Best Pregnancy Book Ever... Thanks Teresa Strasser!

So a little while ago, I polled all of my mommy friends about which books are "must reads" on pregnancy. I figured that if I'm committed to this whole kidding thing, I better start doing my homework and find out what I'm in for if I actually manage to get a bun in the oven. (Man do I hate that saying, but knocked up is starting to make me nuts too). Anyway, I have absolutely no desire to purchase the "What to Expect When You're Expecting" tome and am thus avoiding it like the plague. I don't necessarily have anything against it, but for me, it's a lot like Jurassic Park. That movie came out and I swear I couldn't walk two feet without someone telling me that I absolutely had to see it immediately. Guess what that does for me? It has the polar opposite effect. Jurassic Park was released in 1993 - I finally saw it in 2010. (And I actually really liked it... but I digress).

My mommy friends' recommendations included The Girlfriends' Guide to Pregnancy and Belly Laughs. I have since read them both, (sort-of). Let's start with Belly Laughs. It's Jenny McCarthy's humorous and semi-scatalogical take on the whole pregnancy thing. It's a quick read... and it isn't terrible, but it's one that I could've probably lived without. It left me with the impression that Jenny was a little too busy being pregnant or already basking in the glow of her child by the time she got around to writing it to really give it the substance that it seems to lack. A lot of the content also felt very been-there, done-that to me. (Maybe because I've been reading way too much about pregnancy online. Who knows?)

Next up is The Girlfriends' Guide. In all fairness, I must report that I haven't yet finished this one... but I've read a decent portion of it, (at least half). This one, in my humble opinion anyway, is far better than "Belly Laughs." There's plenty of substance and anecdotes, and it isn't obnoxious. Parts are even quite funny.

But here's the problem.

Halfway through The Girlfriend's Guide, I remembered something, or rather, someone and her something.

Teresa fucking Strasser.

How the hell did I completely forget about the fact that she just wrote a book about her own first-time pregnancy aptly titled, Exploiting My Baby???

I had it overnighted, because I'm impatient like that.

Now, 155 pages in, I've dogeared at least 50, some of which I've dogeared multiple times... you know... the double and triple folds, to remind myself that Teresa said something that was either particularly horrifying or hilarious, and that I absolutely had to blog about it. I find extreme comfort in knowing that there's a woman out there who over-thinks everything as much, if not more so, than I do.

My mommy friends probably aren't aware of this book, because sadly, it didn't exist when they were pregnant. I feel badly for them. I'm not even pregnant yet, and I can already tell that this book will become my security blanket during pregnancy. I will refer to it when I'm scared, anxious, hormonal or feeling very Jewgly - knowing that I will feel much better having done so.

Here's some insight as to why this book is just so fanfuckingtastic:

Chapter 9 is entitled, "How Freaky and Paranoid is Your Google History?"

The next seven pages consist of Teresa Strasser's verbatim history of her baby-related Google searches pertaining to her third month of pregnancy.

Here are a few of the inclusions:

Imminent miscarriage
Nonviable pregnancy but no miscarriage yet
CVS not risky?
Nonalcoholic beer during pregnancy
Positive urine nitrate test
Down syndrome likelihood 38

Mind you, "Imminent miscarriage" is listed 7 times in as many pages.

This woman totally speaks my language and I love her.

You should read this book - even if you've already pushed out a few and/or have no plans to be pregnant. (That includes you Simone).

I Jewgle... and sometimes, I do it very, very well. (Sometimes).

I Jewgle. I hate to cave to stereotypes, but it's true. I am a semi-neurotic, (okay very neurotic), Jew - with a marked tendency to overreact to even the slightest medical malady. Instead of simply brushing it off until I see what happens, (and whether or not it necessitates a visit to the doctor), I start Jewgling. I love Google - and the Internet of course... but for those of us who are literally born with this rather annoying tendency, (paranoia/fear/need to know what's wrong with me now), Google can be a very dangerous thing. So can WebMD and a host of other sites for that matter, which Google will gladly lead you to if you're Jewgling mind you, and in my case, this is always what transpires when I've managed to convince myself that I'm dying of one thing or another. Granted, it doesn't help that I am obsessed with shows like Trauma in the ER, Mystery Diagnosis, I Was Born Without a Head et al, but trust me... it wouldn't make a difference if those shows didn't exist.

