The Lush Mommy Blog

I took my son to see a movie today and a lady in line looked at me and said, “You’re not going to have that baby during the movie are you?” I smiled, “No, it’s twins and I’m not due for another two months.” Her response hit me like a big fat contraction—“Oh twins! Well I thought you were too big to still have two months to go.” TOO BIG? TOO BIG? Are you kidding me right now? I couldn’t believe this woman whom I have never met just told me my stomach was big! I just pretended to be the polite, sweet looking pregnant woman and went about my business.

I started thinking about the size of my belly. Is it really that big? Do I look like a water buffalo or something? Leave it to some nosey stranger to prompt the hormonal thinking that all pregnant women have.  But I came to the conclusion that my belly, big or small is not for public comment. There’s something about being pregnant that propels strangers to make an unsolicited comments.

Here’s my rule: If you wouldn’t tell a woman her belly is big when she’s not pregnant—don’t tell her when she is.

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Pay attention new mothers to be—this one is for you!

Why is it that when women are pregnant no one sits down and tells them what to expect when the baby comes? Now I’m not talking about the normal preparations for the birth—I’m talking about the ugly stuff-- the stuff that can bring you to tears and/or a complete breakdown.

When I was six months pregnant with my son, one of my friends asked me if I was ready with the maxi pads. “What are you talking about?” She went on to inform me that after you have a vaginal birth you bleed— and it’s not just for a few days. I was shocked and actually horrified. I realized then there was much more that people weren’t telling me.

The day before the birth of my son I begrudgingly sat down to watch one of those birthing shows on The Learning Channel. I watched with tears rolling down my cheeks as this poor woman tried to push out her baby AFTER her epidural wore off. Then she screamed, “It’s burning, it’s burning.” The mid-wife stuck her head in the camera frame to whisper to the white knuckled audience. “What she’s experiencing is called The Ring of Fire.” No not the Johnny Cash song but the burning, ripping feeling you have as your baby fully crowns. Trust me—the name fits.

I was lucky to have watched that show because the very next day the same thing happened to me. My epidural wore off and yes, I felt that horrible “Ring of Fire.” What made it somewhat bearable was that I knew what was happening to me.

But there was another surprise in store—the spray bottle. Upon getting settled in my room the nurse handed me a spray bottle. She could see the confusion on my face and calmly explained that this bottle would serve as my new bathroom friend. “You can’t use toilet paper,” she said. “No toilet paper?!?” I learned then what it might have been like on the frontier.

It’s important to note that none of the books I’ve read have included all of these gory details—no, not even “The Girlfriends Guide To Pregnancy.” Not a good girlfriend if you ask me.

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For the past couple of days I’ve been struggling with a painful belly. The pain has been so constant that I haven’t had much sleep. To add to the problem, the anxiety of not knowing what is going on has left me tears. I’ve cried to my husband, at my son’s school and at the doctor’s office.

I was sure I was having contractions-- but I’m carrying twins and I’m only at 29 weeks—much too early to have these babies. So of course I got nervous and scared. I pictured a horrifying delivery, tiny babies hooked up to machines and all sorts of medical problems. Ultimately I called my doctor.

After a long wait in the doctor’s office, a sonogram and many hormonal tears I was told that indeed I was having contractions. Turns out it’s normal! Are you kidding me? Why don’t they tell you this stuff in the beginning? Apparently women who are pregnant with twins are more likely to experience contractions. Of course in some cases it does mean something serious so it’s always worth a call to your doctor.  But had I known contractions are a possibility I may not have been such an emotional wreck.

I have discovered that pregnancy is much easier to handle if you know what may or may not happen. However, it’s not always easy to get all of the information. I have yet to come across a pregnancy book with all of the gory details. Stay tuned for the next Lush Mommy entry for a little insight to the ugly side of pregnancy.

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I did a TV interview the other day and was shocked to see how I looked. When I see myself in the mirror I see my belly but the TV show was a huge reality check. I was horrified to see how big I have become. The vision was so disturbing to me that I just couldn’t look. My friend tried to console me by saying, “You’re pregnant with twins!” My response, “You’re such a liar.” It is true that I’m pregnant with twins but this weight is more than that. I’m overweight!

People are very kind when you’re pregnant but I think for me, the kindness serves as a crutch. I need someone to tell me to get my fat ass to the gym! I learned during my last pregnancy that exercise is key to maintaining a healthy pregnancy weight. Have I done anything about it this time? No.  Will I regret it? Yes.

In truth, when you’re pregnant (with one baby) you only need about 300 more calories a day. You’re not eating for two!

I think everyone tells you that you look great because they want you to be happy during you’re pregnancy. They probably feel sorry for you because you can’t even put on your own shoes anymore.

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I’m always looking for a way to save money. One of the best ways to do that is to reuse something.

I think every new mother gets a tube of lanolin nursing ointment and many don’t use the entire tube. My sister told me not to throw mine away. Her advice, use it for just about everything. My first reaction, “gross!” But if you think about it—the tube doesn’t come in contact with your boobs so why not?

I keep a tube in the car—this morning I put some on my son’s chapped lips. He hates it but it works. I also put it on his boo-boos, my lips, my cuticles, dry skin spots etc. It’s a miracle ointment! So if you have a tube for your boobs—keep it around—you never know.

