I'm Lindsay Ferrier, a Nashville writer with a passion for family travel, exploring Tennessee, and raising kids without losing my mind in the process. This is where I share my discoveries, along with occasional deep thoughts, pop culture tangents and a sprinkling of snark. Want to get in touch? Use the CONTACT form at the top of the page.
August 9, 2006
>Many of you have asked how I’m doing so far in my reincarnation as a pregnant woman. The answer can be found below, in this week’s edition of the Nashville Scene.
Baby Fat
Anyone in Bellevue can tell you the Dollar Tree is a major neighborhood hotspot.
I actually have to get dressed up when I hit the Tree because I’m guaranteed to run into at least a dozen familiar faces while I’m there. The aisles are filled with the cacophonous tones of gossiping housefraus, standing alongside carts laden with gift wrap, sodas, toys and home pregnancy tests. In fact, while we’d rather you not know it, the Tree’s absurdly inexpensive pregnancy tests are the reason at least half of us are there.
That’s how I ended up with five of the tests in the bottom of my Dollar Tree shopping bag the other day. There was a slight possibility that I was pregnant and I wanted to be able to drink the last Miller High Life in the fridge that night without feeling guilty.
I came home and began running around the house in my usual frenzy, chopping onions, feeding the toddler, boiling pasta, cleaning up the mess around the high chair, taking a pregnancy test, screening a phone call, browning some ground beef, glancing at the two lines on the pregnancy test, checking my e-mail, pouring some juice into a sippy cup….
Wait just a damn second.
I made my way back to the pregnancy test sitting on the counter. Two lines. Didn’t two lines mean positive? But… No. No way. I read the instructions. I re-read the instructions. I re-re-re-read the instructions.
I burst into tears.
And then I took every single pregnancy test I had in the bag. Two lines. Two lines. Two lines. Two lines.
Pregnant, I thought, choking back a sob. I’m pregnant!
It’s not that this pregnancy was unplanned. In a mad attempt at world domination, we had already decided to add one more Ferrier to our family. But I guess I was hoping a baby would just appear on our doorstep one day in a hand-woven basket with a note pinned to its swaddling that said, Please take good care of this lovely infant (who never cries and sleeps through the night). You see, I’ve been pregnant before. And to my great horror, I wasn’t pretty and rosy and round like the women you see on the covers of pregnancy magazines. No, I was one butt-ugly pregnant woman.
For one thing, rather than the recommended 30 pounds, I gained nearly 60 pounds. Not only was I miserably uncomfortable the last few months, but I noticed by the number of averted glances when I entered the room that my puffy face and grotesquely swollen ankles were making everyone else uncomfortable as well.
“You’re only six months pregnant?” a former co-worker asked me during this ‘special’ time, after I ran into her at a ritzy awards ceremony. I had worked on my hair and makeup for hours and was feeling quite glamorous for someone who could’ve doubled as a float in the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade.
“My best friend is nine months pregnant and you’re way bigger than she is!” she shrieked, letting one hand flutter to her oh-so-bony clavicle. As my smile faded, I fought an incredible urge to punch her in the nose.
Because while I can watch the ice cream consumption this time around, the fact remains that incubating a future Ferrier makes me one tired, queasy, totally pissed off bitch. Woe to ye who dares to cross me and my belly.
“What is wrong with you?!” I screamed at a driver the other day who swerved in front of me on I-40. “I’m pregnant, you moron! Isn’t it completely obvious?! Can you not see my freakin’ glow?!”
And don’t even think about cutting in front of me in line or failing to hold the door as I enter a restaurant, because you will surely receive the patented knocked-up-stare-of-death. I might even cruelly pat my bulging belly for good measure as you melt, screaming, into a puddle of remorseful goo on the floor.
About the only people I’m nice to during pregnancy are the members of my family. They tend to come in handy when I need a second helping of spaghetti or a foot rub. More importantly, they have blackmail photos of me dancing in my maternity sweats about a week before the last baby was born. And I would rather the public view a homemade sex tape starring me and, say, Gene Shalit (not that there is one, I’m just sayin’) than get a look at those photographs.
So readers, you have been warned. If you see me around town, don’t tell me you bet my husband’s hoping for a boy. Don’t look me up and down and say that I must be having twins. And for the love of God, don’t rub my belly.
