How come no one told me this would happen during pregnancy?

I am currently 38 weeks pregnant with my second child and I hate everything. Okay, not everything everything. I only hate slowly falling apart as a person. And I miss running. I also miss sitting in hard chairs without back pain. Oh, and I hate how my boobs slowly suffocate me if I’m not lying down at an angle.

I only hate not being able to fully empty my bladder which means I run to the bathroom every 10 minutes thinking I’m about to pee my pants. And I hate how long it takes. I also hate being tired. I hate the super large prenatal pills I take because really, who thought giving a gigantic pill that smells horrible to someone who is already gagging every 30 seconds was a good idea? But really, that’s it.

I am supposed to be grateful and glowing and be excited to meet my baby. And I am. Excited and grateful, but most definitely not glowing. I’m more like sweating a lot, which I guess makes you kind of glow?

The thing is—no one wants to hear the real answer to “How are you feeling?”

I take the opportunity to be honest every time I am asked. And this has not once been received well. An example of how this goes. let’s say, at a wedding…

SOMEONE’S AUNT: How are you feeling?

ME: My body is on fire and if I have to sit on this hard Chiavari chair for another 15 minutes I may murder the groom or dive headfirst into the cake.

SOMEONE’S AUNT: Yeah but only a couple more weeks!

ME: Do you know how many days make up two weeks? 14 days.

Do you know how long a day is when you can’t put weight on your left foot because of how bad your plantar fasciitis is?

Do you know how long a moment is when you’ve hit your daily limit of TUMS and you resort to shots of apple cider vinegar which burns as it goes down your already burning throat?

SOMEONE’S AUNT: You should really try to enjoy it.

ME: Yes I should. Right after I figure out how to poop properly. I haven’t done that in a couple of months. So I live life in this lovely limbo between constipation and diarrhea… It’s been great chatting. Please pour a glass of wine out for me and have a nice night.

Everyone wants to see “the bump” but “the bump” better look small.

I never feel comfortable showing off my bump, so I wear a series of black tents that don’t make me look that pregnant. And I am constantly rewarded for it. People are constantly telling me how good I look and how I am carrying well, and here’s the thing, I am not.

I gained 50lbs with this pregnancy and 50lbs with the last one. I am fat-shamed and threatened with C-sections every time I go to the doctor’s office. Naked I look like something out of National Geographic but if I cover it up, the people rejoice.

It’s not cool. If it’s not socially acceptable to comment on a woman’s body when she is not pregnant—let’s not open the floodgates when she is pregnant. I’m still a person. A 34-year-old woman with a buffet of body image issues. That all didn’t stop when I gained 50lbs… if you can imagine that.

No. I am not excited about any part of maternity leave and “my time off.”

At some point during my last maternity leave, I watched the movie “The Room”—the one where the woman is a captor with her child in some creeps backyard and I had never felt more seen. My company is giving me six months of leave, which is amazing by today’s standards. And it’s amazing for my baby. But I also feel trapped with someone who can’t laugh at my jokes or commiserate on how hard the day has been for both of us.

AND CAN WE GET REAL ABOUT NIPPLES.

How the… what they… but how are they… what color are they… and HOLY AREOLA are they spreading? And what the… is my shirt wet? Are they leaking…? Why are they leaking? Should they be leaking? Cool. Cool, cool, cool. My giant brown areola boobs leak now.

If you are the type that grooms the, uh, ya know, you won’t be seeing anything for a while.

I don’t want to get too into this because people I know may read this and believe it or not I have a line I don’t want to cross. But let’s just say I lost sight of the “land down under” a couple of months ago. So what’s going on “south of the border” is anyone’s guess. I look forward to seeing her again someday so we can evaluate the damage and align on our approach to the situation together.

Okay, now if you’ll excuse me, I have a cervix to soften and labor to induce.

So I have six dates to eat, some pineapple to cut, a TUMS and a Pepcid AC to take, a prenatal yoga class to go to, a birthing ball to bounce on, an Evening Primrose Oil supplement to swallow, some Red Raspberry Leaf tea to steep, an acupressure appointment to get to, some awkward sex to attempt right after I rub some Clary Sage essential diluted oil on my belly.

It goes fast, enjoy it!