I remember pregnancy fondly. Not because I enjoyed it, but because it was the most selfishly indulgent time of my life…when I wasn’t dry heaving at the scent of cooked meat.
I had some pretty creative cravings. My mother-in-law believes that you must give a pregnant woman whatever she is craving, or the unborn child will get a birthmark in the shape of that food. So I got: steamed lobster tail, stewed greens with potatoes, Coke with lots of ice, and lavender (ew) shortbread.
My point is, man that was a sweet time. Once the baby was born the amount of care that my family members had for my diet took a nosedive, so for the first five to six months of Penelope’s life, I subsisted off of espresso, water and bread. And Coke.
Why was I so miserable when I was pregnant? I must have subconsciously known that once the baby was born, life (and food) as I knew it would never be the same.
I’ve drawn the completely unscientific conclusion that mothers who are unable to lose their baby weight postpartum must have angel babies that sleep a lot, or nannies. Because it took me six months + of practice to figure out how to eat and take care of an infant.