I’ve learned first hand that pregnancy is ripe with thousands of symptoms that may or may not hit you. And while it’s not true, it is easy to feel like I’ve somehow been designated to deal with ALL of the symptoms. Probably one of the harder ones for me to deal with has been “pregnancy brain”, which is actually better described as “pregnancy non-brain”.
I have always been an organized person. The Type I, plan it all out, list list list, keep it filed perfectly in my over-achiever brain. People who know me can attest to this. My brain is the dictionary, the spell-checker, the calendar, the franklin planner, the story book, the phone book, the map, the bank account, the price checker, the 4-1-1, the EVERYTHING. I hope that doesn’t sound arrogant or conceited, because that’s not my intention. My brain has just always gathered and organized and stored information really well. Until my body was invaded by the fetus.
Now my brain is a joke. Sure it keeps me breathing and keeps my heart beating. Sure it’s running its own schedule of baby making. But that seems to be all my brain can do anymore. Spelling? gone. (thank goodness for spell checker!) English and math skills? obliterated. (good thing there’s a calculator on my cell phone!) Bank account? Phone book? Calendar? non-existent.
“My brain” is now what The Warrior and I have nicknamed a fluorescent green 3×5 notebook that I carry around with me. I have to write everything in it. If someone asks me something I have to flip through pages and pages of notes and lists and scribbles to find the answer.
Pregnancy brain also keeps me from recognizing the most obvious physical things around me. I have more bruises from bumping into things now than I probably did throughout my whole childhood. And then fun things like this happen:
“What is this heavy thing in my hand? Oh it’s my water bottle that I apparently have been carrying around for 15 minutes without realizing it. Why did I pick this up?”
OR
“Why did I bring this tub of cream cheese to the bedroom? Why am I even in the bedroom? Where’s the toaster with my bagel?”