It was a sunny May morning in LA. My boyfriend knelt before me and spoke to my swollen belly, telling our unborn baby, “be strong, for her.” Then he gazed up at my eyes and said with a kiss, “I love you. I’ll call you later.” He then left to catch a first class flight to direct a movie starring Angelina Jolie. Basically, I never heard from him again. Angelina ruins everyone's life! (Not that she really had anything to do with it, but not having any other explanation, she seems like a fine person to blame!)

I had spent most of my life modeling and acting and partying like a rock starlet. Although I wasn't on the cover of many magazines, I had enough under my belt to make for a healthy ego. You have to be a bit self-centered to make it in the biz. I was good at it and I had skin thick enough to enjoy the ride. But I wasn’t prepared for the massive blows my image was about to endure.Waiting for the phone to ring, I would stare out the window at a big eucalyptus tree, watching for the leaves to sway with the wind. That was my way of convincing myself that time was indeed moving. I cried. My ex never called. Every time I thought about him, which was constantly, considering his genes were growing inside my body, I puked.

Under normal circumstances I would have downed a few margaritas or found a new boyfriend, or at least been able to take an aspirin! But this time, I would have to learn to be patient. A miracle was blooming inside my belly. It was a time to reflect on my future, as it had been altered forever! It was time to take baby-care classes alone, apply stretch mark prevention cream, and to plot revenge!

I was not a pretty pregnant girl. I was a whale, with barnacles. Well, acne. Bad acne. By the seventh month, I had no ankles. I fantasized that by Halloween I would go to the annual party at the Playboy Mansion dressed up as Wonder Woman. At eight months along, I was terrified by the realization that I would soon experience childbirth. Still, I saw labor as a means to an end: I'd be able to squeeze back into my jeans, then get my life back, (and in time for Halloween)!

Soon, I had a beautiful baby boy! And, seventy-four pounds to lose. After six months of weight training, spinning classes, hikes and Zone meals, I did it. It was super hero time! I arrived at the Playboy Mansion in my Wonder Woman costume (complete with a golden lasso). However, as triumphant I thought the moment would feel, I was surprised to find there was an aching in my heart. I missed my baby. As I looked around at all the platinum blondes and spray-tanned tooshies, I realized that I had nothing to prove to them, myself or anyone else. Everyone there was searching for what I already had, unconditional love.

When I opened my front door that night, I discovered that my house had become home.

Carrie Stevens

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