I found myself when I stepped on the porch and smelled the grass, the clean air and the country. I found myself again and again when the sun hit my face and I looked at everything that is mine. When I heard the breathing of my Bulldog or the sound of husband fixing the sink again. I found myself when I stopped feeling jealous. I found myself when I believed I deserved a life this good. I found myself when I sunk deep into my high and felt the stress of the day melt off. I found myself when I realized my life is exactly how I want it. I found myself when I made my own decisions. I found myself when I accomplished great things. I found myself when I was afraid. I found myself when I loved someone above my self-interest. I found peace when I realized it wasn’t all for nothing. I found myself when you started to grow.
I will find myself when I see you and smell you and love you and hate you. I will find myself when I am confused and happy and empty and full. I will find myself when I become a mom.
I sometimes feel that things are too good. I often worry that it never just ends up working out for some people. I have worked so long and hard to be at this exact moment in time… so blessed and so scared. Sometimes I have to look back at how I got here and how I finally found what I was looking for.
Well little asshole,
After months of being convinced by family and friends and convincing ourselves that you were a boy, we were nervously corrected by a chubby ultra sound tech and are slowly adjusting to the idea that you….are…a…girl. I feel only slightly different about calling you an asshole. I was a baby girl once, and I was and have always been an asshole of varying degrees, so you shall remain guilty until proven innocent. The appointment for me was emotional mostly because you started to feel and seem more real. Up until that very clear ultrasound where we saw all your fingers and toes, I was in a strange fog of referring to you as an it and on certain levels not really thinking you were actually coming out of there in November (by there I think we both know what I mean). Remodel is almost done; grandma will have the house decorated in no time… I’m fixing up your room/my office and whether we’re ready or not you’ll be here in 4.5 short months. This.Is.Insane.
I’ve barely gained weight and I can honestly say my tiny little bump is pretty adorable. I sat in the nail salon the other day and listened to some pregnant whale sized ladies talk trash about “skinny bitches who only look pregnant when they turn to the side.” I kept my mouth shut but the silence that filled the nail salon when I got out of my chair and walked up to pay was pretty hilarious. I think I’ve felt some kicks… at the end of my yoga practice when I’m in savasana and am holding perfectly still I can feel little flutters, which I’m told are your doing. The idea of a little human in there still freaks my out quite a bit but I’m keeping my eye on the prize. Can’t wait to get to know each other, I’m sure it’s karma that I had a girl. Dolls, vaginas, feelings…. All the stuff I’m not instinctually great at.
-Getting only slightly less awkward in the Target baby section
I’m getting a baby bump… you’re really jamming up my wardrobe situation. I get to find out if you’re a boy or a girl in a couple weeks. Now that I’m not nearly as morning sick and miserable eeerday, the time seems to be going by faster. The remodel is still a hot mess, but I’m promised the use of the kitchen in another week or so and after we find out your gender we’ll start some nursery décor recon. I’m happy for you to get here but I know you’ll just be a little pile of goo at first. I want to talk to you, I want to see what you think about things, and I want to know if you’re an asshole or not. I’m so excited to have 3 months off work, even if it’ll be a sleep deprived craze. I wonder if I’ll return to work post partum. Finances are tricky little toad, we could survive on a lot less. However, your father and I have never been broke, on a budget, or paycheck-to-paycheck kind of people. We have both independently and now as a unit done quite well financially. Could we live on one income? Yes, probably. Do we want to? Not really. Your slightly crazy grandmother LOVES to tell me how your father’s cousin quit her job and clipped coupons to be a stay at home mom. I always politely acknowledge this sentiment but in my head I’m thinking, “SHUT UP!” If I worked somewhere for shit minimum wage then yes, that’d make perfect sense. If my income barely exceeded the cost of child care then a 3rd grade mathematician could probably estimate that “coupon clipping” was going to be the prudent choice.
There is no “non arrogant” way to point out in these situations that, I haven’t worked my ass off for the last ten years both professionally and academically so that I could clip coupons. I’ve earned a high honors MBA, induction into the American society of business management professionals, and been promoted to administrative management levels starting at the age of 23…working my way up since then to an income that is…how do I say??…. ballin…. #notsorry. In addition to my job in health care administration I’ve recently launched a very promising faculty position teaching at the university level. I have a plan, I’m building my academic resume, I’m creating options, and comfort… and yes, the timing might overlap into your infancy. I may return to work, but I will not abandon you. You will always be well cared for. You will always be loved. You will not be the daycare kid that smells like pee and animal crackers. I will figure it out. And you will not be poor… Mostly because, I will not be poor ; ) which reminds me, I need to call and make my botox appointment.
-FUCK that. I’m gonna have it all, and a baby.