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As a mother I have recently become acutely aware that I have yet another lesson to teach my son. It is a lesson I believe mothers and fathers across the country have ignored for decades. It seems no one has taught the men of our nation to keep their hands off of their crotches while in public.

I have seen men of all ages do it. It’s not only gross but also embarrassing. It seems men have no problem adjusting, scratching, flicking, moving or cupping their family jewels while having conversations, shopping or standing on the sidewalk. It’s obviously all in the name of comfort-- but does my comfort have to suffer so men can take their liberties?

I’m not a prude by any means—and sometimes things just have to be done—but men have just gone too far with this. One of my friends told me she had a father do it right in front of her during a parent-teacher conference! You don’t see women digging around down there and if you did you would be shocked.

I have realized that when men do this we all enable them by looking away. I think it’s because we don’t want to embarrass them. I say enough is enough. The next time you see a man grab, tug, pull, move or tuck down there—stare at him. Let him know that we can all see what he’s doing and no, it’s not pretty. Now who’s with me?

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Lucy and Ricky slept in separate beds as did every other 1950’s TV couple. My grandparents went a step further and slept in separate bedrooms. Lately, I’ve been thinking they were on to something. When I was little I thought it was kind of strange but my grandmother liked a hard mattress, my grandfather liked soft and he also had a horrible snoring problem. They were very much in love but kept separate bedrooms for years.

Being pregnant with twins and honestly too damn old to be pregnant, sleep does not come easy. Lately when my husband starts to snore I have resorted to kicking him out of the room. I feel bad for about a minute until I settle in to some of the best sleep I’ve had since the beginning of my pregnancy.  Is sleeping alone a luxury? To me, at least while I’m pregnant it is. To my husband it’s punishment. My response, try being pregnant.

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I know plenty of women who love everything about pregnancy. They love shopping for maternity clothes, they enjoy seeing their bellies grow and they chart every step of the process—I am NOT one of those women.  Pregnancy tends to make me cranky and a bit resentful of men—well, my husband.

For me, this pregnancy is especially difficult. It’s partly my fault-- I wasn’t in the best shape when I took the plunge and I also waited until I was 40-years-old to get pregnant for the second time. BIG mistake! Hollywood tends to glamorize older mothers but I’m here to tell you I’d rather be a 40-year-old virgin than 40 and pregnant. Of course, being pregnant with twins makes it all a bit more difficult.

I’ve got a varicose vein running from my groin to my calf. I have crops of spider veins the size of baseballs. I have chronic nasal stuffiness, back pain, exhaustion, constipation and a host of other issues I’m sure you don’t want to read about.

The worst part about feeling this way—everyone else seems to enjoy being pregnant—or at least that’s what they say. So, is it just me? Could I be the only one out there who just can’t stand what happens to my body and mind during these 10 months? Yes, they call it 9 but it’s really 10 months.

Yes, yes, I know pregnancy is a miracle and all that but I think different experiences lead to different feelings about pregnancy.  I have good days and bad days but lately I just want to get it over with.

To me, pregnancy is kind of like going to the gym—I don’t want to do it but to get an amazing end result you have to go through the process: Blood, sweat and a lot of tears.

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There’s nothing more personal than choosing a name for your child. The name may have historic or personal meaning to you and your family. So the pressure to pick the perfect name can be great. There’s also a lot of social pressure—Will your friends like the name? Will people know how to spell it? Will children make fun of him? All of these questions are part of the naming process. It’s the other part of the process that makes me crazy.

Have you picked a name yet? Have you thought about any names? These are the questions often asked by friends, family and even strangers. But when you answer the question the response is not always what you want or expect. People are brutally honest when it comes to the choice of your baby’s name. They’ll tell you if they don’t like the name and even tell you it reminds them of someone they hated in high school. Many people don’t even try to fake that they like it!

Before the birth of our first son we were thinking about a southern name that can also be used for a girl. One of our friends ripped into my husband about giving our son a girl’s name? His reasoning was actually hilarious. We all had a good laugh and promptly scratched the name off of our list. Good thing we didn’t choose the feminine name. I later discovered some research that shows boys who have girl-like names are more likely to commit crimes. That advice aside—I wish people would just zip it. If you’re not going to say something positive about the choice—DON’T ASK. But my advice to all pregnant moms—just don’t tell.

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My friend who has 3 children drives a minivan and swears by her mom machine. She even told me that I would end up driving one. My response, “I have my pride!”

We all know that when you have more than 2 kids it’s just easier to drive a minivan. But I just can’t bring myself to choose the easy option.  It’s like wearing high heels—they’re great looking but not very comfortable or practical. I’d rather be in pain at a party than wear comfortable and unattractive shoes. To me, moms who drive minivans are wearing comfortable shoes. There’s NOTHING sexy about a minivan.

Now that I’m pregnant with twins my lack of “sexiness” is driving me a bit crazy. The only thing I can do to make myself look better is to paint my nails, wear some great jewelry and buy a new car.

So yes, I’m going to end up spending more money on a car that’s a little harder to use, less practical and not so great for the environment. But I sure will look good driving it!

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