What up fammington? I know it’s been such a long time, I’ve missed you so, but I’m here now so hush and let’s discuss, shall we?? Read that title, take a moment to remove your britches from betwixt your uptight ass cheeks, and follow me as I paint this picture for you right quick…
January 4, 2017.
Just days after naming and claiming my greatness for the year, which included losing that last 15 pounds, going back to school AGAIN, cooling out on flings and meaningless one night stands, and finally obtaining a passport, I sat on the toilet of my closet sized guest bathroom, scared shitless, waiting to see what the twin pregnancy tests I’d taken simultaneously would tell me.
“Lol biiiiiiiiiiiitch GUESS WHAT?!” is what those pregnancy tests revealed. Rather quickly, I might add, so there was no time for second guessing. Those pink goddamned lines appeared like a sleazy landlord on the 2nd; posthaste, ready to run my pockets and kill my vibe for the foreseeable future. I was fucking pregnant. Gross.
I’m sure most women take those few earth shattering moments afterwards to let the future materialize before them, beginning to dream of a reality they’d never imagined before. Not me. I had a nightcap jay rolled and ready for me before I discovered this new truth because I mean c’mon lol no way, right? RIGHT?! Wrong.
So I take my few deep breaths, text my best friend and tell her that she needs to fix this because yeah NO, and I clomp back to my room in a stupor as muscle memory leads me directly to my ashtray where the fresh blunt is waiting; calling. Whenever things in my life go awry, all I need is a little time, a little space to think, and a little bud and I can fix or fineness anything. But just as I’m about to blaze the stress away, I could feel myself developing a little white angel on my shoulder. “You’re pregnant Auja, that’s bad for the baby dumbass.” “Oh yeah, I forgot… Fuck.”
I smoked a little anyway tho because fuck that little white useless ass angel. Where was she when my uterus was being infiltrated?! Why didn’t she tell me to swallow instead?!?! Stupid bitch, I hate that angel.
February 9, 2017.
It’s been a few weeks since I realized I was harboring a squatter in my womb and life has flipped upside down. It’s as if my body was waiting for me to catch up to what was happening before shit could really start happening. Mere days after those God forsaken pink lines appeared, morning noon and night sickness followed suit, with intense all day nausea bringing up the rear. I’d made a doctors appointment immediately and on the day of, while filling out the bullshit paperwork, I find myself once again stuck and scared shitless.
“How often do you: consume caffeine, drink alcohol, smoke cigarettes, partake in recreational drug use?” Oh shit. Should I lie???? I should lie right?? I mean I didn’t even do any of that other stuff before so I’m good. And it’s not like they’ll know anyway; I’ve stopped since I found out so it’s not like I would really be lying.
“Oh we’ll also need a urine sample in just a second”
FUCK!!!!! Okay, just tell the truth then. Fuck.
And so I did. The Gods honest, “every damn day, at least twice a day.” truth. Would this doctor call the imaginary pregnancy police on me? Would she look over the rim of her glasses and judge me as if I’d stabbed a white woman multiple times and was about to get away with it?! Would everyone pretend it’s all good then on the day of my delivery, CPS shows up and rips my beautiful baby from my arms without bothering to cut the umbilical cord?!? I had completely went on auto pilot and panic mode while Dr. Nice White Lady went through the questionnaire with me, dreading that moment we’d have to discuss my hophead tendencies.
“I see here it says you used drugs before pregnancy…”
“Yes but only weed”
“Well while we can’t encourage or discourage that, I do have to inform you that it could possibly affect the baby”
*inner dialogue* “DUH bitch that’s why I stop– hold up… did she just say she can’t DISCOURAGE me from sparking up??”
*Bitch ass angel refusing to mind her business*
“Yeah but she can’t ENCOURAGE you either dumbass”
“1) call me dumbass again and see what happens. 2) nobody ever ENCOURAGES smoking weed but other weed heads. She’s a doctor, she basically just told me roll up at my own risk…”
“No, that’s not what she sai–“
“Aaaaahhhh!! Unt-un shut yo ass up, I ain’t tryna hear it. You already know what’s up!!!”
And she did. My stupid shoulder angel I mean, not Dr. Nice White Lady. She knew what I’d been suffering through, but, you, reading this, may have no idea what pregnancy does to women. Each instance is different. All the forums and mom blogs I scoured for slivers of peace and sanity would reiterate this time and again.
Most often they tell you to ask your doctor about these things, but your doctor will more than likely bullshit you then prescribe a drug you can’t roll up and smoke, but a drug nonetheless. A drug that might make you a little LESS nauseous, but would not keep you from retching up the food you just ate 10 minutes ago. Some days it can be so bad, water won’t stay put. You ever thrown up ice cold water??? Spoiler alert, that shit comes back just as cold and it’s fucking disgusting. I took to eating Bomb Pops because supposedly popsicles soothe the stomach and help fight against dehydrating yourself and your unborn child but in my case it just made for patriotic toilet decorations. Can’t even lie tho, it was kinda cool watching the red white and blue come up in the exact same order as it had gone down. Gross, right? Lol
And it’s not just stomach issues us preggers have to endure. The sleepless nights, the aches and pains of a body growing and changing to accommodate new life, the mood swings, the anxiety. THE ANXIETY OMG. As it stands, at 4 months I should be gaining about 1-2 pounds per week. I am currently 5 pounds lighter than I was when I first found out about my baby. I worry CONSTANTLY I’m not feeding it enough; that the lil guy(or girl, please be a girl) isn’t getting the proper nutrition. That I’m a shit mom because I can’t seem to do this without weed. But I mean gahdamn what’s a woman to do?? Liquids don’t hold and sometimes even just the sight or smell of food while sober makes me dry heave.
I search google every day looking for new developments and studies that will assuage my guilt. I don’t have to look very hard, almost all weed/pregnancy related studies conclude there isn’t enough evidence to surely say weed will harm a fetus, but science can’t ever let you have your moment so the “That doesn’t mean it’s okay” undertones are always there. The judgement I’m sure I’d receive from family and certain friends worries me, and every appointment I have with Dr. Nice White Lady, I fear the lecture I’m sure she’s holding onto. But at days end, as I puff puff then take my prenatal vitamin, I can’t help but feel a little indignant. My body, my baby, my bud, right?! If things are okay, then I should keep doing what works right?? I heard it’s healthy heartbeat and witnessed Baby Big Heads growth in the sonogram. It’s recently started to move around in there and it feels like gnarly gas lol I gladly welcome the morning vomit because that means my lil shorty is still alive and kickin. Afterwards I toke up and eat a hearty breakfast and then lunch and sometimes even dinner. I drink way more water than I ever have and make sure I’m getting all my fruit and veggie servings. As it stands, I’m living and self caring better than I ever have before, and my kid is all the better for it. What harm will a little session do, ya know??
Peace and blessings.
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