What's the cheapest way to ship a stroller—say, under 22 lbs?
Back in Canada, you can get that done for anywhere from $4 to $11, depending on which carrier you use. For example, A2B has this deal with their local marketplace where anything under 45 lbs goes for a flat $4.
Is there anything like that here in the US, or what's the most budget-friendly shipping option out there?
Ugh, protocols and procedures. Seriously, no matter how much you prep, it’s always one of those things—you show up at the absolute worst time, or something’s broken, or some random piece of paperwork is missing, or the nurses are just having a total meltdown.
If you try to be proactive and swing by a few days early to ask questions, they just look at you like you're an idiot. It's always something.
Get this: this past Friday, I spent four hours (38 weeks pregnant, mind you!) just sitting there waiting for a CTG. Then, after three whole hours, the nurse finally mentions—like, casually!—that the machine broke and they'll bring a new one in "just a few minutes." She could have told me that three hours ago! If she had, I could've just gone to a private clinic, gotten it done, and brought the results to my doctor. Some people can't do that, sure, but if two women walk out to go private, that's an hour less of waiting for everyone else in line.
And it’s always like this. No communication, no nothing. Just sit there, shut up, and deal with it.
And don't even get me started on the fact that for certain things, you basically need "connections." You can't just walk in and pay for stuff—nooo, your doctor has to call in a favor or something. Honestly, I don't have the energy to risk being stuck in a hospital bed for seven days with some crazy, overly emotional mother or mothers, like last time. I got lucky back then, but right now? I am way too exhausted for that kind of drama.
And I seriously cannot deal with the mindless hormonal nonsense—the "will I love them immediately?" crap, or the constant "ohhh, I'm hiccuping," "ohhh, my boobs hurt," "ohhh, it's so hot," "ohhh, it's so cold," "ohhh, life is such a tragedy," ooooooooh my god. I just can't.
Rachel Jones57, I am so incredibly sorry you went through all that stress. Honestly, I’m just relieved the worst part is behind you and that the rest of your pregnancy will be way more chill.
To be totally real with you—both of my pregnancies were textbook perfect and went exactly by the book, but even then, I didn't feel "blessed" or anything. I know this one acquaintance who spent both of her pregnancies stuck in bed and she absolutely loved it. At the end of the day, it’s such a personal thing.
If your doctor gives you the green light, try to get moving a little—for me, regular yoga was a total game-changer and helped me so much. Also, read! And I don't just mean those endless parenting manuals and baby books—find something actually fun for *you*. Personally, I think Terry Pratchett and Haruki Murakami are absolute legends.
Don't forget to take care of yourself and do things you actually enjoy, because people aren't lying when they say a happy mom means a happy baby.
Basically, just venting here—it absolutely drives me insane that my kid brings home some nasty little cold from daycare, clears it up in like two days flat, and then I’m left dealing with the fallout. I'm freaking days away from my due date and I’m basically falling apart—coughing, nose running, sore throat, everything hurts, and I can barely even keep my eyes open.
And then you always get that one "genius" who starts lecturing you about how I might go into labor early, or they bring up some horror story about someone they know who lost all their water because of a common cold.
Man, I would love nothing more than to just sneeze right in their face, honestly. Just a little unsolicited health advice delivered straight to the snout.
Plus, since I'm staying active despite having a scheduled C-section on the books, I get the usual commentary about how my second birth will be lightning fast... or, you know, the classic "you won't even make it to the hospital, you'll pop on the side of the highway" nonsense.
Finally, this thread is actually getting some life in it!
Honestly? Women just need common sense. We’re all different—as women, as pregnant people, and as moms. Our babies are different too.
It wasn't until this current pregnancy that I realized how absolutely wrecked I actually was during the postpartum period. And honestly, I didn't even realize it at the time. I wasn't even depressed; my life has been a thousand times better and more stable since I got married and had kids.
