I haven’t bought in to a lot of the pregnancy advice that’s out there … deli meat, real coffee, and heaven forbid, a spoonful of raw cookie dough have all passed my lips in the last 37 weeks. Go ahead and judge me. I’ve discovered there’s a magical quality to the ninth month of pregnancy – it settles over your shoulders like a weightless coat of armor and allows you to simply focus on doing what you think is best for baby and you, and not to give a fig what the rest of the world thinks. In my case, it’s also allowed me to finally turn the melter off from underneath the beeswax, and take a nap.
Of course, the ninth month is notorious not for empowerment, but for moans and groans and general whines. And when Honeydew was home for a visit from California, I did some of that, in the privacy of my no-longer-comfortable couch. But I’ve had too many dear friends struggle with infertility to complain much about pregnancy … Honeydew and I wanted this baby (clearly, we need some help around here!), and when I get a little bit miserable, I try to think of those friends, and all the women in the world who wish they could have children, but cannot, for various reasons. And I try not to complain. I try to focus on how lucky I am, how lucky this baby is to be so wanted, so loved already.
But still – for your amusement, I’d like to share a few snippets of just what the rest of the world thinks about my pregnancy. And they think plenty. And aren’t afraid to approach me, pregnant woman they’ve never seen before, and offer their opinion on the contents of my grocery cart (Honey, I hope you’re not drinking that Bud Light. You know, it’s not good for your baby. Well, it’s probably not good for my houseguests, either, but they need may need it in order to put up with me after the mood you’ve put me in, thanks), my midsection’s size (My Word! You look like you’re 42 weeks! Are you sure you should be out grocery shopping?), and, having survived the grocery-ing and preparing for trip home, my much anticipated order at the coffee bar (Americano, room for cream, please; Barista: Don’t you think you should have a decaf, sweetheart? No, I don’t want a decaf, it’s 2pm and I’ve been thinking about this glorious cup of coffee since I woke up at 4:30am and couldn’t get back to sleep and I’ve got 150 miles and 1,500 potholes on Hwy 2 to go. Don’t ruin it for me!).
Whooo. Feeling better! Though mama says it will get even worse once I have said Baby with me in the grocery cart.
But there is one piece of advice I’ve taken to heart, and I’ve abided by it more days than not. Exercise, exercise, exercise.
And look what I would have missed Thursday if I hadn’t gone walking:
And look what I would have missed Saturday if I hadn’t gone walking:
Now, don’t y’all start emailing me with all the dangers of … walking. I might really do something crazy, like order that bushel of oysters on the half shell I’ve been dreaming about …
2011. Glacier County Honey Co. Some photo credits to Charlie Stone. All Rights Reserved.