So you want to procreate? You have thought it over a million times. You can’t wait to snuggle your offspring, and teach them to be a master warrior in this dark world? Think again, my friend. Children are the worst. They are fountains of bodily fluids you never even knew existed, and they really don’t act like the babies you see on television. You know those movies where the baby pops out of the woman’s vagina, clean and beautiful, smiling up at their mother? That is a bull shit lie. That kid is like 6 months old. That is not the child you take home.
Here are my top reasons why procreating is not the Johnson’s and Johnson’s commercial you’ve always envisioned.
The Pregnancy Stage.
So, the idea of pregnancy and babies is appealing, right? WRONG. So fucking wrong. That little pee stick told me I was pregnant, and I cried. The second pregnancy test told me I was pregnant, and I was hysterical. The third pregnancy test told me I was still pregnant, and I accepted my fate of motherhood. Not something I was planning, but how bad could it be?
Morning Sickness Isn’t Just in the Morning
Imagine that drunken stage, you are calling to the dinosaurs in that porcelain bowl, wishing you hadn’t drank those last five shots. Nothing will stop the spew of vomit and stomach acid, and you can taste what you ate for lunch last Thursday. Now imagine that every. single. morning. The slightest scent of food and you couldn’t run faster to the bathroom. For some women, this only happens once or not at all. For me, it was every. single. day. I had to learn to eat foods that would taste good coming back up, and I can attest to the fact that Honey Nut Cheerio’s is NOT one of them.
That Awkward Belly Fat
At first, I was elated to be pregnant adorable. I love pregnant bellies. They are so perfectly round, and any shirt looks hilariously adorable. I would hug random pregnant women if I could do so without being a total creep. But no one tells you that there is an awkward stage. You have no idea about it until it happens to you. You are gaining weight, but not enough to look actually pregnant without wearing a shirt that says “I got knocked up”. It just looks like you’re an alcoholic for the first 4 months.
And when you do get large, you realize how uncomfortable Santa feels. You can’t reach your feet. Your pants refuse to button. It itches ALL THE TIME. Sleep is impossible because there is no position that you are fully comfortable in, and when you do find that comfort, you bet your fat pregnant ass that the tiny little human growing inside you is going to either get the hiccups or start kicking. I was always most comfortable on my left side while I slept. Was Caroline? No, of course she was not. Every time I tried to sleep on that side, she would start kicking like crazy until I flipped over.
Labor and Delivery
You have read every book on L&D, you attended every Lamaze class, you are totally prepared! No, no you are not. Nothing will prepare you for the fact that your vagina is going to turn into a giant tunnel for a human to dig it’s way out. No amount of breathing or “calming music” will help. You would rather sell your soul to the bum down the street than push this child out.
After spending the last month trying to get that little beast thing out of you, desperately Googling naturally labor inducers to your hearts content (none of which are really proven to work, let that thing stay in there until it wants to show itself), when that moment really comes, you swear off the idea of sex forever. You can’t believe you actually took castor oil and shit on the toilet for over an hour to try and get that baby out when all you want now it to cross your legs and make the pain go away.
Once your baby is born, you are so glad you survived that hell hole of an experience, and hold your adorable little lizard (babies totally look like lizards when they are born, I swear), but the fun isn’t over. You still have to push out a placenta. How disgusting is that? And if you tore, I am sorry for you. You’ll spend a good twenty minutes with several different doctors staring at your lady parts, heads cocked to the side, like they are searching for God in your hole. I would recommend not looking down there for at least a solid week.
So now you have a human. A tiny human incapable of feeding, cleaning or speaking for itself, let alone control it’s own muscle movements. This is what you have been waiting 9 months for. You have once again been tricked that reading books tells you all there is about parenting. You also believed that all the babies are exactly as described in books. I was there once, I know the pain of emotions you go through when you realize this life sucking creature is such a different world that any book could have ever described.
Babies are born with no realization of day and night. They also have no respect for you. You have to earn that shit. And trust me, that respect takes a few years. My two year old still tells me to shut up on a daily basis.
You read that they sleep up to 18 hours for the first few weeks. You read that they need to eat every 4 hours. You also read that they’ll love being swaddled. These are all generalizations. Evil cruel generalizations seasoned parents tell childless people so they can giggle and snicker when you quickly learn that your child may not follow these guidelines. My firstborn was the perfect baby with these guidelines. Caroline? She still eats every hour to hour and a half. She may have slept for 18 hours a day, but it was in 30 minute spurts. Luckily swaddling did save my sanity, but all in all not every baby will act like What to Expect When Expecting will lead you to believe. Lying bastards.
So, you want to have a baby? Think real hard before you decide to endure the torture that comes with it. They aren’t dolls that you can dress up and play with. In fact, you’ll find that a baby is quite possibly the most difficult thing to dress. It’s like their necks become limp noodles and you can’t seem to get that stupid onsie over them no matter how hard you friggin try.
With all of that said, babies are fun too. Sometimes. They are also freaking adorable once out of their lizard forms, and will bring a lot of joy with their horribleness. For every tantrum, every blowout, and every single tear there is a smile, or a laugh that will make you forget that you just considered using duct tape on your child. I adore my girls, and have never experienced a love like I have for them. How often can you say you love something that on a daily basis pukes on you? Not very often, my friend.