Sucks to Your Assmar

This is one of my all time favorite one-liners. It’s from “Lord of the Flies,” and for some reason, it has always tickled me. Since my first introduction in high school, the phrase has banged around in my head. I would say it silently when things went wrong or when I was displeased with someone or something. Then one glorious day, a friend actually uttered the words out loud…my kindred Janet Laminack. Birds sang, flowers blossomed, all was right with the world. I was no longer alone in my affection for such an odd phrase!

Anyhoo, this pregnancy has been one big “sucks to your assmar!” Not so much the pregnancy, but the way I’ve handled being pregnant. I’ve always wanted to be pregnant, to embrace the  beauty of the miracle of life. From day 42 (which is exactly 6 weeks in), I have been, ummm, less than. Just less than…that about sums it up.

On any regular day, I like to think I’m a pretty pleasant person. I’m a low-maintenance, hard-working, well-balanced sort. I like to think of myself as someone who can handle most of life’s challenges with a calm spirit and a good sense of humor. And then I got pregnant. I have been so very, very disappointed with the woman I’ve turned out to be! I’m not so great as I thought I was.

As it turns out,  I am a whiny wimp when it comes to sickness, or physical discomfort of any sort…and I mean WHINY. I so want to be the sort who bravely bears her burden in silence. Nope. Not even a little bit. I moan and cry and thrash about on the bed, just for good measure. Phil, my noble Phil, takes it all in stride. When I whiningly ask if I’m being too whiny, he calmly and sweetly and honestly answers, “Yes dear. You are a bit of a whiner,” then goes about his business like it’s no biggie. I’m starting to learn, “He loves me! He sees me. He KNOWS I can whine with the best of them, and he’s okay with it! Holy smokes.”

Despite my whining, the knock in pride has been a blessing. It has been a blessing to be weak and to need help. It has been a blessing to be at my absolute worst and have someone look on my with utter love. It has been a blessing to have control of my body ripped from grasp. It has been a blessing to know that I do not have to perform to be adored and appreciated. It has been a blessing to lovingly embrace the parts of me that I often hide in shame. I no longer look in the mirror and mutter, “Sucks to your assmar, Jan.” I just gaze and that round belly and grin, knowing this is the but the first bump on the road to parenting…learning and embracing my limitations.


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