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Just when I thought the placenta brain was wearing off ... I poured orange juice into my coffee. And not just a splash - I poured orange juice all the way to the top of my cup when it slowly occurred to me that the coffee was not turning a creamy colour. I decided to take note of which container I was holding in my hand. "Aha. That explains it!" I say aloud, as though I was a chemist and had figured out the last factor in the equation for the serum to cure cancer. Quickly followed by, "you're such a knob" and laughing at myself. Progress. Early on this move would have frustrated the hell out of me. Now, I guess, it's going to be par for the course.
My friend Renee (who is also expecting) introduced me to the term "Placenta Brain". She mentioned it early on in her pregnancy as a reference for how forgetful and foggy she had become. I laughed thinking she was cute and that placenta brain was a Renee-ism. Then I got it.
Placenta Brain had me in a daze wading through a thick fog. I lost my words. I lost my memory. I lost my meticulous self somewhere into the abyss of placenta brain. How could a baby the size of a Gummy Bear wreak so much havoc on my brain?
I would do things like; enter the kitchen open a cupboard then leave the room only to re-enter some time later to see the cupboard door open. Hmmmmm. I am home alone. We have ruled out our house built in 1910 is haunted - so - I must have done this. I have no recollection. Who am I?
The list of things goes on - too many to mention here...save for this one:
Craving a piece of chocolate cake I drove to the bakery across town to buy a slice. I made sure to take a fork because I was not goingto be able to make it all the way home without first tasting the cake to appease the craving. It was delicious. As I backed out of the parking lot of the bakery I notice a lady waving and running after me. I stopped. She caught up to me, reached to the top of the car, "You forgot this" she said, handing me the cardboard box containing the coveted cake. Oh no, when did I place the cake on the roof? Do I tell her I am pregnant? Is this universal? Will she "get it?" I decide to say nothing but thank you and smile before driving away.
Other mothers sympathize when I tell them of my placenta brain. They tell me it gets worse. Oh great I think attempting to smile but feeling like a slowly deflating balloon.
As part of a comedy writing team I helped create a sketch for a hidden camera TV series, it was of a mother placing an infant car seat on the roof of a car then driving away. We taped bystander's reactions. How far away from this is my reality? Am I going to hell for making such terrible jokes? Is this what is meant by "nemesis?"
Gawd, I hope I don't leave the baby somewhere when it gets here.
