Tracy Moore - Oops! How to Rock the Mother of All Surprises: A Positive Guide to Your Unexpected Pregnancy

Avon, Massachusetts

For Lance and Edie

Nearly all the best things that came to me in life have been unexpected, unplanned by me.

Carl Sandburg

When I found myself suddenly knocked up in the summer of 2009, my carefree life skidded to a halt. I went from being an immature, thirty-three-year-old boozehound working at an alt-weekly, hitting the bars four nights a week, to a gobsmacked puddle of Jell-O facing down the firmest adult-like deadline of my life. I may have been a grown woman with a job, a 401(k), and even a husband who was happy about being blindsided, but I felt about as emotionally qualified to have a baby as any cast member of 16 and Pregnant.

This was, in large part, because I was one of those people who are pretty sure they arent going to have any kids. As a result, I lived my life like someone who doesnt need to ever grow up enough to take care of a baby. I avoided pregnancy talk and babies and general nurturing so successfully that I realized I had almost no common knowledge about what pregnancy even entailed, much less how to hold, talk to, or feed an infant, or explain to one what a good rock band was. Now here I was, pregnant.

Let me say this first: Though this news was unexpected, it was not unwelcome. Yes, it would change everything. But what it did not change was the fact that I had no idea what the hell I was doing.

It sounds clich (get used to that), but some of the best things in life are, indeed, random. They are the unexpected turns that yield previously unimagined fruitthe accidental meeting, the oddly timed good idea that lands just right, the decision to stick with New Girl after its first few episodes. In fact, almost all my best memories come from events where I had no idea what would happen nextand not just because I was doing shots.

So it was with pregnancy. I could not envision the turns it would take, emotionally, physically, or emotionally. Did I mention emotionally? Not having planned this thing, I had never bothered to imagine its multitextured possibilities, much less take folic acid. But I was curious about this unknown, wildly divergent path that had sprung up before me, and a funny thing happened: In spite of intellectually not wanting to be pregnant, once I was there was, for me, no going back. I was invested, and I was curious. And I was really happy (and reassured) to discover that those hardscrabble qualities will often take you farther than the best-laid plans.

So I rolled with it. But that is not at all the same thing as being ready for the road ahead. And that I was not. I was amazed, though, to find a glut of information available about the physical and medical aspects of pregnancy. Seemingly endless books, websites, and forumsall in reassuringly tedious detailcovered nearly every question I could imagine about the basics of gestating, from heartburn to hemorrhoids.

What I couldnt find was anything much about the emotional chaos and confusion of an unplanned pregnancy from the perspective of an alleged adult who had zero intention of ever having a baby, especially if it meant there would be this much farting. Plus, I needed logistical guidance, stat: My husband and I didnt have the dough, the gear, or the lifestyle to bring a baby into the world. And scarier, we didnt even know what we didnt know.

Whats more, what was out there about unplanned pregnancies seemed so academic, so antiseptic, so religiousnone of it was able to help me figure out why I was suddenly reliving my shitty childhood, why the show My Wife and Kids was now funny to me, or how to remove five years of cat hair and cigarette funk from a sofa before a baby comes.

There was also nothing to help me quit smoking cold turkey but also not consume everything in sight like some kind of pregnant human garbage disposal. Nothing about how to keep hanging out with your friends while youre sober, especially now that they are suddenly the most annoying people in the world.

There was no warning that I might regress to the emotional state of my teenage self, but sure enough, there I was, fighting with my baby daddy, hating my mom again, and missing the best parties.

I wrote this book because its the book I longed for when I was pregnant. Something that would take me through the logistics of how to prep for a surprise pregnancy with a limited amount of time to stockpile money and desmokify a house. A place to vent about what a pain in the ass it is to suddenly deal with a once-autonomous body that feels hijacked and smells, bewilderingly, like soup. A place to laugh about the clichd discomforts of pregnancy from the perspective of someone who found herself there by accident.

A place that celebrates the what-the-fuckness of breeding, on purpose or not. And ultimately, a place that understands that you can loathe everything about pregnancy, from ugly maternity tops to morning sickness to swollen ankles, and yet still love the child you are growing without question, not in spite of it but because of it. Especially when the growing of that child causes you to get the weirdest, grossest ear zits imaginable.

If I have done anything correctly, I have created that space for you and every other adult woman who finds herself inexplicably knocked up and scared shitless, ready to do this thing right but kind of wishing there was a TV show called 33 and Pregnant to take you through it.

The biggest gamble in the universe, hands down, has got to be the making of a life. But if I am proof of anything, its that it can be done, even well. In fact, its very similar to that E.L. Doctorow quote about writing: Its like driving at night in the fog. You can only see as far as your headlights, but you can make the whole trip that way.

So to face this thing, I suggest taking off the mask of knowing and diving to the bottom of not knowing. Its terrifying, but it might just be a once-in-a-lifetime thrill. And this is coming from a person who has sat in the backseat of a 1976 Chevelle, driving around farmland, ramming into hay bales. At night. With no headlights. For kicks. You think I dont know thrills?

Maybe you never wanted kids. Maybe you werent sure if you wanted kids. Maybe you wanted kids but just not now, for the love of all thats holyjust not now. Maybe you have kids already and you thought you were done.

But now here you are, with a bun in the oven, a bean on the sprout, an egg in the skillet. And whether you are calling it your Oops Baby, a Little Surprise, or your Bonus Round, you are keeping this kid. Still, your emotions will need time to catch up. Youll realize this when your first instinct after happily announcing the news is to download a sad trombone MP3 and walk moodily around, pressing Play at random intervals.

To aid in your epic journey, Ive organized this book into the five stagesShock, Help!, Logistics, Excitement, and Rocking Itthat youre likely to experience. Ill walk you through the basics: the logistics, and emotional boot camp of making your life baby-ready. Though nothing can predict exactly how or in what ways you might feel blindsided, uplifted, shocked, or awed (or all of the above, simultaneously) by this decision to breed on the fly, that moment will come, and you will wonder: What the hell have I gotten myself into?