No, I’m not knocked up again. We all know I’m far too vain to let myself get fat again. But my best friend is (with identical twins no less), so I kind of feel like I’m reliving all the trauma and awful symptoms all over again.
If you’re a person who claims to love being pregnant, well, we probably can’t be friends. Why not, you ask (cuz, like, my friendship is so in demand and stuff)? Frankly because you’re obviously a pathological liar and I would never be able to trust you. No one loves being pregnant. Get real.
I really want O to have a sibling. And one that’s relatively close in age. But this pregnancy thing. Ughhhhhhhhhh. I just can’t bring myself to do it again right now. The pukes, the ‘roid rage, the cankles blown up to epic proportions, the perpetual popping of Tums…I just can’t. Sure it may have been 15 months ago, but I’ve only forgiven, not forgotten. When do you get to the point when you’ve sufficiently repressed the memories to give it another go? For some women, this never happens. Pregnancy or childbirth are so traumatizing that they’re more than happy to let their only child grow up without a playmate. I don’t want to be that mom. Help me get through this friends. Something along the lines of “You can dooooooo it!” That would be nice.
Confession of the day: At O’s 15 month check up I totally lied to the doctor and told him she can sort shapes. I’m 95% sure she can’t.