over your growing little bump – looking as cute and fine as can be. You even start wearing a few adorable little maternity outfits and buy empire waist dresses you plan to flounce around in all summer.

And then it hits. BAM. You're sitting in your low-rise maternity-band shorts and neatly buttoned 2nd-trimester maternity shirt while lounging on the couch, when your baby starts punching your lower abdomen with all his might. He might as well be working out in there with all the ruckus he's making. At first, you're delighted that you can feel his moving and it even feels like you can tell a foot from a hand. But then you realize, man, I'm feeling him stronger than normal. And right where that – Gasp! That supposedly elastic stretch-all-around-your-belly waist band is folded over and making marks in your belly! Poor baby! You're overwhelmed with the need to liberate your baby from the confines you've subjected him too, so you run upstairs (ha. Okay, say waddle?), stripping all layers off of you (I never realized that undershirt was so tight!), all the while just feeling your belly expand in the open air. Was he feeling squashed all day??! What have I done?? You swear to never wear anything tight again (just wait till tomorrow morning when you're bloat-free and reaching for those jeans with the low-rise elastic band.), as you pull on your loosest sleep shorts and comb your shirts for something comfy that will not only fit over your gargantuan basketball belly, but also allow your baby to swim freely in his newly expanded tank (don't laugh. It really feels like that some days.).

That's when you see it. The shirt. You remember it. That one you said you wouldn't wear because your mom used to wear shirts just like that when she was pregnant with you. That one that you laughed at, thinking confidently that you'd NEVER be big enough to make that shirt not look frumpy. That's the one. You slowly pull it out of it's hiding place. Hm. It doesn't look as big as I thought it did before. In fact... it feels pretty good! You waddle your big ol' self over to the mirror and do the check. You know the check – Side. Side. Hand under belly. Both hands on belly. Straight on. It doesn't look so bad – Heck, I could wear this to work tomorrow! It's pretty cute!

See what you just put yourself through? Anything is cute when it's comfy. And alas, you have reached the point of no return. You used to roll your eyes when she said fashion doesn't matter – just wear what's comfortable. Aaaand here you are. Mom status.

Yep. That shirt. I wore two of them today.  

Baby Brain

Baby is definitely on my brain, but that's not what I'm talking about. Baby Brain is a condition that sets all pregnant women apart from the norm. Before I actually became pregnant myself, I always thought that Baby Brain was just an excuse pregnant women use to get away with being spacey. Now, even pre-baby I tended to be somewhat spacey on occasion already – it doesn't take much for me to have a “spacey day.” I thought, well, I've done that before – how much worse can it really be? Ah, let me tell you... much, much worse.

At work, I normally start the day super focused. I'll get my coffee (under 200 mg or decaf, OF COURSE), enjoy the crisp spring sunshine, and head off to work ready to conquer the task list that lies ahead. But something happens around 10:00. I've answered emails, met with my coworkers, and then one thing, ONE TINY THING can set me off for the rest of the day. Today, I was working on our employees' work schedule for three weeks out, and I flipped the calendar page and Freaked. Out. Seriously, ask my coworker! I'm pretty sure she would tell you that my eyes got huge, I grabbed the table, and looked like I just saw a centipede on my nose. I saw... JUNE. It's almost June!! The thought of that floored me (and to be honest, I'm still floored and trying to recover) for the rest of the day. You know what that means? June will be over in the blink of an eye and then summer will be almost over, and then our son will be born at any minute!!!! I wanted to scream, “I'M NOT READY!!!”

Okay, I know that sounds extreme, but this is just 10 seconds in the brain of a pregnant lady. For the rest of the day, Baby Brain led me through a journey of heavy-heartness where I felt like I was going to cry with no emotional stimulation whatsoever to super-spaciness where I would be counting to four – FOUR!! - and I would lose count. (Wait, Was that orange or yellow? Was I counting East or West? Did I count East yet? Okay, 4 people upstairs – no 3. No 4. I still have to count East. I'm hungry.)

 Somewhere in the midst of this mess, I got myself good and overwhelmed enough to warrant the warning signs of a panic attack, which I haven't felt in months. Thanks to an understanding workplace, I was able to walk outside and lay in the grass under a bright green tree, watching soul-cleansing wind blow the leaves of weaping willow trees in the distance across a country field. I needed that. Once I got home, I printed out my two registries, plopped my pregnant self on the couch with a giant mason jar of water (summer survival tactic, really), and proceeded to make notes next to each item as I confirmed to myself that yes, we will have everything we need before Gavin arrives. And we don't need that much right away anyway. All will be well.

And what was the reason for my panic? Remember back at 10:00 when I flipped the calendar from May to June? Yep. That's it right there. I'm due in September.