It's hard not to feel a little special when you are pregnant. Strangers smile at you on the street. People run to hold open the door for you at the local store. Coworkers want to touch your adorable belly. They even have juice and water for you at the maternity clothing store! I mean, how much more VIP can you get than that? Being pregnant is fabulous, right? Yes, pregnancy is a glorious miracle of nature. But then there's the end of pregnancy. Those last few months/weeks/days that seem to drag on endlessly. You are no longer just pregnant... you are Really. Freakin'. Pregnant. Which is a whole different beast.
You no longer walk... you waddle. Like a big fat duck. And there's not a damn thing you can do about it. Parking lots freak you out because you're afraid the person next to you will park too close and you won't be able to fit in your car.
You snapped at your husband when he moved your magazine from the bed to the night table. You almost had a panic attack when the checkout guy asked you, "Paper or plastic?" You cried for five minutes straight when you realized the Subway guy forgot the mayo on your sandwich.
It's OK, you're pregnant.
The idea of shaving below the belt is laughable. You have shown your hoo-ha so much in the last nine months, you feel like a porn star. The word "modesty" is no longer even in your vocabulary.
Your AC bill is through the roof because you are constantly hot and sweaty. Your pregnancy pillow gets more action than your husband. You have more "accidents" than a newly potty-trained toddler.
It's OK, you're pregnant.
You no longer even attempt to blame your gas on the dog. You burp like a frat boy after a beer-chugging competition. You and your pharmacist have become BFFs because of your weekly heartburn remedy discussions.
You stay up until all hours of the night scouring Pinterest for the perfect nursery decor. Your free time is no longer spent on leisure activities, but instead is spent looking up reviews for strollers, baby carriers and car seats. You visit the baby section of every local store at least five times a week.
It's OK, you're pregnant.
You have snacks hidden everywhere so you are never more than 10 feet from food. You're pretty sure you could go head to head with the world's competitive eating champ (especially if you're eating ice cream). The food combinations you've come to love would gross out the guy from Bizarre Foods.
Your boobs rest awkwardly on the top of your belly when you sit down. You give the term "cankles" a whole new meaning. When you attempt to get up from bed, you look like a drunk, arthritic worm.
It's OK, you're pregnant.
You are out of breath and sweaty just from getting dressed in the morning. You are sure that scaling Mount Kilimanjaro would be easier than tying your shoes. You are getting so big that you are starting to realize that even elastic has its breaking point.
You get overly excited to read your Babycenter weekly pregnancy update. You obsessively Google every single symptom you have to make sure it's "normal." You worry that every single feeling in your stomach might be a contraction.
Seriously. It's OK. You're pregnant.
You are an amazing woman who is literally creating a baby. Your body is home to a new life that will soon be part of this world. You are feeling so many contrasting emotions, and sometimes you don't even know what to think or feel. It's OK to be nervous. It's OK to be antsy. It's OK to be scared. It's OK not to know what you feel. It's OK, you're pregnant.
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