Why Am I Here?

Ok, we're just getting started, and I'll fess up completely - I didn't actually want to get pregnant at first.

When I was a kid, I always knew I wanted to be a mother. I had countless baby dolls that I dragged all over the place. Then I became a young adult and decided that going out at night and sleeping in sounded waaaaay more fun than being a parent, so I decided to stick with that for awhile. Then I met B, who knew he wanted more kids (his daughter H was 2 at the time), so in the haze of love I agreed that sounded divine. I felt I had plenty of time, though, and we could talk about it later (I was 22 when we were married; he: 32). Fast forward to 2006 - I was turning 27, B was turning 37, and I realized I didn't exactly fall into that "20-somethings" category anymore. I may have been 27, but the ubiquitous "they" were definitely referring to the other end of the decade spectrum when using that label. It was time to get crackin'.

Still, I was nervous. Did we want to do this? I had gotten used to our life. I liked bumming around town with B & H on the weekends. B and I no longer went out partying anymore, but if we wanted to go down to the pub for a pint after dinner, we could. I knew that much would change. As 2006 turned to 2007, I decided there was no more running. I stashed the birth control pills in the back of the linen closet, took a deep breath, and we got to work.

Much to B's disappointment, we got pregnant almost immediately. Well, of course he was happy, but he was hoping it would take a *little* more work. We were definitely blessed in that regard. The soon-to-be grandparents on both sides were ecstatic; and we took to readying the nursery and taking out a second mortgage to buy the 10 tons of baby gear I just had to have.

I was lucky to have a very easy pregnancy: no morning sickness, no hemorrhoids, no complications, not even heartburn, which I had very badly before the pregnancy - oddly, it got better. The only complaint, other than weighing 40 extra pounds, was that the baby had his foot wedged in my diaphragm the last 2 months, which made moving, breathing, and sleeping excruciatingly painful. Other than that, and suspecting that I had sacks of rocks tied to my ankles (I couldn't see them to verify this) when attempting to climb stairs, I really enjoyed being pregnant. I'll freely admit, though, that may be the Momnesia talking.

It was after we came home with our darling little bundle of joy (the cutest baby ever, by the way), that I suddenly realized I had no idea what to do with him. The kid wanted to eat all the time, and while he needed to nap ever 1 1/2 - 2 hours, I was somehow getting NO SLEEP. I didn't know it was possible to get literally no sleep. Was I anything other than a feeding machine? Anyways, more on all that later. Can't give away all the goods in one go.

It was not until a few months into this did I find a message board online where a like-minded group of ladies were "meeting" to discuss just how much this Mom thing was not how they envisioned it, and - gasp! - it wasn't their favorite thing in the world. In fact, quite often, it sucked. We all love our babies, no mistaking that, we just wonder sometimes how much we could get for them on eBay. These were my kind of ladies.

Next up: I'll shatter all the dreamy illusions of you pregnant FTMs out there with the birth story.