Order is slowly restoring in what will soon be your new home. Although the remodel is a mess there is an end in sight and it will look fresh, clean and beautiful for your arrival (in T-minus 6 months by the by). Got the most excited I’ve probably been to date while looking at pinterest baby décor boards yesterday, for some reason I think you’re a boy and am already preplanning your inevitable swag. You are going to reside in my office/your nursery at first and of course in our bedroom in your infancy. Husband sleeps in the guest room a lot, no we are not having marital issues…however, we sleep better alone and your father has an absurd sleep schedule due to swings shifts at work. You and I will co-habitat two rooms of the house so husband can continue bro’ing out in the guest room. I’m assuming all he does in there is sleep… I joke ; )
Speaking of adult activities … I sexually “assaulted” your father this morning for the first time in weeks. I’m not trying to be a bad wife but between nausea, exhaustion, the stomach flu and utter distain for any smell or touch… sex, has been literally the LEAST of my concern lately. You won’t understand the strain this puts on a marriage for many years to come, but I’ll just go ahead and say that this first trimester has probably been equally as unpleasant for your father as it has for me, in totally different ways. I don’t want to prematurely celebrate but I’ve been feeling better this week (as evidenced by my sudden marital urges) and I’m truly hoping it’s a trend and the second trimester is going to deliver some relief.
Anyway, feeling neutral about you today. I am excited to see what you look like. I hope you have my nose and your dads lips (well, my lips are pretty great too but that is post 2 syringes of juvaderm later). I hope you can spell like him and hustle like me. I hope you’re not a bully. I hope you rescue birds and cry when you disappoint us. I want you to be sensitive but not a pussy. I hope you’re a boy. Try to pull this one out wouldja??!
-My boobs feel like low hanging fruit
Hey little asshole,
I am finally starting to feel somewhat human again. On the tale of some severe morning sickness I got the stomach flu, have lost weight, strength and at certain times, a will to live (oh the drama). So far this pregnancy has been difficult both emotionally and physically. Although you are the closest to me literally, that anyone or thing has ever been, I still find myself feeling that this isn’t real sometimes. Remodel is on schedule, I’ve told my boss I’m knocked up and I’m chugging along… but one thing is for sure, I do not feel like a mother. My co-worker told me, in her infinite teen mom wisdom, that when I was handed my little slimy baby I would melt into a puddle of moosh. Quite frankly little asshole, I certainly fucking hope so because these maternal instincts I was promised have yet to expose themselves in any touchy feely way. I’m doing everything right; eating well, taking vitamins, sleeping 8 hours a night and toting around a jug of water… I will never be accused of sloughing off my prenatal responsibilities; however, I am waiting for my heart bleed. We got a puppy, to befriend our existing dog that I love so much. The poop, crying in the middle of the night and sheer disregard for my schedule or comfort from this puppy is unfortunately giving me an unpleasant taste of what it’ll be like when you’re here. Yip-ee.
Well little Asshole, I’ve been on a hiatus… finishing certifications, teaching, working, remodeling, marrying your father and ass kicking in general. Was planning to have you next year to let the newlywed bliss wear off a little (who am I kidding, your father and I have been together for six years…bliss better describes my relationship with the contents of the refrigerator). However, you were conceived… in a warm glow of lettuce wrap tacos, jager shots and a huge belligerent fight with your father…a human was made (harmony). I am 3 months pregnant (a little sooner than planned) and you are the size of a kumquat, whatever the fuck that is, thanks babycenter.com.
So far you have provided me with the following things: nausea, food aversions, vomiting, constipation, headaches, indigestion, and frequent urination. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a touch miffed at you. Ease up asshole, this is my first time.
I’m over people. I’m over my “friends” … I’m marrying your father in 3 weeks and I’ve been forced into a bachelorette party trip that I didn’t want in the first place. Maybe my lackluster attitude is why several friends have cancelled which of course makes me mad even though I didn’t even particularly want them to come. Don’t worry asshole; I’m not always this neurotic. It’s going to be all your aunts… ya, 4 of your aunts and 1 good friend which honestly will be a good group of bitches. I think I’m just ready for my life to move to the next phase, I’ve beat this level over and over again (with bonus points) and feel restless for the wedding to come and go. I want my life with your father to kick off; I can’t wait to call him my husband. He’s a tricky guy; we’ve been through some shit. But I can tell you one thing, you’ll be the safest little asshole, he’ll protect you, provide for you and love you (even though he might not tell you every day) and he’ll most likely be the nice parent between us. I hope you appreciate him and that I continue to as well. So, here we go. I went to the liquor store, I’ve packed my clothes and I’ve fired off some peppy texts to the bitches.
-what it do.
You’re soon to be grandma stopped by my office today with 6 sample cups of salad to try for possible wedding side dishes. She is babysitting her great nephew today and he squirmed and ran all over my office and even accidently did an “page all” on my phone. He’s really cute, family members say he looks just like fiancé did when he was a tubby little thing. It got me thinking about you… and the future. I was officially accepted into the online teaching program, starts after the honeymoon and I REALLY hope it leads to a full time position of some kind that I can hustle from home. Having the little sticky tub tearing through my office today really solidified my passion and desire to raise you myself… at home… just the two of us. Fiancé and I have the best house out in the country; you’re going to love it. It made me happy that future mother in law is down to babysit and was doing such a great job with sticky tubby McTubberson. I guess we are on the wedding finish line… you’ll be a reality before I know it. By the way, we are going with the santa fe pasta salad and bacon ranch green salad… If you give two shits, because I know I don’t (I wanted to elope).
