This Single Mommy's Life: My Baby's A Jerk...And Other Lovely Pregnant Thoughts

"My baby's going to be a jerk!" May always makes me nostalgic. Those sweet months where it was just my little Spud and me. The time where, no matter what horrible things were happening around me and to me- to us- I could protect him simply by covering my belly. All it took was a rub of my tummy to calm the crazy waves coming in...I knew his favorite noises and favorite songs...
Then, there were the hormones. Since it was just my Spud and me, I didn't have any paternal back up to talk me down. That's what friends and family were for. Poor them.
"My baby's going to be a jerk!" I knew this. I absolutely, 100% knew I was growing a total A-Hole. And there was nothing I could do about it.
"You're going to love your baby."
"Remember the cat?" I remember whisper-crying in shame. This poor little kitten I rescued from being kicked around by a rotten juvenile delinquent grew up to be a rotten little bully of a feline. When his best friend was catnapped, he got even meaner. Then he ran away. I cried. I cried because I knew he was so sad without his buddy. I cried because I knew he went to look for him. I cried because nobody was taking care of him. I cried because I felt so guilty at being glad that four legged bully was gone. If I can't even deal with a jerk of a cat, how am I going to deal with a jerk of a kid? Wait for him to run away? I'm pretty sure there's laws against that.

"Cats are different from babies." Until now, this friend was the only one who knew of my secret cat shame.
"Yeah. Babies cry more. Then they learn to talk. I'll have a jerk baby and everyone will know it and be like 'Hey! Your kid's a jerk!' And I'll have to agree!!" I was a little hysterical by this point. Remembering "The Cat" kind of sent me over the edge.

"Your baby will not be a jerk. And if he is, everyone else will know it, but you'll be completely blind to it, because he's yours. Nobody will dare tell you to your face." Somehow, this logic worked.
But, every time he used my bladder as a Lazy Boy at 2am, tried to bend my ribs backwards, or when he gave me my first ever case of heartburn for trying to eat my beloved edamame, I couldn't help it; "jerk".

"I don't want a baby. Kids suck" Another amazing friend had to deal with this particular flip out. At this point, I was five fantastic months pregnant and had just left the doctor's office from my monthly check up. A waiting room full of toddlers and babies did not give this single parent the warm fuzzies. Did I mention that about 90% of them were either screaming, crying or demanding something? Or all three. Before pregnancy, I loved kids. Finding "The One" and starting a family put a smile on my face. Hearing news of pending bundles of joy completely thrilled me- I couldn't wait for babies to come around. Until it was my turn.

I knew a parent whose child was fully embracing the Terrible Twos. I had to leave the room every time he honed his craft. Not just because the screaming was like an ice pick in my ears, but because I was terrified it was contagious. No, really. THIS was my thought process. "I can't have a cryer. I just can't. I'm not built to deal with a crying whiner." My cousin drew the short straw for this little meltdown.
"It can't be that bad." Then she witnessed the action. "Okay, your baby will NOT be this bad. You'll be fine. Your mom says you were a good baby, he'll inherit that." I wasn't convinced, but I was pretty exhausted from freaking out, so I let her think she calmed me down.

"What To Expect When You're Expecting" doesn't really cover jerk baby thoughts.

In addition to odd thought here and there that I was was hatching a screaming, crying demon jerk baby, there were the other meltdowns. I'm a raw nerve normally. Every Disney classic ever made has successfully made me bawl my way through at least a half box of tissue. Imagine all these cry baby nerves on a double dose of hormones. God bless my uncle, who went out at 11 at night to get more 2% milk when I started crying because it was finished and I needed more chocolate milk. God bless him twice for giving me the last home grown tomato when I started hyperventilating that all I had left were store bought. Hey, pregnant women need calcium and folic acid. True Story.

Thank goodness for my very best friend who "proof read" my strongly worded letter to Hawaiian Shaved Ice Company for not having a shack more conveniently located near my workplace. Come to think of it, she never emailed me the corrections. Hmm...

It wasn't all flip outs and meltdowns and thinking I had a rotten bun in the oven. Far from it. Music and book, both children's and text were aimed at my growing tummy. Words of encouragement (for both of us) were whispered... "We'll be okay. Better than okay."