Tuesday, December 8, 2015
careful what you wish for
I’ve talked before about my (previous, since-abandoned) fear/disgust of pregnancy, but I left out some stuff because I come across as a horrible person. For example, in college I said that when I got pregnant I wanted to be locked up in the attic and not come down for nine months. I said it would be like “The Yellow Wallpaper” but instead of covering up post-partum depression it would be to hide my freaky-looking body.
There’s a part of me that believes that I cursed myself a little bit. Which, if you read that charming anecdote, I clearly deserved. In my first pregnancy, it was seven months before I could really go anywhere but the doctor’s, and every day I could hear 22-year-old Brittney saying, “Lock me in an attic.” Well, I wasn’t in the attic, but I still got what I essentially asked for. For months I cried next to a bucket, and I wondered if I might have been spared the pukes if I had just been a little bit less terrible when I was younger.
We’re almost four months into this second pregnancy, and I have no ambition to do anything, but I do I have a renewed desire to apologize to the universe or God or karma, and anyone who ever heard me say that stuff. I’m sorry I didn’t respect the miracle of life. I’m sorry I made insensitive jokes. I’m sorry for being such a turd. And even though I HATE the pukes, thank you for limiting my punishment. You could have made it much worse.