I see a pregnant woman today and I choke on the up-chuck of whatever it is I had to eat that day.
God forbid I saw them at night, I’d be eating breakfast, lunch and diunner all over again 🙊.
I hated being pregnant, wobbling everywhere like a tired penguin. Try as I might, I just couldn’t experience the joy of the journey that every other pregnant woman seemed to have been experiencing and gushing about.
No, not me. I had this itty bitty human inside of me using my belly and its contents as his personal playground.
It was a systematic overtake of my body and its functions that started with my bladder.
Any and every location was my toilet; the queue in the bank, the check-out at the grocers, the dinner table, anywhere!
To this day we still have conversations about how he thought it was a trampoline that he said sometimes converted into a water bed.
He still tries to convince me that he remembers life in utero. Fast forward nine months and 7 days, I finally met the little minion responsible for most if not all of my public contretemps.
I woke up (because he wouldn’t have it any other way, than to make a grand entrance into the world with the jump scare of a reducing heart rate and an emergency c-section) and there he was, my very own tiny human, sleeping like a baby 😊.
Yay! I’m a mom. Had I known that would have been the only time he’d have ever slept through the night, I’d have woke his ass up instead of gawking over him when I should have been sleeping too.
I haven’t slept since! Eleven years later and I hate parenting. I hate having the gargantuan responsibility of conditioning and preparing a human-being for a race he will have to run for the rest of his life.
I hate having to worry about his safety every time he goes outside. I hate worrying about what he is doing at school.
In the age of this ‘new’ thing they call bullying; is he strong enough to not cower when a peer wants his lunch more than he does?
I hate thinking about the same person day in day out; he is always on my mind, like that new jam you just can’t get out of your head.
I hate loving one person so much that I cannot imagine my life without him. I hate having to choose him over myself, ensuring he has all of his needs and some of his wants.
I hate that I want him to be a well rounded, decent, successful, fully transitioned human being.
I hate that my world is about him and making sure he is safe, protected and provided for.
I hate worrying about if I’m doing a good job. I hate that I could never stop loving him.
I hate that he is my reason for every thing I do. Why must one person have so much power over another? I hate parenting!
Talk to me, did you enjoy your pregnancy? What do you fear about parenting? Let me know in the comments will ya.
Loved this post? Share the love!