Pregnancy perfection and the woman I'll never be.

I'm sure I'm joining a huge club of expectant mothers who have an unhealthy obsession to TLC's A Baby Story.

It's really the only show on that, A) airs essentially 24/7 and, B) doesn't make it seem that pregnancy equates to an automatic death wish.

So, I'm terrified, I need answers, and accordingly I spend at least an hour every day watching TiVo-ed episodes.

And I've now come to the conclusion that this--this sole show that actually details the, you know, pushing a baby out of your vagina part, is part of what has been making me feel inadequate.

The women are all, well, old. They're all married. They all have a plan. They all scream for ten (albeit, edited) minutes and then talk about how it's the best thing that's ever happened to them.

We have two choices within the pop culture zeitgeist to watch a pregnancy unfold. And it's either this, or 16 and Pregnant, which is the complete opposite and makes me feel completely adequate and prepared (only because I have a college degree and doubt my life after pregnancy will entail any screaming at my mom for not letting me extend my curfew).

Where's the middle ground? Where's the voice for those of us in between? Those of who don't have 80's mullets and a white picket fence or a total lack of a life plan? Those of us in throes of the prospect of raising a child, all while navigating through what society says we're supposed to do in our early 20s?

I think I will be a good mom. I know my fiance will be a great dad. I think I'll figure out what I want to do with my life, and I don't know if it will look anything like what I thought it would when I was in college and my main concern was how to ace this test while simultaneously battling a monstrous hangover.

I suppose that's why so many mothers have turned to blogging, and within those women I have found a voice and a message I wouldn't be able to find anywhere else. But of my two favorite mommy bloggers, Rebecca at GirlsGoneChild.net and Heather at Dooce.com, both still have something I don't. A little bit of time. A little bit of an established career. A wedding ring. A plan. And, still, without them, even only at 8-weeks-pregnant, I think my hormones would've already gotten the best of me.

I don't think I'll ever be completely comfortable in my 23-year-old skin as a mother.

But unlike my virtual friends on A Baby Story, at least I don't have a perm. Or a mullet. Or a camera in my face whilst crowning.