pregnancy brain | Good Times with Jess

I’m not sure which has killed more brain cells: all the drinking I’ve done or having a baby.

The writing corner of my brain is either dead or hibernating. It used to be that someone could say something funny or absurd and my blog brain cells would click on, record and regurgitate when I turned on my computer.

Now when something funny happens, my brain cells light up for a moment and then go back to sleep. Getting the information from them later is not guaranteed. And if it’s backed up somewhere, I don’t know where to find it.

After my previous post, I was on the phone with a dear friend talking about our pelvic floor physical therapy. Shoot! I forgot one of the best parts of my blog post. It was one of those quotes that the moment I heard it, I said to myself, “gotta blog this.” And I didn’t.

Not only did I not blog it, but I wrote the whole post it inspired and didn’t even realize it was missing. The good news for you is that I remember now.

So back to my pelvic floor. I know you missed it.

I went to a trampoline park with my Little Sister a few weekends ago. Which I recommend if your bladder muscles are in good shape. I report back to my physical therapist. She asks,

“How’d it go?”

“I leaked.”

“So I guess we know where the line is. Sneezing isn’t a problem, but an hour on a trampoline is too much.”

“Also this may sound crazy, but my vagina felt like it was falling out.”

“I’ve heard that before.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, think of your vagina like a roll of toilet paper. Since you’ve had your baby, your vagina isn’t holding its integrity anymore. Now it’s like a soggy roll of toilet paper.”

26 weeks pregnant and I have pregnancy brain. Or at least that’s what I’m going to blame last weekend on.

People say that during pregnancy your brain turns to mush. I’m not sure what’s happening to mine, but my brain cells are abandoning me.

Captain and I load up a U-Haul truck full of baby/kid stuff to move it from his brother’s house to his parents’. It’s really nice to know people with houses. Captain is in charge of driving the truck, I’m in charge of driving our grocery assault vehicle. That’s right, I have a car, it smells great.

Before we leave, I ask Captain,

“Should we follow each other?”

“Do you want to put my parents’ address in the GPS and we’ll go on our own?”

“Sure.”

With the talking car, heated seat and so many buttons, I have enough to think about without worrying about following.

The GPS takes me on a very strange route. I know it’s not the way we normally drive, but I also couldn’t tell you the way we normally drive, so I’m stuck with my new GPS friend. I glance behind me. Captain and the U-Haul truck are following me on this weird route.

Finally we’re on the highway and the mom mobile takes off leaving the truck in the dust. I’m cruising along enjoying myself and my warm butt, next thing I know the U-Haul truck goes zipping by me on the left. Hey! Wait for me buddy!

I get behind the truck and follow along for 10 minutes. The GPS tells me to take the exit on the left. The U-Haul heads right. Since the GPS led me a really weird way before, I figure Captain must want me to follow him and he knows the way to go.

I follow the U-Haul. Captain is a more cautious driver than me. He gives cars the right away who don’t deserve it. Now all of sudden it’s like the U-Haul truck has gone to his head. It’s zipping through yellow lights at the last second, which means I’m going through red lights trying to keep up. Why is he doing this when he knows I’m following him?

I trail the U-Haul truck through all the back roads of Fall River. This is very odd. We’ve never gone this way before. I can’t imagine what he’s doing. I glance at my GPS it’s rerouting for the fifteenth time and may give up on me soon. We stop at another light. I catch a glimpse of the driver in the side view mirror. Doesn’t look like Captain. I need to call him.

“Are you at a stoplight in Fall River?”

“No, I’m crossing over the bridge in Rhode Island.”

“Huh. Well I’m behind a U-Haul truck in Fall River.”

“What?”

“I may have been following a random truck.”