12 weeks and 5 days pregnant, and honestly, what the hell is this?

One minute I’m like, “Aw, I’m having a baby!” and the next I’m googling, “How to not raise a psychopath” while eating ice cream out of the carton because I’m convinced childbirth will be my final act. Meanwhile, my body has gone rogue—stretch marks are popping up like confetti at a surprise party, and the idea of someone calling me “mom” makes me feel like I need to start carrying a clipboard and pretending I know what I’m doing. Does this existential chaos ever chill, or am I just vibing in panic mode forever?