It turns out I had zero interest in being pregnant.
Because News Flash: There is a difference in having a baby and pregnancy.
Perhaps that’s a “duh” statement, but when you think about having a kid, you don’t really think about whether or not you’re really interested in carrying the baby.
You’re probably not all that interested.
I just want a swaddled bundle of joy handed to me and that be that.
Just shy of six months and I am ready for this kid to be OUT. And I’m not even in my final trimester. AKA the worst and most uncomfortable part of pregnancy.
The list of symptoms/side effects doubles in those final months and I’m beginning to wonder why anyone would sign up for this. Especially women who’ve already had a baby.
NO THANK YOU.
I don’t mean to bitch so much because yes, in the end, it’s pretty freaking cool. And in general, the everyday is manageable.
My 35+ year old innie belly button is going to become an outie. WHAT. My foot size has already increased half a size. Sometimes I pee every forty-five minutes. I have pregnancy carpal tunnel which can’t be managed by anything stronger than Tylenol and whose symptoms last all day.
An alien thing built a nest inside of my body, sucks all of my energy and gets bigger and bigger, moving around and will eventually decide it’s time to squeeze it’s giant head out of my barely prepared vagina. There is nothing fun about this. The novelty of my belly growing lasted all but .2 seconds.
I won’t even get into everything I’ve read that’s going to happen during and post labor (like, ya know, taking your first crap after delivering your baby).
I’m not walking around glowing and smiling while touching my stomach.
I’m excited…for this to be over.
Oh, except for the part of me that’s totally NOT ready to be a parent yet.