I Wonder If These People Are High

Dear Cletus, 

So today I got my weekly bulletin from babycenter.com about your prenatal progress (33 weeks along). I have a love/hate relationship with that site. Some weeks, the updates and information are very helpful and make a lot of sense. Other weeks, I wonder if these people are high. Take today's weekly update:

"Many women are still feeling sexy at this stage — and their partners often agree."

- First of all, I think I do look sexy - from the shoulders up. However, my Buddha-esque belly is not getting me a lot of offers for one-night stands from random men.

- Secondly, OF COURSE YOUR PARTNER IS GOING TO AGREE WITH YOU IF YOU SAY YOU ARE SEXY. FOR GOD'S SAKE, HE'S NOT LOOKING TO PREMATURELY END HIS LIFE. Mike knows that there is only one response he can give if I ask him, "Do I look sexy?", even if as I ask, I am simultaneously shoveling lard down my throat and talking about how my goal in life is to have more children than the Duggars. That response is: "Absolutely. Now get that spoonful of lard out of your mouth and let's hit the sheets."

"Bored with pregnancy? Try this! "Every time I start to get bored with my pregnancy, I lie down and rub my belly. Sure enough, my baby starts to kick, and I think about how wonderful it will be when I'm able to hold him." — Barbara"

- Who are these people like Barbara who get bored with pregnancy? Did they not see the movie Alien? Do they not know what is going on in there?

I experience a lot of emotions surrounding pregnancy. Fatigue? Yes. Exhaustion? Impatience? Frustration? Of course. But boredom? Hell no. That is because I am always aware of the fact that there is a small person inside of me that will ultimately cost me hundreds of thousands of dollars before she turns 18. I will pay for her college and probably her wedding, and there is a fair chance I will pay for her therapy someday too. This little tiny human inside of me, while still IN me, has all the genetic trappings of a completely separate person who will think nothing like me, who will have her own ideas and thoughts, and will probably think I'm an idiot. Knowing all of this does not invoke boredom; it invokes anxiety as well as a healthy sense of competition, since I am determined to win all arguments until she is at least 9 (review my therapy comment above).

"This Week's Activity: Wash your baby's clothing and bedding. You know all those adorable outfits you bought or received at your baby shower? You should wash anything that will go near your baby's skin to remove any irritants in the fabrics. The gentlest detergents are those designed for babies and those that are labeled hypoallergenic or good for sensitive skin."

- Yeah, ok. Super excited about doing tons of laundry. Thanks, babycenter.com. I'll get right on that after I've worked an 8 hour day, commuted home, done my workout that is supposed to also be essential for prenatal vitality, eaten a healthful dinner full of fetus-healthy vitamins, and gotten at least 8 hours of revitalizing sleep. Yup. Laundry is at the top of that list.

Also, Cletus, I don't know if you realize this, but babycenter.com has compared you with various fruits and vegetables almost from day one. At one point, I was told you were the size of a lentil, a blueberry, a fig, etc. In today's bulletin, I was informed that you are now approximately four pounds, or the size of a pineapple.

Maybe it's just the hormones kicking in and making me testy, but I'm not sure why the folks at babycenter.com think I don't know what four pounds feels like. Seriously, every time I heft a gallon of milk into a shopping cart at the grocery store, I'm lifting about that much. Why the continuous comparisons? Just say four pounds. No need to make the experience of your growth more "tangible" - my freaking huge belly is all the tangibility I need.

If babycenter.com really wanted to keep the weight comparisons, they should at least make them more interesting. I would much rather read an update that compares you to an uncooked pheasant or something equally weird, than something as mundane as a pineapple (I would at least then be prompted to google "uncooked pheasant weight"). Or even better, a weight comparison such as: "Your baby is now twelve weeks old and weighs half an ounce; if your baby were cocaine, the street value would be over $500!"

Ooh, Cletus: at four pounds now, think of how much you would be worth if you were made out of cocaine.

We'll just chalk that random thought up to the wanderings of a hormone-crazed mind.

Love,

Your Soon-To-Be Mom