Is the US a 3rd World Country?

Everywhere you look there are pregnant women. On my flight the other day there were three of us knocked-up-Nellies; in my workout classes I'm not even the solo pregger. We're literally everywhere, yet I still feel the need to explain my current state in the work place.

Here I am, a 31-year-old woman living in Los Angeles, one of the most progressive cities in the U.S., and my pregnancy still has to be "explained" almost on a daily basis. I'd understand if I was 16 and knocked up by my boyfriend of the month with no after-school job, but I'm a married woman of completely acceptable age to have children. So why is it such a huge issue?!

For example, I'm a host of a show that airs online that covers Top 40 music news. This entire time, I've been hiding my pregnancy, which I think is downright backwards. If major news networks like Fox and ABC are cool with allowing their female anchors' baby bumps to show, then why wouldn't an internet company?! It's like censoring the most natural part of being a female--being able to procreate. Relatability to on-air personalities is one of the reasons viewers come back to certain channels, so in my eyes the more honest you are, the more people like you.

Another interesting little tidbit is maternity leave. Thankfully I live in California, which has pretty amazing laws in place for pregnant women compared to other states. But still, should I really be thanking my lucky stars for my 12 weeks unpaid leave when there are countries like Norway that require both the mother and father take an 86% paid-for leave (mother=56 weeks, father=12 weeks)???

Or take Slovenia, Denmark, Bulgaria and Lithuania, countries who all cover women's pay 100% for an entire year with job protection. Freaking Afghanistan gives new moms 90 days 100% paid leave for God's sake!

My good friend Joslyn forwarded me this picture today of an Italian woman named Licia Ronzulli, who was photographed at European Parliament with her seven-week old daughter swaddled close to her as she conducted business as usual, voting on proposals to improve women's employment, ironically.

It's such an empowering photo to look at as a pregnant woman, or any woman for that matter. Pregnancy should never have to be a secret when you're a responsible, age-appropriate, hardworking woman--anywhere in the world. So props to Licia for showing how it can be done.

What's In A Name?

I'm really happy with the fact that my husband and I decided not to share our baby name with anyone prior to his birth. A few close family members know at this point, but beyond the inner circle, no one has any clue what McBaby's name is, and it's pretty cool. Our decision was based not only on the obvious--avoiding people's stupid reactions to the fact that we weren't going with Jack, Noah or Aiden like everyone else in America right now--but also because picking this name literally took 2 years to do.

Yes, your math is correct--I've been looking at baby name books since before I was pregnant. It happened right when we returned from our honeymoon and I realized I suddenly had a ton of free time (ton=the 20 minutes prior to bedtime which was previously spent contacting wedding vendors, writing vows, creating seating assignments) to dedicate to a new hobby. So I purchased "100,000 Baby Names" from Barnes & Noble, and began highlighting.

This was basically a solo project until this past November, as my husband pretty much flat out refused to play the name game with me until we found out the sex. So yes, even when I was clearly pregnant and just didn't know the sex, he still wouldn't humor me. One time I forced him to tell me one name he liked, and he said "Mike." Mike the Baby. Rude. But I didn't really mind, since I wasn't even ready to commit to anything quite yet.

Once we finally found out we were having a baby boy, it became Game. On. My highlights were categorized by different colors which indicated the heirarchy of names on that given week. Slowly but surely 10 names were whittled down to 6, then to 3, and ultimately, THE name was chosen. I was the one who'd found it (obvi), and when I first presented it like I had so many other rejected monikers, my husband laughed at me. Usually when this happened, I shrugged and moved on. But something told me to be persistent with this one. So then I told him to really think about it, and try saying it out loud randomly throughout his day. And the next time I brought it up, he said he really actually liked it, and it was pretty "badass."

Besides two other names of the 80 I'd likely suggested, this was the only name he'd agreed to liking. Now, I know a lot of women who just name their babies whatever the hell they want because they're the ones acting as the human incubator for 9 months, so their husband's opinion doesn't really mean shit. But it was really important for me that my husband and I jointly pick a name. Obviously I'm pretty emo when it comes to the subject matter, and I just think a name is such an important part of a person's identity. We all take such pride in our names, and it's one of the most personal traits about a human being--which is why it's so ironic that you get your name from someone else. That's why I feel so strongly about this subject.

