By Amanda Mack

This piece was written during the summer of 2009. The author welcomed a baby boy in late August and, indeed, loves being a new mom again.
My friend asked me the other day what it’s like to be pregnant. I told him, “It’s like seriously over-eating to the point that your food revolts and tries to escape.” Although a bit sweeter than that, the analogy fits.

I am thirty-seven weeks pregnant and, my doctor tells me, 70 percent effaced, meaning the new baby will arrive in the next couple of weeks. Although this second pregnancy has been a little more challenging and exhausting than my first, it’s also been more relaxed. I put my feet up more and cut myself more slack than I did the first time around.

For instance, our home is disheveled, but that’s okay. I told my husband the other day, “Just because I’m not getting it done, doesn’t mean you have to do it.” Fortunately, he is doing a lot around the house. He even folded all of the newborn clothes I had haphazardly thrown into the baby’s dresser the other day. Expectant fathers, take note. It might take until baby number two, but you too can learn to fold palm-sized clothing.

Pregnancy exhaustion brings with it trepidation about what comes next. I wonder how I will make it through those first six months. Hypothetically, they seem more challenging than they do sweet. Though looking at pictures of my husband and I with our first-born, I am amazed at how relaxed, blissed out and in love we look despite the daily challenges of caring for an infant. I am reminded that I loved being a new mom and I know I will love it again.

Did you really just say that?

In addition to some of the unwelcome swelling of various body parts I experienced in the first few months of pregnancy, I was also forced to entertain ridiculous comments and questions from my child-free friends. When we announced we were having a baby over dinner with close friends and family, one friend tried to calculate and figure out where he was the night we conceived. Yuck!

A few months into it, when I informed that same friend that, according to my weekly Internet update, the baby was the size of an apple, he replied in disbelief, “That’s it?! I was thinking more like a large melon!” I held a grudge until the third trimester when the relaxin kicked in. Relaxin is a pregnancy hormone that is true to its name and Mother Nature’s sweetest gift to expectant mothers!

The second trimester was more of the same until the most wonderful turning point occurred. My belly’s girth exceeded my breast size, bringing my body’s proportions back into balance. When others asked me how I was doing, I’d tell them about this phenomenon. By the looks on their faces, the topic clearly made them uncomfortable. More than once, I got the “you’ve got to stop talking” look from my sister or mother, a gentle nudge designed to help me save face. Lesson learned: don’t draw more attention to engorged reproductive parts than absolutely necessary. Although, I really think there is something to it. A friend who brightly estimated that I must be six to eight months pregnant during my fourth month, told me that I looked fantastic when I ran into him the other day – “much better than the last time I saw you!” Is that a compliment? Regardless, his comments validated my breasts and belly theory.

When I revealed my impressive yet slightly frightening cup size to a visiting girlfriend, she told me that in the entire Twin Cities metro area she was challenged to find the triple D cup size she became with each of her three pregnancies. Her size two, waiflike stature helped me see the temporary nature of my predicament and even take a step toward appreciating my ever-curvier self.

Expectant mothers do receive comfort along the way. The experienced husbands and fathers who say things like, “you look amazing,” can expect enthusiastic kisses. Girlfriends, sisters and mothers become even more important than usual. “What can I do for you?” has the most wonderful ring to it. Where do I begin?

Pregnant women develop a natural glow during the third trimester from all of the extra blood flowing through their bodies. My laugh has gotten deeper and all stress has disappeared. My mom and sister call me the “jolly pregnant lady.” I can’t help it. Despite my physical limitations, I’m happy. My belly does all the talking so I get to avoid the uncomfortable dance with people I haven’t seen for a while as to whether or not I am pregnant. Unfortunately though, the ridiculous commentary does not end.

You’ll get yours

Another friend who was with us the night we revealed my pregnancy, informed me recently that he is not grossed out by my pregnancy like he thought he would be. I actually think my wearing a bikini this summer took away the mystery of my unsettling condition and helped him come to terms with it (it takes a brave woman!). I took his words as a compliment and, despite his protests, I suspect he’ll be among our first visitors in the hospital.

I also am reminded of my brother-in-law’s reaction to some late pregnancy photos I posted to the Internet during my first pregnancy. Eden, his wife, was a diminutive four months along with their first baby at the time. Within five minutes of posting the photos, the phone rang and Eric’s concerned voice rang out from across the Atlantic. After our initial greeting, he paused and then stammered, “You’re huge!” Love that relaxin. I just laughed. By the way, Eden is currently 36 weeks pregnant with twins. Talk about karmic retribution!

It’s actually pretty wonderful

I will miss being pregnant. Despite my own discomforts and those of my friends, the lesson in it for all of us is the miracle. Pregnancy and childbirth are a common experience, and yet each human being is like a home science project and an artistic masterpiece all wrapped up into one. The creation of a human being is, as I told my husband when we were contemplating our first child, “the stuff of life. I don’t want to miss it.” And I am thankful every day that I’m in the thick of it – for better or for worse.

I was at the grocery store the other day and noticed a young couple. They were clearly expecting their first child and I would guess she was about four months along. As I lumbered toward them to negotiate passing them mid-aisle, I noticed the panic stricken look on the young man’s face as he compared my expansive belly to his partner’s little bump.

In a relaxin-induced moment of compassion, I tried my best to convey to him with a return glance, “Yes, my friend, this will happen to her too. And it’s going to be all right. In fact, it’s pretty wonderful!” Despite my best efforts to educate, provide good analogies and dispel preconceived notions about pregnancy in that single glance, I think the food in his stomach was trying to escape.