Here's Your Sign...

When I became pregnant, I fully expected to become engrossed in all those baby and birthing shows plastered on cable. You know the ones... A Baby Story, Birth Day, NICU... the list goes on and on.

But I've come to find out that I don't want to see anyone else's horror show. At this point in my pregnancy (5 1/2 months or 22 weeks), the prospect of labor still scares the crap out of me (which, coincidentally I've heard happens during labor). I will totally admit I am creeped out by the site of babies when they are first born. They're coated in blood and white goop, often have purple and wrinkly skin, and scream to high heaven (I guess I would too, if I were plucked from a warm, cozy womb and thrust into cold, sterile birthing environments).

But there is one show that bugs, annoys and appalls me every time I see a clip of it on 'The Soup.' You can probably guess where I'm going with this if you've ever stumbled on to Discovery Health.

It's called 'I Didn't Know I Was Pregnant.'

Now, I'm not trying to pass judgment on the women featured in this fine piece of television, nor am I meaning to sound crass, but the junior-high phrase 'dropping the kids off at the pool' takes on a whole new meaning when you watch this show. Seriously - does every episode have to end with a woman taking a dump and whoops! - out comes a baby??!!

There have been so many signs that I am clearly, most definitely, preggers that it is hard to believe other women could have missed their signs. So... in the vein of Jeff Foxworthy... here's your sign that you're knocked up:

Do you gag, dry heave and occasionally puke when you brush your teeth? Guess what, you're pregnant.

Have your feet 'suddenly' grown outside the soles of your shoes? Just a heads up, you're knocked up.

Do your farts smell so bad you could clear out an entire concert hall - even those folks in the nosebleeds? Yep, you've got a bun in the oven.

When you spit water out of your mouth in the shower, does it hit your stomach instead of heading straight for the drain like it did before? You'll be a mum in 9 months.

Does your tummy flip and flop as soon as you lay down at night? You don't have gas, you have a womb.

Can you eat an entire bag of Bertolli meals-for-two by yourself? You're not fat, you're pregnant.

Are your rings the casing around your sausage fingers - especially in the morning? You'll be changing diapers soon.

Have your arms suddenly started playing Bingo by themselves? Blame the baby.

Is your underwear taking up residence in your butt crack? Guess what, your hips don't lie, you'll soon have a munchkin by your side.

Do you find yourself mixing up words, misplacing your keys or forgetting items on the grocery list? You're not losing your mind, you're getting a nugget.

Do you look like you should buy stock in Proactive? Don't do it - you can't use it anyway - you're preggo.

At the end of the day, are your ankles the size of your thighs? It's not bloat, it's a baby.

Does your normally rolly, polly (or at least soft and girly) stomach feel like there is something from the movie 'Aliens' inside it? You got it - there is.

Do you have at least one hot flash a day? It's not menopause, it's gestation!

Does an episode of Drop Dead Diva where a man is fighting to retain custody of his chimpanzee from his ex-wife bring you to a sobbing, snotty mess of tears? You are SOOOOOO pregnant.

Obviously, I'm writing these examples from my own experiences of growing Butterball inside me - and honestly, I wouldn't change a minute of it. I love being pregnant.

But I'd love to hear your signs Lady Foxworthy's!!

Just don't tell me you pooped and out came your kid.

The Best Of....

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The Weight of Mommyhood

I am not a thin girl. By doctors’ standards, I’m not obese either. I’m what people refer to as an athletic-looking girl. That’s a nice way of saying I’m chunky. Boys in this category are called husky. Whatever you call it, the truth is I’ve got meat on my bones.

Weight has always been an issue for me. When I was younger my brother would torment me by asking if I’d painted my jeans on (nowadays that may be a compliment to those women who can wear ‘skinny jeans,’ another style that is off-limits to my squishy body). As I got older, and trained harder for sports, my body leveled off. Through high school and college, I weighed between 145 and 150 pounds. Not bad for a 5’8” frame. Again, I’ve never been a thin girl but during those years much of my weight came from muscle.

Then a funny thing happened when I moved to the Midwest. I discovered foods like tater tot hot dish (a casserole to my non-plains readers out there), slow-cooked roasts and broasted chicken, and I re-discovered comfort food favorites I had long ago given up like potatoes and lasagna.

I also fell in love with SuperFutureDad (he’s the cook responsible for all those yummy dishes). And the time I had been devoting to the gym and staying in shape, quickly gave way to cozy nesting nights with him on the couch, each of us with our own bucket of popcorn. Needless to say, I began gobbling down the memory of what I used to look like with fistfuls of buttery kernels.

And then I got a vicious wake-up call. Earlier this summer, I went to the doctor to talk about having a baby. I stepped on the scale, fearing the worst, and nearly dropped an F-bomb when I read the number: 178 pounds. Ok, that was SO MUCH worse than I expected. I finally accepted what I knew to be true; I was no longer ‘athletic.’

Immediately my head filled with dreadful images of what pregnant me would look – and feel - like. Shapeless muumuu’s on TV. Four chins. Gestational diabetes. More rolls than the local bakery. Shortness of breath. Cankles. Hypertenstion. The list was endless. I weighed so much, my doctor told me I should only gain 15-25 pounds during gestation. I knew for a fact that most of my skinny friends gained about 30. What a blow. I felt like Shamu. Only Shamu, being a whale and all, is actually allowed to gain upwards of 400 pounds during a pregnancy (technically, Shamu is a boy, but you get the idea).

As I left the doctors office, I vowed to shape up before getting pregnant. Sounds slightly counterproductive, eh? But for me, being the ‘athletic girl’ has always been my thing. It’s what helps keeps me shopping at the same stores that advertise in my favorite magazines, and most importantly, it’s what has kept me healthy. Healthy enough to have a safe pregnancy. Healthy enough to be an active mother. Healthy enough to be around for a long time for my kids. I’ll never be a MILF, but I do want to be a good example of how a healthy, athletic mother should live her life; if for no one else than for me and my family.

So, I’ve got yoga and dance classes on my roster for fall. Anyone want to join me?