The First Fart

James & Little Dude: Two monkeys with their tongues out!

I know that many assumptions and conclusions may be drawn from the title of this post, so please allow me a minute to preface with the following facts:

1. My husband has never heard me fart. Though if asked, he will say I have done so in my sleep, but I still feel we shouldn't be held responsible for anything we say or do in our sleep.

2. I have simply never been a gassy person. It's just the fact of the matter. Never been an issue, and I have literally never let one slip out loud in the presence of another human being...accidentally or otherwise.

3. I am so uncomfortable with the thought of being a gassy person, I can't even call it being gassy when I do feel that way. We have a word in our house for it. Airy. There is something more respectable about that. It implies no scent or byproduct. It is simply the normal, biological feeling of having air built up inside. 

With that being said...

I am in my ninth month of pregnancy, and with that comes an enormous amount of new discomforts. One being that the child beast inside of me seems to have hit a growth spurt last month and makes me feel more walrus-like than ever. Huge. Epically. After 30 minutes of walking around Ikea or The Container Store I feel nauseous because of the deep pain in my back, my puffy feet feel like I'm walking on a ridged cobblestone road barefoot, and the little dude's head is constantly pushing down on my bladder, making it absolutely necessary to pee every 30 minutes (if I'm lucky). 

In addition it means everything in my middle section is becoming even more cramped and crowded. So you can imagine how air may get trapped or pushed around as the baby settles in and even more so when he decides it's time to participate in his own little womb aerobics class. 

Which brings me to Target. There I was, walking around the baby section looking for a crib skirt for little dude's basically completed nursery (yay!). When out of nowhere, I hear a noise. A quick, but almost certain fart. Out loud. It scared the hell out of me. I looked around and there was no one to be seen...unless they were hiding in the aisles pointing and laughing at the helpless pregnant lady. Yes it was me. That sound came from me. I could not believe it. I had no idea it was coming, and you'd think I'd have some warning or some control. But no, nothing. No feeling of being...airy. No warning of the impending inevitability of a release. It just happened. And I could do nothing but freeze in panic, for fear another step would lead to an equally horrifying and startling sound. And there I stood, the lady who previously snickered at the two pregnant ladies who farted during our childbirth class, having experienced the same. In a Target. My usual place of comfort. A sanctuary of spending and solice. And yet on this day, it became the place that I first farted out loud. 

I guess more than anything, this is a confession and a request to all of you who maintain the control of your inner workings, to withhold judgement and extend understanding, as we, the mighty pregnant ladies, are being seriously squished inside. 

Less than a month to go!