When I first found out I was pregnant, I was surprised by the extensive list of “don’ts” coming from my Doctor’s office. There are certain things you know you’ll forego upon finding yourself “with child”, but then there are other things that come a little out of left field. Plane travel, for example, probably isn’t a great idea when you can no longer see your feet (or those of the person in front of you). Contact sports are put on hold until after delivery. Keg-stands become a thing of the past faster than you can do a hand-stand and count to 10. But did you know a turkey sub is outside the realm of preggo-possibility too?! And that you can’t sleep on your back after week 20?! Well there are plenty of people out there who do (know these handy facts). And they’re only too happy to fill you in if you’re caught in the act breaking any of the “rules”. I like to call these people “The Pregnancy Police.”
Frustratingly enough (but not all that surprisingly) officers of The Pregnancy Police squad are usually male. Which (despite recent headlines proclaiming the world’s first “pregnant man“), since they’ll never have to follow their own instructions, makes them all that much more obnoxious. The saying, “People who live in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones.” Comes to mind. Only in this case it would be more like, “People who are still allowed to eat sushi can take that sushi and shove it where the sun don’t shine.” Not that I’m bitter.
My first encounter with the Pregnancy Police happened one day early on in my preggo-ness when I ordered a soda at lunch. I’d barely gotten the 4th syllable of “Diet Pepsi” out when I incurred the wrath of Officer Caffeine. “You know, you really should have juice or even water instead. Did you know too much caffeine has been proven to cause miscarriages in the first trimester?” Why no, oh genius one… somehow I must have missed that little tid-bit in the dozen “What to Expect When You’re Expecting“-style books I’ve read already. So I guess you’re saying the heroin I experimented with last week probably wasn’t a good idea either?…
Let’s get a little something straight… I have already given up lunch meat, alcohol, sushi, any worth-a-darn amount of tuna fish, hi-lites in my hair, sleeping on my back, sleeping on my stomach, sleeping much at all, cold and flu medications, a pain-free back, any prayer of fitting into something with the word “small” (or, let’s be honest, even “medium” in it), strenuous exercise (ok, so there are some perks), my bra size (again… not all preggo “sacrifces” are all that bad), my shoe size (but then there’s that), my right to not have perfect strangers grope my mid-section, and the list goes on and on…
Allow me this one little liquid pleasure sans judgement, won’t you?
And sadly (yet comfortingly) enough, I know I’m not alone on this one. Ladies, leave a comment below to tell us all about your run-ins with the Preggo Police. Gentlemen, here’s your chance to ‘fess up. And (if you’re crafty enough) get your “advice” out here rather than informing a hormonal pregnant chic in real-life. This is a much safer bet, trust me… this blog will only figuratively slap you in the face. I can’t promise you the same if you try to regulate on one of my fellow preggos.