This Is Usually Where I Bail

When I first told friends and family that I’m preggers, the words of “wisdom” came pouring in. I never realized how much ladies LOVE telling the newly-impregnated exactly what their pregnancy will be like. Buzzfeed summed it up well I think.

In all seriousness though, most of the advice I’ve gotten has been nice or, at the very least, well meaning. Most people are super nice to pregnant ladies. I think it’s an unspoken rule: You have to give brides and pregnant ladies whatever they want. Sometimes I even open up my mail and find my favorite chocolates.

Despite all the advice that came pouring in, no one prepared me for the effect this was going to have on my knitting or my self-esteem. When I first found out I was pregnant, I immediately imagined myself surrounded by a cloud of baby-yarn, turning out booties and toys by the dozens. I am, by most accounts, a speedy knitter, but these days I feel like like it takes foreeeeeeeeeeeever to finish a project. It took me all week to make this sock:

I used to be able to make a sweater in a week, but I’m so tired and sick all the time that I’m just not getting much done. I’ve had a cold the last few days, and last night I went back to my bedroom at 6pm, turned on the humidifier, and stared half-heartedly at my project bag for a few hours before passing out. I realize that some of this is due to going from 2 pots of coffee a day to 2 cups. No more triple espressos for this girl. (I told Jac’s husband that the second this baby crowns I want him to go to Starbucks and order me a triple-grande-cinnamon-dolce-latte. I think about that drink A LOT. I tried the decaf version, and it just wasn’t the same.) Between the caffeine withdrawal, and being sick so much, I haven’t finished one single baby project. I generally only do things I’m good at. If this were any other endeavor, I’d have bailed by now, leaving it to the folks that are better at it. I don’t have the option to outsource growing this baby to an intern though, and I’m having to come to terms with my own limits.

As if that weren’t taking enough of a toll on my ego, I have never experienced such fat-shaming in my life! I really like my OB’s office overall. But man, they do not miss an opportunity to write “obese” on something. The next person that tries to tell me about BMI is getting cut. I’m 5’2″ and according to a BMI chart I should weigh between 105-135 pounds. I think the last time I weighed 105 was elementary school. My blood pressure is super good. I passed my glucose test with flying colors. I eat lots of veggies. So I’d like to pass on the lectures about the complications that can come from being overweight. News flash medical community, this is what 5 months pregnant looks like!


I LOVE my bump, and I refuse to apologize for my chocolates.

Oh, and if you were wondering, maternity jeans are basically the greatest thing ever. I’m never wearing real pants again.

Throughout this process, I’ve gotten better at telling medical professionals where they can stick it when they start commenting on the complications that they are just certain I’m going to encounter. I mean, after all, at a size 14-16 it’s amazing I can even walk! ;) I know I’m not the only girl that’s had to put up with that kind of crap at the doctor’s office, so let’s all agree to refuse to take it. Guess what, Dr. McJudgey: I’m hormonal, hungry, and armed with knitting needles that I’m not afraid to use. Probably safer to skip the lecture and hand me the chocolates.


I am literally counting the days to the return of my sweet sweet Pumpkin Spice Lattes. Viva la PSL!