EBOOK
About
Rebecca Eckler is a popular newspaper columnist who lives the fabulous life and gets paid to write about it. So when a tipsy romp with her fiancé on the night of their lavish engagement party leaves her unexpectedly expecting, she is utterly at a loss. How will a woman who loves nothing more than a night out on the town sipping cocktails with her fellow party girls survive the pregnant life?
Knocked Up is the witty, engaging and refreshingly frank chronicle of a modern woman's journey into motherhood. We follow Eckler from the first trimester (a.k.a. the longest three months of her life), through the "fat months" of the second trimester, on to the "even fatter months" of the third. Flipping the pages of this Bridget-Jones-style diary, we share in Eckler' s discovery of prenatal vitamins and nursing bras, ultrasounds and obstetricians. And we experience her growing horror at the physical symptoms of pregnancy: all-day "morning" sickness, fatigue, varicose veins, and cravings. And the weight gain, oh the weight gain. Who knew the day would come when she could no longer put on her own socks?
Along for the ride is a cast of characters as comical as any met in fiction. There's the Sexy Young Intern, a Sophia Loren look-a-like with her skinny eyes set on Eckler's job; the glamorous friends who continue to drink Manhattans, while Eckler sips Perrier; and the Cute Single Man who knows just when she needs a carton of ice cream or a game of Scrabble. And then there's the fiancé, living in another city, who, thanks to the miracle of long-distance phone lines, appreciates better than anybody the highs and lows of the hormonal rollercoaster pregnant Eckler is on.
Lighthearted, intimate, and very funny, Knocked Up is the diary of a modern mother-to-be determined not to let pregnancy and motherhood change her life. Not. One. Little. Bit. Rebecca Eckler is one of Canada's most well-known journalists. She has been a columnist with the National Post, Canada's national newspaper, for five years, including a stint as a New York-based columnist and feature writer. Her work has also appeared in such publications as Elle, Fashion, Lifestyles, Canadian House and Home and Mademoiselle. She was the host of the television show Modern Manners, and has appeared on CTV and CBC television, and on Global television as a reporter, along with numerous stints on radio shows across Canada and the United States. The First Trimester
(a.k.a. The Longest Three Months of My Life)
Sunday, January 26
6:45 a.m.
OH SHIT!
Did I . . . did we . . . did he . . . in me?
6:46 a.m.
I'm awake, right? I'm conscious, right? I don't feel like myself. Something has changed.
6:47 a.m.
OH MY GOD! The elastic waistband of these boxer shorts can't already be tighter. This cannot be happening. To me. Of all people. Oh God . . . I just felt something moving.
6:59 a.m.
Oh God, I HAVE THE FEAR!
I can't believe that I . . . that we . . . that he . . . in me.
We did, right?
SHIT!
7:00 a.m.
It's way too early to be so awake on a Sunday. I'm going to sneak out of bed and quietly go to the kitchen and reheat what's left of yesterday's midafternoon Starbucks non-fat vanilla latte in the microwave. I need caffeine. There's no way I can fall back to sleep now. I need to make the Fear Phone Call right away. I desperately need to talk to Lena. But the fiancé is still sleeping, or pretending to still be asleep. How can he possibly be sleeping at a time like this? Man, it must be nice to be a man. Men can sleep through anything. It's freaking annoying. I can't let the fiancé know that I'm f-r-e-a-k-i-n-g out. The fiancé can't — under any circumstances — overhear the Fear Conversation I need to have with Lena, as soon as possible. I mean immediately.
Knocked Up is the witty, engaging and refreshingly frank chronicle of a modern woman's journey into motherhood. We follow Eckler from the first trimester (a.k.a. the longest three months of her life), through the "fat months" of the second trimester, on to the "even fatter months" of the third. Flipping the pages of this Bridget-Jones-style diary, we share in Eckler' s discovery of prenatal vitamins and nursing bras, ultrasounds and obstetricians. And we experience her growing horror at the physical symptoms of pregnancy: all-day "morning" sickness, fatigue, varicose veins, and cravings. And the weight gain, oh the weight gain. Who knew the day would come when she could no longer put on her own socks?
Along for the ride is a cast of characters as comical as any met in fiction. There's the Sexy Young Intern, a Sophia Loren look-a-like with her skinny eyes set on Eckler's job; the glamorous friends who continue to drink Manhattans, while Eckler sips Perrier; and the Cute Single Man who knows just when she needs a carton of ice cream or a game of Scrabble. And then there's the fiancé, living in another city, who, thanks to the miracle of long-distance phone lines, appreciates better than anybody the highs and lows of the hormonal rollercoaster pregnant Eckler is on.
Lighthearted, intimate, and very funny, Knocked Up is the diary of a modern mother-to-be determined not to let pregnancy and motherhood change her life. Not. One. Little. Bit. Rebecca Eckler is one of Canada's most well-known journalists. She has been a columnist with the National Post, Canada's national newspaper, for five years, including a stint as a New York-based columnist and feature writer. Her work has also appeared in such publications as Elle, Fashion, Lifestyles, Canadian House and Home and Mademoiselle. She was the host of the television show Modern Manners, and has appeared on CTV and CBC television, and on Global television as a reporter, along with numerous stints on radio shows across Canada and the United States. The First Trimester
(a.k.a. The Longest Three Months of My Life)
Sunday, January 26
6:45 a.m.
OH SHIT!
Did I . . . did we . . . did he . . . in me?
6:46 a.m.
I'm awake, right? I'm conscious, right? I don't feel like myself. Something has changed.
6:47 a.m.
OH MY GOD! The elastic waistband of these boxer shorts can't already be tighter. This cannot be happening. To me. Of all people. Oh God . . . I just felt something moving.
6:59 a.m.
Oh God, I HAVE THE FEAR!
I can't believe that I . . . that we . . . that he . . . in me.
We did, right?
SHIT!
7:00 a.m.
It's way too early to be so awake on a Sunday. I'm going to sneak out of bed and quietly go to the kitchen and reheat what's left of yesterday's midafternoon Starbucks non-fat vanilla latte in the microwave. I need caffeine. There's no way I can fall back to sleep now. I need to make the Fear Phone Call right away. I desperately need to talk to Lena. But the fiancé is still sleeping, or pretending to still be asleep. How can he possibly be sleeping at a time like this? Man, it must be nice to be a man. Men can sleep through anything. It's freaking annoying. I can't let the fiancé know that I'm f-r-e-a-k-i-n-g out. The fiancé can't — under any circumstances — overhear the Fear Conversation I need to have with Lena, as soon as possible. I mean immediately.