Placenta Brain

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 occured 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 had figured out the last factor in the syrum for the cure to cancer. Quickly followed by, "you're such a nob" 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 abys of placenta brain.   How could a baby the size of a Gummi 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 reenter 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 going to 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.   

One sketch we created for my TV Series GWBG was of a mother placing the infant car seat on the roof of the 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.