I cannot for the life of me understand why people name their kids trendy names. Unless it's a family name that you've always known you've wanted to pass along, it seems rude to me. For example, I've always loved the name Gavin--but would I name my child that knowing that it's the 37th most popular baby name in U.S. right now? NO!

Frankly, I could care less if people hate the name I've giving to my first child. The fact of the matter is, it took years to decide on, hours of conversation, listing of pros and cons, weighing against alternate names, and we feel like it's just the coolest, most bad-ass, precious, unique, classy, and perfect name for our little guy. Can't wait for the world to meet him.

Third Tri Baby!

It's offish! I'm finally in my third trimester! Let the emotional eating and unexplained crying begin! From what I hear, this last little wedge of the pie is the most interesting of the bunch. Although, seriously I'd like to see anything come close to competing with my first trimester. Nevertheless, it seems my body received the memo that I had entered into the final round right on time.

I dusted off those baby books I hadn't laid eyes on in weeks, only to read about such joys as leg cramps, swollen feet, frequent urination, and yep, the return of exhaustion. Not to mention the fact that your baby is basically doubling in size on a weekly basis at this point.

So to kickstart the Third-Tri celebration, I went to my doctor for my glucose exam, which tests for gestational diabetes. Why they wait til the very end to determine this is beyond me. They make you drink this foul orange cocktail that tastes like flat Orange Crush mixed with 5 extra Kool-Aid packets, and you're forced to down it in a 5-minute span. Obvi, you can't drink or eat anything until after they've taken your blood an hour later, so this nasty orange crap is just floating around your stomach in the meantime--which is why I wasn't surprised when McBaby delivered me a series of rib kicks upon digesting it. He then thanked me with far gentler bladder elbowing after I gifted him with a jalapeno bagel smothered in cream cheese following my blood work. I seriously scarfed it right there during my appointment as my doctor checked the heart beat.

Another funny thing happened during that appointment--she started asking me all these questions she assumed I'd have answers too--like "Have you decided on a pediatrician" and "Are you pre-registered at the hospital yet." Needless to say, I need to stop re-reading The Hunger Games before bed, and get back to my pregger books--apparently they all suggested I have those tasks completed by now, including our enrollment in birthing classes, which was another cream cheese-mouthed "NOPE" from me.

But relax--it's not like I'm disorganized. I just kind of forgot how far along I am, and got all of those things taken care of in an hour! Plus, I've been concentrating on the important things, like his 0-3 month couture wardrobe, ordering all the Etsy artwork for his room, and working out to make sure I don't turn into Jessica Simpson.

Things are starting to get REAL up in here, and I can't believe this is the homestretch. Here's a pic of me at my east coast shower that was quite possibly the cutest theme of all time, thanks to my amazing family--Bridget Is Ready To Pop. Everything was pop-themed: soda pop, cake pops, jalapeno poppers, and even homemade poptarts! So lucky to have such cool and creative peeps for family.

So This Is What It's Like To Be Fat

I know I keep exclaiming that I cannot believe how huge I am, but seriously, I cannot believe how huge I am. People keep trying to tell me I'm such a tiny pregnant woman (except my mom who refers to me as "real big"), but I feel like an elephant. Doing the most mundane tasks now have become difficult. Like, say, putting on my shoes.

I now grunt when performing most daily activities like getting up and down from the couch, rolling over on the bed, and even getting into the shower--which brings me to another topic no one felt necessary to warn me about--grooming. Now, I decided to get laser hair removal a little too late in the game. I got pregnant about halfway through my 10-pack of sessions, which was just a "hair" short on the growth pattern if you know what I mean. I always envisioned impressing the doctors and nurses at the hospital with my fresh pedicure and a hoo-ha that looked like it belonged to an infant, but alas, I'll be one of the legions of women doing a hack job on my vajayjay while timing out my contractions upon going into labor. And let me tell you, the upkeep aint fun with a hard as concrete huge belly in the way. Last night, my husband actually asked me if he could "help." Imagine?!

