Yes Chelsea, Part 13 (Patreon)

*Olivia Richter, age 35

“…No Chelsea, the doctors aren’t wrong. It’s just one baby.”

I never thought I would be a grandma at 35, but through some impressive cosmic fuck you, both my attempts to avoid being a candidate for 16 And Pregnant and to raise my daughter to ALSO not get knocked up as a teenager have failed. Even so, its really not all that bad. Chelsea is having a hard time with Phoenix leaving, but honestly if that’s the kind of guy he turned out to be, then she’s better off without him. It does worry me however that she spends all her time complaining about him and the baby as the cause of all her problems. Yes, he was terrible and yeah, being pregnant isn’t exactly a dream, but that doesn’t mean that she’s completely blameless regarding her situation either. It takes two to tango and those two were fucking right under mine and Greg’s noses for months. At first I was bothered that it was happening, but then I realized that Chelsea is a grown woman and could make her own choices, especially given how much warning she had.
Now her days are spent preparing for motherhood while mine are spent enjoying the spoils of all my hard work. I am amazed at how sexy I feel in my own skin since I’ve slimmed down and frankly, I can’t even bitch about Chelsea slutting it up at 19 while I’m ere in my rejuvenated-35-year-old ho phase. I’m dressing up and sauntering around the house in sexy little outfits just for fun and it feels amazing to know that my man is drooling over me while my fat, pregnant daughter sits on the couch, stuffing her face with humble pie after years of commenting on my weight. Greg and I even got up to some trouble in the nursery while Chelsea was out at her doctor’s appointment. I had just put the crib together and all of the sudden, he was just growling and digging his hands into my shorts. Needless to say, I was glad my daughter was gone.


I can tell that she’s hella jealous too. Dhe’s always talking about how she’s going to just jump back on the wagon and start exercising again once Callie is born, but I’m just like….don’t get your hopes up. After I gave birth to her I was practically immobile for like two weeks straight, and even after that, I was too busy being a mom to worry about my weight. Plus, I have become pretty aware that that girl is kinda lazy as shit. When it was me, I had to bust my ass working just to stay afloat, but since Chelsea has it easy moneywise, she’s literally glued to the couch with a stack of bonbons in front of her all hours of the day. She’s gotten to the point where she is absolutely *convinced* that she is having twins no matter how many times she’s told that it’s not another baby, she’s just fat. Oh welllll….She’ll learn.

*Chelsea Richter, Age 20

“Alright Miss Richter, let’s get this baby born!”

It’s been 4 hours since I went into labor and I absolutely hate everything about everything. The nurses are stupid and rude, my mom is puttering around and annoying the shit out of me every 5 seconds, and my hospital bed feels like it’s made of bricks. Even worse, I am being told by absolutely everyone that despite my obviously GIGANTIC stomach, and I mean waaaaaay bigger than one baby sized, I am only pregnant with a single kid. I’ve been feeling for a while now like I’m carrying twins due to like…all the sensations and extra kicks and movement and stuff. My mom just says I’m fat, but I KNOW my own body. Call it a mother’s intuition. I just know they’re wrong.


So now I’m laying in bed and waiting for the babies to get here while mom and Greg play on their phones. I keep reading that labor takes like 12 hours for some women, but I am really trying to get through it faster of I can. Most women would be too wrapped up in the pain or fear or all their friends and family talking to them to really focus on controlling their bodies and just getting the baby out, but not me. Unlike most women, I pride myself on my awareness and self control, especially in crisis situations like this. Even more importantly, I need to be on top of my shit and make sure to be ready for the second baby since no one else even seems to think it’s there.
I’ve been taking a lot of time to really think about my life lately and how I just seem to get walked on by everyone. My ex ran out on me, my kinda stepdad is just sort of off to the side not really trying to do anything to help my situation, and my mom is constantly rubbing her fitness in my face. I get that she is super proud of all the weight she’s lost, but it’s a little fucked up to be doing that in front of your doubly-pregnant daughter. I swear that the second I am lout of this bed, I am going to become Wonder Mom and just back onto the elliptical when the baby is asleep. I am going to make sure to keep in touch with my friends and still go out even when I’m a mother of two kids.


I am still going to be responsible and all that. I just….don’t want to lose track of who I am, you know?