Dear Supermoon,

You suck.

There was all this talk of your greatness leading up to your big reveal, but I for one was left unimpressed. Nah, disappointed would be more like it. You see I was hoping for your presence to spur on labor and get this baby out-of-my-belly. Many people have shared stories of the wonders of a full moon and how it can break women’s bag of waters, put them in labor, and help them welcome a sweet new baby. All of this made me excited, even expectant, but where were you my friend?

Apparently you were too busy peering in my window from afar and taunting me with visions of things that could have been. No, instead of putting me into labor you helped countless other women pop out kids leaving me bloated and wanting. Cruel, real, cruel. Do you know the story of Moses warning the Egyptians to use a lamb’s blood to mark their doors so the angel of death would passover their home and spare their firstborns? Yes well, I had no sacrificial blood along my door. I waited patiently for you to greet me with tidings of joy and labor pains.

How did you miss that?

Why did you torture me so?

When I awoke the next morning with swollen feet, the urge to pee, the inability to roll out of bed, and my only mode of transportation as waddling, I was quite disappointed. It was like waking up on Christmas morning and realizing Santa Claus isn’t real. Yes your “death” has shaken me to the core, you imposture. Not only did you crush my dreams but those of many of my hopeful friends too. They waited with baited breath and fingers crossed hoping to rejoice in the news of my contractional pain and of pictures of my new child. But alas, that was not so.

So forgive me if I am a little upset with you. In fact, I shake my fist at you. Don’t play like you can’t see… I know you can. For you have lost all my respect. Frankly I don’t know how you live with yourself.

Now I am left to twiddle my thumbs and wonder when I could go into sweet, sweet labor. And when that does actually happen, it will be no thanks to you. I’ll do it all on my own. So who is really super now?

Yeah, that’s what I thought.

 

Yours truly,

Pregnant Super Brittany