Think boredom is a choice? Think again. We're all searching for things to do while playing it COVID safe, but searching for things to do in a pandemic while pregnant presents a whole new set of challenges; a set that Allie Hartwick is ready to take on.
At this time a year ago, Zoom happy hours were all the rage, and we still had Love is Blind and Tiger King to stream.
This spring, we find ourselves in a much different situation.
Zoom is dead, and I'd rather accept a bag of dog poop than an invitation to a virtual party.
Thankfully, people are getting vaccinated, infection rates are dropping, and the world is starting to open up again, but we're all still a bit lacking in events or activities to fill our after-work and weekend hours. And thanks to the pandemic, Netflix hasn't been able to produce anything new.
So if you can't Netflix and chill, because you've watched literally everything, do we just...chill?
I'm not going to assign blame, but I feel like "chilling" may have had something to do with landing me in this Bored & Pregnant situation.
Still, it is an enjoyable way to spend a few minutes, and thanks to my ever changing moods and emotions, my husband is looking more like an afternoon snack than the future father of my child these days. Sorry to embarrass you toots, but you've got it going on.
And what do I have going on?
I've got aching hips and an appetite for more than just food, if you catch my drift.
Hormones, what a bitch, right?!
From a biological perspective, they are fascinating. Your body is constantly producing these chemicals that determine how you feel, how you act, what your organs are up to. They are powerful, to say the least.
We all remember the last time new hormones started invading our bodies at warp speed, and they are what made middle school the sweaty, pimply, preoccupied hellscape it truly was. The world was ending one second, and you were experiencing pure euphoria the next. Body parts were expanding overnight and boys who were obsessed with idiotic activites started to seem a lot less idiotic, and their hair sure did look nice....
It was no coincidence posters of Freddie Prinze Jr. were taking over my bedroom around that time.
this man is STILL a stone cold fox
What they don't tell you after making it through puberty relatively unscathed, is that if you ever decide to personally produce another human, you're headed right back to buttsville (my name for this hormonally driven time in life, both because of how you feel, and the only thing you think about).
First trimester of pregnancy introduces a surge of hormones that knocks you literally on your ass. Somehow even sleeping is exhausting, and I had the joy of non stop "morning" sickness for weeks on end. On one lovely occasion, I vomited because I thought about raw chicken. To be clear, I didn't touch, look at, or even come near raw chicken.
These evil hormones were aggressive, vindictive little monsters.
After three months or so of feeling like the end was nigh, I assume the battle hormones needed to take a break, get some rest, sharpen their swords; so their skeevy friends took over.
Second trimester hormones seemed to care far less about making me wish for death, and more about making baby number two, which thankfully, is like 99% impossible at this particular stage of gestation.
The pregnancy symptom of an increased sex-drive has been used as a laughable plot point in pretty much every sitcom that aired in the 90's, but it was rooted in some serious truth.
It's as if you've completely forgotten what got you into this baby growing mess, and your brain is constantly entertaining itself with ideas of sex. Even when you're sleeping. Hell, ESPECIALLY when you're sleeping.
*Pro tip, don't watch your favorite workplace comedy before bed unless you want to see lovable characters defile the conference room in your dreams.
No sooner had I cleared the last remnants of first trimester bile from my teeth, I found myself asking Alexa to play WAP on repeat while pathetically attempting to drop it low. I think "awkward squat" was as low as I got, but close enough.
There's some often repeated, and frequently doubted statistic that's tossed around about the average man thinking about sex every seven seconds. According to actual real, published research, it's closer to 20 times a day.
Google isn't giving much data on the sexual thoughts of pregnant women, but 20 seems like an average morning. Forget keeping count if you're binging Bridgerton… again.
At this stage of our adult lives, we've grown accustomed to turning thought into action, unless of course your significant other is tired, or busy, or whatever the code for "keep it in your pants" is on that particular day. So an influx of thoughts, one would hope, becomes an increase in action. Ooooh yeah. Cue the Boyz II Men.
Through years of trial and error, most of us have established some kind of seduction routine. It's not that different from the ones birds use. There's some preening and posturing involved, and if you've got a live-in partner and exclusive coital companion like I do, you've usually got to spend a few minutes reminding them why they wanted to share a bed (or a couch, or a shower) with you in the first place.
Provided you actually like your partner, it's not that hard. A little interest in their lives (wow, that hike you took with your retired former coworker sounds magical) and some believable flattery (you are rocking that fleece vest) goes a long way. Initiate a little physical touch and bounce, bend, thank you friend!
These days, bouncing and bending present a bit more of a challenge. Once upon a time I could get away with what I call the "lounge and pose" strategy, but that was mostly in my early twenties. Some effort on my part is now required. The real bummer is, the go-to moves are kind of on standby for the foreseeable future, and effort needed to execute even the simplest ones has tripled.
Have you ever tried to put your legs behind your head while balancing a beach ball on your stomach? Probably not, because it's really difficult and mostly pointless. Now imagine that beach ball is in your abdomen, and will push back when feeling squashed. Not exactly sexy, or comfortable.
Also, I can assume Ed Sheeran did not write Shape of You about a pregnant woman, because whatever shape was mostly maintained while standing, turns quickly into a blob of sorts when horizontal. Hot.
Also, I've said it before and I'll say it a hundred more times throughout this blog series: Growing a human is exhausting. A little heavy breathing is expected, but being asked "are you ok? Do you need some water?" is not exactly a turn on.
But we do what we have to do when thoughts of um... Sugarplums... dance in our heads? I will never watch The Nutcracker innocently again.
All these contributing factors aside, doing the deed is not impossible, or even unenjoyable, it's just different. And it's a lot more work than it used to be, which definitely leads to some inevitable feelings of guilt. We want both parties to have a good time, right? Or at least women usually do. Men, take note.
My wonderful husband is also a human with his own needs, and interests, and a career. I can't expect him to be at my beck and call every time the wind blows in an exciting direction. If he were, he'd have to quit his job and follow me everywhere, and we need his paycheck. I write about pregnant sex for a living, I'm not bringing home the big bucks.
So what's a multiplying maiden to do?
I believe self-love is a powerful thing. It's powerful, waterproof, rechargeable, and has five speed settings. It's also OBGYN approved, at least based on my salacious and eccentric search history.
If you haven't googled "vibrations fetus brain damage," are you really living life to the fullest?
It's also helpful to engage in more chaste, but equally physical activities. Sometimes, all you need is that endorphin rush, and 30 minutes on a treadmill can do the trick.
If all else fails, go back to whatever teenage devices you created to distract yourself. Cold showers, mundane work, or writing Mrs. Allie DiCaprio in your diary for a few hours.
Pregnant or not, I'm far from the expert on this subject; an admirable number of people can attest to that. But I hope anyone out there who felt personally victimized by all these sexy shows streaming on Netflix knows, you're not alone!
And to partners of the impassioned and impregnated, your job isn't over yet.
Sincerely,
Allie (we'll leave baby out of this one)
