The 10 Hardest Things About Being 10 Weeks Pregnant

2.  Simply looking fat and exhausted to strangers who fail to notice your supposed “glow” and just think you were dealt an unfortunate genetic hand. 

Or, in my case, coworkers who didn’t know I was pregnant who thought I must have stopped taking care of myself because I “used to be so pretty.”

3.    Remembering not to lift even moderately heavy things like baskets of laundry, groceries, your 4 year old son or  your fabulous Coach handbag that weighs 50 pounds even empty.

4. Becoming obsessed with food and knowing you have 30 more weeks of obsession ahead of you.

When will my next meal be?  What will my next meal be? Will this make me sick? Is this safe to eat? How long do we have to wait for a table? Where the hell is my salad dressing?

5. Your freakishly long hair and nails will begin to frighten small children.

Damn those prenatal vitamins. Sure, they give your peanut all the nutrients your horrid diet isn’t, but they make your hair and nails grow ridiculously fast and if you aren’t booking your haircuts every 4 weeks and carrying nail clippers in your fabulous bag, you’re gonna start looking scary…like I did.

6. Living in fear of something happening to your belly or your boobies.

Your belly is growing and getting in the way of more and more things. Every time your seatbelt clinches tight around you, you cringe. Every time you lean over a table or desk, you cringe. It’s the mothering instinct. Boobies, well that’s just a self-preservation thing. Your boobies, like your belly have grown to mammoth proportions and they are sore, very sore. If you have children, you already know that toddlers and boobies don’t mix. Your adorable toddler simply cannot refrain from elbowing, somehow kicking or throwing things at your boobies. Don’t ask me why, it’s just a fact of life to which there is no answer. Faterity fashion should include a titanium bra or something of the sort.

7. Your parents and other embarrassing people suddenly knowing things about your female biology that they shouldn’t.

You sheepishly tell your mom or your aunts certain things, but then they tell their husbands and stuff and before you know it, you are the center of a roundtable discussion on things like incompetent cervix, fibroids and yeast infections.

8. Your loss of “Supermom” powers.

Prepregnancy, I was on top of things like dental appointments, snack days, cleaning, laundry, groceries and the like. I guess the secret to supermom powers doesn’t root from multi-tasking and organization as scientists have previously reported. Rather, supermom powers rely, above all things, on a general feeling of health and well-being. I as felt neither healthy, nor well, my powers had been stripped from me and aside from feeling mildly guilty, I really just didn’t even feel good enough to care.

9. Selfishness becomes you. Just as your growing baby consumes all of your life-blood, energy, nutrition, and formerly shapely waist, you too become your own selfish monster.

When I became a mother the first time, I learned the hard way how selfish I really was. I wasn’t selfish in a mean way, just selfish in an independent way. I mourned the leisurely afternoons of lunching with my girlfriends, the joy of an afternoon nap or simply getting a pedicure. Pregnancy brought out selfishness in me, and with pregnancy #2, I became selfish in a mean way. I must have resented how bad I felt or something because I felt like I shouldn’t have to do anything since lying on the couch and moaning seemed to occupy all my free time. I didn’t feel good and besides, I was doing the hardest job of all, creating a life inside myself. Gimme a break if I didn’t feel like unloading the dishwasher!

10. In the spirit of Item 9, I feel that pregnant woman I should be entitled to certain rights and privileges that have yet to be set in motion by my Congressman.

These rights and privileges include, but are not limited to: a flexible work schedule to be determined at the pregnant woman’s discretion, a pregnancy-plaque for closer parking at the mall, a universal pass that allows pregnant women to cut in line at the bathroom, and finally, their own driving lane on the freeway. When I was pregnant I felt that If I left the house 20 minutes late because I’d been puking all morning, I should not have to be punished for arriving late due to traffic. Further, if my maternity pantyhose were really digging into me at the end of the day, I deserved the fastest means possible to get my ass home so I can rip them off. It’s only fair.