So we’re dipping our metaphorical toe into the water without our socks on.
(We've stopped trying not to get me pregnant, basically).
We’re here at the time in life and this is happening. And I’m pretty stoked about it. Stoked might be too hip or colourful of a word so let’s replace it with I’m pretty okay about it.
Whilst balancing my time between reading perfect mommy blogs, pinterest-ing baby topics and doing actual work my emotions are dramatic. I jump from thoughts of “I’M INFERTILE! THESE GENETICS WILL END HERE. WOE, IS ME!” and “POOP! WHAT IF I AM ACTUALLY PREGNANT? HOW CAN I BE A MOTHER?!” Both of which are equally great signs and scream motherhood readiness.
Why I am not a different sort of dumdum is beyond me.
The kind of dumdum that becomes impregnated and is oh-so surprised to find out at twelve weeks along. The shock that her patented fool’s proof “pull out” form of birth control didn’t work, and why no one explained this in sex ed classes.
Sadly no, I’m the kind of dumdum who listened in sex ed, abstained and even got nervous taking a shower in co-ed shared housing.
The type that occasionally overthinks things causing my own little anxiety roller coaster. (What the hell does she mean by that?!)
We are here on the ride.
Not an instructional blog but the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth - so help me Mom.