One who got pregnant, approximately one second after starting said blog.
It's not that I haven't wanted to write, I have, but writing about anything other than the fact that I'm creating a new human seemed inauthentic, and even though I told Facebook about the little seed far too early, I just didn't want to do that here.
So, here I am. Telling you now, just as I'm starting my second trimester. Right at the time that pregnant women are supposed to share such news. And that's the foundation for today's soap box. The ever growing list of do's and dont's for us life-givers. Maybe it's because this is my second pregnancy, but I'm just not buying it anymore. I'm eating tuna, because it makes me feel full without feeling sick. I'm not exercising, because when I do I feel nauseas, and, perhaps the most scandalous, I stopped taking my pre-natal vitamins, because they were causing stomach problems. Yep, I'm pretty much the anti-Christ of pregnancy. But, you know what? I feel a zillion times better than I did with my first one, where I stuck to every rule like glue. Not that correlation equals causation, but still.
I suppose that being a generally healthy woman has kept me out of too many doctor's offices, so when I get pregnant it's kind of a culture shock to be monitored so closely. And I love my OB, don't get me wrong, but would it be too much to ask for her to just say, "Go forth and multiply!" without the mercury speech? I don't kow, maybe I'm putting too much weight on external validation, but wouldn't it be awesome if practitioners were a little encouraging? You know after they scare the crap out of us with all of the things that might go wrong over the next 9 months.
But of all the things that I would like support on, it's this one: I know, I mean I KNOW, that I am having a boy. It's not that I prefer a boy or wish for a boy, I KNOW that I am having one. I know this because as I was falling asleep one night, several months before I conceived, a voice told me so. Maybe it was God, or an Angel, or my highest-self, but someone other than my conscious-self said very clearly, that I was having a boy, and his name would be Gabriel. I haven't told many people, until now, how I know, but I've shared what I know, and the response has been 50/50, with 50% agreeing and 50% sharing stories of how they thought they knew, but were wrong. And maybe half of the first 50 are secretly thinking that I'm nuts. Next week, a blood test will confirm the sex of this being inside me, and then people will believe me. But why does it have to be that way? Why can't a woman's knowing be enough?
I say we start a movement. Let's know what we know and share it with others, even if the way that we came across this knowledge seems a little strange. It's just like Jerry said, "Once in a while you get shown the light, in the strangest of places if you look at it right."