Wednesday, March 28, 2012

Holy crap, say WHAT?

So, three days ago, I found out I'm pregnant. Holy shit! WTFOMG and definitely not LOL (not yet, anyway).

Let me clarify: I am no young woman caught off-guard by her fertility, though I was once. I'm married and approaching --ooh, dare I say it? Ugh, it's such an ugly term-- MIDDLE AGE. I'm thirty-fucking-eight, y'all. So, it's not like, you know, DISASTROUS or anything. Perhaps for the child, but certainly not for us.


Motherhood grosses me out. Kids --particularly toddlers-- gross me out. Breastfeeding grosses me out. How enormous I'm hoping I don't get grosses me out. Judgy-ass parents who want me to co-sleep and breastfeed till my kid is 16 while I'm homeschooling them gross me out. Snooty yuppie moms pushing Cadillac strollers in Lincoln Park (and, more recently and ever more terrifying, in MY neighborhood) that don't even smile when you compliment their not-even-that-cute-anyway babies gross. Me. The hell. Out.

So, naturally, my first reaction to peeing on a stick and seeing that line appear so fast it made my head spin around and around 6 times, was this:

"OMG, YAY! OMG, NO!!!!! Oh no... MY LIFE IS OVER!! My freedom is gone!!! Holy shit, it's just like ALIENS (one of my favorite movies), awesome!" and there was a lot of sobbing.

My husband was delighted, but circumspect. He wanted to be overjoyed, but was freaked out by my horror and dread.

My mom was out of her mind with joy, then scornful: "Oh, Estefani. Cut that shit out. This is boolchet. Grow a pair, okey? Por favor. You wanted this." (My mother is from Guatemala, and speaks with an accent, and has a filthy mouth and doesn't give 5 shits what you think. She was BORN to be a grandmother. More on her later.)

Me: "Nooo I diiiiiidn't!! Not yet! I wasn't reeeeeadddddy!!" More sobbing.

My mom: "Not yet? Cabrona, you're fucking 38! If not now, then when? When I'm DEAD?" (FYI: my mother has been on her deathbed since I was around 6, or whenever it is we are first capable of experiencing guilt.)

OK, so before all of you oh-mylanta-what-is-wrong-with-you-I-loved-every-second-of-being-a-mom types start readying your commenting fingers to give me a piece of your sanctimonious minds, know this: first, this is NOT the blog for you. It will only make you angry and then you'll have to "use your words" on me so that you don't kick something, thereby setting a "bad example" for your precious and unique snowflake and b: I got over it. I'm pretty thrilled now. Pretty durn thrilled. And scared, and all the other usual crapola.

But still grossed out. Because that's who I am.

SO-- if you want to read a mommy blog (EW) full of things that you're definitely not "supposed" to say (or even think!), then read on, because I am made of not-okay. If it makes you laugh, great. If it makes you feel like somebody understands your rat-bastard ass, that's AWESOME. If it makes you feel superior, well... I guess that's okay, too, but if you take it to the comments section, know that I will likely tell you to fuck right off. Not because I'm pregnant and hormonal. But because I really want you to fuck right off.

Enjoy! And thanks for coming along on this sure-to-be-bumpy (har har) ride.


  1. Blogging on pregnancy hormones! Do it do it do it!!! xox Lauren

  2. Oh no... this is how I always write. WAIT till the hormones become a factor! Be afraid.

  3. Oh my dear Steph--- I will tell you all the things no one else will... Come to me any time...

  4. Pregnancy is gross. Swearing is fantastic. Birth and children are gross. I am prepared to be covered in poop, but don't think for a SECOND that I won't swear about it. And probably write about it, though I've held off because I was afraid to join the ranks of Mommy Bloggers. Then again, I write. Sooo...fuck a bunch of that.

    Point. I have one. I swear. You are right in all of this. I'm 37, right behind you. And hormones are fun. If you like having no filter and wondering what this wet stuff is on your face leaking out of your eyes for no reason. It's a ride. I look forward to reading this!

  5. You're crazy. I loved every minute of being pregnant. I just floated on air the whole time and sang with the baby deer who flocked to me and glowed all day and stared lovingly at my own marvelous vulva every evening. I gave birth in a tub filled with water lilies and my mid-wife chanted in such a way as to make it a painless experience. Now my breasts flow with milk and honey and my baby never cries or wakes up at night and I assume that it must be because I am a better mother than everyone else. That's all. People just need to try harder and take pre-natal vitamins...

  6. Holy shit. I think you should be writing this blog.