“The literary equivalent of a summer night, a good friend and a gin-and-tonic: Shannon is a deft writer; a natural storyteller with a wicked turn of phrase and frighteningly specific memory...”

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The Ape Baby (Gestation: 33 Weeks, 5 Days)

In the last ultrasound our baby’s profile looked like a small ape baby face AND our house has been destroyed. Both things I blame on Henry; he has opposable thumbs and he had the house retrofitted. Henry’d noticed the floors

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Why The Dental Suicide Rate is so High (Gestation: 32 Weeks, 2 Days)

I’m in the stage of pregnancy where I resemble a post-op frontal lobotomite. I spelled “of” “uv” the other day. I knew it looked wrong, but couldn’t figure out why.   I tried to introduce my mother to our pizza

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Firing the Babysitter (Gestation: 31 weeks, 3 days, batshit)

Henry’s mad at me for being mad at him regarding what time he comes home from work, which is the admittedly reasonable hour of six-thirty, but is too late to have a family dinner which is the foundation for successfully

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How Dare My Babysitter Have a Life! (Gestation: 31 weeks, 4 days)

My world is spinning off its axis. My babysitter is leaving me.(Did I mention I’m a work-at-home-writer mom, which means I can wear pajamas all day?). Does my babysitter really think moving to Arizona to get her Master’s Degree in

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Let’s Talk About Sex, Baby (Gestation: 31 weeks)

As I swallowed a third Tums to quell the pillaging heartburn that comes of eating chicken milanesa when you’re nearly eight months pregnant, I dreamt of not being a mommy for one whole week. I want just one measly week

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Monster Baby (Gestation: 30 Weeks, 4 Days)

I’m worried I won’t love the new baby as much as I love my firstborn, Clare. I had a dream last night, set to the The Doors’This is the End, that I was strapped on top of an operating table

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Santa Barbara Nightmare!! (Gestation: 29 Weeks, 5 Days)

Time:  Noon Place:  Santa Barbara Biltmore Activity:  Solo weekend away Mental Condition:  Foot loose and fancy free I’m sitting in the outdoor lounge of the Spanish hacienda-style Biltmore where I got married forty pregnant pounds ago, looking out at the shining, becalmed

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Bully For Me (Gestation: 29 Weeks)

There’s a red-headed twenty-seven month-old Love Bully named Scarlet in Clare’s Toddler-and-Me class. Just our luck, she has it in for Clare. My daughter and I try to enter the classroom discreetly, keeping to the edges of the room, dressing

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Of God and Phlegm (Gestation: 28 Weeks)

I’m lying in bed useless to the child I have, trying to get over a horrible cold so I won’t have to take any more over-the-counter drugs that might give the child-growing-in-my-belly three breasts (like Anne Boleyn – and just

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Pregnant and Proud (Gestation: 27 Weeks, 4 Days)

In film school I made an eight millimeter film on female body image for my non-narrative film class. I decided it was important to demonstrate that women of all sizes were beautiful. So I begged my actress friend Beatrice, a

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All About My Mother (Gestation: 27 Weeks)

Here’s my sob story accompanied by violin in A minor: My parents divorced when I was two. Both remarried. My dad once and forever. My mom (She Who Shall Be Named Culpable) three more times. There was The Cop, The Fireman

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Persistent Auld Lang Syne (Gestation: 24 Weeks, 5 Days)

New Year’s Resolutions: 1. To stop hating myself, loving myself, hating myself, loving myself. 2. To stop being jealous of Gwyneth Paltrow that skinny, Glee-singing, Oscar-winning, blog-writing, Castilian-speaking, perfect child-breeding, rockstar-marrying, over-achieving Bee-diddly-atch. 3. To accept my cellulite. To fight

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Flu Pandemic Panic (Gestation: 24 Weeks, 1 Day)

It’s the Night of the Living Dead up in here.  Henry and I went to bed at eight-thirty – it’s now midnight. I’ve been up to pee five times and to eat a tangerine and now to post. Henry’s been

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Pregnancy Christmas List (Gestation: 23 Weeks)

All I want for Christmas is: 1. To keep the pregnancy boobs. 2. Nipple tassels for the pregnancy boobs that I can helicopter at will. 3. Fishnet support hose. 4. A non-pooping pet. One that comes standard with an intra-defecatory

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A Very Pregnant Christmas (Gestation: 22 Weeks, 4 Days)

Ahh, the Christmas season is upon us yet again. Stress on earth, general resentment toward men.   I’m related to Ebenezer Scrooge. Paternal fifth-cousin once removed. Last Year’s Resentment Litany: 1. Having to find the perfect gift for twenty plus

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Alcohol Cravings (Gestation: 21 Weeks, 4 Days)

We enter a Mexican restaurant for our first dinner out together since the twelfth of never. It smells of tomatillos and pinto beans con queso, deep-fried corn tortilla chips and freshly blended Jose Cuervo 1600 margaritas with salted rims. The

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Sibling Rivalry: What do you mean there’s a new baby coming? (Gestation: 21 weeks)

Whaddaya mean you’re giving me a sibling? Today I lifted my shirt to show 18-month old Clare my belly. “There’s a baby sister in here for you,” I said. She finger-tipped a wooden “F” block and hurled it at my

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10 Reasons You’re a Bitch to Your Husband During Pregnancy (Gestation: 20 Weeks 5 Days)

1.  You’re a bitch to your husband during pregnancy because he flattens himself against the wall like a minnow avoiding a migrating sperm whale when you pass. 2.  He thinks natural childbirth sounds “interesting.” 3.  He brings you a “slice”

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Panicking During My Amniocentesis (Gestation: 19 Weeks, 6 Days)

I panicked during my amniocentesis today, which reminded me of a fat, gray seal I startled once while scuba diving.   We came upon each other suddenly. He was eating a crayfish and I was peeing in my wet suit

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Gobble Gobble Thanksgiving (Gestation: 18 Weeks, 6 Days)

My Thanksgiving Top Ten 1. I’m thankful for the “three folds of the labia.” We’re having a girl! 2. I’m grateful my husband took a blood oath that he won’t marry a younger woman to bear him a son, hence

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Skinny Postpartum Models (Gestation: 17 Weeks, 6 Days)

I was having a peaceful moment en toilette — belly bumping up against ballooning breasts, thumbing through a catalogue geared sadistically toward mothers — when I turned the page from the baby super-pajamas (that can feed, burp, diaper, swaddle and

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These Shoes Weren’t Made For Walkin’ (Gestation: 17 Weeks)

Brand-new black pumps. When I put them on, I’m not a four-months-pregnant-mommy-of-a-toddler-with-a-stockpile-of-Preparation-H-and-Colase.   No. I’m La Femme Nikita … If her cigarette skirt had an elastic panel over the belly.   And if she had water retention.   And didn’t have

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Lonely Mommy (Gestation: 15 Weeks, Six Days)

  I’ve been cruising for mommy friends like a red-assed baboon during mating season. I have a neighbor with a son Clare’s age. Today I pushed my stroller in front of her house six times, stopping to tie my shoelaces,

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I Want To Barf! (Gestation: 15 Weeks)

What no one tells pregnant women is that the only way to abate the continual nausea that drones in your body, akin to the ominous low hum that continually drones in Taos, New Mexico, is to eat.  To eat a lot. 

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Achy Breaky Breastfeeding Boobs (Gestation: 14 Weeks, Two Days)

Today at the Pump Station in Santa Monica, the epicenter of breastfeeding worship, Sage, the counter matron, (okay, maybe her name wasn’t that New Agey – it might’ve been Peg), asked pointedly over my brand new Pump-In-Style breast pump just

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