so i just got hit (again) with a huge sense of panic. i really am going to be having a kid come screaming out of me in an unpleasant and painful manor in just 10 1/2 weeks.
i'm sorry, but nope...not going to happen.
i haven't yet muttered the words "i'm done being pregnant" (even though i'm sure that they will come closer to time), but i'm not. i'm not done being pregnant because i'm sure as hell not ready for the baldest monster of all time to arrive.
frankly, i'm just a wee bit terrified.
i mean, it's times like these where i just really get pissed off at adam and eve. if they didn't eat that freaking fruit, childbirth would be all rainbows and my little ponies. probably not really, but it's nice to be able to place the blame on someone.
and in 10 1/2 weeks, there's going to be this pooping/screaming/eating pink thing in my house. and it's going to just be me and him...a battle of the wills. and he will win.
i'm surely not the only pregnant chick whose emotions range from excitement to pure terror. surely not.
i know that everything will be fine. i know that everything is going to go just as it's supposed to go. but that doesn't make it any less terrifying.
you know what's REALLY not helpful? hearing birthing horror stories. i know that women who have had children want to celebrate that bond by verbally re-telling their war stories. and if i wasn't pregnant, or THIS CLOSE TO THE WAR ITSELF, i wouldn't care. but sweet baby jesus, vacuums!? stitches!? massive blood loss!?
it's like telling someone (who in the back of their minds KNOWS it's going to suck) that the shot their going to get is going to really hurt. it makes it a lot worse, and in the process, makes them panic when it really may not be any big deal at all.