And no, it's not that we're hiring Nick Foles ha ha
Anyways, good mornin', Stoolies.. Grab your dainty, lil' cups carefully because I have steamy-hot Barstool tea to start your day.
Alright, now give it a quick stir, settle in and continue to scroll because Momma needs all the clicks she can get right now. And I do mean 'Momma' quite literally.
You see, this is news so big (at least 7lbs, probably) that it could ruin your vagina forever. Er, mine at least. To put it almost exactly as I did while speaking with Dave last week, word-vomiting as I do when I'm needlessly nervous,
"Hey! So uh, I'm uh………… I'm ah haha…………………… knocked up!.. Like 'pregnant' knocked up… Uh, so yeah I'm pregnant. Jersey shore thing, frozen drinks ha ha.."
In case what I'm getting at here still isn't clear enough, this small, delightful character is currently hanging out, rent-free, somewhere below my navel:
:: stops typing this blog & looks up to accept your high fives because at this point it should be clear… I had sex ::
Well at least start sipping that tea as I continue then. Actually, it's still hot, so maybe just blow on it. (Sounds like advice I should've taken myself about four months ago, heyyyo.)
Anyways, after a brief moment comprehending, Dave calmly asked, "Ok, is this a good thing or a bad thing?" (AKA "Are you alright? Everything good?")
Thankfully it's a very good thing (feel like I'm rollin' around with a bubble of joy all day), so then he said congrats & to let HQ know if I need anything and that was that. No biggie at all. (Why did I tell him in the first place? I had Googled "job etiquette for pregnancy?" and apparently it's nice to let your bosses know sometime before your water breaks on one of the The Rundown recliners. Poor Erika had to go through this announcement, too, and I was just as unnecessarily weird about it.
Quick rewind - It was late July that I first felt something was off, but seeing as I'm 34, was on BC and am already occasionally nuts, I mistook a lot of the initial symptoms of pregnancy for a full-blown mental meltdown instead.
Falling asleep & eating became increasingly difficult because I felt so ill, and I was losing weight & getting light-headed. (These are things that have happened to me with anxiety before.) Then came quick fits of exhaustion & crying at the drop of a dime because I kept feeling like I was trapped inside a bad hangover. As someone with depression who was doing tele-therapy & taking Lexapro, I thought something really serious might be happening in my brain, because until then that stuff was helping me a lot.
But THEN… a development that made me switch gears:
My boobs started to look bigger.
Sore boobs… but sore boobs that actually filled out my bra cups for once? I could live with that. But hmm. That had never happened during a slump before…
"I mean, I'm working with a perfect set of ski-slopers right now… glorious! I'm suddenly an almost-B with almost-cleavage and… hey, wait a minute… boobs hurt… feeling sick… super emotional… Did… Did I get my period this month?"
Yup. Once I peed on the stick, saw those two pink lines & realized I wasn't losing my marbles and that I was just losing my freedom & finances for the next 18+ years, I was FINE. Raging hormones - What a RELIEF! From there August & September were a BREEZE:
Now… Am I going to be a good mom? After reading all that you might be thinking, "Nope!"
But according to those who truly know me, I'm going to be fine. One of my cousins even said I'll be the best, which I want to believe except for noticing the text above, which I sent to her from about 3 feet away the the same month I got pregnant…
So that 'good mom' thing remains to be seen… though oddly enough I'm leaning towards 'yes'.
I joke about losing my freedom & being a mess but in reality I'm thrilled. Plus, I grew up babysitting & nannying so I know to cut PB&J sandwiches into sailboat shapes, put my whole heart into acting out the characters when I read bedtime stories, and I, too, have an affinity for Chef Boyardee, taking naps and lying about brushing my teeth. What more is there to it?
So here we are. Hoping desperately that all goes well, by March 2021 I'll no longer be 'just a crazy cat lady'. I'll be a crazy cat lady with a baby.
And not that it's anyone's business (she wrote as she spilled her own personal-life tea all over the blog) but the gentleman I'm having this child with has a good heart through & through. Once he quits goofin' in the DMs and tells me his full, real name & contact info we're going to have a fantastic life together.
(I kid, I kid, I do know who the dad is (#HUMBLEBRAG) and he's pretty wonderful so that's a plus.)
In all honestly I haven't felt an ounce of the worry I thought I'd feel. Just a surprising vibe of excitement and a totallllly unwarranted-yet-strong sense of confidence that we'll figure it out & do what's best for the mini. Speaking of what's best - Let's get ready 2 gamble!
