The Miracle of Pregnancy

Pregnancy is beautiful. There are few things as perfect and wonderful as creating another human being. You get to be a vessel for a human life. Tell me… What’s more beautiful than that?

Oh, I know.

Being able to stay up past 9pm.

Not running out in the middle of work to puke your guts up.

Your pre-baby belly.

Being able to button your pants.

Not being a crazy hormonal little bitch to your husband.

Eating Chipotle and Chinese food, because holy crap no thanks anymore.

Having nice hair.

Redbull on Mondays.

The energy to make it to the gym.

Not crying during every single Glee rerun.

Going out for drinks on Friday night.

That drunk cigarette.

Sleeping on your tummy.

Listen, I know it’s worth it. When I hold my tiny little baby in my arms, all of these things will seem so trivial. But holy hell body, why do you hate me just because there’s a little alien creature inside of you? Jeez. Selfish.


Help Me Name My Tiny Human


So my husband and I have been going over and over names and found that we like too many girls names and no boys names. We’ve got a list going, but there are no clear favorites.

Obviously we don’t know the sex yet, but were entering the second trimester so it’s time to get serious. Help us out!


Charlie Raegan
Sloane Harper
Kerrigan Lily
Kingsley Mara
Ailish Olivia
Paisley Kay
Caroline Ainsley


Henry Flynn
Owen Reilly
Renley James
Macon Andrew
Jameson Caleb
Emerson Enoch


The Weird Shit You Do on the Internet That You Don’t Want Your Boyfriend to See

Or maybe you do, but only if he’s oddly into it. If he doesn’t see you as a obsessive freak, and thinks it’s strangely endearing. If you have that guy, keep him!

You’re not engaged, but you have 3 different wedding registries at Macy’s, Bed Bath & Beyond, and Target. Plus, you may or may not have just started your dream registry at Pottery Barn.

There’s no bun in your oven, but you’ve got a BabyList, complete with the details down to which cloth dipes you’re planning on buying.

Your One Direction fan blog. There is literally no cure for the embarrassment your creepy obsession with British teenagers is going to earn you.

That porno you skimmed through last week trying to inspire some creativity in the bedroom. Turns out you don’t really want to try any of those sexual acts with the names you can’t figure out like donkey punches and cream pies. What.

Your Google history, including every last embarrassing question. Early pregnancy symptoms, what to wear to impress your boyfriend on a date, weird body odors… all of it.

Your wedding board on Pinterest. The ring, the dress, the colors. You swear he’s going to propose any day now… wait, you don’t even have a boyfriend?

The list of things you’ve recently watched on Hulu Plus or Netflix. Maybe you spent 13 hours watching Glee reruns last weekend. Oops.

How much money you actually spent online shopping. No babe, it was totally on sale!

The constant internet stalking of every one of his exes. Haha, she got fat. And her new boyfriend is ugly. No shame.

How many selfies it actually takes to get the perfect one for Instagram, Facebook, Twitter, Tumblr, and god knows what other social media sites are in existence. Sure, he thinks you’re pretty in that sweet new #SelfieSunday you posted, but if only he could see your outtakes. So seductive.

Just bury your head now.