Instead, say something like, “Wow! You’ve only gained baby weight in your stomach! Heidi Klum has nothing on you.” Point out the nearest restroom. Offer me a hand. Or better yet, a pastry! And we’ll all get along just fine.
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>You’re so funny! Love the article. I was a big ‘ol pregnant woman, too. I stopped getting on the scale at 200 pounds.I’m sure this time it will be different! 🙂 Or not, but at least it will be over one day!
>You sound like me during pregnancy – I gained about 60 pounds and was a swollen whale, too. Sigh. If it’s any consolation, I gained less than 50 with my second one, and wasn’t nearly as swollen.
>Mwah, ha, ha—Gene Shalit. Loved that! If I lived near you, I would so totally bring you pastries!
>Yep. Macy’s Float. I know that feeling. 65 pounds packed onto my ass. And for some reason not all the bitches have left. One day…
>Knocked-up-stare-of-death, heh, heh. I STILL do that, and I haven’t been pregnant in over a year. Now it’s the knocked-up-stare-of-woman-with-two-kids.
>I’m 5 months pregnant and a majorly outspoken grouch. I’m with you.
>HA HA HA HA HA HA!!! You are too funny! A great article & I can so feel your pain. Not currently pregnant, but I remember all too well…
>I was as big as a parade float. Every. Single. Time. That is all.
>I was fine as long as I didn’t look in a mirror or see pictures of myself. My ass could’ve doubled as our dinner table. ‘Nuff said.
>I gained 30 pounds, 10 of which won’t fly off!!! I am not ready to get knocked up again but now i know what you’re going through. IT’S SOOO EXCITING!!
>I gained 40 pounds both times. The problem was I only lost thirty each time. Sigh.The good news is that I have about 80 culminative pounds of girls kissing me up every day and telling me I’m pretty. That helps.
>Ahh the similarities….I gained 65+lbs. during the first pregnancy. I do not even want to know what will happen the next time around. And do not even get me started on going through labor again. Can I survive another experience like that??If anything, it should be a law to give pregnant women a pastry when you see her instead of patting the belly or making unnecessary comments/advice.
>I believe that *some* women have a form of amnesia when it comes to remembering what a particular trimester looks like on a real body. (Hollywood’s tendancy to hide from photographers after the 7th month only perpetuates the size myth.)If you like, every day I’ll leave you a positive comment regarding your pregnancy. I went through it 6 times, so I have experience and a wish list of things that would have been nice to hear! !:-)C (singalulllby.typepad.com)
>Ha ha! That should be a rule. One person is required to leave a comment each day about how great I look pregnant. 😉
>Oddly, my ankles didn’t swell up until the day after I delivered, but I was one gigantic, uncomfortable blobby woman for the last few months of my pregnancy. Something tells me, though, that your second pregnancy will go much more smoothly, now that you know what works for you and what doesn’t. :-)(BTW, your page has recently started appearing wonky, with the text buried far below your links. Is it just me?)
>That was a fantastic article! Thanks for writing everything that went thru my head for my last pregnancy. I just found out I am pregnant for the second time (very similar to your experience). I keep telling myself that this time will be better, but deep down, I know it is a lie. Great blog, by the way!
>Hilarious! And please, you couldn’t possibly be more of a miserable bitch than I was during pregnancy… During the first one everyone said I was TOO SKINNY to be that pregnant, so I was making extra doctor appointments to verify the baby was growing… Second time around, everyone was sure I was having twins… You can’t win.
>Could you be ANY cuter?!?! Sadly, my answer to the “When are you due?” question is “eleven years ago.” Pshaw.
>Ok so the thing NOT to do is tell you that I only gained 22 pounds each time with all three of my pregnancies, right? Because that would be bad and I risk a punch in the nose? PASTRIES and compliments. Got it. As soon as I’m on my feet again, I’ll start baking 🙂
>Yeah…but don’t forget the big boobs. Every pregnant woman loves the big boobs…it’s not all bad, right?
>Really enjoyed this article. I too gained more than the “recommended” amount. Congrats to you.
>14 weeks pregnant with my second and my friend asked if I was showing. She was one of those “I can’t wear maternity clothes at 22 weeks because I just look bloated, not pregnant” evil people. Do I look pregnant? Yeah. Is the bag of Oreos a day helping? No. My next tshirt in my line of maternity shirts is “not just letting myself go.” and “I miss beer.” Cause I really miss beer.