12/04/2014 04:29 pm ET Updated Dec 06, 2017

The Flips and Flops of Summer Pregnancy

If you are thinking about getting pregnant this time of year... keep in mind what a summer pregnancy looks like!

As a teacher's aid, having the summer off last year before my due date was great... for the first few weeks. I got soooo much accomplished, but once all the errands were finished and everyone else was working, several months off by myself got a little mundane. Add on the fact that being 8 months pregnant hindered the amount of physical work or activity I could take on in a day as well. So for those of you curious to what being unemployed and pregnant in the summer looked like for me... read on.

7:30 am: First, I wake up... or maybe I just blinked... did I even sleep? I spent all night trying to get comfortable amongst a never-ending mass of pregnancy pillows that were propped and squeezed underneath curves and bumps I didn't even know I had. In the wee hours of the night I finally managed to get comfortable enough to start drifting into a sleepy abyss... and then... yup....I just threw up in my mouth. We meet again acid reflex. So, after dining on a moonlit snack of orange, berry and grape-flavored Tums, I managed to fall into sleep... AKA into pregnancy dreams. No one warned me how random these would be! Wrestling alligators in Madonna's backyard, oversea voyages on Robin William's personal yacht, being a backup dancer for Prince's come-back tour or the time I kept forgetting my child in the checkout line. So, after sleeping in 45 minutes increments all night, I am out of bed by 8:00 a.m. and in serious need of a nap already. I make myself a peanut butter-laden bagel and corrupt my innocence watching Desperate Housewives in some faraway land.

9:00 a.m.: I start cleaning. Whatever I can find to clean, that is. Because I have already cleaned my house... like REALLY cleaned my house, like borderline OCD cleaned my house. I've already vacuumed out all my cupboards, cleaned the fridge and freezer, dusted the baseboards, organized my pantry, color-coordinated my closet, refolded my linens, purged and donated household items, labelled electric cords, sorted through all of my cosmetic items, organized my craft room, polished the wood furniture and tidied my shoe closet. So, my big clean of the day is putting away last night's dishes and sweeping the kitchen. Woop de doo.... Now what...

9:45 a.m.: Gym time! I complete an Olympic-style dive into my workout pants and manually squash myself into my workout top and I'm already sweating. I arrive at the gym and spend the first 10 minutes strategically positioning myself on the stationary bike. I start pedaling and knock the wind out of myself. Apparently, my knees now encounter my stomach. Well... I guess my body is no longer ergonomically correct to ride the bike. So, up to the weight room to start my workout. After breaking a sweat from merely stretching, I grab my weights. I start grunting like a wild animal and every time I switch from a standing to seated position, I need to put my head between my knees so I don't pass out. Finally, an hour later, my workout is done, but I still have to get back off my yoga mat. (Ever see a beetle stuck on it's back? Yeah, that's a pretty accurate description)

11:00 a.m.: I have some time to kill before lunch, so I decide to go shopping.... for nothing specific that I need, everything I want and nothing that I have money to buy. Ever went clothes shopping while 8 months pregnant!? It's like trying to fit a watermelon in a gum wrapper. I was determined that I wasn't going to waste money on overpriced prego clothes. I don't need a $55 undershirt that will sit in my closet collecting dust after only wearing it for a couple months. So, no maternity stores for me. Which leaves me shopping in my favorite stores where my body fits... well, nothing.... and how do you shop for a body that seems to change overnight anyways? You don't. But I on the other hand, naively take a bunch of trendy clothes into the change room that I assume still fit, only to realize that I can't even come close to buttoning up those cute skinny jeans. Partially because they are five sizes too small, and secondly because I can't see over my belly to figure out where the buttons are, anyways. So I put the clothes back and waddle out of the mall.

12:00 p.m.: I'm home, so I make myself what I feel constitutes as lunch (soda crackers and cheese, a banana, a couple cookies and a popsicle) and yet again sit on the couch for 20 minutes convincing myself that I need a robotic mop from the shopping channel. Now what?! Nothing to do around the house. I've already cleaned, exercised and went shopping. Hmmmm, It's summer time, so I guess I'll go to the beach?! I slather up my belly with sunscreen, and hope that I can bend over far enough to get some sunscreen on my legs. I can only reach my knees... screw it... good enough. Then I slap on my bathing suit and moo-moo cover-up, pack my beach bag and floaty mattress, drive to the beach and set up my towel.

1:00 p.m. Now, time to relax... not so fast. I'm pregnant, so the assumed tanning position of lying on my back is out of the question. Ooohh, I'll lie on my stomach... oh wait! I have three new mounds to accommodate for. I could dig out a small burrow in the sand underneath me?! Oh, who am I kidding?! I'd be digging a hole comparable to a WWII trench before I'd be comfortable enough to lie face down. I guess I lie on my side?! That's uncomfortable, awkward and makes for poor tan lines. I guess it's time to float on the water. I pump up my air mattress, which leaves me panting and sweaty and head into the water. Once I'm waist deep, I decide to get on my floaty. I forget that my greased up sunscreen body has absolutely no friction when trying to beach myself up onto a slippery wet plastic floaty. After I elegantly shoot across the top of my mattress headfirst into the water, I realize this isn't as easy as it looks. I finally manage to get onto my air mattress (with a mild case of indecent exposure to nearby boaters) and I relax. Twenty minutes later my back hurts, my neck is sore, I'm hungry and my calves are sun burnt. I head back to shore, have a snack (sitting cross-legged with my belly resting on my thighs is a far cry from an attractive view) and repeat the process of getting on the floaty all over again. Two hours later I'm bored, frustrated and physically exhausted.

3:00 p.m.: After a cold shower and donning comfy clothes, I guess I'll relax and read. I grab my novel, set my favorite zero-gravity chair in the shade and read my book. An hour into my book, my back is buckling under the weight of my belly... zero gravity, my ass.... maybe if I was submerged underwater or on a space craft that would be more accurate. I'm fighting to keep my eyes open, so back in the house for a nap.

4:00 p.m. I'm finally nestled into the seemingly shrinking narrow couch.... with every decorative pillow propped around me. After battling to find a comfy position, I finally head into my room and try to get comfortable there.

5:00 p.0.m I'm in bed and I think I might be able to actually get some sleep. It's probably only 3 in the afternoon, so I have lots of time.

5:15 p.m.: Hubby walked in the door after my brief 14-minute nap and says "Hi baby! You look like you've had a relaxing day... what are we doing for dinner?"

Awwwww, crap... I guess we're eating macaroni and cheese.

So, for those of you that envy pregnant unemployed life... it's not as glamorous as it sounds. Sure, in an ideal world it would be. If I wasn't pregnant, I'd be sipping wine and eating soft cheeses on a patio with a girlfriend after a long and successful day of shopping for beautiful clothes that fit my lean body, then head home relaxed and energized to prepare a beautiful dinner. But no... I'm 8 months pregnant sipping water and eating Tums by myself after a long and exhausting day of trying to fit into skinny jeans, followed by practically drowning myself at the lake only to come home too exhausted to even think of dinner and too prego to be able to get comfortable enough for a nap.

Just another day in the life of a stay-at-home pregnant wife... but hey. It's not that bad. After all, if for the next seven weeks I accomplish nothing else, I'm still doing the best thing ever.... creating a new life. Id say that's a pretty big accomplishment.


"I see all those moms who can do everything and then I think... I should have them do some stuff for me." ~ Author Unknown