Wow. I hope people find this blog by googling that title with the hopes they were going to find some Howard Stern episode on youtube. How great would that be.
Anyway, this post is about what I think happens when you get pregnant. BUCKLE UP.
First, I will never be the Blog About Child and Pregnancy girl. Ever. And I never really thought I’d break down and write about my thoughts on having children or being pregnant….but things are getting out of control. I think the minute you get married (even if it is the second time), people really DO find, “So. When are you kids gonna give it a try?” suitable conversation. Which it’s not. Ever. Ever, ever, shut your filthy, whore mouth, mind your own business, ever. God.
Remind me to tell you the story one day about this relative I have that I don’t enjoy and the day where her whore mouth thought to ask this question…whole.other.story.
Anyway, having a womb occupant. In case you were wondering, I don’t have one BUT I am also not against such. Mmmm, ok, against wasn’t the word I was looking for but really, *Read back to my thoughts instead on fearing being a parent. That whole, why bother raising someone that’s going to hate me AND look like me while doing it thing. If that isn’t irony, I’m not sure what is. Or maybe it’s just bizarre. Whatever. Either way, this post isn’t so much about how I feel about me getting kicked from inside the womb, it’s how I feel about it in general and all of these absurd things I keep hearing and what I think about them.
Because, really. I need to figure out if the rest of the world thinks the same things or if I am really a moron. (Keep reading, don’t pre-judge)
Like the whole measurement and lose track of time thing. I was listening to a friend who is expecting her second child soon tell me about both kids and refer to them in weeks, even the one that’s walking around. He’s like 3. Or 5. Whatever. But either way, if you can say he’s like 663 weeks old, I think you’re a goddamned moron. And this same girl used to count normally. Like this:
“How old is that stupid dog of yours?” I ask. He looks like he’s walking dead.
“Oh, shit. Like 90 years old. Nah, like 11.” Oh, ok, that I can see. Now, though? If I ask her the same fucking question she says, “Oh, hmm. Not sure, like, 556 weeks old or something.”
No, he’s fucking not. Dogs and people and other random shit I can’t think of right now are NOT WEEKS OLD. Your child is 3 and the one on top of your vagina is either half-way done or 4-ish months or something but not 32 weeks. God.
MUCH LIKE COMPARING YOUR CHILD TO PRODUCE.
Seriously. People have lost their motherfuckingminds when it comes to babies. I know the hormones are CRAYYYYYZAAAAAAY but don’t act like a sped. You don’t have a pea and then a grape and then a kiwi and then god knows what else until it becomes a watermelon WHICH SEEMS LIKE A NIGHTMARE and ohjesus, I can’t type without shaking my head. Is there any girl that doesn’t get all weepy when someone asks her how old her 9 week grape is? Is there anyone that would be like, “Eh, the I’m-barely-started-this-bullshit-bile-producing-rehab-substitute is FINE.” I mean, really. If something embeds itself in the flat above your jage it instantly and constantly makes you bat ass crazy and poetic about EVERYTHING?
Because no one in my life needs that. Seriously.
And I feel like my sister is going to kill my right now (or my husband) because she’s a nurse in the baby shop at our local hospital back home and she thinks I’m an idiot half the time for even speaking out loud about this to her, forget the public. But anyway, back to where I’m horrified.
Did you know that a child the size of a watermelon can rip you straight from one side to another, as in from your ASS right into your jage, which SOUNDS GREAT. Really. Thank you, I’d love to. And I know everyone has heard this but it’s true. I know people this has happened to and as I type about it, you’re probably thinking that this is normal so why am I screaming silently in my head all the time about this one? Because that sounds to me like terror on yourself. Like oh, yeah, no problem. While that’s going on, can you hand me a warm cup of my own piss, because I’M THIRSTY and water torture me right after. Jesus christ. People do this more than ONCE in their life. Um no.
Which brings me to my next point, which is actually a chit-chat I had with my sister, which picks up right after she tells me about some friend of hers that had the one hole rip job incident occur to her.
“No thank you, I’ll be scheduling my C-section.” I make a face and gag, but not fake gag. Real gag. My sister looks at me with her StopBeingSpecial side eye.
“You can’t schedule a C-section.” She is using her know-it-all voice. She just LOVES being the baby shop expert. I mean I know she works there but I’m pretty well-informed about everything. (in my head)
“Um, yes. You can. I know this girl who did and then this other girl too. And, the first girl said it’s great. Like they make this little cut like three inches, or maybe even two right under where a muffin top would be if you have one, but kind of on the side, not under your belly button and ANYWAY she said she wears a bikini every year and no one ever even sees her scar.” I have never flaunted a bikini in my life, which makes this whole evidence curious.
“Like by your hip?” She looks like she’s going to pass out.
“Well not ON your hip. Not by the bone. Like in, towards your middle but kind of on the side. Maybe where you’d get a tattoo? Yeah, around there.” I am serious. It occurs to me that I may have read this in an US Weekly magazine interview with Britney a few years back but obviously it was memorable for a reason so I have no idea why she’s acting crazy, outside of the fact that she’s a medical professional and I’m, well, the opposite.
“Like they pull a baby out of a two inch hole on top of your kidney?” She is repeating the facts I’m giving her now slowly and studying me while doing it which was bothering me. Oh jesus, she is sighing. Shit, now she looks like she’s looking for the phone. I wonder who she’d call first to tell on me. My mother or my husband? Neither would be shocked.
“Well, I guess if your kidney is there it would be over…like an inch more in or something. Look. I have no idea where my fucking kidney is. But yes, I swear. They pull it right out of the cut and they sew you back up and I don’t know, the cut stretches or something because, WAIT. You’re the nurse. Skin is resilient, no? God, stop looking at me like that.” I don’t think this sounds bizarre. I’ve seen them pull out very large bullets in movies just by reaching in with a little finger or tweezers and viola! some big piece of metal gets sucked right out. Bigger cut, sub in a baby? Seems about right.
“Ok, you sound insane and it’s painful and you can’t walk really and forget exercising for weeks and….” Then she looks at me and we laugh so hard we cry. Exercising. She’s a riot.
So, let me be clear. I’m not yapping about this because I’m sitting around injecting swimmers with a baster or anything but I am just really crazy about watching people losetheirshit over babies. AND, I am willing to admit for every thing that really does happen while you’re pregnant, I’ve got a different version that I’ve created in my own head. What a fun game that would be….ask Heather what she thinks this means or what happens when this does X. I promise you, whatever answer I gave would be honest, sound incredibly *charming and make you wonder how the hell I graduated college.
Alright. There you have it. Today’s thoughts.