Baby Bumps: From Party Girl to Proud Mama, and all the Messy Milestones Along the Way

Author:Polizzi, Nicole [Polizzi, Nicole]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780762451654
Publisher: Running Press
Published: 2013-12-31T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 12

Super Mommy

Every pregnant lady is a superhero for what she goes through. She’s brave and courageous, with incredible strength to haul her belly around. With great pregnancy comes great responsibility—and great powers. I definitely gained some Super Mommy skills. (Transforming into a Hindenburg was not one of them. That was not super.)

For the most part, having preggers powers was pretty cool. The only one I was not into was . . .

Super Smell. It was like I was bitten by a radioactive basset hound. I could sniff out a French fry within ten miles, and zero in on it like a blip on a radar screen. French fry, dead ahead! I knew if Jionni sneaked upstairs for a shot, which he did sometimes for stress relief, as soon as he uncapped the bottle. The smell of vodka on him was so strong, it was like he took a bath in it. If I was within two hundred feet of a garbage can, I could smell it and detected what was inside—coffee grinds, check, eggshells, check, used condoms, ECCCH! And then I could visualize myself gagging into it. Even normal, nice scents like the ocean or suntan lotion that I’d otherwise enjoy became overpowering. The whole world reeked! I have no idea how dogs can get through their lives like this. A pregnant dog? How does she survive? Super smell for me was just disgusting. I warded off the grossness by dabbing Snooki perfume under my nostrils throughout the day.

Okay, on to the super powers I loved.

Super Balance. I’m going to reveal my secret power source during my pregnancy: my Jeffrey Campbells. I got a lot of shit for wearing heels. Critics said that the so-called ankle-breakers were dangerous because I might fall down and hurt the baby. But unless I fell down a flight of stairs and ruptured the placenta, my tumbling the five feet from standing upright in heels to landing on my fat ass was not going to hurt the baby. The uterus muscles and amniotic fluid were like a baby bomb shelter, keeping him nice and safe in there. Plus, I’ve been living in heels since I was a teenager. I was steadier in six-inch heels than in flats. I guess I was living down a reputation for falling down drunk. But I wasn’t drunk when pregnant. I was one thousand percent sober. And when I was sober, I was as stable as Mount Everest.

In fact, when my belly got big, my balance was even better. It was like Lorenzo was my inner stabilizer. A couple of times, I did teeter. It seemed like Lorenzo was there to catch me and keep me from falling. The one and only time I stumbled and had to take a knee during my entire nine months of pregnancy? I was wearing platform flats!

Super Dreams. Apparently, most preggers ladies have vivid dreams. It’s due to hormones (bitches!) and having to wake up every five minutes to run to the bathroom holding your crotch.

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