But man, what a waste of energy. On the surface, I looked like I was crushing it—getting everything done, traveling, staying active, keeping up with everything. I didn't hold myself back, I just... adapted. Great, right? Except for the fact that I was constantly stiff, terrified, and completely overwhelmed. It didn't matter how much I prepared, how mature I felt, or how amazing my husband, mother-in-law, and even my mom (who finally started acting like a sane person) were... the weight of responsibility just crushed me. We always talk about how our kids are the most important thing, but let's be real: parents are the foundation. You have to find a whole new sense of self in this new life—figuring out who you are and what you're capable of—all while being responsible for another tiny human's entire existence.
That said, I think we’re great parents. I actually love the "impossible" toddler phase because they finally start walking, running, talking, eating on their own, playing solo, and telling you when they need to go to the bathroom. And even though there weren't any massive disasters, it was still incredibly hard. It’s only with this new pregnancy that I’ve finally loosened up a bit, opened up, and remembered who I actually am.
But now, I’m terrified those doors I just opened will slam shut again. I’m scared I’ll end up picking up the kids, heading into Washington, D.C. for a weekend, and circling a museum because I’m too embarrassed to climb the stairs with a baby and ask a security guard to help me with the stroller.
It sounds stupid, but that’s just how it is. Sometimes it isn't about the big stuff. Sometimes you function perfectly fine on the outside—you surprise even yourself—but you lose yourself in the process.
And here I am with a wonderful, totally normal husband and partner... who, by the way, decided to buy his wife an expensive stroller just 20 days before giving birth. Why? Because she decided she wanted to spend the money she’d get from the local government maternity grant on it. Money that won't even hit my bank account for another two months.
Some people manage to juggle everything, some find new strength within themselves, some finish college, and then there's me—buying a fancy stroller because I'm too incapable of driving a car in the final stages of pregnancy and the first few months of a baby's life.
The point is, kudos to everyone. Just use your head and do your best. It doesn't matter if you're the kind of parent who could fly to the moon and still raise a kid, or the one who spends an hour reading a book and ends up burning the mac and cheese. Take it slow. Parenting is a marathon, not a sprint... it lasts forever.
Sleep. I honestly hate sleeping. More like I’m terrified of sleep—mostly because of the struggle of actually getting up.
I’ve been doing yoga, my sciatica is finally under control, we even dropped some serious cash on this new ultra-firm mattress that’s supposed to be "heavenly," plus an ergonomic pillow and everything... but whatever. No matter how I set myself up, I wake up feeling like I just went ten rounds in a boxing ring.
I’ll spend all night positioning myself just so my spine doesn't seize up, but then the second I try to stand, I can't even catch my breath for half an hour because my ribs are killing me right under my chest. At this rate, I’ll be sleeping in that weird half-propped-up position like those characters you see in old movies.
This stupid thought keeps nagging at me—that maybe we should have more kids—but then the feeling just vanishes every single morning.
Is it spinning? Is there kicking? And how often are we talking?
Man, I absolutely hated this first one, and I seriously despise this second pregnancy even more. It’s not even about the people or the doctors asking a million questions—it’s just the sheer stress of the whole thing. I’m 6 months along now, and I feel like I’ve been able to sense the baby moving for a few weeks already. Everything seems pretty textbook so far, a really smooth pregnancy. But... much like his brother, this little guy clearly isn't interested in playing soccer with my kidneys. I only feel him once or twice a day at most.
And of course, because life loves to throw curveballs, I always seem to run into those women carrying literal aliens who are trying to force their way out, or the ones who had to be hospitalized because their babies weren't moving nearly enough.
I’m honestly tempted to go out and buy a pair of medical stethoscopes just to check.
Basically a variation of "what are you even whining about? You haven't actually struggled."
Look, here's the thing—I am obsessively organized when it comes to pregnancy and childbirth (living in the US, if you aren't some kind of martyr, you basically have to be obsessed). My first pregnancy was smooth sailing, had an awesome emergency C-section, was up and walking immediately, and now this second one is just as great—I'm active, capable, and I'll choose a C-section again if I want... So no, I haven't "struggled," and I'm not complaining. That's the whole damn problem.
