You know those women, the ones who say they loved being pregnant, it was so magical and beautiful and easy, and they never felt better? I hate those women. And for the record, they’re lying through their perfect little teeth.
Don’t get me wrong, almost every time the baby moves or wiggles or gets the hiccups my heart stops and I almost cry at the sheer amazement of what’s going on (I say almost because she’s getting bigger, and it’s starting to move past uncomfortable into painful territory), but there is very little about pregnancy that is fun. Or beautiful. And NOTHING about it is easy. When it gets to the point that you need assistance putting on your shoes, then easy has left the building.
And I’ve been very, VERY fortunate in my pregnancy. Aside from some uncomfortability and a few minor issues (heartburn, I’m talking to you), I don’t have much to complain about. But it’s still not easy. Carrying around a human being inside of you is not intended to be easy. As much as I appreciate the importance of what I’m able to do, I am quite ready for it to be over, and for the next phase to begin. Everyone says, “Oh, but this is the easy part, just wait till you’re up all night with a crying baby, blah blah blah”. The up-all-night I can do (last full nights sleep: don’t even remember). And while I realize that having a baby and being a parent is the hardest job in the world, at least I’ll be able to put on my own damn shoes.
So, to the women I mentioned in the beginning of this post, please stop. No one actually believes you, and it makes us dislike you. Immensely. Just own your ugly preggo stories. Just think, one day you’re going to have to use those stories to guilt your kid into doing something for you. You may as well start perfecting your “woe is me” face now.