“why does your food baby have a footprint?”

Kids. Children. Crib Midgets. Whatever. Created by love, tequila, and R.Kelly slow jams. They ferment in a woman’s uterus like a weird Kombucha; bubbling, bouncing, and slightly alcoholic depending on the year you were or they will be born. They re-arrange your organs and kick you in the ribs, all whilst being in a metaphorical 20,000 leagues under the sea.

I once had a boyfriend who posed the question, “When do babies loose their gills?” I’ll never forget it. And I still hate myself a little for having to Google it.

The whole process is strange and still (at least to me), completely alien. I understand the science of conception and how that all works. But for the life of me I cannot wrap my brain around how after all the sex and drugs and rock and roll, a LIFE is CREATED. From this (for lack of a better word) THING that just takes up shop in a UTERUS of all places. After 40 weeks of sucking life from ANOTHER (aka host) human life, it (the alien) rips its way in to the world either via the Vagina E-Way or by having a medical professional (fingers crossed) slice you open and “retrieve the fetus”. GROSS. Just gross. That’s some science fiction movie bullshit if i’ve ever heard it. #hardpass

In a quest to find out what it’s like to be pregnant without actually GETTING pregnant, I asked the tough questions to my friends (as well as some strangers) who have… I guess found, themselves in the precarious situation. I put in the “work” and found out what it’s like to grow a human. Facts were gathered. Tummies were felt. And deep dark secrets revealed.

*Disclaimer: My mother did not participate in this adventure because it is a common fact that I was an angel from above that they bought in a Bloomingdales in November of 1990. Growing up, my parents reminded me that while I am past the date for it to be appropriate to turn an item bought in store, they will not hesitate to try. To this day, I do not think this is a joke. They would. In a heart beat. (Have you read this blog?!)

Across the board I found growing a human is a hell of a lot harder than growing Sea Monkeys and sometimes about as easy as penicillin. (haha! get it? because a life saving antibiotic was an accident. and sometimes so are babies. )

Bad joke. But still, you get it. Most women (and yes, I only asked women because #feminism. but also #biology) asked, were 100% shocked when they looked at a stick they had just peed on and read their fate; motherhood. I also found that most women who took a pregnancy test, had also peed on their own hand so, bad day all around.

At 26, I think I get the biological realness of unprotected sex and its possible outcome(s). What shocked me was the sheer number of women I found (through various online surveys and casual conversation) were not TRYING to get pregnant when they found out. Another common theme was this:

The overwhelming sense of “full” each woman felt when a stick soaked in urine justified their eating a metric fuck ton of tacos, puking each morning at 5:30 on the dot, and her slightly distended belly. This miracle wasn’t that she was a 23 year old try-delt, but that she was growing A FUCKING HUMAN. Each woman (nay person, because #feminism) felt a sense of “full” and “immense happiness” and “blahblahblah warm gooey feelings”

Each mother I spoke to was glowing as she babbled about her 40 weeks as an incubator; a human host. I tried to get all the gross details as well, but most just painted this beautiful rosy picture of getting fat, feeling their feelings, and boom: MAKING A LIFE. A woman I spoke to who is currently preggers (and loving it) let me tough her belly! Which apparently, is something a million strangers ask her all the time. Her baby was stretching and I got to see it’s WHOLE FUCKING FIST roll across mommy’s belly. I squealed. It was CRAZY. When I asked if she was ever worried he was going to just make a shiv out of her rib and slice his own way in to the world, she laughed. (Apparently, that is only an all too real fear for me, the far from pregnant singleton.)

Between the moms and moms-to-be, everyone seems pretty okay with their nutrient sucking tenants. Whether they have since evicted said tenant or are letting them stay in and “get a little cuter”, they all had the same advice for me:

Chill out. While it may be strange, it’s a beautiful thing.

If you’re pregnant, have been pregnant, or potentially pregnant: I salute you. You are the ultimate warrior. You’re body is about to go through hell, but in the end you get a carbon copy you can dress up and take places. People will “ooh and ahh” and then your carbon copy will barf on you. And you’ll still love it because you made it, in your uterus, the original Willy Wonka Factory of horrors.

For now, I’ll stick to food babies made of sushi burritos and taco Tuesday regrets. But it was nice to get out and hear about pregnancy from people other than my high school health teacher (and Beyonce). Do I still think babies are disgusting?  hell fucking yeah. Do I have a new appreciation for the female body? hell fucking yeah.



All images were found on Pinterest. Image does NOT belong to writer.  Pinterest search: pregnancy photos, weird kids


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