16 weeks pregnant

OK, so it LOOKS small but now it’s actually made of baby instead of pizza, so I have a hard time sucking it in or leaning over it. Also, baby does NOT like being pushed.

Good news, the tattoo on my side doesn’t look like it will stretch much if at all. No, don’t ask me what I was thinking, I was young and stupid. If by “young” you mean exactly one year ago. And by “stupid” you mean too impulsive to consider what would happen when I got pregnant. So yeah, young and stupid.

I braved the maternity store at the mall last week, looking for fall-type clothes. Instead I found ugly, overpriced outfits – polyester tops and matching pants sold as sets, giant pink sweaters, black tents sold as “dresses” – and an idiotic sales girl.

Maternity stores are not like regular stores. If you’re in a maternity store, you better have a due date and an ultrasound or they’ll toss you out. You also have to discuss your weight gain, exact measurments (none of the polite salesperson “can I get you a different size?” when you’ve given up trying to get that 6 to zip), morning sickness, birth plan (I’m still not sure what that means) and family history. Our store is kind of a small place and there’s hardly ever more than one person in it at a time, so there is no way to avoid the person working there.

I snuck in the door, tried to avoid eye contact, and then hid behind the sales rack, hoping the girl behind the counter would let me shop in peace. No such luck.

“How far along are you?” Um, about 4 months

“Are you still in regular pants or do you need new jeans?” No, these are well disguised maternity jeans and no you can’t have them.

“So this was an accident, right?” …………..Wait, what?

“You got pregnant by accident? No way, you really planned it?” Yes. Planned. With my husband, who I’ve been happily married to for four years. We intentionally had unprotected sex in the very nice house we own and then went out to dinner and paid in cash because we are financially responsible. Also, did I mention I was TWENTY-SIX YEARS OLD which is a perfectly appropriate age to have a baby ON PURPOSE??!??!?

I know I don’t look very old. I still get carded. Last year someone asked me what high school I went to. But I was hoping I was old enough to pass for a young Navy wife instead of a pregnant teenager. I guess I was wrong. Stupid maternity store clerk.

My friend Erin wanted to know if I was wearing “spouse pants” yet. For non-military people, what she means is the sweat pants/pajama pants, usually very baggy and/or ugly that many of the wives wear. Most of the time it applies to women with kids who just don’t have the energy or time to be stylish and trendy. It’s sort of like “mom jeans” or that short haircut all women get after kid #2 so they don’t have to brush it anymore. For me (and Erin) it means we don’t have anywhere to go today so why bother getting dressed?

Except that it is now 5 pm, I have to leave for a meeting in 20 minutes and I have neither washed my hair or put on real clothes. I think I’ll just find a hat and change into jeans instead of sweatpants, but that’s so much less comfortable. I’ve been feeling very pregnant this week, and my belly is growing at a frightening pace. I think what I really need is a t-shirt that says “Not Homeless, Pregnant”.

My family didn’t really do Halloween growing up – instead we attended church “Fall Festivals” that involved dressing up in costumes, bobbing for apples and eating candy. But everyone was certain to make sure we weren’t sacrificing goats or holding seances in the Sunday School classrooms. No devil worship here, people!  Now that I’m a grown up with my own rules, I LOVE Halloween. I refuse to leave my house on the 31st so I don’t miss any trick-or-treaters. I’ve decorated my front steps, lawn, porch and entryway. My husband thinks I’m completely insane and I don’t care. Since I’m a terrible, mean wife who refuses to go to a “real” (spoken: lots of alcohol and slutty costumes) Halloween party, we’re probably going to host one instead. But if we have a party it means wearing my sweatpants and bunny ears don’t really qualify as dressing up. Since I’m already knocked up, I don’t think being a slutty-anything is appropriate. But an internet search for “maternity Halloween” turns up almost NOTHING. Witch, devil, angel, rag doll – regular cheap costumes with empire waists for my belly. Boring and ugly. The only pregnancy themed costume I’ve found is an oven – get it, bun in the oven? Blah. I’m not sopregnant that I have to wear something maternity, but I’d like to do something clever, original and funny that somehow involves my current fertilised state. I was trying to figure out how to be Bristol Palin (with E in a flannel shirt and trucker cap for her boyfriend) but can’t figure out how to do it without just wearing a name tag. Any ideas?

I’ve started dreaming about alcohol. Last night it was champagne, three days ago it was a Seabreeze cocktail (I don’t even know what’s IN one of those), the week before it was pina coladas. I really wasn’t much of an alcoholic before I got pregnant – I said MUCH – but now that it’s FORBIDDEN I suddenly crave it more than anything. It doesn’t help that we keep going to events with either open bars or huge amounts of available liquor, where everyone around me drinks and congratulates themselves on having a 100% sober designated driver. Bastards. I’ve been assured by about a zillion internet articles, baby books and mothers that a glass of wine won’t automatically make my baby a helmet-wearer, but I’m ready to give in yet. Give it another month of these dreams and then offer me a glass of Shiraz. I doubt I will say no.