Can we talk about how when people talk about pregnancy, they don't really tell you what it's like. I mean, they might say something negative and before you can say anything else, they will undoubtedly cut you off with, "But OMG! You are SO lucky! Think of all the women who can't experience this!", or "It's so worth it though. It just is.". And it's really annoying. While pregnancy is an absolute miracle, babies are blessings (most of the time), babies are adorable (until they have an explosive poop in a baby carrier attached to you), and parenting is rewarding (until they can give back talk well enough to rival your own skills)- it's really fucking hard.
I know when I was pregnant for the first time, I had no idea what I was doing. There are not enough pregnancy websites, books, pamphlets, message boards or friends who have done it to give you enough information to make you feel like you know what to expect. Sure, you know that you'll get bigger and you'll get uncomfortable. You know that labor is scary and it's going to hurt like hell. You know it'll be exciting when you feel the first kicks and the gentle sways of baby. You'll be excited to buy baby items and prepare yourself for the next stage of life.
What they don't tell you, probably because nobody would ever get pregnant if they knew this stuff, is that pregnancy is really difficult. Even with the best and easiest pregnancies, there is always something. With Olivia I had horrendous heartburn and I thought she was too active. With Jackson I had no heartburn and he wasn't active enough, which led to me being induced. Thankfully, there wasn't anything wrong with him, he's just super lazy and that's his current personality. Right now, Penelope is a ninja beast. She is a ninja beast who if she doesn't come out with mad ninja skills warranting at least a blue belt, I'm going to be grossly disappointed. She also will likely come out looking like a chimpanzee considering the heartburn situation is a real struggle right now.
Perhaps the worst thing I'm dealing with is easily, the ninja moves.
I cannot stress enough the amount of violence this child is inflicting on me. She is active for at least 15 hours a day. Let that sink in, 15 HOURS A DAY. Does this mean this child has no intention of napping? Will she give us the middle finger at bedtime and shit herself in retaliation? Somehow, I highly doubt this is all for show because she's bored and her personality is going to do a 180 when she's born. I'm not a moron.
But right now? Right now every time she kicks, I pee myself.
I'm not even going to say I'm ashamed at saying this, because it's not like I'm being super lazy and refusing to get up and empty my bladder. No. I empty my bladder frequently. It feels glorious and for a full minute I feel like I could do anything with my empty bladder.
But then Penelope kicks and it's like she's saying, "HAHAHAHA- lemme help you out" and she kicks and swooshes and my bladder suddenly, feels like I haven't emptied in hours. Which, if I have already cleaned up and gotten myself together, I will then pee my pants. Sometimes I decide I will win the battle, and I stand up, do a little dance and/or jumping, and then sit back down forcing her hand to move so I can pee again.
Oh no. The best is when I get up in the morning and you realize right away that your bladder is very full despite not having had anything to drink in hours and you emptied it an hour ago. So full that you lay there and ask yourself if you are even going to make it to the bathroom. (Spoiler: you won't.)
Basically, it's me versus Penelope over bladder control.
I only see this ending with my water breaking in epic fashion at the exact moment it would be absolutely mortifying for it to happen. Like when I'm standing in front of dirty romance novels at Barnes & Noble. It's bound to happen there and there is no graceful way to get out of that aisle and explain the situation.
I was talking to my friend who has four kids and she flat out told me that retaining control over my bladder after two kids is an absolute joke and so don't be surprised if I'm wearing some kind of pad the rest of my life. Which is horrific. But I'm telling you what- I'm kind of angry with magazines like Glamour and Cosmopolitan who had me absolutely convinced kegel exercises would be my savior. Kegel exercises are an absolute joke because I am a black belt kegel master and still, I pee my pants when Penelope kicks. It's ridiculous. But this is the state I'm in.
Hilariously enough, these are also my glory years apparently. Apparently, I'm going to look back on this time and wish for it back. And that's not true. I'm actually wishing for age 20 back when everything was tight and working right. I wish for that. But with babies.
Instead, I'm going to just go ahead and do a slow waddle to the bathroom in the hopes I make it without accident.