This is a post I feel I’ve waited my entire existence to write.
In May 2013, I am going to become a mom. A real mom! Not just a doggie mom, or a horsey mom. A real mom. Of a tiny person!
While I could go into the dreamy details of how blissful my first trimester was, I’d rather tell you the less-than-lovely details of what I experienced these first thirteen weeks.
When I learned I was pregnant, I was not surprised. Ecstatic! But, not surprised.
I found out on a Friday, after a week of sleepless nights from “death cramps” as I called them. It literally felt like my uterus was on fire inside of me, and nothing I did could ease the pain. I was waking up to urinate and thought, “I might die from this cramp right now.”
First thing Friday morning, those two little blue lines confirmed what I had prayed for; a little alien was growing and burrowing into my womb.
Fast forward a few weeks: I learned growing babies in utero need to eat. I followed the doctors (in my case, midwifes) orders and ate something the minute I woke up.
However, that meal isn’t enough to sustain me the rest of the morning any longer. And so I vomited. My husband got really good at jumping away from me when I had the “I’m going to puke” look on my face. God Bless him.
At ten weeks, I got the math right and taught myself to eat every few hours and keep my blood sugar balanced. This is when I decided to start a prenatal water fitness class at our local YMCA.
Giddy for my first class, I squeezed into my favorite one-piece swimsuit and scampered into the pool. Once in the pool, a strange sense of self-awareness crept over me.
“When is the last time I shaved my legs? …. When did I shave down there? Why doesn’t my butt fit into this swimsuit?”
As the class began, I pushed the self-awareness aside and just enjoyed the company of other expectant mothers. We were all bringing new life into the world and we radiated hope.
Then, my swimsuit decided to pick a fight. Unable to keep the suit out of crevasses swimsuits should never dare to explore, I found myself distracted yet again.
Ladies and gentleman, I take no pride when I say… that first water aerobics class I fought with a camel toe from my swimsuit the entire hour. I was mortified and thought, “These other moms will never want to be friends with the girl with camel toe!!!”
Discreetly, I tried asking a new friend from class where she bought her swimsuit and another mom overheard. They chuckled and clued me in on the best prenatal water aerobics secret known to man, “It’s called a tankini.”
Earth-to-idiot: Don’t think your one piece from the honeymoon will fit when you are ten weeks pregnant. Bikinis were out of the question but for some reason, I just couldn’t connect the dots on my own to think of buying a tankini.
Raiding the neighborhood Target the next day, I found two tankini tops in the plus sized section that fit me.
My un-pregnant body graces a size six figure…so how I am magically a plus size in tankinis will remain a mystery to me.
I was so celebratory that the price tags on these (not-so) little swimsuit tops were $2 and $6 I practically ran to the register when I learned they fit me. Plus size or not.
I can’t wait to learn more about my body throughout this pregnancy, and I can’t wait to become a mom.
Most of all, I can’t wait to go to the every prenatal water aerobics class and concentrate on something other than fighting The Battle of Crotch vs. Swimsuit.