Oh Good, A New Thing to Stress About

Alright, let's start with baby updates before I plow into my new, and admittedly dumb, set of anxieties.

I've finally got to the point where I no longer look questionably chubby, but actually, no kidding, pregnant. So, now, a baby bump photo!

To be fair, my bump here is about 70% baby and 30% pasta. 

This has resulted in people coming up and, without warning, touching me and my belly.

For those of you who think that this is a good thing to do, I'm gonna let you in on what Grey and I's plan is for future baby gropers. We're going to look them dead in the eye and touch their belly, smiling like Stepford wives, completely silent.

I am almost looking forward to a stranger coming up to me and getting to experience this moment with me and my beloved husband.

I may also bite you. Also, do NOT type "bite" into Google images.

We also had our second ultrasound, which, unlike the first one, went super duper awesome. We found out she is going to inherit our short legs (sorry, baby, we're not made to be dancers), but is otherwise perfectly on track size wise. Really, the only thing of note is she went from looking like a mushroom to looking like the creepiest thing I have ever seen.

I'm not kidding, people. That's her eyeball.

Alright, so onto the topic of the blog!

I'll just cut to the chase. To add onto all the normal terrors surrounding having a baby, like growing the baby, and having the baby and then taking care of the baby, I have a new fear that a random blog and a podcast has instilled in me.

*deep breath*

I am worried that I won't love my cats after my baby gets here.

Please realize that I do not love my cats more than I do my people. I'm not a crazy person, I promise. I know the difference between pet love and child love. Even if I do have a picture of my cat's feet as my wallpaper, I do know that I love Grey more than them.

Look at how cute those feet are, though.

However, every since I heard John Hodgman of the Judge John Hodgman Podcast tell someone that as soon as his child was born, he, quote, "stopped loving his stupid cats," I have started looking at my three tiny, overweight, fuzzy kitty babies and wondering if my affection for them is on a countdown timer.

So, like I handle most of life's problems, I turned to the Internet. When I asked the almightly Google the question, "Will I still love my cats after I have a baby?," the answer I was given was, nah, probably not, they're just going to annoy you until you eventually regret even having them.

This has filled me with anxiety, which I then feel stupid for feeling because they are just animals, which make me feel even worse because they are not just any animals, they are my pets, which shoots me right back to the anxiety. It's a viscous swirl of emotions.

Much like this is a swirl of delicious, chilly flavors.

Here's the thing: I feel I owe it to my cats to keep loving them, because it was my decision to bring them into my home and make them a part of my life. Yes, they poop a lot and throw up on everything and ignore me when I tell them to get off the table, but they are my poopy, vomitty kitties and they make me really happy.

Momma, please don't stop loving me. I just want belly rubs and then to eat all the food in the house.

So, that's where I'm at now. Just worrying about how I will feel about my kitties after Ripley gets here. I suppose it's just something I'll have to tackle when we get there, and try not to stress about it too much until then.

I suppose I'll just have to fill the time till then with cat cuddles and unicorn costumes.

A face I could never stop loving, I hope.

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