But after baby number two, I’m locking my uterus and throwing away the key. I am done. Period. I was dead serious and crystal clear about that back during my first pregnancy.
I don't enjoy being pregnant, I don't love giving birth, I'm not some saintly martyr, and I certainly don't think my DNA is vital to the survival of the human race. I hate the fear, the uncertainty, and all that stuff some women call "sweet anticipation"—to me, it's pure terror.
Can you feel him moving? Is he spinning enough? Is he spinning enough? Is everything okay? Is he developing right? What if his heart just stops beating and I have to face my absolute worst nightmare... I freaking hate pregnancy. 😀
And that's not even touching the responsibility of raising a kid—the love, the emotions, the illnesses, puberty, falling in love...
Then some "genius" decides to chime in (and honestly, it's usually men, though women think the exact same thing and just keep their mouths shut) and when they ask: "So, when are you having a third?" (since I *am* currently pregnant), and I give them my answer and explanation—never—they just launch into this massive monologue. They're like, "How can you have nothing to complain about? Everything is perfect, you're young, you're well-off, you have help (seriously?! they haven't exactly been helpful so far), so why won't you have a girl?"
And what if it's another boy? Are we going to castrate him and raise him like a little girl?
Where do people even get the nerve to comment on stuff like this? Of course, people who have raised more than two kids never say a word about it.
Why do you even care? And do I really look like someone who's going to take that kind of stupidity sitting down?
People in their 30s who don't have kids yet acting like they're experts. (It’s always men—they always pivot to looking at their wife when I mention that having that many kids means someone actually has to stay home).
Look, just don't come at me with that "oh, I'm gonna have three or four kids, it'll be easy, it's a piece of cake" nonsense. It won't be some magical fairy tale without the meltdowns, the complications, the chaos, or the feeling like you're floating on cloud nine.
I'm five months along now, and my husband calls this the start of my "blissful period." Yeah, right. I'm sweet, I'm more sensitive, I'm gentle—but my fuse is basically non-existent. Luckily, I'm also a little hard of hearing, so I don't catch every single stupid thing people say.
Those types really make me want to push them down a flight of stairs. Hey, everyone has a right to an opinion, but this is one of those life stages where you don't get to talk trash about serious stuff. Have one kid first, survive the first 18 years, and *then* decide with your partner how many you can actually handle.
Don't get it twisted—I'm not some obsessed "mommy blogger" or a housewife type. I'm chill, I get everything done, I don't overcomplicate things, there's no drama, and I don't live in fear. That's exactly why I'm being super realistic and objective, and why I have zero tolerance for stupidity.
Second off: the woman with no job, no degree, sitting around the house, "studying" for ten decades straight, hating on old people, and then telling me how she'll just get pregnant with anyone and pop out a baby. It wouldn't even be that crazy if we didn't have a friend who's a single mom, so we actually know how brutal it is. Like, from what money? Where? How? You gonna lean on the parents you claim to despise?
Third: here I am waiting two hours for my amniocentesis results, surrounded by a bunch of women. Every single one of them is on Facebook, venting, complaining, and freaking out for absolutely no reason. Not one of them spent even three minutes actually educating themselves or getting informed.
The lack of basic information (and let's be real, bad dental hygiene) among pregnant women kills me. It's like it's 1913 and you're illiterate, living on some remote hill in rural Canada, and haven't washed your hair once in nine months. And it's not just about specific tests like the double marker or amniocentesis; it's about pregnancy in general, childbirth, those first days with a newborn, knowing what's normal and what isn't. Use that smartphone for something useful!
This forum is packed with amazing info, experiences, and beautifully written advice. From my first pregnancy, I have about 15 pages of text saved from this site covering everything from pregnancy and labor to babies up to age three. I read through it all, and whenever I found something helpful or important, I just copied it into a Word doc. Nothing caught me off guard because I'd already encountered it through everyone else's stories. Everything is right here and easy to find.
But whatever, I guess it's better to be rude, uninformed, and just whine and moan about how everyone else is to blame.
