Stick Figure Adventures in Pregnant Urination

Liz C., you know I have no shame. Today, I prove it to the world.

You see, I have reached a point in this pregnancy when things get complicated. Normal things that normal ladies are supposed to be able to do easily and without fuss become Olympics-worthy challenges of stamina and fortitude.

This morning, I am specifically talking about going pee. At a whopping 21 weeks gestation, this little bun has the power to ninja-kick my bladder into believing that I need to go pee approximately every 2 minutes. Maybe 4.5 minutes, if I'm really lucky.

So, this morning, with baby playing Wipe Out on my urine-holding bits, I haul my rotund ass to the bathroom to take a leak (yeah, take a leak - keeping it classy up in here).

Once I get there, I sit down and wait. And wait. I twiddle my thumbs, maybe play a little Ticket to Ride on my phone, and think to myself, "A few moments ago, I really thought I was going to explode from having to pee." Yet, still, nothing comes out.



Annoyed that, despite sitting on the toilet for at least 30 seconds, I’ve made no tinkle, I think to myself, “Maybe the baby is in the way,” so try diligently to “lift” the wee wombfruit out of the way.



Rewarded by a  tiny trickle of pee, I think I’m really onto something… and remember a pose from my prenatal yoga where you lean forward to let the baby sort of “hang,” relieving some of the stress that the baby places on your insides. So, I scoot my bum towards the front of the seat and let my belly sort of hang between my legs, grabbing the seat behind me so I don’t fall face-first onto the ground (or, if I’m being honest, the un-emptied potty seat that sits opposite our toilet… but I’m not drawing that).


Baby, with the help of gravity, sloshes forward a bit, allowing a bit more pee to escape into the toilet. I am then forced to ask myself the question, “Am I DONE peeing? Or is there more pee to be peed?”

The answer, when you are pregnant, is that there is always more pee to be peed. You are forever peeing. So, this time, I think maybe I’ll rearrange to bring my legs up to my chest a bit and see if, by pushing the baby back towards my spine, I can free up some room in the tubes between my urine-holder and urine-releaser to empty the last trickles into the toilet and be done with this awful endeavor.


With that brilliant move, I finally, actually manage to pee more than just an itsy-bitsy bit. Like, something that resembles the amount that I could pee before I had a creature living in the confines of my torso. And it’s blissful.

That was my morning, my beautiful Liz C. How was yours?


Lizzy B.

PS – I think I have to pee again.

This post brought to you by the markers I purchased to make my son the potty chart he blatantly ignores, as well as the beautiful butterfly notepad my dear friend Jamaila sent me last week.

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