Top Ten Things to Never Tell a Pregnant Woman

As I’m more obviously pregnant now, I’m getting a few well-meaning comments and questions from people. While most know to avoid the “are you pregnant” one, a few of the others I’ve heard left me thinking that I really need to make a list.

So, without further ado, here are The Top Ten Things to Never Tell a Pregnant Woman:

10. “You don’t look pregnant.”
Since I first felt the wonderful joys of ‘morning’ sickness, this comment has hurt. I realize it’s coming from good intentions, I do. Still, when you’re already aching in your lady parts and constantly feeling like tossing your Saltines, hearing that you don’t look pregnant is the worst.

9. “You look so cute.”
I don’t know why, but I’ve heard this one several times lately. No, I do not look cute. I look like a whale. I look like an elephant. I look like myself in a Sumo wrestler suit that I cannot take off for …a few years. Cute things are little and precious, and I am neither of those whilst pregnant.

8. Assurances of how long it took them to bounce back.
This is more of a stinging comment for older women who are pregnant. If it’s their first time in the ring, they might be more severely depressed post-partum when they can’t go jogging within a week. If it’s not their first time, they know better and don’t need the reminder -especially from someone who looks like she never carried anything heavier than a baby guppy.

7. Lists of risks for the foods the pregnant women is eating.
Another helpful one. If the person is really looking to be helpful, a kind reminder BEFORE any money or effort is spent would be nice. Or -as the best idea- show up with perfectly safe foods for the pregnant woman and her entire family.

6. “You’re eating for two.” Wink, wink
Lady, I know I’m pigging out. Maybe I’m just excited that the food’s staying down this time. Maybe I really do have cravings that seem to involve the wrong side of The Food Pyramid. Maybe I need to eat every hour because my stomach is being smashed in an upside-down direction.
Whatever option you pick, keep it to yourself. And, pass the ice cream.

5. “It’s only nine months.”
You know what? YOU try it.

4. Horrible delivery stories.
Again; as helpful as these are intended to be, maybe keep them to yourself. Especially if the pregnant woman has done IVF or prayed for ten years or whatnot, stories of botched or nearly-botched deliveries are terrible. Didn’t you know that stressing the mom out can cause premature labor? -Yeah, don’t tell her that, either.

3. Shameful comments about her birthing plan.
I addressed this somewhat in my article on planning a C-Section. If you know the person well enough to comment, maybe begin with a simple question: Are you choosing that plan because of past complications?
There’s always a nice way to say things and I know people can choose that way.

2. Horror stories of what the baby looked like, or how it changed sexes.
Like I mentioned in #4, just don’t. No one needs to worry that she’s going to pop out some alien with tentacles where they shouldn’t be.

1. Stories of babies dying.
I once expressed my anxieties about birth to a former neighbor, who responded that at least the child would be “teaching people in heaven.” That is not comforting; that is strange.
Getting a baby to attach, grow, not have complications, and pop out is HUGE. Please, please don’t tell an expectant mom about someone losing her child at birth. Save it for if that happens to her, when you give her a genuine hug and help her to cope.

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Here’s what went down this past week:
Sunday
, October 6: “No Kids Allowed: The Death of the Family,” an observation of society’s changing expectations.

Monday, October 7: “The Toilet Seat, a poem.”

Tuesday, October 8: Shared a quote by Elizabeth Gilbert.

Wednesday, October 9: Recommended mixing your own cleaners.

Thursday, October 10: “Eat a Balanced Diet?,” a snippet concerning dieting.

Friday, October 11: Thought about raised voices in “The Merits of Yelling in the House.”

Saturday, October 12: Shared Marcy G‘s tweet about kids and their feelings of ownership.

Sunday, October 13: That’s today!

 

Photo Credit:

©2019 Chelsea Owens

Kids and Credit Cards (The Magic Money)

Every child has wanted to help me ‘pay’ for groceries at the store. I say ‘pay;’ because I know a credit card does not actually purchase our milk, bread, and cereal. I know that piece of plastic will only work if there’s money to pay for it -even if it’s a tight month.

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But do my kids know that?