I’m constantly out of breath and feeling nauseous. Like, all the time. It doesn't even matter that I’m walking every single day, tending to my garden, or going for light bike rides—all super chill, obviously. But the second the temperature ticks up just a little bit, that shortness of breath and nausea become my two inseparable besties.
My third "bestie" is my pair of anatomical flip-flops. Since I gave birth this past June, I basically lived in them for the last month, and now I’m gearing up to wear them starting in May. Plus, I’ll be rocking them with socks, kind of like how our European neighbors dress when they hit the beach.
- Honestly, it just pisses me off that I look like a total wreck, mostly because of the weight gain. I am so incredibly jealous of those fit moms who always look perfectly manicured. What sucks most is that I *do* take care of myself—my hair is fine, and my clothes are more about comfort than style—but I just constantly feel sloppy, disheveled, and stained (thanks to the dog, the toddler, and my own chaotic approach to life).
I feel like a shell of my former self. I miss my old wardrobe (it actually hurts my soul to look at my closet right now), my shoes, my weight, and just... my old look. Look, I know it’s not everything, but looking good feels good. (And let's be real, I was never one to act stuck-up; I was always more the cool, eccentric type).
Anyone else here deal with absolute nightmare fuel during sleep?
I went through this during my first pregnancy, too. It was brutal. And I’m not talking about some childish nonsense—you know, being chased by monsters or whatever. I mean actual, gritty, hyper-realistic scenarios that play out in high definition. It’s honestly nauseating.
Some of them are straight-up terrifying—like, even a gritty HBO crime drama wouldn't dare depict them—while others are just completely draining. Real-life stuff. War zones, massive floods, seeing a car burst into flames, an assault... or those deep-seated parental fears that just won't quit. And the absolute worst part? A part of my brain stays wide awake knowing it’s all just a dream, so I end up overanalyzing the whole mess while it's actually happening.
I mean, seriously, why don't you just go see an OB-GYN and get checked out? Especially if you can get an ultrasound done. You really ought to be heading in for those routine postpartum checkups every six months anyway—assuming everything is actually going smoothly with you. Just call your doctor and get an appointment on the books already, if you haven't done that yet.
Women who go out of their way to tell horrific birth horror stories to nervous first-time dads. Honestly, they belong in prison. Just thinking about it makes my skin crawl. My husband couldn't sleep for nights because he was so terrified of the vacuum extraction stuff.
Then you've got those old ladies who see me out walking the dog and just start barking at me from the sidewalk. I almost asked one if she’d feel better if I shared some gritty details about my own life—you know, just to lighten the mood for her.
And then there's my mom and her obsession with Down syndrome. Every single time she brings it up (and trust me, she brings it up *every* time), I wish we were living in a cartoon so a grand piano could just fall on her head and end the conversation. unknown, we don't have anyone in our family with any kind of disorder; it's purely her own irrational anxiety playing tricks on her.
Don't even get me started on my husband, who constantly whines about how "terrible" this pregnancy is—how I won't listen to him, how I do everything myself, how I'm lifting heavy stuff, riding my bike... blah, blah, blah. Finally, I snapped and told him I did all that exact same stuff during my last pregnancy (actually, even more, since we have a 35-lb Stafford now instead of a 100-lb Rottweiler last time). Only difference is my hips are absolutely killing me now. I'm not scared. I've been through the ringer already. (Plus, last time I was terrified of giving birth and insisted on trying for a natural delivery, but this time? I'm going straight for the C-section! :-)).
Whenever I think about my mother-in-law and her endless tales about how some woman "lost her water" just because she caught a little cold... man. We've all been sick multiple times this winter because the kid is in daycare, and when he gets a sniffle, two entire houses catch it. There's no more dramatic storytelling about "that lady over there" now.
Luckily, my mother-in-law is obsessed with cats and my mom is a dog person, so I managed to dodge most of those lectures.
Lines. Lines are everywhere. It's not the waiting that gets to me, it's those entitled old ladies who just breeze right past me in line to stand in front. Apparently, I don't look "important" enough, or maybe it's because I'm actually reading a book and they assume I won't notice.
