My Baby, the Dictator - 10 Weeks

I've never been that good at letting anyone tell me what to do or how to live my life (sorry mom! sorry dad!).  There have been times when I've thought that I didn't have a choice and had to follow someone else's rules, but almost always I found some way to cheat the system with my own game plan.  But when you're pregnant, you really don't have a choice - a little dictator, mine now the size of a cocktail shrimp, unilaterally takes over your decision-making capabilities.  And it's not even a compromise between the two of you; it's clear from the start that this is not a democracy and you don't have a voice.

 

From day one, it's "You can't drink alcohol!"  Okay...huge lifestyle change, but okay, check.  Then it's all about the foods you can't eat.  "You can't eat raw fish, soft cheeses, rare red meats, deli meats, or anything caffienated or diet.  You can't even eat radishes, baby mama."  Whaaaah?  No sushi, no blue cheese, no morning coffee, no Diet Coke?  A very reluctant check. 

 

But then, after the initial changes that are bad enough, there are all these additional sacrifices dictated to you from the little shrimp:

• "I don't care if they used to be your favorite food group; I hate vegetables."
• "Garlic makes me nauseous.  Therefore, garlic makes you nausous."
• "Your new bedtime is 9:30.  11:00 or 12:00 is simply unacceptable.  I will wake you every two hours or so to pee."
• "You'll be fairly nauseous and dizzy every morning.  Think that's worth complaining about?  You should see the way those other fetuses treat their mothers-to-be.  Quit your whining or I'll show you morning sickness."
• "I am entitled to 80% of your energy.  I don't care how unfair or disproportionate this seems to you."
• "I don't care if you don't have energy; You better exercise, or I will make you fat.  Not just pregnant, but fat, too.  I have that capability, you know."
• "Feed me cake and french fries!  But then you might want to exercise some more, big girl."

What I've just realized recently - and this might be the worst of all of it - is that this little dictator might actually be right about some things.  I mean, some of Lil Fil's rules (like so many rules out there) are stupid and arbitrary - like the garlic thing - but overall, between not drinking, exercising more, and eating better, I'm probably healthier than I've ever been.  Somehow this 10-week-old fetus that hasn't even experienced this world has better instincts than my lifestyle choices pre-baby, which were supported by 27.5 years of a relatively-intelligent life (not to mention my own 8.5-month reign of the womb).  Can it really be tyrrany when the laws are making you a better person? 

 

So I suppose this baby is onto something after all.  Makes me wonder if just maybe some of my parents' rules growing up were on target, too  :)