I try to turn every moment into a learning one; to bring up Life Lessons when my boys are a captive audience in the car:

Driving a car is really fun, but it’s more expensive that many people think. I know I thought I’d just get a license and that was that; but there’s the cost of the car, then insurance…

When you boys grow up you’ll need to pick a career that pays for your lifestyle…

Make sure you treat the woman you marry well, and that she treats you well in return…

It wasn’t until I watched my children playing ‘Store’ that I realized they didn’t quite understand money. It wasn’t until I talked to them about “where Daddy goes” that I realized they didn’t understand a job. It wasn’t until I overheard one of them explaining how jobs make credit cards work that I realized they didn’t quite have the process right.

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So that captive car lecture turned out as Dad goes to work all day. His company pays him every two weeks, but they put the money right into our bank account. Then, when we go to the store, the credit card takes some money out of our account to pay for the food. If we don’t have money in the bank, we can’t pay for the food.

I know; I know: credit works a little differently than that. As they get older, I’ll explain a few more details about birds and bees as needed. For now, the simple explanation should suffice.

The bonus part is that, when my kids get wide-eyed over impulse buys at the checkout, they now remember that candy bars have numbers printed next to them for a reason. Those numbers are a cost, and that cost is paid by Dad’s hard work.

 

Photo Credits:
Image by Steve Buissinne from Pixabay
Image by Виктория Бородинова from Pixabay

 

©2019 Chelsea Owens

Parents, Put the Phone Away!!!

I have few pet peeves. Most involve people being jerks, driving, or people being jerks while driving.

Whenever I’m out at a park or store or sitting across from someone at the breakfast table, however, I want to scream!!

Put the phone away!

What is it with this new, technological generation? Since unplugging phones from walls entirely, people and their screens can never be apart. I’m guilty, too: I left my phone at my sister’s on accident and didn’t discover the mishap till we arrived home. I felt a panic set in. All that night and the next morning I experienced pocket-reaching sensations and phantom notification-beeping.

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Face it: we’ve become compulsive. If you have any games on your phone, the game creators have ensured you are compulsive -but that’s a topic for another day.

For those who think the phone addiction thing is no big deal, I’ve got some thoughts for you:

  1. What if you don’t have yours on you and are trying to maintain a conversation with your phone-happy friend, or your mom? What do you feel if that person keeps diverting attention to his/her screen?
  2. Try, if you can, to put yourself in your child’s shoes. Try to put yourself into his or her developing mind. Does your son feel that you love that electronic object more than you love him? Is he learning to treat the ones he loves that way?
  3. What, exactly, are you looking at on your screen? Social media? Is it more important than your daughter learning to swing? Can it wait?

Parenting is difficult. It’s tiring, boring, repetitive, and can feel unrewarding when our Little Darlings hop up and down and yell, “You don’t LOVE ME!!” We need breaks, especially when our patience level is bubbling up to bum-spanking levels of annoyance.

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By all means, take a quick breather. Consider it a parenting smoking break. -BUT not in front of the kids. Not all morning. Not instead of never facing your feelings.

Constant turning to a slightly-entertaining distraction is just as mentally damaging as other addictive substances. In small, controlled doses it’s not so detrimental. In large, limitless amounts it’s bad.

However do we expect to learn patience, love, and tolerance for 100x of hearing “Baby Shark” if we haven’t faced a bit of parenting? However do we expect to demonstrate patience, love, and tolerance if we aren’t even looking at our children? However do we expect to teach patience, love, and tolerance if we’re not actively engaging with our kids?

We can’t. Seriously; put the phone away. Pick up life, instead.

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Sunday, September 1: “It’s My OCD,” a serious discussion about mental illness and behavioral issues with children.

Monday, September 2: Poem time! “Where Are Your Shoes??

Tuesday, September 3: Discussed reusable sandwich containers.

Wednesday, September 4: “Get Out the Door!,” a sweet snippet about the black hole of “time to go.”

Thursday, September 5: Shared L. Tom Perry‘s quote on parenting.

Friday, September 6: Lamented my inability to be productive with “‘Work at Home,’ They Said.

Saturday, September 7: Erin reminded us all of the joys of parenting at night.

Sunday, September 8: That’s today!

 

Photo Credits:
Photo by Thallen Merlin from Pexels
Photo by Helena Lopes from Pexels
Photo by Porapak Apichodilok from Pexels

 

©2019 Chelsea Owens

Happily Ever After Is Possible, but It Requires an Epic Journey

It’s happened again. Another couple we’ve known and loved announced the big D-Word: Divorce.

