Britni de la Cretaz

The first trimester is not normal. The first trimester is hell. The first trimester is vomiting in trash cans, falling asleep sitting up, sore breasts, perpetual nausea, hella strong food aversions, extreme mood swings, and crying because your partner ate your taco; all while not looking or feeling pregnant.

So after years of feeling incredibly conflicted about the topic of my leg hair because FUCK YOUR PATRIARCHAL BEAUTY STANDARDS, it came to be winter.

Boston.com recently published an incredibly offensive hit-piece mocking Sandoval and making fat jokes, complete with accompanying photos that showed Sandoval’s stomach hanging over the top of his pants as he threw a baseball. It was lazy and offensive at best, but dangerous at worst.

I want my child to be able to self-determine. What that means to me is that they know they have options besides the “default” one that’s plastered all over their TV screens, and that they always know that.

Street harassment is a global problem. Wherever you go, marginalized people have to deal with verbal abuse, harassment, and violence simply for entering public space.

My hair makes me happy and I dye it for my own enjoyment— not for yours. I mean, that’s cool if you happen to like it, too, but you don’t have to tell me about it. You can keep it to yourself, write it in your dream journal, take it to your grave. I don’t care what you do with it, I just know that I don’t need to know about it.

And so, because I love my child, I am doing the thing I swore I’d never do: planning a princess party for my daughter. I am doing the thing that will make her happiest. I am helping her embrace her femininity by letting her be nothing other than who she wants to be.

There’s nothing wrong with moms who decide to go for a stereotypical “mom cut.” If they like it, or if it makes their lives easier, that’s fantastic. Personally, my hair after I had children remained just as important to me as it was before I had them. My hair has always been a huge part of my identity — candy-colored, funky, and so totally me.

The sex dreams that have caught me completely off-guard. I don’t generally have much of a sex drive during my pregnancy when I’m awake, but when I’m asleep, it’s a completely different story. I have these incredibly vivid, incredibly-detailed sex dreams almost every night. Often, they involve celebrities.

After the positive test and the cautious excitement of we're having a baby! came what felt like a literal gut punch — intense, chronic, debilitating morning sickness. I'd wake up and be okay until it was time to get out of bed and try to make it to work. As soon as I was vertical, the nausea would kick in and I'd run to the bathroom.