Pregnancy Confessions: Volume Five

I need to preface this by saying I started it a week ago, and am now coming back in a calmer, clearer, less hormonal state of mind. So it might be slightly watered down from its original form, but the sentiment is the same. And I think the sentiment, in general, could best be described with this:

I need to get this off my chest. And dammit, it's my blog, so I'm going to. And if you're offended, tough luck, don't read it. And if you make a comment on this post  that I don't like, I might just delete it. BECAUSE THAT'S WHAT KIND OF MOOD I'M IN!

By the way, I do not need you to remind me that I'm only feeling this way because of the unGodly amount of hormones coursing through my body. I'm well-aware the effects that pregnancy is having on every. single. aspect. of my life.

Maybe this isn't so much a confession as it is a rant. But if I start a blog series of pregnancy rants, I might come across bitchy and unreasonable, which is not the sweet, life-supporting vision that people like to have in their mind of pregnant women. So I'm going to keep calling it a confession, because I'm confessing that I'm just about fed up.

What am I fed up with, you may ask? Oh, you must not have seen my Facebook or Twitter posts recently. That's ok, here's the abridged version:

Ben & I are going to the mountains of MD with my cousins and some of their friends next weekend, a trip we planned before we knew I was pregnant. The weekend will include skiing and/or snowboarding, drinking, eating, hot tubbing, spa visits, and who knows what else ... or any combination thereof, for any given attendee. We have a few unexpected openings in the house and my cousin asked me to see if any of our friends were interested, so I posted it on facebook.

big. freakin. mistake.

Within an hour, there were ten comments nay-saying questioning my ability to do any of the aforementioned activities. I know these comments are made by friends and family members who love me and are concerned for my well-being and that of the baby - I get it, I do. But here's how it comes across, at first glance, to a hormonal mom-to-be: you're insinuating that I don't know what I can and cannot do, just because I'm a first-time mom, and you're questioning my judgement or ability to research the exact same articles you've found, and you're basically telling me that I have no clue what I'm doing. That's how it comes across, that's all I'm saying.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Now then (and this is from the clearer, calmer, less hormonal part of me, a later addition to the earlier-written original post), I really do know that people are just trying to help. I know there is nothing malicious in their intent and that similar advice (whatever was the medical / social standard at the time) was given to them during their pregnancy. I appreciate most of the advice and try to graciously listen to all of it and decide later what I will and will not put to use. I'm not trying to berate anyone or make them feel bad about the things they've said / continue to say to me. All I'm saying is that sometimes, it gets to be a little bit much. I guess this whole post is a confession after all, because here's the thing:

I don't know what I'm doing. 

I research, I ask questions, I call my doctor's office, I read blogs and forums. But I have to figure it out on my own, just like every other first time mom did. I have to figure out what works for me during my pregnancy, and what works for us as a family once she's here. So I'm really trying not to get upset about it, and I'm trying to learn how to appropriately respond. But as much as I have to bear with all the people who feel the need to force feed me unsolicited advice about every topic under the sun, you'll have to bear with me while I find my balance. And for those of you who can do that, I genuinely appreciate you.

And in case you're wondering, you can give me whatever advice you want if you start with telling me how great I look :) Pregnant women eat that shit up.