When I first found out I was going to be a mother, I, like most woman, uhhhhh freaked the heck out!
For someone like me who has been selfishly single for 5 years – only having to worry about myself, making sure Sex in the City is recorded, and bottles of wine are always at arms reach – it is safe to say I am completely foreign to all things mommy.
With a combo of rational and absolutely crazy thoughts that immediately rushed through my head, I was thrilled to find out I was not alone with the uncontrollable amount of “OMG nooooooooooooooo!!!!!” thoughts that leaked out the moment I stared into the soul of that positive stick of pee.
Poop. Oh my goodness smelly baby poop! The constant smell of poop. I have not changed a diaper in over 10 years and yes, my friends, that is 100 percent by choice! To think about having to check a babies butt 30 times a day with the intention of smelling for poop!?! Ummm.. no?! I might as well start walking into bathrooms and sniffing the toilets for goodness sake!
I have always loved my boobs, especially the right one as it’s a dash bigger. My one handful pillow of goodness has always been good enough for me but now I get to temporarily turn into Pamela Anderson?!??! YESSSSS. The idea of these bad boys getting huge, even neglecty (my left one) got me excited! But then I realized they would be full of milk, not silicon. Soon I would be walking around with a little baby attached to my nipple drinking from my boob? My nipple is going to turn into a straw? I am going to get milked!?!??!?! Nooooo
There is only one thing in the world I like more than my wine and that is my sleep. The fact my days of sleeping in will completely disappear makes me want to put myself in a coma like, right now! No more sleeping till 3 pm? No more dreaming of hot men all night long?? This just …just, no.
My, oh my, my poor vagina. Not only have I just put it out of action for give or take another year or two, I also put it at risk to become damaged goods! I do not like the idea of any of my body parts stretching, but my precious dime size hole stretching into a pumpkin?!?!! NOOOOOOOOO!!! I instantly grabbed my lady parts asking for forgiveness and wished death upon Halloween.
My Daisy Poo
I have had my Daisy since she was 6 weeks old. Now at 11, I can honestly say there is nothing I love as much or in the way I do as my dog (sorry family and hot surfers -*hugs). I just can’t fathom the thought of being able to want to kiss and love anything more than her. She is my baby!! Could I possibly ever love anything more than my dog? Hmmm…. I better!
I think there are two types of women when they find out they are pregnant. The ones that say yes, time to pig out, where is the cheesecake!? Or the ones that say crap, I am about to turn into a fat whale and then hug their favorite skimpy dress. I like to feel like I am in control of my body size, but now you’re telling me I am going to blow up whether I stuff my face with tofu or tacos? Kale or Kit-Kats? Guhhh!
No More Booze
Throughout my career as an adult I have always taken breaks from drinking. 2 weeks here, a month there, I even went the whole first 16 years of my life without a drink, I know, legend, right? But the thought of having to go without alcohol by force for a long period of time annoyed me. I enjoy having a box…I mean a bottle…I mean a glass of wine every day after work but now I have to turn booze free???? Nooo, not my wine!!
Being a single gal, I thought of all the guys I hoped on dating in the near future, and then put them in a bubble and popped it where it belonged – in the land of never happening!! Can I still date when pregnant? Who wants to date a pregnant chick? Nobody but guys with belly fetishes and felons. So I guess this is goodbye Tinder, goodbye meeting the man of my dreams at the grocery store. It’s just going to be me and my thunder thighs for a while now.
As someone who has been self-sufficient and on my own for a very long time, I am quite accustomed to having complete control of the noises around. I need silence to sleep, can’t stand the sound of chewing or street noise, snoring, people singing along to the radio, my dog licking herself, crying, screaming. Yeah, you know, noises. I’m sensitive. So how in the heck will I be able to handle crying screaming baby when I can’t even stand the sound of Taylor Swift breathing??!?
Luckily for me and many women, after the initial shock was over these petty thoughts faded and got placed on the back-burner. Why?? Well because there are much MUCH more important things to worry about than adopting porn star boobs!
Well, minus the poopy diapers. That is still a stern concern 🙂
❤ Hot Pregnant Mess