Pregnancy Is A Scam

A bad deal, all around

Pregnancy, the Geraldo Rivera Opens Al Capone’s Vaults of the human experience. (via screengrab)

I went to a book release party recently. I’m 32 weeks pregnant. Results were mixed. 

The famous and accomplished journalist being feted is also well-liked, and so there were a lot of famous people at the book party– producers, actors, executives, agents. Two cast members of an A+ list long-running 90’s comedy were there, as well as a screenwriter and producer with household name recognition.

And so of course this was the event when the first fainting spell of this pregnancy hit.

As I sat in chair in what appeared to be the formal dining room of a brutalist Westwood palace, tended to by two female producers who I had just met as the megafamous screenwriter on the other side of the room glanced over with concern, I thought to myself– pregnancy is a fucking scam. 

To be pregnant in public is a little like walking around with a large foam novelty cowboy hat that you cannot take off. People look, they try not to stare, but I know that they have clocked that I am conspicuous. I am looked upon with pity, bemusement, concern, occasionally, some light leering, because some men are really into it. And then once everybody’s used to the foam cowboy hat that is my body, people go back to whatever it is they were doing and usually leave me alone. Until and unless something like a fainting spell happens. 

Reader, I was so embarrassed. I ended up just sitting in that chair in that corner of that brutalist palace with those producers for the entirety of the event, until I felt steady enough to walk again, worried that if I stood up I’d need medical attention and be the one hauled out of Accomplished Journalist’s book release party on a stretcher, which would have been an extreme party foul. 

At the end of the night, I drove myself home, awkwardly repositioning my right leg frequently, as sitting in the same position for any longer than 10 minutes causes me to lose feeling all the way down past my knee, because my fetus is sitting directly on some important leg nerves. 

When I got home, I googled “fainting third trimester pregnancy” and was met with the same perky Preg-Voice(™) writing style you’ll find on most of the top google results related to pregnancy, birth, and parenting infants. Something along the lines of, “HEY MOMMY TO BE, your little BUNDLE OF JOY is getting more photogenic– no more translucent skin! But she’s also putting on weight, which could mean new symptoms for you, mama! Things like the occasional dizzy spell, leg pain, and contractions strong enough to wake you from sleep! But don’t stress, girl! That just means the baby’s growing! If you feel like you’re going to faint, try SITTING DOWN or DRINKING SOME WATER! And just remember in just a couple SHORT MONTHS, your baby will BE HERE! Which is SOMETHING TO LOOK FORWARD TO!” 

Basically, fainting, along with everything else that if a normal person was experiencing it they’d be encouraged to stop working and perhaps avoid operating heavy machinery, is totally normal and fine during pregnancy, and the best way to address it is by thinking positive thoughts and remembering to drink water and breathe oxygen.

My god, what a scam.

This weekend, as I was getting ready to attend a public event that I probably should not have agreed to do, I told my husband “THIS IS THE LAST THING I’M DOING UNTIL THIS BABY IS OUT.” 

On the way to the event, I lost feeling in the front of my leg again. 

HI MAMA! I know getting THE TINGLIES when you TRY TO DRIVE might give you a little spooky-ook, but it’s just a sign that your PRECIOUS ANGEL is getting plump and ready to MEET YOU, and as a result is PUTTING A LITTLE PRESH ON YOUR NERVIE WERVIES. Don’t fret! While there’s no cure for what’s happening right now (BUMMER!) just try to focus on SHOPPING for these MAMA-TESTED activity mats guaranteed to make tummy time A BREEZE.

It’s called sciatic nerve pain, and there is a cure, which is: lying down. Which is: not something that I can do very easily while I’m changing lanes on the 110.

My doctor asked me the other week if I felt like I could keep working past 36 weeks– about a month before my “due date” (due dates, by the way, are kinda bullshit). In the state of California, if a doctor declares that a patient cannot work past 36 weeks, that patient is entitled to take state-backed pregnancy disability leave. (Unpaid, of course, unless the patient had the foresight to purchase supplemental disability leave before they were pregnant, which I didn’t, as I found out I was pregnant two weeks before I started my full-time job.) I told her that I could definitely work until 38 weeks, because, even though I’ve been on this Tilt-a-Whirl before, I still default to pretending that it sucks less than it does, or that I can handle more than I should. 

Conventional wisdom is correct that the second pregnancy hits harder than the first one. Somebody told me that’s because your body “remembers” how to be pregnant and thus has the muscle memory required to bring you more quickly to a miserable state of stasis. I knew what I was getting into with this one, kind of. Everything is different. But I should have learned my lesson by now.

If anybody reading this is earlier along in pregnancy, or thinking about one day getting pregnant (godspeed, truly), please let this post be permission to say no to things when you’re pregnant. If you don’t feel like doing something it probably means you shouldn’t be doing that thing. Ultimately, I’m glad I went to the book party because it turned into a funny story about embarrassing myself in front of JJ Abrams and I got to hang out with one of my dearest friends after most of the other guests had left. But from here on out, no more parties, no more YES RSVP’s. My doing stuff days are done. I’m having my husband push me around in a wheelbarrow.

Nobody gets a trophy for putting up with the most pain and discomfort without complaining. Especially not while pregnant. Even professional athletes think long and hard before they play hurt. The culture of pregnancy and motherhood that encourages us to pretend that we can do or put up with more than we actually can or should minimizes how consequential pregnancy is on the bodies who endure it.

I wish that pregnant women and new mothers were given space to point out that there are several aspects of this humanity-continuing endeavor that suck ass without having to couch it in optimism and gratitude in order to head off people eager to accuse them of being whiny and ungrateful.

This pregnancy is a giant pain in the ass. I can’t wait for it to be over. If I ever get a hysterectomy, I’m requesting they dispose of my uterus by blasting it directly into the sun.