No, your eyes do not deceive you dear Loyals. I did, in fact, use the word "hoo-ha" in the title of this post.
Sadly, I went to bad last night mourning the loss of whatever pelvic floor muscles I had prior to my pregnancy with Carter and woke up with a full blown eulogy written for them in my dreams.
Nobody warns you about the feeling of tiny little baby hands consistently punching you in the hoo-ha. In fact, it seems to be rather Forbidden Talk. Well. I'm here to change all that. Because if you are ever considering having children, this is strictly a Need To Know.
Tiny baby hands.
Sidenote: How many times can I say "hoo-ha" in this post? Do you feel like you should be taking a shot of something strong each time you read it? You know, kind of like that drinking game where you take a shot every time Sting sings "Roxaaaaaaane?"
I say, "go for it."
Now, don't get all high and mighty on me and remind me I should be thankful for the tiny baby hands punching me in the hoo-ha because I'll be the first to say that I am. I am thankful for them and I cannot wait to nibble them and kiss on them come June. However, that doesn't mean that I cannot be frustrated and absolutely one hoo-ha punch shy of shaving my head a la Britney Spears Breakdown because they can't stop, won't stop as I'm laying in bed willing myself to fall asleep at night.
It's a strange thing- being kicked and punched from the inside and having zero control over the movement. And at times? It could very well drive me insane.
Somebody hide the hair clippers.