Confessions of a Rebellious Pregnant Woman

I'm not rebellious by nature. In fact, I probably missed out on a lot of fun growing up because I thought everything was against the rules...and I followed the rules to a T. And while it made for a "good" kid, it was also seen as boring, monotonous, and scared. Scared to step out of the box of comfort I had built for myself. It was as if I knew my life was boring, but by living with rules for myself, I also knew the exact outcome I could expect. So, rules it was!

When I was pregnant with Ryleigh, naturally, the rule book came out. All the do's and dont's of pregnancy literature governed my every move. If some all-knowing author said I should not clean my bathroom due to the strong smells of the chemicals, then my bathroom was going to get nice and dirty! I never missed a single prenatal vitamin. The rules said no medicine, thus living with an intense headache because I was terrified of what could happen by taking a Tylenol. And that headache I'm referencing? Yeah, that lasted about a week long when I stopped ALL forms of caffeine cold turkey. You get the picture.

What I have learned since Ryleigh is that life is fragile. No one is promised a healthy baby. And though I can control my circumstances to help aid with the health of my baby, nothing I do or don't do will guarantee a healthy baby. If it were really up to us, how would we explain to someone who did everything "right," why their baby was called home early? How could we justify healthy babies born to unfit families? God already knows this little one growing in my womb, and the number of days he will live in this world. Following the rules will not change that.

For all of you thinking, "Yes, BUT, God has entrusted you with this precious life, and it is your job to be wise and responsible, caring for it to the best of your ability..." I agree. And normally, if you really know me, you would know that is how I operate by nature. I am a perfectionist and a rule-follower! I do not take risks, and I strive to always give my 110%. Normally. Problem is, nothing about this pregnancy (and its timing) has been normal.

So back to the title of this post. I have been rebellious this pregnancy. Not necessarily intentionally rebellious, just slightly more laid back. Not so paranoid. And though some of my rebellious acts have been just pure selfishness, others have been driven by circumstance and not many options. Here are my confessions:

• I did NOT give up caffeine this pregnancy. At all. Most days I make an effort to cut back on how much I drink, but other days, I don't even think twice. I guess if I get a hyper child, I'll only have myself to blame. That being said, I was "good" with Ryleigh, and she is one of the most active kids ever. Go figure.
• I have skipped prenatal vitamins...intentionally. When I was going through the sick phase this pregnancy, it hurt more. Obviously, having another little one running around, I could not just be sick. So when I figured out that I felt less nauseous on the mornings after I would skip a vitamin...well, you get the picture. I will say that I would try to eat much more nutritiously on those days to make up for it, but still. Bad mommy.
• I'm a stomach sleeper. Apparently you are not supposed to do that, but sometimes you gotta sleep! Sure, it typically gets the baby kicking and moving around, trying to find a new comfortable spot in Mama's belly, but I don't always mind feeling his movements at the end of the day. If he gets really irritated with me, you know, kicking hard and aiming for ribs and other important organs, then I'll roll over and let him win. Such a nice Mama.
• During the move from Houston, I did way too much. Yes, I painted. I packed heavy boxes. I moved things around myself. I worked out in the insane heat and felt myself get light-headed, yet would not stop. I cleaned with strong chemicals. Yeah, it was rough. But, with Jesse being gone, some things had to get done. When I had help, I'd let them help me. However, there came a time when it was just me. And I had to do what I had to do. You will be proud to know that when it came to moving into our new house, I was good! I did not move any furniture or any boxes. I sat back and let others help. I did not clean with chemicals. I did not make the trips to the hot storage unit. I followed the rules. :)
• I took a bath. Hey- I had to try out the new jacuzzi tub and make sure it worked! And, man, did it feel good!
• I have painted. On a ladder. Yeah. Don't need to go into that.

Okay, so all of these things have thus far not affected me. Sure, there were days when I worked a little too hard and was really tired. But that happens anyway during pregnancy, so no worries.

Yesterday, I was dumb. I thought twice and went against my better judgement. And I paid the price. Ryleigh had been asking to play outside and "cut the grass," and I looked outside and realized the grass really did need to get cut. And at the time, it was early in the morning, I was wrapped in a blanket, cold, thinking, the warmth outside will feel good. (Pregnancy brain=Memory lapse as to the fact we live in Texas...it is not warm in August.)

So, we put on tank tops and shorts, and I put her toys on the driveway, blocked by my car, and got ready to examine our new yard and plan my attack. Yeah, the yard pretty much attacked me. Jesse had already told me how "spongy" it was, but I was not sure what he meant. Now I know. The lawn mower died 3 times on me, flooded with grass, leaving massive streaks in the yard, as if I was bailing hay. And though the grass was slightly tall, it was not that tall...Jesse has just mowed it last weekend, 4 days prior! I ended up having to pull out the rake and pick up extra grass from all over the yard. And the yard is not even at all. Dips in the yard, the house sitting slightly uphill...not cool. I'm used to having a pretty yard, with nice grass, where the biggest mistake I can make is to slightly scalp the edges if I'm not paying attention. Normally, when someone cuts the grass, the yard always looks better; maybe not nice, but better than how it started! Yeah, I did not feel that way yesterday. And it took me for-ev-er (to be pronounced like Squence in The Sandlot) to finish. Needless to say, I did not do the backyard. I was hot, frustrated, and exhausted by the time I was done.

When Jesse got home last night, he found me laying on the couch- sunburned, laying on an ice pack, with a bottle of Tylenol and a box of Bandaids sitting next to me. He cautiously walked over, kissed me, and said, "did you cut the grass?"

I just sighed.

He shook his head and said, "Honey, you do not need to do that! We're here together again, and I will handle that. It's not good for you!"

I started tearing up, exhausted and hurting and said, "I was trying to be nice and helpful."

He gave me a hug and said, "Thank you, babe. But, please don't do it again. What are our neighbors going to think when they see my 8-month pregnant wife out there pushing a lawn mower in this insane heat? What if you passed out? What if you really did hurt yourself? What if you started having contractions? Thank you for trying to help. Next time, just cook dinner. I like when you do that." Grin.

"Speaking of dinner," I said, "You're on your own tonight. I'm pooped."

Soooo YEAH. LONG story short, my rebelliousness caught up to me. I was stupid, and last night, I paid the price. Now it's back to the rule book for me. Well, at least most of the rules. I don't want to be considered a goody-too-shoes, or anything. :)