Five Month Sonograms and the Water Works

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So I know this blog is a totally outrageous example of cyber literature that a pregnant woman has ever self published. I understand that some may perceive me as “Mommy Blogging’s Black Sheep,” since my straight-talking, potty mouthed, no holds barred writing style is perhaps the most offensive art form a preggars – publicist could ever digitally thrust into the world. I get it. I’m sure my elder relatives have shoved their necks deep into the mud as this link circles it’s way around my family. But hell, I am who I am (said one fellow sailor man).

But let’s not get confused. For those of you that don’t know me, I am NOT a bitch (well, I am if you f*king cross me, steal my clients or act like any one of the chemically imbalanced managers or star-fucking girlfriends from former clients who shall remain anonymous). I have a HUGE heart, and wicked sense of humor – HOWEVER – in real life, all blogging aside, I’m as emotionally gooey as one of those sickly delicious Cadbury eggs that you can only buy around Easter. So, let me take this moment to share this: You can be the baddest business-barbie-boss in the biz, a hard-talking, Louboutin-rocking, self-made bitch who’s whipped her career into submission….but when you sit down for your 5 month sonogram and realize that what’s been making your hormonal system feel like a ride on the Great American Scream Machine is an actual BEING with a tiny beating heart, ten fingers and ten toes, you CRY. YEAH, YOU FUCKING BALL YOUR EYES OUT. And don’t let anyone tell you you won’t. So that said, I am proud to introduce ATUMN JEAN CHORLEY, at five months. Excuse me while I wipe my keyboard clean of beautiful, blessed, mascara-ridden tears.

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Comments

  1. I’m 43 and not pregnant, but was thinking about. Last night I Googled it and up pops your blog. Where did you go? I’ve read everything…I want more…

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