As a child raised in a nuclear family around other nuclear families, divorce was a word we heard on TV. It was almost akin to the cuss words my parents muted whilst watching films like “Hook.” Sure, I knew a few kids at school whose parents had split, but that wasn’t close. That wasn’t real.

As an adult, however, my perspective is quite different. Why? Well, frankly, because that ol’ D-Word has come up in conversation with my own spouse. As in, applied to us. As in, “What; do you want a divorce?”

Mature, I know.

Now, divorce is not always a villain. It is often a very good idea. I have a close friend for whom The Split was necessary for the welfare of herself and her children, and that was mostly from an emotionally abusive aspect.

In other cases, however, I can see it for what it is: giving up early.

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My husband and I know this because we chose to fix our relationship. We chose counseling, to try and follow the counseling, and to try to work on us every day. And believe me, it’s not like the movies. If we don’t do our ‘homework,’ the counselor’s advice does not work.

Countless hours and advice and helpful correction has helped enlighten me. I’ve realized that love goes through stages. From my own perspective, they are:

  1. The Honeymoon Stage. When you’re dating, flirting, or first married you don’t have to really try to love. I thought the husband and I didn’t have this going into marriage because we dated a while and knew each other pretty well. Believe me; we still did.
  2. I’m making these up, but I’d call this The First Itch. The wife sees an old friend or a new boss. Husband sees a hot young thing at the office. You’ve still got your good looks and vitality and someone else seems interested. You still love your spouse but the attention is sure flattering. And tempting.
  3. Mid-marriage slump. Remember when I said I didn’t think we had that first stage? I know we did, because we’ve entered this third period with definite feelings of dislike at times. The love that came naturally, the one that simmered in the background all the time -even while we had newlywed fights- is absent. Why? Because we are not trying to feel it.
  4. I’d guess that one or two other stages come next, like Midlife Crisis and Reconnection. I’m not positive since we’re not there yet.
  5. Acceptance and Mature Perspective. I think this is the age we all hope to get to, the one older couples are at. They’ve seen all the warts, moved past all the warts, and decided the warts are not what matters after all. They’re mature and their love is mature.

As the number of divorces climbs to a point of shrugged acceptance, I see patterns of behaviors in those who choose it. Most often the pattern is that one or both parties wants the constant feeling of Stage 1. When love isn’t exciting or doesn’t just happen any more, surely that means they are “out of love.” Surely that means “we just drifted apart” or “we realized we didn’t have much in common after all.”

I know an older couple who raised seven children together and went through a #2 Stage after #3. What happened? She forgave him. He repented, reformed, and is a much different husband to her now. They literally have little in common regarding shared interests but they sit by each other holding hands, each with his own set of headphones, each watching his own show on his own television.

Now that there is love.

C’mon, people. Try harder. Stop looking at Happily Ever After stories as fantasy. They’re not. You just may need to slay a few dragons or journey to find the lost stone before you’ll (again) win that princess.

It’s not easy. It’s not. You both have to work. You both have to know what’s most important. You both have to think a little bit about the future. I mean, do you really want to end up with only a trail of broken relationships to look back on; or do you want to share retirement (and possibly grandchildren) with a sweet, old person who understands you?

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Here’s what I wrote this past week:

Sunday, May 19: My procrastinating son inspired me to write “Special Projects Take a Lot of Time and Mess.”

Monday, May 20: Wrote “A Poem, I Think.

Tuesday, May 21: Shared a quote by James Baldwin.

Wednesday, May 22: Suggested fancifying your food for littles.

Thursday, May 23: “Don’t Forget Your…,” a snippet about my forgetful boys.

Friday, May 24: “Mom, What Can I Do?,” a post about taking a quick hour for your kids.

Saturday, May 25: Shared TwinzerDad‘s tweet about being an example, technically on Sunday.

Sunday, May 26: That’s today!

 

Photo Credits:
Henry Hustava
Hannah Busing
Marisa Howenstine

 

© 2019 Chelsea Owens

Raise Strong, Independent Daughters AND Mothers

I am the product of many strong, brave women throughout history. Women no one ever knew toiled day in and out at the most mundane of tasks to get their daughters just that much ahead in life, only to have the pattern repeat for a few centuries more.

Women with names we now laud stepped from the shoulders of those mothers to stand for rights, demand votes, insist on admission to colleges and professions, and to study and alter laws once named ‘fair.’