Hey little asshole,
I have Good news!! Today I heard back on a job I’ve applied for to teach online class as an associate faculty member with an online university. This is while continuing to work at my current job in health care administration (which is the subject of the class I’ll be instructing). This is all part of a master plan that involves you. I’ve always said I would not have kids only to entrust someone else to raise them. I myself was a “daycare” kid who had chronic ear infections and clung to the leg of “Teacher Tina” like an emotionally starved orphan. This was only for a short period of my childhood but these memories are some of my most vivid. That and the girl who would pull her pants down when we ran laps around the gymnasium and the boy that always smelled like pee. I was also unhealthily attached to a “blanky” and I remember the staff not allowing me to select a stuffed animal during nap time because my blanky counted as my nap time comfort catalyst… and you cannot over comfort 4 year olds you know! Fuck heads. I also remember older boys messing with me before I realized I was smarter than them and staged a scenario to unfold at the moment my dad was getting there to pick me up… I honestly don’t know what ever happened to those boys because I literally never saw them again.
Anyway, I’ve gotten distracted with the horrors of daycare. The point is little asshole, I want to work from home (teach online full time eventually) so I can be there to raise you. I just graduated with my MBA, so this is a tremendous opportunity and also means I have to go back to school directly after the wedding for a teaching certification and then begin teaching under the tutelage of a seasoned instructor. I will wow them with my brilliance before applying for a fulltime position, this is a perfect stepping stone for me to get some online teaching experience. Everything I do is for you, the future, and to have a comfortable and meaningful life. It’s been a lot of work…. At certain points I think being a full time student, full time professional and full time bad ass has nearly pushed me to lick the walls and cry a little while I’m on the treadmill, but I know it’ll all be worth it. So know this… your mom is smart as fuck. I was a fuck up in high school. Smoking pot, skipping class and barely passing with D’s… so don’t try to tell me how you’re a “bad test taker” or your teacher is sabotaging you. Been there and regurgitated that bullshit all the way to community college. My parents might have bought it, but I won’t. I’m dyslexic; I can’t spell worth a damn. I’m surprised you can read this actually, but I worked hard and I figured it out. Fuck, I couldn’t read till I was 9! You might struggle too; luckily your dad is a brilliant speller and is constantly in the throes of reading and learning new things, hopefully you take after him. Together we’ll help you and set you up for success. Just be warned, the bar is set high little sucker : ) you are not going to be the kid that smells like pee in daycare… I promise.
In order to keep a child’s feet on the ground you must put a little weight on his shoulders (I read that on a sappy pinterest board and it burned into my brain)… I hope your dad and I can figure out the right amount of weight. I hope we can keep you grounded but still encourage you to grow. I hope you have confidence more than arrogance. I hope you know you’re exceptional. I wonder if you’ll know how hard we’ve worked for you or if you’ll care. I wonder if your dad will tell you 100 times that he sold his Harley to remodel the house before you were born. I wonder if you’ll be impressed by all my degrees hanging on the wall in my office. Either way, I suspect you could shit right in the palm of my hand and I’d still think you were adorable. I know we are going to love you. You might be the little bit of softness we need. You’ll be the little squishy mess in what has previously been the picture of order and accomplishment. You’ll be the chocolate handprints on the back of our leather couch… Can’t wait.
-I’m rich bitch.
I’ve come to the decision that I don’t want you hanging out with other little assholes because the majority of children I’ve come in contact with lately are atrocious. They’re monsters. I hope to teach you the tools you’ll need to choose which assholes you want to hang out with. I’m excited for you to get here for a variety of reasons but most of all to see if I can be as good of a parent as I think I can. I’m appalled by children’s entitled, selfish, lazy and disrespectful behavior in general and either I am in for a big shock and the rules from when I was a child simply no longer apply… or parents these days are shit.
I wasn’t allowed to eat endless amounts of sugar, interrupt, tell my mother no, leave my room a mess, skip out on chores or throat punch my sister. I just didn’t do it. I had a fear, a respectable reverence for my authority figures that simply kept me from acting like a fuck head. I was never beaten or starved or locked in a wood shed but I was spanked. I was told when my behavior was unacceptable and what my punishment would be. My parents followed through on discipline and it was not a joke. That same respect and reverence for superiors (that might know a little something more than me) has guided me my entire life. Decisions such as: my choices in education, career, investments and relationships. Nothing was handed to me, nothing was gifted. I have worked, scrounged, negotiated and earned everything I have and I’m sorry little shit head…. So will you.