Gender: What will the gender be and will we make people suffer through some goofy reveal? Will my man accidentally shoot his nuts with a confetti gun during said reveal? Will the pink or blue powder apparatus not explode as it should? Will we accidentally burn down thousands of acres as we proclaim to the world, "Look! This is what's going on with our child's genitals!"
Weight gain: I was at a steady 135lbs pre-preg, and am now 145lbs. The average overall gain is 25 - 35lbs, and I have been CRUSHING croissants & choco-peanut butter ice cream, so doing the math it wouldn't be a shocker to see me get up to at least 350lbs.
Destruction of Taint (DoT): Sometimes during childbirth the baby gets stuck and then your taint either tears open as the head busts through (think Alien) or doctors step in and slice you themselves (episiotomy). Total DoT.
Now, one of the most unbearable Jackass segments for me is the one where they slice Johnny Knoxville's toe webbing open with paper cuts, and then they do the edges of Steve-O's mouth. The camera crew vomits, everyone is beside themselves. I've never been able to get through it.
So, as a top notch catastrophizer, I imagine birth will be like that, but on my poo-pee-holes-webbing (I'm sorry for this). Absolute nightmare fuel made even worse by the fact that at the last appointment I was told the lil nugget's head size is in the 92nd percentile. It's like I'm growing a Pep Boy in there.
Do I A) get lucky & keep my fleshy fun bridge in tact B) go full John Daly style (grip it & accidentally rip it) during a big push or C) watch a doctor walk towards me with a scalpel as I selfishly try to escape (fuck them kids).
Birth Plan: Much like eating a Reese's, there's no 'wrong way' to give birth; I just have no idea how I'm gonna do that yet.
What do you think? Am I gonna shoot this sucker out in a tub at home with a doula (unrelated side note: Glenny, is your inflatable hot tub available for borrowing mid-March?)? Will I wait too long trying to finish the end of a Great British Baking Show episode and then blow out the interior of a Lyft while heading to the hospital? Pre-planned Cesarian section after too much taint-rip hysteria? NSFW Orgasmobirth? Unplanned cesarian? Epidural? El Natural? No matter the way, how many times will I scream "OH FUUUUUCK NO" in the process.
Baby Stats: The usual… The baby's length, weight, eye color, photogenic Instagrammability level, hair/no hair, etc.
Name Reception: At the moment we have a pretty unique name lined up and I know this because when I told my parents, who are nothing but kind and sweet at all times, they froze in their tracks with contorted, sour-grape faces.
When this baby finally arrives and we announce that name & I put up a Twitter poll asking how strangers feel about it, will the baby's name get at least a 75% approval rating? Or will people hate it & fill the comments with poopy-fart related things the name rhymes with that we somehow didn't think of which will inevitably haunt our kid on the playground someday?
Those are the only bets I can think of thus far & I'm still waiting to hear back from the folks at Penn National Gaming to see when they're going to add these to the Barstool Sportsbook app, so hold on to your cash for now.
Will let you know when I get any updates.
And wow, if you're still reading this novel you're a champ. Almost to the end, I swear!
Side notes: For a while I was worried about this info getting out before I felt comfortable, & then about announcing it here & getting judged.. Especially because if you follow along with me at all you know I'm not the most perfect human around; I do struggle with depression (have made managing this a big focus) and some minor adulting things (has anyone seen my car?), and I will 120% make mistakes along the way (220%)… But I am also more certain than I've ever been about anything in my entire life that I'm going to do everything in my power to make sure this kid smiles every day, feels unconditionally loved, supported & protected, learns kindness & compassion, and that they will never don a Cowboys or Jets jersey. Not even if there's a fire.
In closing (as a happy update in my la-la land world where people like, totally care about the small details of what's going on with me), as of the last appointment the mini is healthy & growing on pace. They're currently the size of a chipmunk, can already hear me rambling away on ZBT & radio (sorry buddy) and I swear I saw them doing the robot at the last ultrasound.
Didn't think this was ever in the cards for me, and now I'm over-the-moon (and to the moon!) in love. Life's a beaut and I feel lucky.
Alternate headlines I had for this blog:
Congrats to me on the sex
Someone Came Inside Me And You Are Absolutely Going To Believe What Happened Next!
Big Time Shout-Out To The Rum-Floater Pina Coladas At McNutley's Bar In Sea Isle City, NJ (:: EGGPLANT EMOJI :: JIZZ EMOJI ::)
Click Here To Support A New Mom Who Is Desperate For Attention
RIP To My Taint, Probably Literally
Milkbag City: Guess Who's Finally Growing Tits
I Thought This Was Barstool SPORTS, Not Barstool UTERUS STUFF
Dave Portnoy Promises Free Trampoline & Full College Tuition For All Barstool Employee Children