Considering how much of our youth and adulthood we spend actively trying not  to get pregnant, it’s unsurprising that when the time comes to finally fill our ovens with buns, things don’t always go as planned.  Here is a timeline of common fears involving the fine art of reproduction:

You will get pregnant in high school.

You will get pregnant in high school and not know which of the two boys who work at The Bagel Patch is the father

You will get pregnant in your early 20’s and not know which of the two bartenders at The Leopard Room is the father.

You will never want to get pregnant, until your best friend gets pregnant and makes it look fun.

You will get pregnant and find it is not fun.

You will not want to get pregnant until after you travel to Greenland.

You will never travel to Greenland.

You will not be able to use mind control to manipulate when you get pregnant.

You will be scrutinized and questioned by “loved ones” as to why you are not pregnant yet.

You will be mistaken for pregnant after eating a large stack of pancakes at IHOP.

You will not realize you are pregnant until after Tequila Tuesday.

You will accidentally poop the baby out.

You will have morning sickness that lasts for nine months.

You will gain weight, but people will simply think you’re fat.

You will gain so much weight that your doctor will offer you clipped recipes from “Diet Weekly.”

Your innie will become an outie.

You will give birth before you get a chance to go away on a romantic child-free retreat with your husband.

You will give birth during a romantic child-free retreat, in a log cabin in Pennsylvania, with nothing but a retired midwife and a boiling kettle of water.

You will not be able to recognize the signs of labor, and will tell your husband you have indigestion.

Your water will break and you will merely think you are incontinent.

Your water will break while you are wearing your new cashmere sweater dress.

You will go into labor while on the subway…and still not be able to get a seat.

You will go into labor while teaching, and a 7^th grader will have to run and get the school nurse.

You will give birth on St. Patrick’s Day, and there will be no empty hospital beds.

You will go into labor and the hospital will be fresh out of epidurals, and they will offer you ice shavings instead.

You will be in so much pain, you will promise your nurses monetary awards if they fill your spinal column with the sweet nectar of anesthesia.

Your labor will last longer than all of Peter Jackson’s movies put together.

You will give birth, and the doctor will inform you that there is an extra “surprise” baby in there.

Your baby will look like Benjamin Button.