Member-only story
“You’re Not That Pregnant”
That is correct — I am a dumbass
“She’s really getting on my nerves,” I text Harper’s future godfather.
“What she doing?”
“Complaining. Not doing shit. Idk. Just an attitude.”
“Bruh. Be patient. You gotta realize she’s carrying a kid.”
*Sends a “Fuck Them Kids” picture I recently saved to my phone for moments like this*
“lol…”
The first few months of her pregnancy in 2014 were hard for both of us. She was dealing with being a first-time incubation chamber, and I was dealing with her reaction to being a first-time incubation chamber. I wanted to understand her plight. I tried so hard. I read the articles. I purchased the books. I downloaded the podcasts. I signed up to be the best support system this first-time pregnant future mother could have. I was going to be Pippen to her Jordan. Kobe to her Shaq. Whoever gets lucky enough to play with LeBron to her LeBron.
Our potential 9-month championship season got off to a good start. We were running pick and roll nonstop and getting to the shooters on defense. Nothing could stop us. Our two-man game was perfect. Fuck these books, podcasts, news articles, or advice from Harper’s future godfather. He didn’t have any kids. What did he know? We didn’t need a…