Pregnant women with missing or rotten teeth. I honestly cannot deal with that. I want to shove them into a... beep, beep, beep... Look, I live in the US, I know our healthcare system can be a mess, but if you have insurance—or even if you aren't employed, you can get basically everything covered for free just by donating blood once a year (even if your blood work is total garbage, you can fix it up and donate once). We have perfectly fine dentists here; you pick whoever you want, and they get the job done. It's not high-end luxury, but it's decent. To me, it's just unacceptable that someone wouldn't take care of their teeth in this day and age. How? Why? (Unless we're talking genetics, obviously).
Stinky people. Or even worse, stinky people who won't stop bothering you. Take my brother, for example—he's against deodorant and spends the whole summer walking around in an unbuttoned shirt smelling like a locker room. He's officially banned from visiting while I'm pregnant, nursing, and during the summer months. :-) Soap and water, people. No matter how bad things are, everyone has access to soap and water. Instead of buying cigarettes today, maybe try buying some deodorant.
Ugh, okay, so my partner—who was acting all high-strung and extra the other day—actually told me he’s coming to my final prenatal appointment with me. And get this: he wants to have a "little chat" with the OBGYN to make sure she doesn't even *think* about using vacuum extraction or forceps on me.
Then there's this lady at work—total loose cannon, honestly—who's been a mom for basically a century, and she was just sitting there giving him this unsolicited, "helpful" play-by-play of all the horrors from her own delivery, including the whole vacuum thing.
I swear, I just don't get women sometimes—at least when it comes to this stuff. Like, why on earth would you describe every single traumatic detail of your birth to someone who hasn't even gone through it yet? I haven't met a single woman who gave me a straight, no-nonsense list of actual things I should watch out for—like, "I didn't know this specific thing, but hey, go ask your doctor." Instead, everyone just loves to recount their own birthing nightmares, usually while making sure to emphasize how they "survived it all" without any epidural or anything.
luxemburg - that’s exactly what this thread is for. :-)
Look, if you ask me, you should start practicing—specifically, how to handle people being condescending. The next time someone tries to lecture you or act like they know better, just hit them with a calm, deadpan: "So what?" or "Hey, we're all different, right?" Honestly, I just want to actually enjoy my food without feeling like I'm gonna barf... luckily, everyone's wired differently, I guess...
Just try to stick to healthy, varied meals. I know it feels like a massive uphill battle right now, but seriously, the nausea will pass.
A buddy of mine told me the other day that I look great, but then he totally panicked, thinking I was about to blow up because I started looking like a complete wreck for a minute there... This same genius told his wife he doesn't get why they're even deciding on the baby's name together—he claims when *he* has kids, *he's* the one picking the names, because that's just how it's done in The Family.
Honestly, I have no idea how he's still single, especially with an attitude like that.
I don't even stress about hair removal—I’ve got this amazing esthetician who uses sugar paste for everything intimate. :-) Honestly, one of the few perks of being pregnant is that my hair grows way slower and thinner now. Otherwise, I'm basically an orangutan.
I was lucky enough that people around me didn't try to lecture me too much, though they were still low-key terrified (just behind my back, obviously :-) ) because I was riding my bike until almost my eighth month, and I still go for walks every single day.
One thing that constantly drives me absolutely insane... OB-GYNs and those questions that always seem to hinge on the word "Normal."
- Are you feeling the baby normally? - Are your bowels moving normally? - Can you move around normally?
Especially when she asks about the baby—because of that irritating little question, I actually agreed to stay in the hospital for a couple of days totally unnecessarily, just because I freaked out thinking I wasn't feeling the baby "normally." So there I was, spending three days staring like an idiot at other pregnant women, counting how many times they felt kicks, and hovering outside the room where they do fetal monitoring just analyzing the sounds. It was pathetic.
How am I supposed to know what's "normal" during my first pregnancy?! Some women in my circle felt the baby getting stronger and stronger, others felt it less, and most of them just stayed in bed all day. I don't know any other pregnant women in my neighborhood who move as much as I do or have a similar build. I'm not exactly tiny, so the bump doesn't really bother me. In the end, I just told the doctor that as far as I'm concerned, I feel the baby normally, and if she sees an issue on the ultrasound, she can let me know.
