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.

Little Asshole,

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


Dear Asshole,

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.



Little asshole,

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.

-Forever queasy.



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.