Maybe I should just keep my big ‘ol mouth shut and stop talking about love and being better and the next right thing kind of things.

Because I’m starting to feel like The Universe gives me a lovely kick in this expanding ass each time I do.

I’m on shaky ground, People. I need your help. Well, maybe more like validation that I can do this Motherhood thing. Forget birthing this babe, it’s what’s after that has me pretty much terrified.

And the kicker is, I have to do. I’m not going to neglect my child! Nor do I want to or anything remotely along those lines, I’m trying to make the point that my options appear slim to none when it comes to parenting and caring for FOH. This is a no return policy. Nothing like the cats and Murph who don’t cry endlessly and thank The Jesus, can’t talk. And thank The Jesus that I can leave them alone for hours on end.

No, no, friends. I am dealing with a full fledged human on my hands that will not even be able to utter a single word, yet will command my entire life. There’s some mastery at work.

And. I just. I’m. Flailing. I want to huddle in a corner with a blanket over my head and cry. I might have already. A few times.

I feel like I keep waiting for the Fairy God Mother of Babies to magically appear and tell me everything I’m supposed to do, wave her wand, sprinkle me with shit tons of fairy baby dust and promise me that I’m going to have the best baby ever and it’ll be like eating the biggest Carvel Ice Cream Cake that ever existed.

My god. That sounds so good right now. Carvel. Mmmm. Mouth is watering.

Maybe I can make The BF go get me Carvel and what happy tastes like will become what happy babies are? I think it might be worth a shot. I’m willing to sacrifice, for the good of my child.

Really, People. How do you all do it? I’m well aware that mainly this all stems around the F word. Not the one I love to use and that TC tells me I’m trashy all the time for. I’m talking Fear.

I’m f-ing scared shitless that I’m going to suck at being a mom. That I’m not going to love any of the things they tell you you’re supposed to love about it and I will feel horribly, horribly alone. That I’m the worst mother in the world because I don’t want to be with my baby 24/7 and I’m not dying to stay home all day.

Then again, I don’t know. That’s it — this whole Fear of The Unknown is so f-ing stupid because it’s unknown! And that means it’s up to me to consciously create it. Perhaps I’m never going to want to be away from my child and I’ll be that parent who secretly bawls on the first day of school.

Doubtful, but possible.

Is what I’m feeling normal? Tell me it is. Then get out your wands and sprinkle with me with the magic dust. Lots of it, please. Thank you.