I’ve always been the type A personality to have my life completely and utterly planned out, down to what nursing home I would probably enjoy when I got old–yes, that bad. When it came to my career and life millstones, there’s no way I would be different. I knew exactly who I wanted to write for, work for, write about, when I wanted to get married, start a family, etc.. and I was well on my way with the perfect plan in tow–until I found out that I was pregnant.

I’m 24, and depending on who you are, that could be too young, a little older or just right to have the little one in motion. And for me, as much as a control freak I am, it’s just perfect.

To repeat, I’ve literally always said I didn’t want to start my family until I felt like firmly planted on what I called “unselfish ground.” This meaning I would be done with traveling to every place I’ve wanted to, done everything possible that’s irresponsible, and just to overall get that “me, me, me” sensation out of my system. What anyone doesn’t tell you is that selfish feeling dissipates once you recognize that you’re being honored with another life.

That ambition, that obsession with being the best me that I ever can be, has only quadrupled throughout my entire pregnancy. I’m 7 months along, and besides feeling her little kicks and her hearing me talk all day; what has been on my mind is how I’m gonna show her that having a blessing unexpectedly early doesn’t mean that your goals and path gets thrown off course completely. It’s corny but I wanna show her anything is possible.

So to sum it up, this is the first entry in my series of being physically pregnant with my first baby, but also emotionally cradling my ambition and goals as well. I want to share my journey as a go-getting writer and stop-the-world mother with the world. So, welcome!


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