Open letter to my unborn child

Disclaimer- The following post contains some references to things that some people might find kinda gross and are more than likely a MAJOR overshare. If things like bodily functions and discussions about more… adult stuff bug you, I encourage you to skip this post altogether and move on to the next.

Dear Moose,

Let me first say that Mom loves you more than she thought was possible and she hasn’t even seen your squinched up little angry potato newborn face yet.


Please give me a break. I would like to have some control of my body back in the next few months if you don’t mind. It would be nice if I could sleep more than an hour without you kicking me right in the taco so that I damn near pee the bed. And on the whole peeing topic… What the hell???? You have somehow warped my plumbing to the point where I have to pee ALL THE TIME yet when I actually get to the bathroom it takes me 10 minutes to produce a minimal amount of pee. And there’s always some left. How do I know this? Because every time i sit down, I leak a little bit. It’s really gross and I feel like I smell like a damned sewer by the end of the day (although your father assures me I don’t). Thank god for wet wipes, seriously.

Can you also decide once and for all if you are going to allow me to eat? I realize my digestive system is kinda screwy to begin with, and I’m not blaming all my issues on you but I’m getting really tired of being completely starving, sitting down and eating two bites of food and instantly being so full I have a stomach ache for 30 minutes. At which point the starving starts again. I admit this is a welcome change from a few months ago where the smell of any type of food would send me to my bedroom with some rice cakes and a lemon. What was that about? Rice cakes and lemons? Really? And although I have always been somewhat picky and indecisive about what to eat, you have taken control over my taste buds with such determintation that I often find myself completely disgusted by any available food (regardless of its age, quality, nutritional value or flavor) and feel compelled to go to the store or a nearby take-out restaurant in order to find something suitable that I can actually swallow without getting nauseous. Let me remind you that we live in rural Vermont and take-out restaurants are few and far between and a trip to the grocery store is at least 30 minutes of my already limited time. Not to mention the fact that we are completely broke and have a refridgerator and pantry full of delicious (to everyone else), healthy and easy-to prepare or ALREADY PREPARED food. Your father is likely to take away my wallet and hobble me if I come home with newly purchased food one more time.

As far as your father goes… Can I have that back too? The poor man has been cut off 98% of the time for the past 5 months because I’ve been sick, tired, sick and tired or completely moody and god-damn-it-if-you-touch-my-boobs-one-more-time-I’m-going-to-suffocate-you-in-your-sleep. I feel very bad for him. And me too honestly. I miss intimacy and I’m not just talking about the “grown-up” kind. You have made it uncomfortable for me to even cuddle with the man who I love so much I wanted to make YOU with him.

I’m also slightly uncomfortable with the fact that you feel that ALL of the ligaments in my body need to be looser.

Yeah, cuz “Business Punk” is the norm in my office.

I’m not exactly sure what my feet have to do with birthing a baby but even when they are not swollen to 3 times their normal size (What is THAT about by the way? And don’t tell me to drink more water, I drink slightly less than a gallon of water, seltzer or iced tea a day), I have still managed to gain a shoe size in the last 5 months. It’s a good thing that your big sister’s feet are bigger than mine so I can steal her shoes. Unfortunately, knee high Chuck Taylors are not exactly “professional-looking” shoes.

Oh, and then there’s the mental stuff. You have caused some kind of insane clusterf*** of hormones to flood my brain making me simultaneously unbelieveably weepy, a raging “B” and just plain stupid. I actually cried watching 24 last night. In an action scene. WITH JACK BAUER. You are too young to know but Jack Bauer is HARDCORE. I should have been on the edge of my seat biting my nails but instead I was weeping like my dog just died, snot and all. I have used up a Costco sized pallet of tissues in the past 2 months. Thanks for that. Oh, and last week I locked my keys INSIDE MY OFFICE. I’m still not quite sure HOW I did that since you need the stupid key to lock the door in the first place. My boss gave me a sad look that said “Poor Kristina, it must be so hard to be so completely clueless.” I almost hit him.

So basically, I’m asking begging you to Give. Mom. A. Break. Please? You’re going to have about 30 years to drive me absolutely batshit crazy starting in January. Can I please just have these last few months so I can prepare a little bit?


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