"Pregnancy Brain"
Before anyone tells you that “pregnancy brain” is a sexist construct, let me tell you how long I used my husband’s toothbrush because I thought it was my toothbrush:
At least a month. Likely a lot longer.
I only learned it is my husband’s and not my toothbrush because last night as my husband got out of the shower and saw me brushing my teeth with the blue toothbrush that I thought was my toothbrush he said, “That is not your toothbrush.”
First I argued with him. Then I tried to get him to throw away BOTH toothbrushes, the blue one I thought was mine and the green one that was actually mine, even though no one except for me has ever used the green toothbrush, and I only used it a few times, a very long time ago.
This, I am told, is “pregnancy brain.” The inability to remember things while carrying another human inside my fertile little yolk sac of a body. But I often have a hard time remembering things. Oh, I remember how that famous male playwright said that my problem as a writer is that I’m not a critical thinker because I’m too emotional, and I remember every word to “Dragostea Din Tei” even though I don’t speak Romanian. But I can’t remember the capital of most states, or which toothbrush is mine.
For a long time, I assumed “pregnancy brain” is just another sexist construct, out to vilify women going through a very difficult and very personal experience. It probably is. But I still had to write my name on the green toothbrush so I don’t forget which one is mine again.