A different kind of love

Being pregnant has been a challenge, a blessing.. and a learning experience. [I still stand with my claim that no one ever really prepares for something like this]. At first, I didn't know what to think of it. I had to share my body with somebody or something that would change my life completely, and be subjected to an unprecedented amount of constant, though well-meaning patronizing.

"Don't lift anything... Don't drink anything with caffeine.. Go up the stairs one step at a time.." -- No matter what the activity was, there was something potentially unhealthy or dangerous about it. I couldn't understand the fuss. In my opinion, I could still rely on my own sound judgement.
[Don't get me wrong.. being a first time mom, I'll take all the advice I can get]. But being stubborn and self-sufficient as I am, I just keep trying to do my own thing in the face of loud opposition.. which more than often gets me in trouble... especially with Mike. I hate that sometimes. I hate being told that I can't have a cup of capuccino anymore because if I drink anything that has caffeine then we might see a spike in my blood pressure, and if my blood pressure goes higher than normal then that might lead to another anxiety attack, and if I get an anxiety attack then I would need medication, and if I need medication then that can't be good for the baby. It's like being stuck in a carousel of slippery slopes.. round and round it goes.

Before getting pregnant, I was always on the go.. always looking for something new to do. I might have been even considered a risk-taker. Now, even walking outside barefoot is considered a BIG no-no. I am confined to very monitored behavior deemed safe for the child that I'm carrying, and I sometimes [selfishly] feel smothered and overprotected. All of a sudden, it isn't about me anymore and what satisfies my short-lived craving for an adrenaline rush. It's about what's best for my baby.

Sometimes, I even think that this pregnancy is affecting my brain moreso than it's affecting my waistline. But at the end of the day, when the little guy in my stomach starts to kick and Mike gently bends down to give him a kiss... being scolded for insisting on a capuccino frenzy suddenly seems so trivial...