In my defense, I'm actually not a bad Jewgler. Years ago, I was on a very stressful business trip in NYC. I was overworked, overtired and underpaid, and I dragged my then-boyfriend, (now husband), John, along with me. Within 24 hours upon arrival, John got hit with what was probably the nastiest flu/cold/virus I'd ever seen. He had a fever of 104... and I HAD to go to work. There was no getting out of it. I left him in bed with mediocre room service and even less impressive food, having obtained antibiotics for him - and hoped for the best. I begged and pleaded with him to go to the ER. He wasn't having it.

Lo-and-behold, I wake up the next day - and my eyelids are practically sealed shut. Mind you, this is the day of the "Big Event" I'm in NYC for in the first place... a huge launch party for a high-end designer line of eyewear with a very well-known designer duo, at a chi-chi venue that has been in the making for months. I'm supposed to arrive dressed to the nines, and look as flawless and confident as possible, but I have these eyelids that are inflamed, ruby red, and look as if they are the eyelids of a 95 year-old woman that hurt when water so much as touches them. What do I do? I take my laptop into the lobby of my hotel for wireless access, and begin the Jewgling process. In this particular instance however, I was right. Even before the "top rated" dermatologist and ophthalmologist I would see that day would figure it out, I already knew that I had severe blepharitis... kind of like psoriasis of the eyelids. Not good. That same day, I went to a dermatologist, (again, top-rated), who couldn't even IDENTIFY what the problem was and said, (and I quote), "I won't touch that until you've seen a ophthalmologist." That's comforting. Way better than Jewgling, right? Anyway - managed to get the appointment with the ophthalmologist - who inevitably confirmed my own diagnosis. No, I'm not looking for kudos here... I'm just stating the facts of what transpired during this unfortunate trip, (while also adding a bit of credibility to those of us who know how to Jewgle well).

Anyway, to add insult to injury, after the mysterious eye debacle that prevented me from looking/feeling my best at a very elegant and amazing event, I wound up having to fly back home with the same horrific flu/cold/virus thing that John had. (He had recovered by this point). On a side note, John had been planning to propose to me on this trip. Let's just say I'm happy it didn't go down that way.

To make a long story short... somehow, it both comforts and tortures me to Jewgle. I'm damned if I do, damned if I don't...

HOW WILL THIS TRANSLATE TO CHILDREN???

Will I Jewgle more? Will I Jewgle at the slightest sniffle? I have to assume so. Right now, I actually believe I've got it in check to some extent, (the desire to Jewgle that is). Truly, I'm not a hypochondriac - I'm more of an "alarmist" and thus only utilize this method when I'm 100% certain that SOMETHING IS WRONG. I've just got to figure it out as soon as humanly possible, because waiting for an appointment at the doctor simply doesn't work as it should.

But kids... I mean, really. Helpless little tiny PEOPLE... I'm already paranoid about my puppies. I Jewgle for them already when something is amiss in their happy, frolickly little world... and again, more often than not, I'm right on the money with the initial, pre-doctor/veterinarian diagnosis.

Now imagine me with kids...

Take into account that I inherited this fun little trait from my mother. Albeit I have it to a lesser extent than she, but honestly, what will this do to any little lives I have anything to do with?

Do I even have time to Jewgle for children? It could become a full-time job...

I ask you... what do you think? Do you do this?

Let me end this rather lengthy post by crediting the folks who first introduced me to the "Jewgling" term... Adam Carolla and Teresa Strasser. People I'm hoping to have the honor of interviewing for this blog one day, as equally neurotic, opinionated people themselves, who happen to have kids. If you don't listen to their podcasts, you should.