An Open Letter to All You Moms-to-Be

I know. You think you're prepared. You've read all the books. Taken the classes. Decorated the nursery. Completed your registry with care.

But honestly? You have no idea what you're getting yourself into.

I know. You're tired of hearing that. You wish everyone would stop telling you how much your life is about to change. Because, really? You're pregnant. Your life has already been turned on its ear. And you are very much aware that popping another person out of your body has life-altering consequences, thankyouverymuch.

But truthfully? You have no idea how much your life is about to change. None.

You know why everyone keeps saying these things to you? It's not because they think you're stupid.  Or because they think you're ill-prepared. They know you're going into this with your eyes open.

They're telling you because they're thinking back to when they were in your shoes. They're remembering how knowledgeable they thought they were. They're looking back, and shaking their heads at their former selves.

Because they? Had no idea either.

There's no possible way to be prepared for the nuclear bomb that's about to shatter you into a million pieces and put you back together in an entirely different way.

You love your partner (or at least, I hope for your sake you do), but you have no idea how deeply you are capable of loving until you hold that pooping, puking mess you're about to give birth to.

You have no idea how vulnerable you're capable of feeling. How uncertain. How hard you're going to try to make everything perfect for him or her—and how deathly afraid you'll be of failing.

You can't imagine how tired you're about to be. How much you're about to cry. How hard you're about to laugh. How overwhelmingly beautiful (and horrifying) life is about to become.

You have no idea how much your life is about to change. And that's a good thing.

Enjoy these last moments of waiting. Of anticipating. Of sanity. Your life's about to change, baby, and there's no going back.