I mean lets start at the 8 week point (normally about the time you find out your pregnant), seriously as if mornings werent bad enough already now you throw up all morning. You have quit smoking, quit drinking, quit caffine…. you are cranky AND sick….. and that once so perfect hubby or significant other that has the nerve to say “its not that bad, get over it already” (you vow he will never touch you again…at least not until your breasts stop hurting…)

Then you reach the 4 month point, you are so ready for this to be over, but it’s okay cuz soon you will find out what you will be having, boy or girl…. and you vision pink or blue and how cute they will be… but you see the ultrasound and no matter how excited you are seeing that baby makes you start to wonder if you are really having a baby or if it’s some kind of alien… You are almost convinced it’s an alien. So now you’re gaining weight (right in time to be fat for summer), you might be having an aliens baby, heartburn is killing you, no more sleeping on your belly, still sick, and you still have months of this left…

By 5 months the baby kicks, and you think “OMG HOW CUTE IS THAT!!!!” or “AWW FEEL THE BABY!!!” and then the baby never stops kicking, yea that’s right, 3 am baby is awake and kicking all your internal organs to mush (and hubby/significant other is wondering why you are so cranky all the time, seriously they should be lucky you let them live this long). Then comes the strangers who walk up and ask to feel your belly, but don’t wait to hear your answer they just go ahead and violate you, then tell you about their baby, you soon realize you will be groped in public and asked REALLY personal, private questions by complete strangers, man and woman, young and old for the rest of your pregnancy… ”no” no longer means “no,” it now means “oh sure I love to be groped by complete strangers in the grocery store, please tell me your life story, i’m in no rush.” Oh and the hormonal mood swings… crying and crying and then laughing hysterically and then murderous rage…… and of course your sweet sensitive partner telling you your a basket case and need professional help…. and then the crying again followed closely by the murderous rage (your partner better sleep with one eye open) 

Then you hit 8 months, if you cough you pee, if you sneeze you pee, if you move….. you pee…. get the point?  Constant urination, people groping you in public, asking “are you sure it’s just one in there? (cuz you know you weren’t feeling fat enough it always helps your self esteem to be publicly insulted) “you know how that happened don’t you?”, or better yet my favorite the dirty looks and the question “Do you know who the father is?” (maybe my fingers are so swollen and fat I can’t wear my rings, noooo obviously walking through walmart with 2 toddlers 8 months prego with no rings means i’m a whore and I really want you to point out how morally superior you are and how i’m obviously going to hell), the smug skinny bitch nurses keep weighing you at the drs every week they ask you the same question “well you are now 200 lbs how much did you weigh when you got pregnant” your answer “120 lbs” and they look at youlike your nuts and ask you if your sure thats what you weighed…like you would honestly want to admit to that much weight gain in such a shot amount of time,  then they look at you kinda disgusted and full of pity…stupid bitch nurses… oh and the hormones get worse… as if that was possible you are now walking, correction…WADDLING (yes the way those other pregnant women walked and you were convinced you would NEVER  walk that way) through the walmart baby section spending hundreds on all the stuff you will “NEED” (but you will find later it’s all completely useless and a waste of money and will spend hours on craigslist trying to convince other first time pregnant women they need it and to buy it off of you “like new condition!!”…) and when you get to the check out and see the bill it won’t be the hormones making you cry…

Then at 9 months you are prepping for birth… how exciting and how beautiful it will be, you will deliver right on your due date, you won’t need drugs, no pain killers for you, those are for “lesser women who can’t handle it”, you will have a perfect natural childbirth, you will not be one of those women who look like they haven’t slept or showered in months, you will be beautiful no makeup needed in those after birth pictures, your hair won’t even be messed up, no screaming and crying coming from you, and when your baby is born all the angels will be singing and a beautiful light will be shining down from the heavens over you and your new bundle of joy, and everyone (doctors included) will cry with joy over being there to experience the most important day of your life and your baby will be perfect and the most beautiful baby anyone has ever seen… EVER!

Then reality sets in, you are 2 weeks late, you finally get induced you on thursday afternoon you are picturing this being a fast and easy labor so on the way to the hospital you start planning a welcome home party for the baby on saturday afternoon while driving to the hospital…. 12 hours after you get to the hospital they tell you it’s going to be at least another 12 hours….. and then eventually friday night they say oh screw it we’re breaking your water. You are laying in bed feeling like you just peed yourself (for once it’s not urine) but the nurse is pissed off so she won’t come change the bedding so your poor disgusted sister has to reach under you and change your amniotic fluid soaked bedding herself since nurse bitchface won’t do her job….then come the contractions, and after a few mild contractions you realize this hurts like HELL and you give in and realize you will never survive the pain… (either you will die from the pain or you’re going ot kill hubby for causing the pain, it is always his fault) the second they mention epidural you and hubby both start screaming YES PLEASE DRUG ME/HER NOW!!!!!  Finally around 1 am saturday morning they tell you to start pushing, at this point your so drugged and exhausted  they have to wake you up for your contractions… then they bring in nurse bitchface who has been pissing you off all day…. now they want you to pull on a towel hanging from a bar over the bed with each contraction while pushing and nurse bitchface is yelling about how you aren’t pushing hard enough…. at this point you aren’t pulling on the towel to push the baby out you are pulling to try to get up to nurse bitchface who needs to be choked for ruining YOUR PERFECT ONCE IN A LIFETIME DAY….bitch…. 2 hours later comes your perfect baby…..and they tell you the head was turned the wrong way and that was the hardest way to give birth… and you think to yourself  “not pushing hard enough my ass nurse bitchface!!!” and while you still don’t think it was quite worth the nine months of hell your baby definately isn’t an alien, and eventually after a few days you will realize that you can look at that beautiful baby without remembering the pain and misery they have caused you, and you feel better knowing you can throw this in their face later just like your mom did to you….

Why do women do this more than once? Better question…. WHY DID I DO THIS MORE THAN ONCE?? Well okay in my defense my oldest was really cute at 6 months old when I got prego with numer 2…but as to why I thought it would be a good idea to add a third to the mix while still dealing with 2 in the terrible twos… I will never understand that… Welcome to my life of chaos