Five Things My Pregnant Friend Doesn’t Know But Needs to Know

Dear beautiful pregnant friend,

Look how cute you are with your sweet little basketball belly and that nubbin of a button poking through your fitted maternity shirt. Isn’t it sweet, that pregnancy glow? I’m sorry it’s about to end.

pregnant belly

The thing is, my dear friend, they (whoever they are) don’t tell you everything. In fact, they don’t tell you shit, so lucky for you, I’ll give it to you straight. A few things you should know before that rib kicking uterus invader escapes:

  1. If you deliver your baby from your vagina, be prepared that sitting for at least a week is almost completely off limits. You are swollen and possibly stitched. You just squeezed a baby through a tiny little slit, and said slit will be very angry. In fact, your vagina will be screaming in rebellion at the turmoil you’ve just put her through. Thankfully you have me, and I’ve been there with the same obnoxious vagina. They may tell you about sits baths while your legs are still spread on the table as your doctor stitches up your taint. Take them as often as you can. They will help. Kind of. The hospital is going to give you these very ugly mesh panties along with what appears to be a year supply of horse pads. Take those bitches home with you. Have your baby’s daddy buy CVS’s entire supply of Tuck’s pads and place them near your toilet. Every time you pee, place as many tucks pads on that giant horse pad so that you can then feel the sweet relief that comes when you cool down your pissed off labia. This is the closest thing you’re going to have to an orgasm for a while.
  2. Remember when you said something about how awful your last period was? *laughs maniacally* You don’t know bad yet, darling. You see, you’re about to bleed for eternity, or at least it will feel like it, and it’s a lot of blood, a never ending red sea into a horse pad. Be prepared to ruin panties, clothes, and even furniture. There is no maxi pad equipped to absorb that much liquid, and again, if aforementioned baby came out of your vagina, nothing can go in for at least six weeks. It’s scary because it’s true.
  3. After angry vagina begins to feel normal again, you might notice that it doesn’t look the same. That once pretty seductive temptress will never look the same. You should probably take a picture of your pretty vagina before you deliver that precious baby just so you can remember it and mourn its once lush attractiveness. In fact, if I could go back, I would hire a professional photographer to take photos of spread eagle me and have my pretty kitten displayed all over my house. As art work.  Have you seen a turkey waddle? You will. Soon. I’m sorry.
  4. You know how your boobs are perky and full? Go ahead and have that photographer take a few shots of those cute little melons while he’s there. Because they get even more full. Porn star full. Or engorged. Whatever. Then they get unfull. Very unfull. Deflated balloons. Imagine what it looks like when you put a mandarin orange in a tube-sock. Hold it up, and let it dangle there. Meet your post baby boobs. But before they deflate, you’re going to put them through a whole new hell you’ve never known, should you choose to breastfeed. (If you don’t, that’s okay even if your mom and your Aunt Mildred think otherwise.) Your nipples, now surrounded by giant silver dollar sized areolas which now resemble the color of that giant glass of Malbec you’re drinking just to maintain sanity, will ache and burn and often feel like razors escaping through your skin. Sometimes they will leak. Sometimes during award ceremonies while you’re on stage wearing a nude colored dress. Or while you’re shopping at Target. Either way, it’s normal. It happens to all of us. You might also experience what’s called a clogged milk duct. Discomfort doesn’t even begin to describe this experience, but as my mom and your mom and our grandmothers have always said, this too shall pass. Even if it passes slowly. And painfully.
  5. Having a baby is a very emotional time. You might cry when he’s born. You might not, and that’s okay. You’re going to cry a lot. For no reason. Possibly because you haven’t slept more than fourteen straight minutes since the child descended from your formerly contoured abdomen. You might be experiencing baby blues (which are totally normal). Perhaps you’re just mourning that pretty pink vagina and those cute perky boobs with tiny areolas. It’s okay to cry. You and the baby can compete.  It goes away, your crying not his. You won’t be an emotional mess forever, and eventually, you’ll even figure out what the shit the kid is crying for and possibly be able to fix it.

It sounds pretty bad, huh? This whole parenting thing? It isn’t. Aside from a turkey waddle and sleepless nights, it’s the best experience life can give you. You made a person, a precious little breathing person.

You are a goddamned superhero. A rock star. A legend.

There’s no greater gift than that precious baby in there kicking you in the ribs. He’s going to make you laugh, make you cry, make you proud, and drive you crazy, and you’re going to love almost every minute of it. Congratulations, and welcome to the club. Gobble gobble.

P.S.  You’ll forget all about these things and want to do it again. Maybe.

890

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39 thoughts on “Five Things My Pregnant Friend Doesn’t Know But Needs to Know

      • Good question. But I was terrified with my first baby and thought due to over reading and lots of unsolicited advice that he might actually starve to death should I not stick him on my boob every two hours. With my second, she slept 6 straight hours her first night home. I learned. Never ever wake a sleeping baby. Even if it’s to eat. But your pediatrician might tell you otherwise, and you do what you think is best. I am not a parenting expert.

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    • I just had my first 5 weeks ago, and no, I don’t think you should be petrified. (I’m one-handed typing this as I breastfeed. 🙂 There’s truth in everything she wrote here insofar as I’ve experienced, but it sounds worse when you read about it, in some parts, than it really was for me. It’s tough, but by far the coolest thing I’ve ever done! Plus, once I delivered that baby, I felt like a bad ass. Be proud of yourself for what you’ve done! It’s no easy thing! Just remember it’s different for everyone. I had tons of people freaking me out beforehand, but don’t let them! You got this.

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      • Oh wow! Congratulations, Katie, and a big, tight hug (not tight enough to squeeze the juice out of your boobs, but close enough to let the warmth seep through)! 🙂
        I’d like to feel like I’m bad ass, too; god knows I’m trying to avoid being sucked into the fear vortex, but it does happen once in a while, especially when I’m subjected to the acoustic version of “better inside than out” by women who’ve given birth. 😀
        But these same women ALWAYS end by saying it’s all worth it in the end (not-so-subtle reference to our friend Mandi 😉 ) so I think I’m going to be okay!

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  1. You nailed this, M. All so very, horrifyingly, blissfully true. And remember that weird ass phenomenon, where you’d hear a baby cry while grocery shopping and your boobs would feel like worms were squirming in them…and then you’d leak milk? IT WAS SO WEIRD. It happened to me for like a year. I still feel it sometimes, but now without the milk part. Boobs are weird. And awesome.
    My feet are a half size bigger because of pregnancies. My hair changed color. My body shape is totally different. It’s all so bizarre.

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    • Oh I had a few more things and cut them. Like how your torso lengthens and all of a sudden your tops are all too short. And how you have to often go up a size in shoes. My hair is curly. And frizzier. Wtf!!??

      Yes. That milk worm let down thing when you hear a baby cry. We are a bunch of freaks.

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      • The first one was pretty horrific as it was an emergency one, but the second one was planned and to be honest it was an absolute breeze from start to finish. One minute I was lying on an operating table chatting to some surgeons; the next minute they were handing me my son. Feel free to hate me or whatever. 😛

        Breastfeeding…now THAT was an entirely different story.

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  2. This was HIGH-larious!! I think I might of peed my pants a little – not sure it was from laughing or the few jumping jacks that I did. Great post Mandi, gobble gobble.

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  3. My crotch hurts now, and I birthed my last baby 14 years ago. Thanks for reminding me of all the fun! I still have a few of those horse pads somewhere in my bathroom; they make great Barbie mattresses.

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