The Bipolar Mommy

My Eggo is Preggo!

It has been a long time since I have written here, so I may ramble a bit. After seven months, I can finally say that my eggo is preggo! Yes, I am ten weeks pregnant. I have known now for a month and a half, but there are times that it still does not seem real to me. I am also starting to realize that despite all of my prior knowledge on everything pregnancy, baby, hormones, etc, there is still a lot of stuff I don’t know.

One of these new pieces of knowledge I have acquired is the whole pregnancy dating scam. No, I’m not talking about knocked up women trying to meet skeezy losers on match.com. And well, perhaps scam isn’t the best word, but I digress. What I am talking about is the weird system that is used to tell how far along a woman is in her pregnancy. Here is how it works. By the time a home pregnancy test is able to detect that you are pregnant, you have already clocked in about four weeks of pregnancy. However, you have only really been pregnant (egg implanted into the uterus) for maybe a week or so. Huh? What is this time/space travel mumbo jumbo? Well, apparently doctors use the first day of your last period as the “start” of your pregnancy to better predict your due date. So it is sort of like I was “grandfathered in” once I actually found out I was pregnant. It still boggles the mind.

Another thing I never realized is how utterly stupid I would become. Now I have never been the most “together” person, but “pregnancy brain” has brought me to a whole other level. In the past few weeks alone I have lost my wallet, lost my jacket twice, and confused doctors’ appointment among other things. My friend Kara gave me some delightful news. “You will never get your brain back, ever.” Thanks, Kara.

The irony about me becoming more and more stupid is that everyone else all of a sudden seems smarter. People around me have developed supernatural psychic network telling powers. As I told people of my news I would hear comments like, I knew something was up. I was just telling so-and-so that I bet you are pregnant. I am also getting all kinds of gender predictions as if these people were the oracle. Well, they do have a 50% shot at getting it right. I am also getting all kinds of wonderful, unsolicited advice. Most people mean well, I know. Others have this urge to impose upon you what your experience will be, even those who have never had any children. For example, I am tired of hearing about hot I am going to be when I’m in my third semester in the summer. Yes, I know. I will be on freaking fire! You don’t have to remind me. The bottom line is that everyone’s an expert, and I will just have to get used to it. Maybe if I shut up and stop complaining, my shriveled up little pregnancy brain might learn something useful.