I kind of even miss being bothered by strangers :-( (okay, maybe I'm lying :-) ). I'm due to give birth next week, and so far, only one crazy lady has tried to rub my belly, and maybe two or three women asked if I was having twins. Which, honestly, annoyed me a bit until I caught my reflection in a store window. I live in this delusion where I think I'm petite, completely ignoring the fact that right before delivery (I'm 5'10" and currently about 210 lbs), I'm actually pretty big. In my head, I'm perfectly normal and petite—at least until I hit a reflective surface.
I definitely notice that I kill people's urge to comment. Like, if I leave my dog in front of a bakery (not right in the doorway, but a little distance away) and old ladies start whispering about what someone's gonna do to a dog like that... then I walk out, grab the leash, and just stare at them... nothing... I just get a minute of dead silence. :-/
I’ve finally reached that point where nothing gets under my skin anymore. I’m zen. It’s not like I’ve suddenly become some Buddhist monk or anything, but I’m feeling pretty centered. My only mantra at this point: common sense, common sense... ommmmmmmmm :-)
Honestly, women my age—regardless of whether they’ve had kids or not—are really starting to grate on my nerves with all these side-eye comments about me getting an epidural. Like, why does anyone actually care how I choose to handle labor? It’s none of their business. To be honest, I can't decide which type is more exhausting: the ones who have given birth and admit it was terrifying but survived, yet still act like they're too "tough" for an epidural.
Or the ones who haven't even been pregnant and try to "comfort" me by saying, "Oh, labor starts so fast and ends so quickly, you won't even have time for the epidural!" I don't even know how to respond to that. Honestly, I just want to ask if they happen to have Lev Yashin’s phone number handy, because if this baby is flying out of me that fast, I’m gonna need a pro to catch it.
I constantly try to stay non-judgmental and avoid mocking other people's choices, but then comments like these just completely blow it for me. Just yesterday, I actually texted a close friend of mine at 3 p.m. telling her we seriously have nothing to discuss regarding this topic. First off, I’m the one having the baby, not her. Second, she isn't pregnant—she never was. And third, I have always been pro-epidural. I’ve never had the slightest interest in going "natural." If someone else wants to do that, fine, go for it.
It’s the exact same headache when it comes to the fact that I didn't take my husband's last name—I just added it. What is wrong with women these days?! What is driving them crazy? You're dealing with your own stuff, leave me to mine. I don't judge you, so who gives you the right to roll your eyes at my decision?
*** Oh, and get this: my husband's cousin asked him when we were moving in with his family. I was speechless. When I asked him why, he just said, "To help us out, obviously." If we ever actually need help, trust me, they'll find a way to "help" us. It’s not even about the money or the house; it's just the mindset of a thirty-year-old acting like that.
:-) Honestly, it’s driving me insane—every single day, I'm dealing with women who just want to swoop in and start kissing or touching me.
Right now, there's basically a massive flu and measles outbreak going around Little Rock. And yet, these random women—or people I barely even know—will just coldly try to plant a kiss on me whenever we cross paths. And when I actually speak up and say, "Whoa, hold on, please don't," they just look at me like... "But why??? You're just so sweet! Oh, you're such a gorgeous pregnant girl, oh my gosh!"
What is actually wrong with women? I mean, especially in that age bracket—post-50. The whole city is full of pregnant women, and most of these ladies probably have grandkids by now. I seriously don't get what they're so hyped about.
And of course, the second I set a boundary and make it clear—like, "Don't touch me and I don't want to be kissed"—they treat me like I've got some kind of mental deficiency. They're all like, "Oh, poor little expectant mother. She's making a huge deal out of everything. She's just being dramatic. It's just youth."
Yeah, real great. 🍿 Just stay the hell away from me.
