Internal Letter

Rest assured, there's a lot more to be said about this whole baby brewing thing I've got going on. For now, we interrupt your regularly scheduled ranting blog for something slightly different and much more personal.

I won't say much (did you just choke? Hilarious, I know) but I will say that I have learned the value of being loved by someone with infinite patience and kind words that never falter. Pregnancy is tantamount to being, and here comes my favorite analogy, strapped to a roller coaster. I wish I had never used that comparison before because there is nothing more true than one can say about carrying a baby other than it feels like a god damn amusement park ride. You get buckled in, and regardless of whether you miscalculated the twists and turns or were the most confident bastard who climbed in the front row (asshat), I can assure you you had no idea what you were in for. You will scream, cry, laugh and most importantly, puke. There is no jumping off, partner, and you are not the operator controlling things. To my kind hearted baby daddy (really? yes, I prefer to use that term for my own pure satisfaction), I thank you.

With that being said, here it goes.

An Internal Letter, just for you:

Dear Daddy, 

First of all, let me say, hello! I'm waving right now, and although you can't see it, Mommy can feel it. It's funny sometimes that she doesn't know that all I'm trying to do is get your attention. I wanted to write you a little note before I make my big entrance into your world. 

I like the sound of your voice, and when you sing me songs and play the keyboard for me (who is Adele?) I wish I knew what you look like, but I hear you have a beard (what's that?) and that you're very handsome (father-son high five, that means I'll be handsome, too). Also, I know you have tattoos, and much like your beard I have no idea what those look like but I'm totally cool with coming out with a few (it's dark in here, can you see any when they look at me at the doctors?). 

You know, I can't wait to see you. I'm just warning you, at first I'm probably going to be a little loud and I mean, naked, geez, Mom doesn't produce any pants in here so...yeah. It's ok if you're not sure of what to do because I won't know either. And it won't matter anyway because I already love you and we are like, totally best friends already. I mean, bros, right? Mommy loves you so much, too, and she seems pretty cool. She's got tattoos too, from what I hear and a GREAT rack, which is AWESOME because I'm going to be starving. Helloooooo food truck! 

I just want you to know that I think you're great. You're never too far away, you always hold me and love me so much that I can feel it radiating in here. You tell mommy it's all going to be ok, you kiss her forehead and make her laugh when she worries, which is TOTALLY fun and like a roller coaster ride. 

I have a million questions, like what a movie is, what is the sun, what is an animal and is a snake one? Do I have to shower? Am I going to like vegetables or what? Can I play hockey, whatever it is? Can we always have adventures? 

And I really like the name Hendrick. Crawdad is a neat nickname but one day I'll be in kindergarten and it's just a little too sea-related for me. Just know you can always call me that, just not in front of my friends. 

Daddy, you're incredible. I got lucky to have you as mine. 

I'll see you soon.

From Brews to Babies, Part I

It's been awhile since I've gotten down to really writing anything from the heart. Often times when I blog, it's because I'm heartbroken or confused or feeling particularly enlightened and I find that as sick as it is, torment is often fuel to the literary fire. But here's the skinny...or, well, not so much. And it has nothing to do with anything tragic.

I went and got myself pregnant.

Well let's start there.Obviously I did not impregnate myself, I mean, I had a little bit of help from my loving (over-willing, eager, affectionate, hands-y) boyfriend, who in the past 7 months has awarded himself with accolades aplenty for his sperm making it to my egg, even through that "unstoppable" birth control wall (insert snort laugh). Can I just inject here that I took that shit like it kept me breathing? Let me tell you, I could be out at the bar, 4 beers in and stop to swallow that very important little pill at the same time every...single...day. So despite the fact that I'm rapidly approaching 30 and understand the risks of sex and love and hair pulling (what?!), I was sincerely surprised when I peed on a stick out of boredom and found it to be positive. Sirens went off in my head, almost audibly screaming "YOU'RE HAVING A BABY A BABY A BABY WITH ARMS AND LEGS AND IT'S INNNNNNNNN YOUUUUUUUUUUUUU".

I didn't cry. I just did what any normal woman does and peed on approximately 35 more of those damned baby-predictor sticks and gathered them all in a pile and took pictures of them with my iPhone and then sent myself a text with the pictures attached because if not for double visual proof, there was no way I was going to be able to believe it. I was going to be a mom. Good God Almighty.

In light of the "situation" at hand, I was thrilled. There's no denying that my uterus had succeeded in throwing me THE most intense surprise party ever, but after the initial shock wore off, I placed a hand delicately on my belly and whispered the first soft "Hello" to the tiny human that was brewing inside of me. 

Josh took it like a champ; he barely even flinched when I woke him up at midnight that night to tell him my news. His exact words were, in fact, "Your mother is going to shit herself". And then, "Is that really all? I thought you were going to tell me something horrible, like, you were cheating on me with your gay best friend". Someone give this man a trophy for his completely charming aloofness and impossible-to-beat unintentional comic timing.

And so started our journey together, now 3 instead of 2. It's crazy to me how much just expecting a baby changes you, not only in the obvious external way, but internally as well. There is an enormous weight of responsibility that immediately falls on you; not to mention other weight gains, hunger pains, morning sickness and giant growing knockers that surely could be a stand-in for the Grand Tetons. But you learn, and you grow, and you carry that weight (yeah, all of it) as a blessing and opportunity. I'm learning that there is no greater sacrifice than carrying a child, and even if I am not perfect, I am going to laugh through this experience, and cry, and eat 6 brownies in a day on occasion and continuously look forward to an even greater adventure that's rapidly approaching.

There's so much more to say, and I'm finding that I probably should have been writing throughout this whole pregnancy rather than just idly noting things in my iPhone. So stay tuned, because you'll want to hear about pee cups being spilled all over the doctor's office and other mishaps, like the poop hand story (what can I say, I've lost all sense of decency).

From brews to a baby, from late nights to now many an afternoon nap, from lingerie to stretchy pants that go ALL the way up under my boobs (heaven), everything is changing. It's one hell of a ride, and I want you to be there for it.