Although ignorant of the nameless women of history, I am not without appreciation for the starting position they gave me. I only ever felt encouraged to do whatever I set my mind to as a child; encouraged to be myself; encouraged to do anything or dress any way or play any games I wanted to.

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And, for a while, I could do whatever a boy could do. I wanted to, since I have never been much into dress up or celebrity gossip. I determined to live for myself, alone and independent. I wasn’t afraid of snakes and could open jars; I could do anything.

I thought that teaching girls to have limitless goals was a great idea… until I became a mother.

It’s no secret that I didn’t want to be a mother. If it is, then you’ve missed the name of this blog and a few, key blog posts. To clarify: I’m not mad that I’m a mother. I don’t feel the desire to leave my children in a basket on a porch. Not really. I simply did not ever plan to be just a mother and looked/look down on the profession.

I’ve not quite pinned down the reasons for my dissatisfaction yet; otherwise, I’d probably not keep writing. Recently, however, I have resonated with the idea that motherhood disappointed me because of that ‘girl power’ upbringing.

-I was told I could be a doctor and had the intellect for it.

-When I said I wanted to be President of the United States of America, teachers and school counselors cheered.

-At college meetings, no one batted an eye when I registered for engineering and science programs.

-I remember conversations with professors, guidance counselors, neighbors, friends, and family where, when asked about my future, they never mentioned motherhood.

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HOWEVER, life changed. All my goals and plans went out the window. The determined spinster that was me fell in love in high school, married after a semester at college, and started producing babies within a few years after that. No matter, right?

-With what was left of my brain, I told myself I could still do medical school.

-I didn’t actually want to be POTUS; politics were more complicated than people told children.

-I could take a break from engineering courses and finish them up after the kids grew a little.

-Motherhood wasn’t that bad. (Female) people did it all the time.

Suffice to say, I was a teensy bit unprepared for the emotional and mental car crash of stay-at-home motherhood after a young marriage and fairly young pregnancy. I was unprepared for a fairly young servitude of diapers, schedules, and (above all) the whims of my offspring.

I think I’d set aside motherhood as a contingency plan, or maybe as an idea that it would “probably happen.” I had not realized how much of a lifetime commitment the profession was, particularly if one has difficult children. Maybe, like my ultimate life goal of never doing chores, I was simply ignorant.

Or, maybe, we’ve shifted too far away from encouraging what every woman used to aspire to.

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I know the future is brighter for females. I am so happy that we can gain entry and employment to nearly everywhere. I definitely appreciate not being talked down to when I converse with a doctor or a mechanic. As I said earlier, I loved feeling free to do anything.

But I’m afraid that we’ve killed motherhood.

I don’t think I would have minded more sewing lessons in school. What about cooking and cleaning courses? Scheduling? Budgeting? Basic interpersonal marriage counseling? -All good. Overall, though, what we’re really missing is the expectation of families and the support needed to make them work.

Where once there were mother’s coffee groups and communal play areas of apartments, there is social media and day care. Church classes and community events have been replaced with atheism, apathy, and selfishness. People lock their doors, install security systems, and watch any visitors -even their own next-door neighbors- through door cameras.

When I ask my neighbors with daughters about their children’s futures, they do not list family production. It is always college, discovering themselves, and changing the world. Talking to the girls themselves produces a similar answer.

Can’t we have strong females and good mothers? Well-adjusted parents who feel they have societal support? Good children who are raised by responsible and loving parents? Mom groups? Community events that want children around?

Being a mom sucks. I know. But, the only way to change the world is the same way our female progenitors did: raising children for the future.

 

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Weekly Round-up:

Sunday, April 14: “Religion in the Home,” a post about religion in the home.

Monday, April 15: Really proud of my poem, “A House(work) at War.”

Tuesday, April 16: Shared a quote by Ray Romano.

Wednesday, April 17: Offered a Food Tip.

Thursday, April 18: “Reasoning with a Toddler,” a quick thought about unreasonable toddlers.

Friday, April 19: Felt inspired to share some vacation tips with “10 Tips for When You’re Crazy Enough to Vacation with Kids.”

Saturday, April 20: Shared Feeling‘s encouraging tweet.

Sunday, April 21: Happy Easter!

 

Photo Credits:
Kenny Krosky
Eye for Ebony
Zac Durant