Guess what internet! There is a human baby in me!
99% sure this is not due to alien abduction, will keep all posted though.
It’s pretty cool so far. I’ve not gained weight, which my doctor wants to limit. I don’t have morning sickness, which really pisses off other women. All in all, I feel mostly normal except for this crushing fatigue. If I’m not working or eating, I’m sleeping.
The cravings are pretty real though. After a series of unfortunate events on Friday that lead me to not get the lunch I wanted, I was a raging horror bitch the rest of the afternoon. The other night, I basically held my boyfriend hostage as I drove us both to Taco Bell and announced yes, that is what was for dinner. On another note, do you know how freakin’ popular Taco Bell is on a Friday night over here? It’s really bizarre. The drive-thru was like 16 cars deep and the wait after ordering our food was 20 minutes. It was really peculiar. I was not the only pregnant lady in there.
I’ve learned that there’s not a lot of boundaries when it comes to asking me questions or giving me advice. There are very few people in the world I share all the intimate details of my life with, and those are the few that I would realistically answer questions or even consider their advice. One of the most peculiar things I’ve found is for acquaintances or not really close friends, (or let’s be honest, anyone that isn’t on our emergency contact list) feels free to ask “Was this planned or a surprise?” What the fuck is it to you? That’s really rude and intrusive. Basically you’re asking to what extent was the purpose of our fucking? Gross. What’s next, you’re gonna ask what positions we used, or maybe if we put on a little Ginuwine?
I’ve already heard enough weird old wive’s tales, which I’m not taking seriously. “Don’t bend over too much.” Why? What? Am I going to dent the baby?
So let me just pre-answer some of the questions I’ve been getting the most:
I feel fine. Just tired. And hungry.
Yes, we’re going to find out the sex.
Yes, we have names picked out. No, we’re not telling you.
You will be able to touch my belly for $1. $5 if it kicks.
Please don’t ask weird questions about my tits. Or my marital status. Or religious plans. If my answers don’t line up with your ideals, you’re not changing my mind, trust me.