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Hormones. Or, “Don’t Poke the Mama Bear.”

November 24, 2012

Editor’s Note: There are some beautiful pictures of our Thanksgiving meal, and some not-so-great ones of the chef(s), that will eventually be posted here. I had to work yesterday and today so instead of waiting to post when I’m falling asleep on the couch after work, I’m posting this now, and will post pictures tonight or tomorrow.                                                                                                                                                

– Cupcake

 Well, it’s post-Turkey Day, and while our family Thanksgiving went off without a hitch (despite one hefty conversation pitting the crazy liberal against the staunch conservatives, no names, no names), and the MoorQuatt families melded well. That hefty conversation, however, has highlighted to me the influence of my new best friends, estrogen and progesterone.

To those of you who have never been pregnant, or who have never had a spouse or partner experience nature’s joy, pregnant women can occasionally seem like whiney babies. They blame everything on the kid, from weight gain to snapping at their bosses, to sobbing at the drop of a hat. It can seem unreal, and lends itself to a little bit of judgment (like, “is it really that bad? Or is she just looking for attention?”).

Well, I’ve been on both sides now. And folks: let me tell you. It. Is. That. Bad.

People who are not accustomed to pregnancy don’t seem to understand what’s going on. It’s nothing “special” as such, and I’m definitely not saying pregnant women deserve a separate code of conduct. It’s been happening for thousands of years, obviously, but when it’s hitting you for the first time, it really is dramatic.

The best way I can describe the truck-to-the-face that is Lisa’s pregnancy hormones is to ask you to imagine your worst day in high school:

The day you got furious at your mother for saying the wrong thing about your jeans, angry with your father for just not understanding the importance of a specific social event (or TV show, or computer game). The day none of your best friends seemed like they were even on the same planet, your face was breaking out, you got a bad grade on a test you tried really hard on, and you spilled something obvious on your shirt.

It’s like the feeling at the end of that day, when you’re almost out of class, and you turn to the person sitting next to you simply to ask what page your homework assignment is on, and the teacher catches you, shames you in front of the class despite your weak explanation that it was homework-related, and then gives you all a pop quiz “because of all the chit-chat.” It’s like that day. All the time.

A case study: Shortly after we found out we were pregnant (and yes, I’ll have an entire post on the subject of “we” being pregnant at a later date), I had a long day at work, nothing particularly terrible, no morning sickness yet, just … exhausting. And something came up at the very last minute that meant we had to stay after work for about 20 minutes making emergency phone calls. All I wanted was to get home, take a hot bath, and sip something cool to drink.

Unfortunately, by the time I got home, the water in our building was in the process of being turned off to handle some sort of plumbing emergency. I raced through the house, trying to get to the tub in time to fill it up before we lost all water. I got about 2 inches of water in the tub before the gush turned to a trickle.

Meanwhile, I stripped off my boots and socks, and was starting to get undressed WHEN…I stepped. In. Dog poop. Daisy had pooped in the bedroom. On my side of the bed.

At this point, I was so furious I could barely see straight. I ran to the bathroom to try to wash off my foot, and get a piece of toilet paper to start cleaning up the mess, meanwhile SCREAMING at the top of my lungs to my husband (playing video games in the living room with his headphones on) “DAISY $#*@ IN THE BEDROOM”, when I realized that I needed to pee.

The lid was up.

I’ll save you the gory details, but about 5 minutes later, Matt found me standing in the bedroom, tissues in hand, wailing in a pitiful, muffled voice “The lid was up. THE LID WAS UP. I have to WALK there! [explanation: on the side of the bed Daisy pooped on. Coherency is not super-relevant at these melt-down moments.]”

Bewildered, and if I’m being honest, slightly horrified, Matt put on his brave face and stood there hugging me, softly saying “I’m sorry,” until the wailing stopped.

The next day I praised him endlessly for having the foresight to buy orange juice, which I had forgotten I had included on the grocery list I forced into his hand as he was walking out the door.

All this is to say, cut to the hefty conversation at Thanksgiving, where the crazy liberal was forced to defend her ideals against a room full of people who had no inkling of the hormone storm they were inflicting upon themselves, and…let’s just say, I haven’t gotten that heated over a political discussion since some very poignant moments in my formative years as a lone liberal undergrad at a majority conservative institution.

The family eventually backed off, partly because we changed the subject, but mainly because they could see I was visibly shaking and turning red, and I think the in-laws were a little worried I might explode.

Moral of the story: Don’t. Poke. The Mama. Bear. Leave her alone, until she’s ready to snuggle. At least, that’s  the phrase we live by at the MoorQuatt household. For the next 9 months at least. (Er…7….eek!)

Emotions: varied, but deadly.

Symptoms: NAUSEA. Oh Lord, the nausea. And extreme fatigue.

 

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2 Comments leave one →
  1. November 24, 2012 1:27 pm

    I can completely relate (to the hormones, and to being the lone liberal in our fam) and let me tell you – at almost 50, the hormones are WAY fun, too! Add in a teenager or two – and let the party begin! I feel for you – and can empathize, and just hang in there – the second tri is much better – and of course, the end result is definitely worth the wild ride! Love you!

  2. November 25, 2012 10:47 pm

    Lisa!!!! how wonderful. it will be fun to read about you on this journey. another thing that was music to my ears: you are a liberal graduate of AM! how cool is that. if you are on facebook…..friend me. i am under missybendiksen
    ps you are one terrific writer!!!!

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