Lions, Tigers, and Cinnamon Bears, OH MY.

Let me just start by saying that I don’t enjoy all of the gifts of pregnancy. I enjoy the gentle nudges from within, seeing the heartbeat and baby at the ultrasounds, and the excitement that comes from knowing a new person is about to enter our family and home. That’s kind of it.

In both of my pregnancies, I knew, KNEW, KNEWITY KNEW KNEW that I would not escape the dreaded morning sickness. With my first, it came on gently with a general uneasy feeling that made me wonder- is this it? Is this the morning-but-really-all-day-long sickness? And then that gentle feeling gave way to the “Lord please don’t let me puke on my shoes in front of people” variety of morning sickness. With my second pregnancy, I found out pretty early, and felt really great- but also knew without a doubt that this time was limited. So I pretty much stored up food for the winter like a squirrel in those 2 weeks of pregnant but not sick glory that I had. Then it hit, and this time I also had a toddler to care for, and I was all kinds of sad and pitiful. Dirty diapers were my kryptonite, and I thought that the almighty chip-clip-on-the-nose trick would be my savior. Sadly, it was not, and it was painful- however, my toddler found it hilarious, so bonus points.

However, I also developed a fondness for the cinnamon bear, and friends, believe me when I tell you, pregnancy sickness is not kind to the candy known as the cinnamon bear. I ravenously ate these gummy cinnamon bears like they were the, and then I promptly felt the bears seeking to stampede their way back out of the rotund cave I had placed them in for the winter. Oh, it was a mighty bear massacre that day my friends, and it was merciless. Bear heads and legs and arms were clearly visible as they stampeded back out and I learned that day that I need to chew things better. Sad times for our red bear friends of the cinnamon breed. ALSO, the later in my pregnancy I got, the more I peed when I threw up. It’s one of the true privileges in life to perfect the art of vomiting while squeezing your thighs together.THE GIFTS, THEY JUST KEEP GIVING. I speak for all bears, including cinnamon

ANYWAY, more pregnancy gifts were in store for my sad self, but these didn’t unwrap themselves until much later. Once the nausea was gone, I had a good two months of feeling pretty good, and I thought to myself both times “You are ROCKING pregnancy! You are AMAZING! Repopulate the earth in the event of another flood? I could TOTALLY do that.”

And then that smugness faded away as my legs decided to just up and try to remove themselves from the equation that is my body. It was like they just got together the last time I crossed them at the ankles and said “Look, she’s only getting bigger- and this load isn’t getting any lighter. We need to relocate. That’s it, I’ll go east, you go west. Deal? Deal.” This is when my hips began to dislocate every.single.night.when.I.slept. I would roll over at night and think, something doesn’t feel right…and then realize my legs were OUT OF JOINT. During the day I waddled, as many pregnant women do, but every step was agony, because well, LEGS. RELOCATING. EAST. WEST.  So yeah, that was a bucket of enjoyment wrapped in the paper of good times.

No one told me about the whole “legs deciding to leave” phase of pregnancy. Not to mention the fainting, oh sweet baby back ribs THE FAINTING. My first darling was intent on lying his little fetus self on a nerve that apparently controlled my ability to be conscious. This meant that my daily schedule looked like this:



Lay down


Lay down

Drive to work

Pull over and lay down

…You get the idea. There was a lot of laying down. There were a lot of concerned people. One time I was getting a haircut and the vapors, if you will, hit me. My poor stylist didn’t even know what to do. She laid me down on her lobby chairs and gave me a cheese stick and a root beer. And it was healing. Because that’s the nature of cheese sticks and root beer, if you didn’t know. THEY HAVE THE HEALING POWERS LIKE GREEN TEA, NO QUESTION. It got to the point where I just accepted that I would be barely conscious until the baby was born. Thankfully he came just in the knick of time a week late because he hates me, and from that point on, I was perfectly able to be conscious, though my brain was clearly gone because NO SLEEP.

What I’m trying to say is this: Getting my children here was a lovely experience, and everyone should have all the babies they can because they are bundles of fat that you can squeeze and love and kiss forever.

The End.

2 thoughts on “Lions, Tigers, and Cinnamon Bears, OH MY.

  1. Jen, you are killing me. Agreed–pregnancy sucks. Pregnancy sucks and the commercials all lie. But I liked your closing, the squeeze-fat-babies part. And the “The End” part. Because yeah, pregnancy sucks so bad, but I _still_ wanted another one. It’s the fat baby part. The end : )


    1. Thank you my lone commenter! And Yeaaaah, I think that’s why babies are cute- no one would go through that for something that looked like an emu, Ya know?


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