He also reminded me that I'm going to get a lot bigger, as did several women at my east coast baby shower. They started laughing at me when I claimed to be bigger than a house, reminding me that my feet haven't even begun to swell yet, and my "face isn't even pregnant yet." Sigh...I still don't get why anyone "loves" being pregnant. I just can't wait to be done with this, so that A. my baby is here, and B. I can have my body back! It just seems like everything is going to be way cooler once April is here. So let the countdown begin!

Beep Beep! Comin Through

It's official. I'm not small anymore. I never EVER thought of myself as a skinny girl. But with this new watermelon under my shirt, I long for the days I constantly felt "fat." I promise to the pregnancy gods that if they just restore my body to its previous state it was in prior to getting knocked up, I'll never curse again (Another thing I'm working on with McBaby's arrival coming in less than 4 months). I mean, I've been taking more Bar Method classes than I did in preparation for my wedding, so if that doesn't help the postpartum shrinking process, then I don't know what will.

The problem with gaining steadily in the weight department each week is that I honestly still have no idea how big I am. That is, until I knock into things with my stomach. The other day, I was able to accidentally keep the refridgerator door ajar with my protruding belly while stocking it with groceries without even meaning to.

I also got stuck in between two strangers' chairs at a restaurant the other night because I could have sworn I'd be able to squeeze in between them. Needless to say, it's a little embarrassing to ask not one, but two people to please scoot in because no matter how hard to suck in, you're not getting any smaller.

It's not like I'm massive or anything. I've gained around 12 pounds total, which isn't even that much considering I'm more than halfway there. But in my mind, I'm still my old size, which makes it all the more hard to admit to needing help off the couch, or assistance rolling over in bed (true story-happens multiple times a night). The other day I got down to demonstrate an ab routine for my Bar Method clients, and not only looked like I was actually giving birth while doing it, but let out a "heave ho" when getting back up, and proceeded to pant for the next minute straight. On another occasion I attempted to show the "perfect push-up" form, only to fall flat on my poor fetus during the failed demo.

Fact of the matter is, no matter how much I'd prefer to stay at the cute 20-week belly stage, it's come and gone, and I'm chugging closer and closer to the 40 mark, large and in charge. I made a promise to myself early on in my pregnancy that I would not waddle no matter how gigantic I got, and that I would not succumb to the comfort and convenience of a muumuu in my last weeks.

I may trash the Kardashian family on a regular basis, but Kourtney definitely knew what she was doing in the maternity style department. And I intend on trying for as long as I can fit...

Babies In Cocoons

I have a major problem. Besides Pinterest and buying everything off Zulilly, I cannot stop google imaging ridiculous phrases like "babies in cocoons" and "crocheted animal hats for babies." Basically I've decided to spend my lunch hours at work doing art direction on my unborn infant's first photo shoot of his life.

A friend of mine who just had her #2 stressed to me the importance of staging said shoot in the first week the baby's home because of how much newborns sleep that week, and referred to it as a "smushy pic" shoot. I tried talking about this another mom who looked at me like I had 3 eyes when I used the term. But I'm sticking to it. What happens is the photographer puts the baby in these insanely cute positions like placing his chin on his hands as if pondering some deep life moment. See here if you're still confused.

I've decided that McBaby's smushy pic shoot is going to be very nature-inspired. I already instructed my mom to start crocheting the crap out of cocoons made of any soft wool she could get her hands on, telling her to think nests, nature, birds, etc. when designing them. I'm thinking edgy Anne Geddes meets Annie Leibovitz for Vogue.

And I'd like to thank those babies I don't know in the pics for providing an insane amount of inspiration for McBaby's first photo shoot. And of course Justin Bieber and God.

Pregnancy Myths and Truths According to Me

When it comes to pregnant chicks, there's a lot of hocus pocus out there. There are the old-wives tales that claim to tell you you're having one gender or another based on things like the heart rate, the way you're carrying, and how bad your prego acne has gotten. (All signs pointed to me having a girl BTW, and my bambino definitely has a penis.) And then there's a bunch of nonsense about what everyone assumes all pregnant women experience during their 9 months of being knocked up.