First off, doctors. They’re basically useless. Honestly, I have to be my own doctor at this point. I have to research everything myself beforehand—if they recommend something, I’m triple-checking it. There’s zero personalized care; it’s like they don't even realize one pregnant woman isn't just some generic case. Everyone is just going through the motions like they're being held at gunpoint—totally mindless, just acting like robots.
Now, private doctors are usually okay (mine is actually super sweet and reasonable), but even there, you run into absolute morons. Like, I've dealt with a guy who just yells at women—probably because he thinks we're all just mindless idiots and he's the only genius in the room.
The whole attitude from doctors regarding how they handle info is just... wow. It's like, "Look, I'm paying you, but you're way too important and stressed out to actually answer my questions."
2. People judging me for having a dog. And honestly, the weirdest part is the comments coming from other women—some a few years older, some a few years younger.
I see these girls acting so high and mighty. God... some people seriously have nothing better to do with their lives. Ugh, gross... "She's pregnant and walking a mutt?" (One lady was practically ready to throw a fit over it!)
What is wrong with people? It’s like I’m living in Siberia. If it were me, I’d be saying, "Good for you! You're pregnant and still getting out and moving!"
3. People reacting to me walking or riding my bike.
"You're always walking..." "Oh, you're on your bike again? You're gonna fall." (Seriously, does anyone actually fall off a bike if they're being careful?) "You're always on your feet, and you're pregnant." "Are you even allowed to walk that much?"
My family isn't part of this—this is all coming from the general public, those random people you cross paths with every day. What really shocks me is this mindset. When did we become these brainless Walmart-style people who are terrified of just... walking?
Just so we're clear—I walk about an hour and a half a day. I take the dog out for 45 minutes to an hour. I walk to the store, to the hospital, or to the library. Sometimes I head downtown if I need something. It's not like I'm training for a marathon. Plus, I walk way slower than usual; I just move at whatever pace feels right for me right now.
I ride my bike once or twice a week. I can't be bothered with the hassle of driving, so I grab my bike because it's faster.
Most importantly, I love it. It helps me sleep better, my back doesn't ache, and I feel totally normal. I'm a healthy pregnant woman, doing everything by the book.
Okay, I get why people act weird when I'm out walking the dog on my bike. It looks a little intense to them. But then I have to ask: do people actually fall off bikes when they're pedaling slowly and carefully on the sidewalk? Sure, accidents happen, but let's be real—accidents happen even when you're just walking on flat ground.
For example, I almost wiped out in the middle of the street recently. Just a regular, flat street. I tripped over my own feet and ate dirt—literally sprawled out everywhere.
3. Other pregnant women—not the ones dealing with medical issues, but the ones having perfectly healthy, textbook pregnancies.
All I hear is: "Aaaaahhh," "Uggghhhh," "Ooooohhhhh," "Arrrrghhh." Like, you can't do anything and you're not allowed to do anything.
"Oh, my back hurts." — "Well, go do some stretches, move around a bit, maybe some light Pilates or yoga." — "Nooo, you can't do that!" — "Why not?" — "Because!" — "But why? Seriously, what for?" — "JUST BECAUSE!!"
"I'm craving something." — "I don't feel like making it, and it's not worth going out to buy it because no restaurant makes it right." — "Well, nothing you can do, honey, just call your mom and have her make it for you."
Or being in a smoky room—getting that sour look on their face that just gets worse and worse, but they won't leave, won't open a window, and won't ask others to cut back on the cigarettes. Then, when they finally start feeling sick, they add a loud groan to the sour face. 🤦"Why???" I don't smoke, it's not my habit, but suddenly I'm more sensitive to the smoke. Which means: 1. I don't go to hangouts where everyone is smoking heavily. 2. When I go to a cafe, I stay as long as I can, and if it gets too much, I either go home or find a different spot. 3. If only one or two people are smoking, I'll open a window or ask them to step outside.
What's with the acting, the sour faces, and the vague moaning sounds???
P.S. Shoutout to the exceptions—there are definitely normal people, doctors, and pregnant women out there, but this post is specifically about the ones who drive me crazy. :-)