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August 2012 Moms
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Anyone want a story? This is for all of you who want 2u1

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in August 2012 Moms

 or even 2u2... I can genuinely say that this post is directed to no one in particular, although EFTM's pregnancy announcement and corresponding GBCB inspired me. Plus there seems to be a lot of girls on here infected with baby rabies, but I beseech you put your ovaries away at least for a couple more months for sanity's sake. 

Here is Part 1: Pregnancy for a FTM

There is the initial zomfomg! and depending on how you feel about your pregnancy, you probably spent the first few months worrying mostly about how you were going to make the big announcement, along with your inside baby's welfare.

 Then you threw up a little bit, and you were really f*cking tired

 and really, really emotional

 and some days all you wanted to do was go home from whereverthefuckyouare and take a nap... or a coma.

 But guess what!?! God is good, because when you have no children at home, you CAN! *depending on your circumstances I know, if you're allergic to naps or someshit, then it sucks to be you*

Then you hit the second tri, and most of you found out whether you had a little innie or an outie hiding away in the confines of your ute. You started to show, and had fancy (or not so fancy) parties thrown for you by loving family members, which were in turn ruined by mother-in-laws, and the occasional bedbug infested, murderous sister-in-law.

 but still life is good, even though 95% of your spare time is spent cleaning the most obscure and never before seen corners of your home, lest the miracle in your womb somehow be born into one of them and land on a dust bunny. 

 And ahhh, third tri comes around, and your facebook statuses go from being sickeningly sweet to down right nauseating when you write things like '35 and 35!!!!' (sorry, I know it's supposed to be cute...). But at the same time you're in misery because you have cankles and you just googled a mucus plug. Then at 37 weeks, the book says you're full term and WELLFUCK! You're supposed to be one of the ones to go early amirite?

 

 So it's off to the store with you to buy some castor oil and a pineapple.


 and then you hit your due date and you cry onto your guitar

 A week later, when the novelties of pregnancy have long overstayed their welcome, you want to do nothing more than lie on the couch with a bag of cheetos watching day time television feeling incredibly sorry for yourself...

 But guess what!?! YOU CAN! Because you have no children at home nagging at you for that thing they call lunch which is supposed to be at noon, but ends up being at 2 because you completely lost track of time... not to mention your mind.

Then one night you wake your husband, or whatever, the guy who got you into this mess, drag him into the bathroom to see some bloddy, goobery mess that your offspring just threw up all over the toilet seat, with enthusiasm because THE BOOK SAID THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO HAPPEN!

 And a while later you're at the hospital, probably yelling those curse words you've been training yourself not to say for the last 9 months, lest your fetus learn words like f*ckery in utero. 

 Then you're a Mom, and the world is brand new again, only this world requires being able to function, keeping a brand new, vulnerable 8 pound miracle alive while running on no sleep. This new world is a cruel b!tch, and yet the smile on your little one's face creates an amnesia of sorts... or witchcraft... and you find yourself longing for those times when he was getting nutrients through a tube attached to his stomach, instead of hanging off your boob for hours at a time. 

and then it dawns on you... 'Holy sh!t I want to be pregnant again!'....

  But here is the problem, babies can't just learn to crawl back up the birth canal and live there like rabbits, being pregnant again requires having to take care of the original miniature miracle while still going through all of the bullshit you went through the first time around. It reeeeeaaaaallly sucks when you're sick, tired, swollen and miserable, especially since on your worst days, I will guarantee that your baby or toddler will give not a single f*ck about your feelings. 

 

The end

 

 

or is it? 

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