Where's my glow dammit?!

Yesterday as I was getting off the bus for work, I sneezed and wet my pants. Lovely, I know. Just another unforeseen side effect of being 5 months pregnant. According to one of my many pregnancy books, it's called "stress incontinence," or passing small amounts of urine unintentionally, particularly when coughing, sneezing or laughing.

Well that's a relief, to know it's unintentional. I wouldn't want to have to tackle the psychological ramifications of the possibility that I was starting to wet my pants on purpose. As far as I can tell, the culprit of stress incontinence and the host of other ailments I've been contending with these days is progesterone. Progesterone is helping to build this beautiful baby that we'll take home in early June. But it also loosens up everything in your body to make room for the new tenant, including your pelvic floor -- the strength of which is a vital reason we don't all walk around wetting our pants unintentionally.

Progesterone also slows down your digestive system, which makes you burp louder and more often than a frat boy. It floods your system in the first trimester as your body is building the fetus and the placenta, making you do amazing feats like vomit in the middle of Michigan Avenue and keep walking like nothing happened. It's also the reason I can walk through every aisle of a grocery store and proclaim that there is nothing, absolutely nothing to eat.

The second trimester, weeks 13-27, is when progesterone is supposed to give you a break. You are over the sickness and fatigue of the first trimester but not hugely uncomfortable like you will be in the third trimester. You start to feel that glow. That's what my friends said, whispering that you also get incredibly horny, a side effect Dave was really looking forward to. That's what the pregnancy books said, as they started showing pictures of mamas with mid-sized bumps doing yoga poses and taking 30 minute walks rather than lying in bed with cold compresses on their foreheads.

But that's "most women." Everybody's different, as my OB gingerly pointed out. My Google search history tells a different story:

       "bloating...first trimester"
       "headaches...pregnancy"
       "head cold...pregnancy"
       "peeing...coughing...pregnancy"
       "peeing...sneezing...pregnancy"
       "20 weeks and still throwing up"
       "foods that are easy to digest"

The good news is that my symptoms have lessened since the grueling nausea of the first 14 weeks. As long as I get enough sleep, stick with safe foods (nothing too spicy, sweet or savory) and do nothing to overexert myself (like walk more than 3 blocks), I'm fine. Really. I'm fine. Just a little pee-pee in the panties is all. Nothing a box of Depends or 1,000 Kegels a day can't solve.

And for the record, here are a few things to never say to a pregnant woman, or anyone else for that matter, who is struggling with physical misery or chronic pain. Gentlemen don't, I repeat, don't try these lines at home.*

Pregnant woman with face pressed against toilet bowl: "I can't do this anymore."
Wrong answer: "But you have no choice."
Right answer: "I'm so sorry you're feeling this way. I know it's hard."

Pregnant woman with face pressed against toilet bowl: "It's not fair."
Wrong answer: "It's not really an issue of fairness. It's an unfair world."
Right answer: "I'm so sorry you're feeling this way. I know it's hard."

Pregnant woman with face pressed against toilet bowl: "I think I'm dying."
Wrong answer: "It could be worse. Some people are paraplegic."
Right answer: "I'm so sorry you're feeling this way. I know it's hard."

Pregnant woman with face pressed toilet bowl: "This is so hard."
Wrong answer: "You're the one who wanted to get pregnant."
Right answer: "I'm so sorry you're feeling this way. I know it's hard."

*No, these were not all lines uttered by Dave. And any that were are forgiven after his 400th trip out in the cold, in the middle of the night, to buy me seasickness bands, throat lozenges, 7Up, organic yogurt or lentil soup.

So everyone, repeat after me: "I'm so sorry you're feeling this way. I know it's hard." That will always be the right answer, along with "Is there anything I can do?" and "How about I buy you a new car?"