Go Get ‘Em
I’m so much happier these days. Today I checked several things off my to-do list and barely broke a sweat. Until I went to the gym. But a sweat at the gym is expected, yes?
Anyway, it was another gorgeous day, but Erik kept whining that he wanted to go to the mall. Bah. His grandma sent him several dollar bills and I told him he could use them to ride the mall rides, so he had his heart set on it. We managed to get his hair cut, find him a handsome holiday outfit at Children’s Place (amazing, as I am not usually a fan of their boy clothes), ride a bunch of rides, have ice cream and get me several pieces of maternity clothing.
I was totally amazed at the selection of plus sized maternity clothing. When I was pregnant with Erik that was NOTHING. Seriously. Not. One. Thing. I had two pairs of pants, two horrid denim dress things and a couple of shirts. I mostly wore over-sized regular clothing because I couldn’t find anything in brick and mortar stores or online. I couldn’t believe I couldn’t find stuff online, but at the time there really was nothing available.
This time the store had a whole (very small) plus sized section. Score! The gal working was really wonderful as well. Normally I hate talking to people about my clothing choices, but I guess it is such a niche market with so few customers that the customer service people have to really know their stuff and give a hard sell. I told her what I hated about the maternity jeans I was currently wearing and she found a different style that is about a thousand times more comfortable. I never would have tried them on, they were so funny looking. She also directed me to a few different shirts and sweaters that I never would have tried on without prompting. They just didn’t look my style, but she told me that they draped really well and looked good on. She wasn’t kidding. I need her to do all my shopping for me from now on.
Surely every stay at home mom needs a personal stylist, right? If only she could do my hair and make-up, too.
Since I never really dealt with maternity clothes in the past, I didn’t realize just how much fabric is involved in covering up the belly bump. My lord! I wasn’t sure if half the things were dresses or shirts. I need to wear the new shirts because my current shirts are too short and show off the fabulous “secret belly band,” but dang! They all come down to my knees and look stupid. I know they’ll be just right in a couple of months, but I’m not quite there yet.
It’s really nice to have tops that fit through the upper body, while still having room for the belly. With Erik, all my clothes were bagging out in the shoulders and looked really sloppy. I don’t care for the sloppy look.
I don’t know if the world is just more enlightened about plus sized pregnant ladies or if I’m just in a better place, but thus far I haven’t had one negative comment about my weight. With Erik, the doctors were constantly on my ass, telling me how fat I was and how it wasn’t ideal and how I would probably get diabetes and woe, woe, end of the world! This time I’ve seen three different doctors and not a single one of them has mentioned my weight. I mentioned it when the doctor couldn’t hear the baby’s heartbeat with the doppler at 12 weeks since I knew that was likely to happen, and the doctor just nodded and said not to worry.
It is such a relief to leave my appointments on a happy note, excited about the baby and hearing the heartbeat, instead of pissed of that I was once again treated like a stupid, fat, slob because of my weight. I had no idea how good things could be. I thought I just had to accept that treatment because doctors are assholes. It’s refreshing to be treated like a human being. I’m really hoping the rest of my appointments go so smoothly.
Of course, there have been several references to my age, but maybe those don’t hurt since I don’t feel old and I’ve known for years that 35 is the magic key to Advanced Maternal Age. I don’t feel like they are picking on me and I don’t feel like they are blaming me for being 35. It is just a reality that they have to draw the line in the sand somewhere and I am past that line.
Let’s go to a happy, happy, joy, joy dance for productive days and nice doctors! Except let’s do that dance in our sleep. I am exhausted. Instead of making Erik adjust to the time change, we’re having him go to bed an hour early. Which means he gets up an hour early. But I still go to bed at the same time. I need to get myself adjusted. He really does need to get up an hour early because it doesn’t work very well when he gets up at 9 am and I need to be at the gym by 9:30. You know it’s all about me. I never thought the day would come when my child would sleep so well, but the day is here and has been for about a year. I am not looking forward to the newborn days. Surely this new baby will learn to sleep before age 3.