waddle waddle

I get the whole pregnant waddle thing now. I always wondered why pregnant women waddle. Not that I thought they shouldn't waddle, in particular, but why do all bigger pregnant women waddle when not all bigger women waddle. I also had wondered why the cliche was to be barefoot and pregnant. Did that have to do with poverty? Did her man have some weird controlling thing where he wanted to keep her home and barefoot, like, "you don't need no shoes, woman, you ain't got no reason to leave this here house."

The waddle has to do with where you're carrying the extra weight. Mainly, straight out in front of you. You have no bone structure nearby to support the dangling protrusion. It's like building a second story porch without putting support columns underneath. When you walk, the unsupported weight seems heavier and strains where it is connected to your body. But if you walk slower, and waddle a bit, there is less strain on each step. Generally, bigger non-pregnant women don't carry all their weight straight out front, but in a spare tire/love handle fashion or along the thighs. With a strong bone structure nearer to the extra weight, it's easier to carry it, and they're less likely to waddle.

The barefoot thing has two reasons, neither having to do with poverty, controlling men, or any other red-neck mentality. #1 your internal temperature is higher and you're just hot all the time, no matter how cold natured you were before. Taking your shoes off makes you lots cooler all over the same way that cooling off your neck makes you lots cooler all over. So you go barefoot. #2 is the fact that your feet have either swollen, or just grown while you are pregnant. So far, I think my feet have only swollen because my sneakers still fit lengthwise. My pregnancy sandals (as I'm coming to think of them) are at times tight along the straps which were very loose to begin with. My pretty sandals with heels don't fit right now because of the swelling. So basically I have 2 pair of wearable shoes right now. In essence, I go barefoot a lot, especially when I'm home. Hence, I'm barefoot and pregnant at home a lot. And it has nothing to do with money or a controlling husband in a wife-beater T-shirt, un-showered and missing a front tooth. My husband is none of these, might I add.

This week, I'm 11 weeks from being a full term 40 weeks. Full term can also be defined as anything past 36 or 37 weeks though. I go back and forth between thinking, "oh crap! I've only got 11 weeks and I've got sooo much to do," and "oh crap! I still have 11 weeks in this uncomfortable body and it's only going to get worse!" I looked it up last night, and after 30 weeks of gestation, a baby born then will still be very underweight, but will probably not have any long term health issues from not being fully baked. So I'm nearly to the "healthy child" point in my pregnancy. Which is a relief!

I've only had one person insist on telling me labor horror stories. Which is pretty good! Everyone else, I've been able to stop and say, "wait, is this story only going to gross me out or terrify me?" and a time or two, the story teller has stopped and said, "yes" and then wisely skip to the "then I got to hold my baby" part. I know things can go wrong. I know gross things happen. But I'm kinda locked in now without an escape hatch. The guy who told me the horrible stories managed to tell me 4 within about 4 minutes. His last name is synonymous with "crazy" or "nuts" and he frequently lives up to his name. I avoid him when I can and advise other women to do the same. This is the kind of guy who will single you out, and cross a room to tell you details about his recent bowel surgery. Really!? Is there ever a time that's appropriate? That's the kind of surgery that you verbally reference only as "abdominal surgery", even with good friends, until someone asks you at least three times what kind of abdominal surgery. This guy also looks like he's nuts, and will stare at you in that way that makes you wonder if he's mentally chopping you into pieces so you'll fit in his freezer better. When he stopped me to talk, I mentally cringed, and very quickly just blocked out everything he said and tried to think of some phrase I could escape with. I think I said something like, "that's a shame those babies were deformed, but I need to get on the road" and then bolted. The odd thing is, it didn't occur to me to be just as rude and simply turn and walk away while he was still talking. Sometimes manners and a good upbringing can really kick you in the tail.