I used to cheer myself through infertility treatments with day dreams of what a lovely pregnant lady I would be. My bump would be perfectly round and adorable. My rump would remain toned. My hair would look awesome and my skin would “glow.” My husband would be enthralled with me and want to be close every evening as we cuddled on the couch. My cat and I would form and even stronger bond as she became invested in the life growing within me. I would radiate pregnant splendor!
My bump still looks like I’m eating too many cookies. My rump is, uh, not toned despite valiant attempts. My hair does actually look fantastic, but every time I brush it I am reminded of what will happen postpartum - it’s all gonna fall out! My skin is covered in pimples that require some serious makeup magic each morning. And my cat and husband? Well, they have been hiding from me. Or more accurately, they have been hiding from my ass.
In all the hours upon hours of pregnancy research I
obsessively diligently conducted, no where did I find a warning of the horrid things that would emanate from my ass. We are talking serious man farts. I could out fart Homer Simpson. The smells are so bad that they offend me. After my morning “constitutional” I have to open the window and evacuate the bathroom, no matter how cold it is. Afternoons at work are the worst and I’m to the point of jumping up and leaving my office anytime I think I hear someone approaching for a meeting. “Oh, were you coming to chat with me? I’m on my way to the water fountain let’s walk and talk!”
The farts come regardless of what I do and don’t eat for lunch. Have a bowl of vegan chili for lunch? Obviously, expect farts. Have a PB&J and carrots? Expect farts. Have baked chicken and rice? EXPECT FARTS!
If I came with an instruction manual you can be sure it would feature an image like this:
My husband no longer likes to snuggle me on the couch. Instead he sits as far away as possible and tells me to “point that thing the other direction.” When in bed he’ll roll over and grown, “BELLE! Can you point that out from under the covers? I’m suffocating here!” My cat looks offended when we are snuggling and a big one launches out. Her nose starts working overtime, her eyes squint up in disgust and she more often than not abandons the snuggle.
It is HORRIBLE! And embarrassing! The only living thing that wants to be close to me right now is Euclid – our cat with anal gland problems who always smells like poo and farts herself. She loves my stinky butt and has taken to laying in my lap anytime I sit down. I don’t know if I should be offended or flattered. At least someone loves me? Or does someone only love my stench? We’ll never know…
My brother and his fiance have this really cute thing that when one of them passes a little gas (because no one farts like Belle can) they giggle and say, “Noooothinnnnng….” and then the other coos over them and gives a big hug. Obviously they have not been together long!
I decided to adopt the “Nothing” term for my farts but the husband argues that nothing is a horrid lie. “That is most certainly something! Can’t you unload that ass cannon in the other room?”
It’s crazy. It’s smelly. At times it’s painful (like when I hold them in during yoga – so much for relaxing). And most importantly, it is completely unexpected. Where the hell was my “Your gonna stink like a septic tank for nine months” warning?
So here is my warning to all infertiles dreaming of pregnancy, women who just got their first positive pee stick, and husbands looking all starry-eyed about their beautifully pregnant wife:
Pregnancy farts are REAL and OFFENSIVE and will RUIN your snuggle time. Be prepared and invest in some air-fresheners. While you are at it, you might want to buy another couch – you’re gonna want your own once your lovely wife starts farting as if it was her job!