Here are the five things that have NOT happened to me:

1. Pregnancy glow: I found out I was pregnant in July when I still had a nice summer tan going on. I hoped this alleged dewy beautiful complexion would last the duration of my pregnancy based on the age-old saying, but alas, winter has arrived, my face is just as pasty and uneven as it always is this time of year. I'm going to go ahead and say this "glow" was made up by overweight pregos who tend to overheat after climbing a set of stairs. Glow=you're fat and sweating.

2. 2nd trimester energy: What a load of crap this is. Of course I feel better than that horrendous first 16 weeks, but I'd hardly call what I'm experiencing "energetic." It's just that I've trained myself to push past falling asleep when it's still light out, which has taken months to master. Sometimes I just succumb to the calling of my bed at dusk, but mainly it's that I got sick of missing all my shows and have gotten better at fighting the small knives constantly stabbing at my eyeballs. Energy....MY ASS.

3. Increased hunger: Ya know the saying "old wives' tale"? There should also be one called "fat pregnant womens' lies". I've worked out at least 5 out of the 7 days a week for as long as I can remember, so I've always been someone who eats mini meals throughout the day. That's exactly how I feel while pregnant. I'm working out about half as much, but know my body is working on overdrive to create my little dude--who by the way is only a pound at 22 weeks. My eating habits haven't changed in the slighest since becoming pregnant. So sorry, but claiming to be ravenous for muffins, chocoloate and ice cream while you're pregnant is just a lie--women always want that--knocked up or not. And you're just taking advantage of your situation!

4. Special treatment: I had so many people tell me prior to "showing" that once I popped, people would be opening doors for me, giving me their seats and going out of their way to make me comfortable. Wrong. I've had a few people give me a side semi-smile, as if they're scared to actually say anything to me. The other day, I was at a Verizon Wireless Store waiting in line, and turned around to see at least a dozen people sitting in chairs in the store. I purposely made eye contact with a couple of the a-holes playing with their iPhones, and not one of them offered me their seat. Maybe it's because everyone is scared shitless to offer a pregnant woman a chair, just for her to turn around and scream at them, "I'm NOT pregnant!" Hey--it's probably the most awkward thing you can do, so I'll let it go.

5. Increased sex drive: Yeah-to-the-right. Again, any woman claiming to feel "sexy" and more "horny" during pregnany is L-Y-I-N-G. This is the same kind of woman who would claim she loves dressing up as a naughty nurse for her husband because it's the only way that sick fuck can get off. But in all seriousness, I'm not one of those horrid wives who uses my pregnancy as an excuse not to get down--I'm just super realistic about it--it's not as great. But who really gives a shit? Not me.

Here are 5 things that have happened to me:

1. Huge boobs: Duh. Even girls who usually have mosquito bites for boobies are blessed during this time frame. The only thing that sucks is how much they itch...oh, and the fact that they make even a sensible turtleneck look pornstar-ish.

2. Awesome hair: This could not be more true. My hair is like that chick from Rumplestilzkin right now--golden spun silk. The thing that sucks is that it apparently goes back to its prior suckiness directly after giving birth, AND I heard some women lose some of their hair! Wahhhh.

3. Getting dumber: I have turned into the ditziest mother fucker of all time. The other day I was trying to remember the word "narrate," and described it as "the thing where someone tells a story from a certain perspective." MORON.

4. Uncontrollable shopping: I'm not sure if this is a normal ailment of pregnant women, but I thought I'd include it because of how unbelievable out of control it's gotten. Ever since finding out we're having a boy, I've been nonstop buying, mostly online. I just want him to be the coolest SoCal hipster surfer bowl-cut toehead dude in all the land. Can you really blame me?!

5. Nesting: I finally understand the true meaning of this word. My favorite place in the whole world is home these days. As an example, today I was getting a pedicure, and as she was rubbing my feet, I was checking the clock counting down the minutes til I could get home to just....tidy up. I constantly make neat piles and organize everything and overuse my label maker. Is this what moms do? I may just be crazy.

So this just my take on things....I truly apologize if you really are energetic, fat, glowing, craving tons of sex, and everyone's been giving you their seat.