People. Consider this more than a fair warning.

Be ye careful before you find yourself accidentally knocked up. And, gentlemen, be ye super duper careful to put that thing away lest you think it’s a good idea to knock up your wonderful better half.

Because she’s so cool now, right? Just wait. Just give that about a good two months into pregnancy and you’re going to regret every single late night shenanigan you ever had.

I’m pretty positive this is what The BF is thinking right now. He won’t dare ever utter the words or even make a mere hint at it, because he knows I’m in full on rage preggo mode right now and no one is going to F with that.

It’s been a day. To say the least. And while I know it’s just a day, I swear to God, I want to deck the next well meaning a-hole who tells me to, enjoy this time, it’s so wonderful and special!

What THE HELL are People on, People? Please, my fellow women out there, be straight up with me — did you really and truly just love the shit out of being preg and feeling like ass 24/7? Or wait, don’t tell me if you’re one of those who never felt better for nine months. I don’t want to know. It will be too much and I’ll go into a deep dark depression, an even darker and deeper one than I’m in right now.

I realize these moments are probably not my brightest and best and that this too shall pass, but whatever. I need to vent and you are my outlet. Lucky you.

I feel like hell today. And I need help. Like help as in throw me the lifeline, just don’t feed me any inspirational bullshit because I just can’t take it. I need to hear what literally only .1% of People have told me: yes, this can f-ing be the worst time in your entire life. Get pissed off. Scream. Yell. Look f-ing insane. Throw shit. You’ll probably feel better.

That’s it! Maybe I just need to throw something or a few things. I love throwing things when I’m pissed. Confession: I’m a thrower. I think more People should be. Or maybe they are but like pregnancy they’re just not talking about it.

I’ve spent the majority of the day laying down. I did miraculously motivate enough to walk for over an hour and got in 25 minutes of yoga. Have been unable to eat and drink anything — I’m sure this doesn’t help with the rage and annoyance I feel and then I get all worried that I’m a crappy mother whose not feeding her baby.

But holy hell, I can’t eat. I never thought I’d ever make that statement. I’ve always been able to eat. I’m an every kind of eater. In distress, emotional, every kind they name, I fall into the category. I particularly love late night eating. Can’t even get my middle of the night munchies on!

I don’t have a capacity for conversation — I fear running into People because I think, omg they will think I’ve either gone stupid or mental or both. Hmmm, maybe I have?

I suppose what this is trying to show me and teach me is that I need to learn to be gentle with myself right now. Cut myself some slack. Which I guess comes back to my damn embracing theme.

I am where I am, and that’s okay. But that’s just it — it doesn’t feel okay to me. Because I think, shit I do need to enjoy! And I’m not! Am I a horrible mother already? Yep, SHIT MOTHER!

I feel like judgement city up in here on my self.

Again, this has nothing to do with whether or not I love this little old soul who somehow picked me to be their mother {lord almighty, what was she thinking?} — it’s more what I’m soaking in around me that I need to ignore … that something must inherently be wrong with me that I’m not loving being pregnant.

There I said it. I don’t love being pregnant. Now that’s not to say it’s not monumental and mind blowing and the most profound thing — it’s all that and so much more.

I have two hearts right now. Two. How incredible is that?

So please. I hope I don’t sound like I’m complaining too much and that translates over into me not being in love with this baby. Can’t it be both ways? Can’t we think it sucks to be preg and yet love the life we’re carrying too?

I’m saying we can. There you have it. An unlikely trailblazer here. And I’m going to try to be gentle, not feel guilty for having these feelings and accepting that it’s alright to do nothing for an entire weekend.

Who wants to clean out a basement anyway?