I found out I was pregnant and I immediately regretted it (or so I thought.) It’s funny because my actions leading up to this moment would have suggested otherwise. There should be no surprise. One should not be shocked. But here I was, looking like a dumbass constantly flip flopping back and forth between, abort mission and all systems go. I think deep down I wanted to have a baby to go against the good girl norm that I felt boxed in since elementary school. Like, I knew how it looked. I wasn’t married. I wasn’t even really dating the guy. Dating implies getting to know someone, meeting each other's families, being out in the world with each other to see how they function in life. We were just sleeping together. And deep down, I knew that, but I chose to ignore it. And as time went by I realized the sperm donor and I were not really on the same page. We weren't even in the same book. I decided I would just do it without him. I mean it is the 21st century. Women are capable. Women can choose to make decisions about their lives and their bodies all on their own. It's been done before. I used to babysit all the time. Kids love me. How hard could it be alone? Oh how I wished I had known what I was getting into.
I know they say you can never be READY to have a baby. But I think you can be pretty damn PREPARED for one. Once you get past the initial shock, (which for me meant taking 3 tests because no it’s not expired, no it’s not an error, you are actually pregnant dumbass) there’s so much more personal exploration and growth that happens that’s sometimes briefly talked about but needs to be expanded upon. Parenting aint got shit to do with registry items, baby names to contemplate, cleaning bottles and changing diapers. That's light housekeeping compared to the labor of mental work needed in order to deal with the sudden triggers you never knew you had and the bright ass reflection of yourself, flaws and all, that having children becomes. The negative condescending comments for some people, the planning and life adjustments you should and need to be thinking about, the calculating that never quite adds up, and the resources nobody talks about can feel like a brick being thrown at you, but from the back, where you can’t see it coming. It would have been nice to have some sort of guidance. There are so many questions I wish I had known to ask myself; Do you like where you live? Is it convenient with room to grow with a child? What does “maternity leave” look like for you at your job? ARE YOU SURE YOU WANT TO DO THIS ALONE?
At the time I was looking for a book to help me navigate. It didn’t exist. They weren’t written from a place of where I was. We didn't have the same problems. We weren’t addressing the same triggers. They were written from a 2 income household, or a single mother boss ass entrepreneur, a divorce working to coparent. There was no young artist who lost her way and felt alone in the world making just enough bad decisions to be toeing the line of purposeful failure. I found myself gravitating towards books like “eat, pray, love” and “operating instructions” Books that were an authentic testimony of self struggle, venturing into dark corners of yourself with a tiny ass book light instead of a set of fog lights. A story of fighting to heal trauma. A story that showed me the tools and skills needed to deal with stress or reminded me that I had the tools and skill, and maybe just need a curriculum refresher.
That was the book I needed. So I set out to write a book that was for anyone who's ever wanted to be swallowed by the darkness and anyone who’s been looking for a light at the end of the tunnel. Who knew that it would take me 15 years to finish. So maybe your situation is the same as I was, a single mother trying her hardest to keep her head above water, maybe you are just a person feeling like the walls are closing in and this story of the damented rollercoaster I voluntarily got on can be both entertaining and cathartic. If you take away nothing from this book, if you don't read past the intro, know this… The biggest lesson of all times… Stress can make you a bad person. A bad mother, a bad friend, a bad wife, a bad daughter, a bad boss, a bad employee, a bad human. I hope my journey equips you with the tools needed for your arsenal. Because unbeknownst to me, I was a cunt. Both the villain and victim in my own story.
