A Geriatric Millennial Journals Her Geriatric Pregnancy
Jottings from a very old mom-to-be
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1st Month:
Hey there, baby!?!?!!? Totally thought I was going into perimenopause. But turns out — the night sweats, hot flashes, and moodiness were all you! They are going to do some extra monitoring because I’m a geriatric millennial and this is a geriatric pregnancy.
That means — take a deep breath of amniotic fluid for this one — you’re going to have one of the oldest mamas in your class. But you should know, I’m still pretty hip. I kept my entire collection of Garbage Pail Kids. It’s vintage now like my uterus. And it’ll soon be all yours.
Today you are the size of: The dots Pac-Man gobbled
2nd Month:
Your Generation Z cousin asked me why I’m journaling old school instead of just recording TikToks of my bump getting bigger. Hello! Books are just better. But since I’m very tech-savvy, I’m scanning this into my computer too.
News: I need lots of meds now that I’m practically a fossil. I’ve got prenatals with extra calcium for my brittle bones, prednisone for arthritis, and my high blood pressure meds. Low dose — don’t worry, so you won’t come out with an arm attached to your skull.
Today you are the size of: A micro machine toy car
3rd Month:
Today at the 12-week checkup, I saw you on the sonogram and you were super chillaxed. I asked the technician if it was normal that you were so “vegged out.”
The technician (a baby herself) said “let’s do a vibe check.” She poked my stomach and you showed off your dance moves. I swear you were doing the electric slide.
Update: They are scheduling an amnio — they are worried that your expired egg and my cobwebbed uterus are a bad combo.
