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.
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.
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.