Baby, It's Cold Outside

Good morning! At the start of this frigid Lexington day, I would like to offer my perspective on a relevant issue... Pregnant mornings are very different from non-pregnant mornings.

First, getting a pregnant woman out of bed is like poking a bear in the eye. You can expect growling, roaring, swatting, charging or any combination of those things. When the alarm on my cell phone goes off, I stare at it with bitter resentment before I even bother to hit the snooze button. Here's why: getting comfortable enough to sleep seems almost impossible. Personally, my temperature fluctuates about five times before it regulates sufficiently for slumber. I also used to sleep on my stomach every night, but if I try to do that now, it feels like baby is being shoved into my spine. Getting to sleep requires the perfect positioning that allows blood flow to every extremity and a temperature consistent enough to enter a stable state of snuggled. The chirp of the alarm is hardly welcome. Luckily, my phone background is an ultrasound image of my little one, so immediately after I scowl at the time, I can't help but smile.

After expressing my discontentment that morning rolled around so quickly, two thoughts cross my mind. 1) I need to get to the bathroom asap! 2) I'm hungry. So after a quick trip to the ladies room, I forage. Today, my pride and joy requested a Toaster Strudel for breakfast. Like any reasonable person, I ate three of them. Excessive? Maybe. Delicious? Yes. I'll probably eat two Pop Tarts before my first class is over, too. I used to forgo breakfast in college. It interfered with rolling out of bed with just enough time for brushing my teeth and a swipe of mascara. But these days, it's the most important part of the morning. Don't forget the side order of prenatal vitamin.

It's 9:45 a.m. right now, and on a normal Wednesday, I can't be bothered before 10. Today, however, was special. Barely awake around 8:30, I realized that my car needed to be moved for the street cleaning that occurs on the first Wednesday of every month. I won't type the word I used when the thought hit me, but it rhymes with "spit." After I wedged my car into the tiniest space imaginable, I trekked back to my dorm against winds that were so strong, I thought they would grab hold of my baggy maternity sweatpants and carry me away. That can't happen, though. I'm too heavy now.