Week 6, day 6. The thought of food makes me gag. I’ve only managed to eat an ice cream bar. I’m not loving this part of the pregnancy. Oi vey, here we go.

Knowing I’m pregnant, I wish I had infinite amounts of money in my pockets. I’d definitely create my child’s room into an Alice in wonderland theme. (Despite sex of the baby.) Adorkable, in my opinion!

Stupid bitches really get on my nerves. For real, though. My old man has a crazy ass self-claimed ex-girlfriend. Meaning, in her psychotic mind she thought they had been together, made up this whole scenario in her mind that he wanted her… Which he fucked her and would leave her…. Sounds like love to me.

Hopefully she doesn’t try to invade in our private life (once more.) She’ll get an earful. I’m not having some tramp interfere with my baby’s life.

Decided to tuck my balls into my pants and venture into my nearest health clinic to see if the pee really tells the truth.

Walk in, scared as shit. Piss in a cup… Lady walks in a cheerily as possible, exclaiming “Congratulations! No doubt about it, you’re pregnant!”

I stared at her, unsure of the emotions rushing through me. Fear, confusion, part of me finding happiness in it, the other wondering just what am I gonna do?

I’m still in shock, still hasn’t set. To even utter the words “I’m pregnant”, “my baby,” and “I’m gonna be a mom.” Sounds so utterly bizarre. But alas, as of today I am 5 weeks along…

Here’s to a whole new adventure.

Taking a pregnancy test…. Because, well… Your a few days late. Might as well be safe…

FUCKING. POSITIVE.

I’ve had plenty of pregnant friends/friends who already have children. They all have one thing in common…. They find it necessary to get on Facebook and talk about how they’re in labor. I don’t know about you, but I refuse to worry about my phone when I have something the size of a damned watermelon coming out of my vagina. Lolololol, people are weird.