Saturday, March 16, 2013

Backstory - or How I Learned to Hate Everyone Who Ever Wrote a Book about Pregnancy or Babies

Picture this.

You're a lapsed "good girl" on the wrong side of your twenties and you're having a very hot spring fling with a (slightly) younger man after leaving a long term relationship that had been going nowhere for years. You're in a haze of bars and parties, late night naked talks, and an alarming amount of sex, most of it protected, because you're responsible even in your irresponsibility.

He goes out of town for a week in May and so the well runs dry and you forget to take your birth control. When he gets back, you're both like a couple of teenagers who just discovered orgasm.

In June, the fling is on it's way to fizzling as a result of stupid feelings getting involved, and you wake up one morning at 6am to pee. This might sound like an average Tuesday to some people, but for you, it's an unusual event. The next day, you're dizzy and exhausted, and can suddenly smell onions and go around sniffing like a bloodhound until you find some buried in the bottom of your fridge on a wrapped sandwich.

Shit is getting weird. Your period is not late. You take a pregnancy test anyway. You're spoiled by too many negative pregnancy tests during your last relationship and you leave the pee soaked plastic stick you bought for a buck at the dollar store on the floor and go to make some tea.

When you return hours later, there is a faint pink line on said pee soaked stick.

Now you're pregnant by a dude who still wakes and bakes and asks his parents to pay his rent.

FUCK.

So---in a nutshell.

I started this blog because I read countless articles, blogs, books, pamphlets, and asked a million mothers questions, and no one got it right. Not one person told me what it was really like. This blog isn't about the rainbows and sunshine pregnancy, birth, and motherhood. This is the real, funny, gross, awkward stuff.

 I plan to get tons of comments from those judgy internet people who always seem to pop up when you complain about the loss of your freedom or your baby's complete and utter disregard of your sleeping, eating, or being a person outside of his mother. I hope there are some other women out there who are being lied to by those lying fuckers who say that you glow during pregnancy and that you forget what labor pain feels like and that you don't sometimes just want to lock yourself in a room without the baby for a week. Maybe this will help them, and those judgy internet bitches can go jump in a fucking lake.

We'll see how it goes.