The past few months, I noticed some irregularities in my overall physical, mental and emotional state. The first and most ominous being that I missed my period, followed by a sudden increase in appetite and intense craving for tacos, nachos, Buko salad, lasagna, lechon, mangoes, pure orange juice, Maltesers and the rest, well, I couldn’t recall anymore (because I craved something different every 2-3 days).
I was too drowsy, tired and sleepy to work; I had to take naps in the morning and during lunchtime or late afternoon to be able to function properly. I felt nauseous, sick, and gas-ridden all day. I went from a meager 36A to a 38B (and still growing. Take that, silicone!). All these began within the first couple of weeks that I missed my menses, and continued for about three more months.
I transformed into one emotional blob, easily influenced by images, words, thoughts and petty quarrels. I cried in a fingersnap, inevitably and without shame – in public buses, taxis and jeepneys, during walks along EDSA, in stinky public toilets and while buying papaya from a scraggly street vendor.
Lately, I also noticed that I was flimsier and clumsier than I already am, and tend to lose balance easily. My once reliable-as-an-elephant memory started to rust. I tend to change my mind in seconds. A scenario in KFC, for example:
Cashier: Welcome to KFC. May I take your order?
Me: One 2-piece fried chicken meal, hot and crispy, with coke (for the husband) and…wait, nag-iisip pa ‘ko (although I already made up my mind about ordering a one-piece Original chicken meal for me a minute ago).
After thirty seconds…
Me: Ay, miss, hindi pala. Yung 2-piece na lang na classic fully loaded with Mountain Dew. Saka chicken steak meal without drinks.
Cashier: Is that all, Ma’am?
Me: Hmmm…Ay hindi na lang pala chicken steak. One-piece chicken meal na lang with rice. ‘Yung thigh part ha?
Cashier (kakamot ng ulo at tatawagin ang manager): Sir, pa-void.
Pagbalik sa table:
Jigs: ‘Yung extra rice?
Me: Ay, nakalimutan ko. Bibili na lang ako uli (pupunta sa cashier).
And mind you, I never forget the extra rice for Jigs. Because he ALWAYS, ALWAYS orders extra rice with all his meals for the past eight years.
At the cashier…
Me: Miss, isa palang extra rice.
Cashier: Dalawa ho ba, ma’am?
Me: Oo, dalawang extra rice.
And yes, if it isn’t obvious yet, I am pregnant. As of writing, I am 20 weeks with baby number 1. I am due to give birth on March to a baby whose sex will be determined nine days from now (yey!).
My husband says I’ve acquired “pregnancy brain” and calls me LilyPad, one of the main characters in the comedy series, How I Met Your Mother. When she got pregnant, Lily became forgetful and fickle-minded. She gave wine, scissors and staplers to kids during trick or treats, interchanges words by accident, and suddenly developed an inclination to the suburbs when she used to hate them. “It’s the pregnancy hormones”, her friend Robin says. She’s got pregnancy brain.
Now I’m not sure if the pregnancy brain thing is entirely true, but I do seem to have been suffering from the same baffling experience. It’s funny most of the time, but combined with the added stress and hormonal changes, that bit of mystery turns a li’l frustrating on some occasions.
So all ya husbands out there, try to be nicer to the pregnant missus. She carries the future in her. And half the entire time that she is, the conditions are not at all pleasant. I mean, would you consider it so if you were always nauseated, bloated and lethargic, pee and fart every ten minutes, carried a seven-pound (or heavier) belly all the time, walked like a duck, sweat like hell, have to always hide wiry hair and dark armpits, and aren’t even allowed to pacify yourself with soda and sweets to ease that conundrum? If her sudden quirkiness seems annoying to you, bear in mind that you may even be more annoying to her, and she doesn’t even know why.
Wait, did I already tell you I am 20 weeks pregnant?