By now you’re probably wondering “how much more can I possibly find out about Jenny’s uterus?” and wishing I would change the subject..
but too damn bad! My uterus could take up a months worth of blogs, be thankful it hasn’t!
Currently, uterine happenings are on the forefront of all of my thoughts. Not just because the evil witch has reared her ugly head.. but because right around this time of year is when Captain Uterus down there decides to take the bull by the horns and really throw me through a loop. It just wants to see the look on my face when it says “GOTCHA!” as it’s pulling the rug out from under me.
You see, two out of the last three New Years, I have ended up pregnant.
Holden was literally conceived on New Years Day (sorry Dad/family, shield your eyes!). I know that for sure because I was charting and using ovulation prediction kits.
Parker.. well, is still a mystery for the most part- but considering he was born right around the same time as Holden, he was most likely conceived in the same general time frame.
New Years. Evil, deceptive, drunken New Years.
It’s not like i’m planning on getting my freak on, so to speak, this evening.. or really any time for the next week. Bleeding like a stuck pig isn’t something I find gets me in the mood, if you know what I mean.
Even still, even if I COULD, even if I were tempted- I wouldn’t. I know better. I know what my uterus is thinking, and I refuse to let it get the best of me this time!
To be completely honest, even with my upcoming depo shot- i’m not sure I fully trust that whole 99.9% ratio. I’m one of the girls who’s in the .01% to get freakin’ knocked up and throw the statistics off. I’m not safe! I’m never safe! Even abstinence didn’t save me last time.
Perhaps I should have Thomas sleep on the couch for the next month just to take those extra few precautions. Maybe throw on a steel chastity belt, plaster the bedroom door shut.. or just pull a Lorena Bobbit and get it over with.
Ahem.. what was I saying?
Oh, yeah.. Happy New Year! WRAP IT UP BITCHES!
Best compliment you can give me is to tell me you hope your future kids turn out like mine. I mean, you're lying, but it's a nice compliment
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