Are You Sure That's Good for the Baby?

Who taught my four-year-old to say this? How is it that at thirty weeks pregnant as I was sitting down to munch on a bowl of frozen blueberries, my son looked at me with (genuine? mock?) concern and said, “Mommy, are you sure that’s good for the baby?” Huh? Geez son, usually when people ask me that I tear their heads off with my teeth, spit them on the ground and stomp on them, but for you I think I’ll have to make an exception. Of course I’m sure! I’ve done this before! But where did you come up with the idea to ask?

Did you go to preschool one day and tell your teachers that Mommy’s favourite drink is beer? It’s de-alcoholized, but you don’t know the difference. Did the teachers gently suggest that it may not be good for the baby? Or is it because this is baby number three, and all of the careful precautions and preparations I took the first time around have gone out the window. Maybe you can sense that at least one of us should be looking out for this little lamb. Did Daddy put you up to this?

My outlook with this pregnancy is so much different than with the priors. For one thing, I’m actually trying to keep a handle on my rampant eating. Trying, not succeeding. For example, last night, the baby DEMANDED crunchy cheesies. I was powerless to resist. I had spent the day throwing out the leftover Easter candy, and then baby sent Daddy to the store for cheesies. I felt shame this morning, and resolved once again to try to fill myself with nutritious things so I won’t get desperate cravings at eight o’clock at night. I’m trying hard to keep fit this time around. Maybe it’s because I had three months of bed rest with Skyler and the recovery from that was brutal. Or maybe it’s because twice now I have spent an entire year trying to get back to a body that will probably never return. This is my pre-emptive strike.

Part of my effort to keep fit includes swimming laps at the pool. I am beginning to realize that I never see other pregnant women swimming laps. Did I not get the memo? I wonder what I must look like, chugging away in the medium lane—not willing to put myself in the slow lane, but in touch enough with reality to keep out of the fast lane. From the shoulders up I look all business: goggles, swim cap, waterproof mp3 player. Then the swimming. The only thing I can think of is the song we sing in Mother Goose: Roly Polyyyyyy, Roly Polyyyyy... I’m not exactly motoring. I’ve noticed several times through my peripheral vision the lifeguard keeping pace with me on deck. Thanks guy. Real confidence-builder.