Please note – if you came across my post in your search for “How to make a baby”, please keep looking – this is not the blog you’re looking for…..
When I first started blogging, I planned on filling it with tips and tricks to surviving suburbia with sanity (mostly) intact. I wanted to impart my new-mom wisdom to women who might be panicking after peeing on a stick. I’m no longer a new mom (not even close) and, as the mother to a teen, I’m longer certain about the wisdom – but I have a whole slew of half-written posts just begging to be finished. Read on if you dare:
What makes you think you’re pregnant?
a. you’ve been throwing up ever since the condom broke (please note, it takes a while for morning sickness to begin – nausea can be a normal reaction to a lost or broken condom, especially if it was a wild night of drinking that led to the wild night of passion).
b. you’re so exhausted strangers think you have narcolepsy (see notation for answer a).
c. it’s been several weeks since your wild night of passion, and both a and b apply.
d. you’re craving strange foods (as well as things that might not normally fall into the “food” category).
e. your sense of smell has developed to the point where you could be used by a narcotics officer or the bomb squad if their canine partner takes ill.
f. c, d & e apply and you feel fat (this is fat as in “can’t button my fat jeans” fat, not the “trying on a bathing suit in a dressing room” fat).
g. your breasts are incredibly sensitive and are so huge that men no longer make eye contact.
h. you feel great, better than you have in months, but you have a sneaking suspicion that something’s not quite right. This is your developing “mommy sense” (aka mother’s intuition) – mommy senses are more accurate than spidey senses and should never be ignored).
So you think you’re pregnant, now what?
It’s time to kill the rabbit (please note – “The rabbit died” is just a phrase, and there is no longer a need to sacrifice a cuddly little rabbit, even if the future father is married and no longer returning your calls).
Why you need to have a baby:
- Because you want to get married.
- Because babies will give you unconditional love.
- Because babies are little bundles of joy, and every post-delivery day will be filled with love and laughter.
- Because your life is meaningless/broken/empty and you need something to fix all the problems.
- None of the above.
If you responded to the question with anything other than “5”, please don’t have a baby. Get a dog! Get a cat! Get a goldfish (FYI you don’t have to take a goldfish for a walk).
To be honest, I can’t think of any reason that a person NEEDS to have a baby. You need to eat, you need to sleep, you need shelter, you need to breathe (as an asthmatic, I am reminded of this need on a semi-regular basis). Do you need to have a baby? Nope. Well, maybe. Some people have parenthood on their dreamboard (I wasn’t one of them). If it’s something you’ve always dreamed of doing – by all means, have a baby. If it’s not something you want to do, don’t let society/friends/strangers/family members convince you that you’re being “selfish” by remaining childfree by choice.
The Rabbit Died, Now What?
First, and foremost, take a piece of advice from Douglas Adams and DON’T PANIC.
Next, re-take the test. It’s not unusual to get a “false positive” response on the drug store tests.
Take it again. And again. Take it so many times your local pharmacist thinks you’re running a women’s clinic out of your garage.
The next step is of the utmost importance – I cannot stress this point enough – if you make a mistake here, you will regret it (trust me on this):
Tell your significant other/spouse/partner/baby daddy BEFORE you tell anyone else (I’m serious. Evidently men don’t like finding out from posts on social media)
One last suggestion, from someone who’s been there, done that, bought the postcard – pretend you didn’t read the test results, and have your last sip of wine/beer/shot of tequila. My mom and her friends smoke and drank through their entire pregnancie(s), and I/we turned out ok*. Trust me, it’s going to be a long 10 months (you read that right – 10 months, not 9)
Coming up in tomorrow’s post – the one thing you should NEVER do when you’re pregnant**
*we also rode in cars without seatbelts and drank from the hose – pretty sure our parents were trying to kill us
**couldn’t help myself. I HATE those 8AM reporters who warn me that “something in your house could kill you – news at 11!”