By Velencia Mejia
With today’s plethora of Instagram flexes and “goals” posts, scrolling down your timeline seeing a cute baby, you can’t help but think, “OMG, aww, how cute! I can’t wait ‘til I have a baby, OMG.” That’s when you’ve been exposed to baby fever and it all begins.
Then suddenly it happens to you – you become pregnant and you’re wondering: “How the hell did this happen?” I mean, we all know how it happened, but if you’re anything like me, you were on birth control and doctors told you the chances of it happening are slim to none.
So, I started following baby pages on Instagram and looking at all the cute pregnant mommies in their cute outfits with their cute nurseries ready. I joined a few “July babies 2020” Facebook groups where we talked baby names, nursery themes – you know, the fun stuff that social media and Pinterest tosses at you, infecting you with said baby fever beforehand.
But then I realized, as I was scrolling, my boob began to leak.
I’m not gonna lie, I freaked out. I just started my second trimester; what the hell is coming out of my nipples?! Instagram didn’t warn me about this! Like, WTF dude. So, of course I called my doctor and she told me it was normal. Thank the Lord. But like I said, no one warned me! If I would have had someone tell me what I would experience, all would be well.
So that’s what I’m here to tell you all: the reality – or at least MINE – considering every woman’s body is different.
Now before you say: “Girl, you’re barely pregnant! 20 weeks?! You’ve got 20 more to go! THAT’S when it gets bad.” I’m gonna need you to sit back and enjoy a warm glass of STFU. Because yes, I do have 20 more weeks to go, but that means I’ve been hearing that exact phrase for 20 weeks, too! So spare me.
I was fortunate enough to find out that I was pregnant as early as four weeks – or as my male doctor announced it: “Like newly pregnant, like, the reason they didn’t see it in your ultrasound yesterday is because the fetus wasn’t even there yet, basically. It just appeared overnight.”
And in case you’re wondering, yes, this was my face after he said that:
Because A: I went to MedExpress the day before due to cramps I was experiencing, where they did a pregnancy test, lab work and ultrasound, and the doctor even told me to my face: “We know you can’t be pregnant! You’ve been on the depo shot for years! Plus with your endometrial health – yeah, it’s just an ovarian cyst and urinary tract infection. No biggie.” And in case you’re wondering, yes, this was probably my blueberry-sized fetus’s not-yet-developed facial expression in my womb after the doctor said that:
And B: How the hell does a fetus just form in less than 24 hours?!
So of course, ya girl here was freaking out. The White Claws I slammed – how was that gonna affect my baby? How am I going to tell my boyfriend? How am I going to tell my mother? OMG, when I tell my grandparents, they’re gonna know that I am sexually active!
So fast forward through that – we decide we’re ready to settle down and raise this baby, and all is well. YAY! And then it hits, like a truck.
All kinds of smells, like Mr. Krabs said, “a smelly kind of smell, that smells, smelly.” Any sort of motion or scent just triggered my gag reflex, for a good eight weeks. Yes, that’s two months of non-stop nausea. I could not eat without it coming back up. Imagine being surrounded by food at work, serving guests and having to excuse yourself so you can vomit stomach acid. For two whole months. Daily. Multiple times.
All I wanted to do was sleep; I was just constantly tired for no reason! I napped so hard, my brother had to come do a wellness-check to make sure I was still breathing. I’d take a nap and that nap turned into a full night sleep, and my body would still have the nerve – the audacity, to STILL be tired and exhausted.
Finally, it all came to an end. “The worst part is over!” I thought. LOL.
I finally began to get that beautiful pregnancy glow! My bump is slowly developing, but you really can’t tell if I’m pregnant or ate too many tacos. But the best part – my appetite is back! With an appetite, comes the cravings: pickles with lemon salt sprinkled on them, Slim Jims dipped in nacho cheese, McDonald’s double cheeseburgers. No, not a McDouble, there’s a difference, a whole slice of cheese difference. Yes – I made my boyfriend go get me one at 12:30 a.m. And yes, when he brought back a McDouble and told me to just “throw a piece of cheese on it from the fridge,” I cried hysterically and asked him why he didn’t love me.
Yes, when he told me “no,” he would not go get me a purple Powerade because it was below zero outside and there was water in the fridge, I cried and said, “your son wants a purple Powerade – water doesn’t have electrolytes. You’re going to just allow his electrolyte levels to be at an all-time low when it’s a simple fix? What are you gonna do when he needs a kidney? If you don’t care about his dehydration levels, are you really fit to be a father?”
May that have been a bit much? Yes, absolutely. But in the moment, it was how I felt – and why I felt the need to cry hysterically and become so overdramatic, the world may never know. But what I did know, was that my emotions were constantly overflowing just like the vomit in the first trimester.
Every little thing made me cry. Thinking about how stressed the cat in the Meow Mix commercial probaby was under all those stage lights. TEARS. My brother told me I ate too much. TEARS. The big one, the Google Loretta Super Bowl commercial, in a room full of people, I hyperventilated, Kim Kardashian-ugly-cried, for an hour. A WHOLE HOUR.
Crying wasn’t the only emotional overload I experienced; anger and frustration came. But let’s be real, it wouldn’t be so intense if people could just not be dumbasses and piss me off. Simple fix: don’t piss off the pregnant lady. But every little thing would agitate me. The way my boyfriend chewed, breathed, even looked at me made me want to just scream. I had to ask him multiple times, “Dude, can you just, like, NOT?!”
I may not be too big yet; my baby is the size of a cucumber. But walking in the mall, I would have to make my friends stop so I could catch my breath. Or send them pictures of my boobs, asking: “Does this look normal?” I can’t wait to see how much worse it will be when I do get bigger.
Don’t get me wrong, I am so excited for my baby to be here. As my third trimester approaches, I am getting more and more excited to meet my son. We’ve done all the baby shopping and the baby shower is planned. Now all we are waiting on is his arrival.
It’s crazy to think that me and the person I love created a life, and that life is developing in my womb. Before I know it, he’ll be holding my hand as we take trips, starting school and graduating college. Especially after I was told I could never have children, being pregnant is truly a blessing and I am so grateful. Now all that’s left to endure is the third trimester waddles, peeing when I laugh and sneeze, more boob leakage, struggling to tie my shoes and shave my legs, 20+ hours of labor, having strangers look inside my vagina and sticking their whole hand in it, and then squeezing something the size of a watermelon out of it. How beautiful. Please, wish me luck.
