Be the Baby

For me it is really inconvenient to be pregnant, as I’m sure longtime readers have gathered (x, x, x, etc.). Even when I’m mostly done throwing up, I have to nibble constantly, and pee every thirty seconds, and sleep long nights with highly recommended midday naps. It is hard to be a functioning adult, much less make it out the door.

The other day I had to waddle across a ballroom to use the bathroom for the second time in one speech, and I felt like that bit in Monty Python and the Holy Grail, just running and running and making absolutely no progress while folks looked on dispassionately. I can never decide whether I hate more in early pregnancy when I feel like trash but look normal, or late in pregnancy where I am so self consciously giant but people go out of their way to be kind, mostly.

I constantly run late these days because I have to pee one more time or grab a snack. I fight with the big kid that he has to put on his own shoes because I can’t bear to bend over. And when I’ve won, I celebrate victory by peeing again.

But you know what? I hate to admit it, but that’s kind of what I signed up for with this baby thing. Nausea and heartburn will fade, but that inconvenience? It’ll be here for quite a ways past pregnancy. It’s called a Baby. I think I’ve heard of them before.

So I try to remember when I’m fed up with my ridiculous eating schedule or whatever that in order to have the baby, I must first Be the Baby. And just as it is when the baby is actually here, sometimes that’s fun (guilt free ice cream / newborn snuggles) and sometimes that’s oppressively inconvenient (packing three snacks for a morning of VBS / newborn nights).

Growing a baby is hard work, and it turns me into a baby, but there are, after all, few sweeter things in life than the real baby I’m assembling with every nap, every fistful of dried apricots, every bonkers nesting impulse.

The other morning, while Pippin was putting my compression socks on for me so I didn’t have to roll around struggling, he said cheerfully that he’d be happy to help with other things, too. “I can pick your nose anytime you like!” he offered blithely.

Be the Baby. It’s the deal. I’m just getting a head start.

Previous pregnancy, maybe 33 weeks.

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