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Oh, Rhett! Please, don’t go! You can’t leave me! Please! I’ll never forgive you!…Leave me alone!

December 19, 2010

I get it now why people get married before getting pregnant. It has nothing to do with morality. It’s about survival.

When you’re married, hopefully you’ve already made a commitment that will stand you in good stead through the havoc wreaked by the first trimester.

(There are those of you who will say, “That’s nothing, wait until you actually have a newborn.” To you, I say, get your own fucking blog.)

The hormones: They are kicking my ass. They’ve led to the occasional rage in the past few weeks, which has fortunately been directed not to My Kind, Patient Young Man, but to my inept and lazy co-worker, who deserved a little rage.

They’ve led to a few sobbing fits, some caused by insomnia, some by real-life situations, most assuaged through a big hand gently circling the small of my back.

They’ve led to a level of nausea that leads me to say things to the owner of that big hand, things like, “Don’t touch me! I need not to be touched right now!”

My Young Man isn’t going anywhere right now, ring or no ring. But I can see why it wouldn’t be a terrible idea to have a legal document before one starts raging toward the heavens.

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