Birth is freaking hard. I should know because I’ve recently-ish endured it for the second time. My son is now six months old BUT it is still fresh in my mind/I’m still recovering from the mild PTSD that comes with having a human exit your body. I gave birth for the first time to my daughter almost three years ago, and I think I was too distracted by the fact that I didn’t have a SINGLE EFFING clue what I was doing to even think about what it took for her to come into the world.

<p>Birth is freaking hard. I should know because I&rsquo;ve recently-ish endured it for the second time. My son is now six months old BUT it is still fresh in my mind/I&rsquo;m still recovering from the mild PTSD that comes with having a human exit your body. I gave birth for the first time to my daughter almost three years ago, and I think I was too distracted by the fact that I didn&rsquo;t have a SINGLE EFFING clue what I was doing to even think about what it took for her to come into the world.</p>

Mikki (or Mikaela to her Grandparents and maybe three other people) is a wildly famous writer. She travels the world with nothing but her 4b pencil (she's a commitment-phobe) and a pair of Havaianas. She writes inspiring poetry on the walls of famous streets, spreading her message of why you should never mix peppermint with genitals. 

She's also lying to you.

In reality she spends her time telling her one year old to "Stop being an asshole just because you have nice eyebrows". Sometimes Mikki talks about her feelings. Mostly she just swears and gives unsolicited advice. Either way nobody asked her anything and yet here she is with her own podcast.

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