Being pregnant was awesome. It was the most liberating and empowering experiences of my life. I had created life: ta-da! Okay, so plenty of people create life, babies are born everyday, but this was different because it was me. In Spanish, the term give birth is said “dar a luz” which literally translated means to give light. I felt like a god. I was going to bring forth light, like God did on the first day. A bit sacrigilous of me to think so perhaps, but it goes towards my whole arguement that God is a female entity.
The first trimester was all morning, noon, afternoon, and night sickness. Sometimes I had to paige my boss over the loudspeaker to cover the front counter cause I had to go vomit. Thankfully, I was use to vomiting a lot. Not from bulimia, just getting drunk. So being sick so often was really not a big deal. Some applesauce and I was right as rain.
The guys at work were so incredibly nice to me. They would buy me lunch, let me always have the only stool for sitting on. One time, they even walked in the rain to get my car for me so I wouldn’t have to go. Work was also the only place I think I ever let out the pregnant woman bitch tirades of legend. I am particularly remembering one incident where I told the Boss’ son to promote my ass if he wanted me to telemarket for the company.
I always knew that if I was going to be pregnant, I was going to be a pregnant woman in overalls. It was awsome walking down the street in my overalls with my big pregnant belly. People would make room for me, they’d open doors, it was so nice to see how polite everyone was when you were a big pregnant woman.
I ate way too much. And looking at my daughters behavior now I think I also drank too much caffeine.
I think one of my favorite moments was one day I was at Wendy’s drive through with my boyfriend and his bestfriend (and future godfather of my child). As I paid the nive lady my baby kicked. Future godfather freaked out. He thought the whole “seeing the baby move” was a myth made up by overzealous parents. He said it looked like an alien was trying to come out of my stomach.
My boyfriend was not so nice during my pregnancy. It started off okay, but the more I started to show the worst he became. He let his friends smoke in the car with me in it with the windows closed. (yes, we all know what is smoked in cars with windows closed). I did roll down my window and try to stick my nose out. He didn’t take care of me. He didn’t go out and get me my food cravings, I had to do that myself. If I wanted a smoothie at 1am in the morning. I had to drive through the second worst neighborhood in Miami in an 11 year old car to do it. And I did. And he didn’t argue with me. No concern at all.
We were suppose to have a romantic weekend to the keys. It turned into all his buddies coming with us to St. Petersburg. There was no sex after my first trimester anyway.
I thought it was rather ironic that he was pulling away from me the more pregnant I got. Here I thought I’d lose him if I had an abortion. The truth was I was going to lose him anyway. That’s when I was funny enough, the happiest that I’d gotten pregnant and decided to keep the baby. If I hadn’t gotten pregnant I would wasted more time thinking we had a future together. If I’d had an abortion I would have forever lived with the guilt of it, and thinking I’d destroyed our relationship.
It wasn’t me at all. And I was pretty happy about being pregnant.