Saturday, December 31, 2005
Now? Not so much… but I am wondering just how many drinks I can have while breastfeeding before my child becomes totally wasted. Ahem.
But first, for your daily dose of cuteness:
It’s certainly been the hardest year of my life, and the happiest. So here we go:
Best moment of 05: Duh. The day I gave birth. I mean, it wasn’t necessarily the best day I’ve ever had, considering I spent most of the day in a great deal of pain. But the outcome was well worth it.
Best bit of news of 05: I had a lot of good news. But I’d say the day I got my job was pretty good news. Because I was able to put my 2 weeks in at Target, and that made me incredibly happy. Ha, you thought I was going to say the day I found out I was pregnant, huh? No. That one is coming up though.
Best show of 05: Hands down, Mellencamp. You thought I was going to say Ozzfest, didn’t you? Nope. Mellencamp rocked my pregnant socks off.
Scariest day of 05: Ok. The day I found out I was pregnant. Seriously, you would have thought I was a 16 year old girl instead of a married 28 year old. I don’t think I’ve ever been more freaked out in my life. But hey, it all worked out for the best.
Favorite song of 05: Gold Digger. You know, that Kanye West song that is super overplayed… yeah, I love that song. I can’t wait until I can go out to a bar and "get down girl, go ‘head, get down" to that one.
Best excuse to get out of having sex in 05: "I just had a baby! My vagina hurts!" Also, the old "I just had a baby" bit is a good excuse to get out of doing dishes, the laundry, making the bed, running the sweeper, and various other household activities. Having a baby has made my husband quite the domestic diva.
Best thing I heard out of Ryan’s mouth in 05: (talking to Lyric) "Oh, little girl, you are so beautiful. You look just like your mommy."
Best food of 05: Ice cream. Any kind. Ice cream was the official sponsor of my pregnancy. I have a feeling my little girl will have quite the taste for it for the whole rest of her life. With any luck, she’ll have her dad’s metabolism, instead her mom’s proclivity for big ass-edness (Yes, I just invented a new word there).
Most successful day of 05 other than the day I gave birth: The day I finished my thesis and became a Master of Communication Education and Mass Media Technology. Whatever that means.
The thing I’ll miss most about 05: Feeling my baby kick my innards around. Every once in a while I swear I feel a phantom kick. Maybe it’s just gas?
Best movie of 05: HP and the Goblet of Fire. It knocked my socks off. Seriously the BEST HP movie yet. I saw it the day it was released, because I was 3 days overdue with Lyric and I thought it might be my only chance to go. It was well worth sitting uncomfortably for almost 3 hours. Especially after how miserable PoA was.
Biggest Mundane Perk of 05: Those "new and expectant mothers" parking spots. How wonderful for lazy moms like myself.
Worst band of 05: Him. Their slogan should be "turning otherwise normal girls into little goth princesses." Ryan’s little cousin is a fan. 2 months ago she was wearing baseball caps and oversized sweatshirts. Now she’s all decked out in black nail polish, black eyeliner, and shirts with skulls on them. It’s cute, but she’s freaking 11. I had my phases, but I was 19 when I was getting tattoos, piercing my tongue and wearing dog collars. Kids move so fast these days. Before you know it, Lyric will be piercing her nose and teething.
Best decision of 05: Quitting smoking. I had my last cigarette on March 16th. Now cigarette smoke gives me a headache, and smelling it on people makes me ill. I’m going to have a hard time if I ever go out to a bar.
Most exciting prospects of 06: Riding a roller coaster, riding a horse, painting my own toenails, tying my shoes, and wrestling with my husband. And buying a house. I’m also looking forward to returning to work so I can catch up on everyone’s blogs. I miss that. But mostly watching my kid grow. That will be good.
Happy New Year!
Thursday, December 29, 2005
We’re sitting there quietly, she’s covered up with a blanket just eating away. Ryan’s adoptive second cousin, this very strange little 9 year old, walks into the room. This little girl freaks me out. She has big crazy eyes and asks strange questions. (See, even though I’m a mom, I still don’t like other people’s kids.)
"Is she sleeping again?"
"No, she’s eating"
She gives me a strange look, then looks down at the lumpy blanket covering my chest and lap.
"How is she eating under there?"
I decide to ignore her, but she keeps pressing.
"Is she eating a bottle?"
I shake my head, wondering how I can possibly explain this to a little girl who obviously has no idea that boobs make milk that feed babies.
I start to grimace, but suddenly Ryan’s aunt walks into the room and saves me by shooing her out. I thank my lucky stars for her impeccable timing. Then I think, "I’m so blogging about this."
Sunday, December 25, 2005
Thursday, December 22, 2005
This morning she was screaming again and I was trying to get her to take a nap. I’m afraid that she’ll never be able to get to sleep without someone holding her or me feeding her, so I tried to put her down while she was still awake. She wasn’t having any of it. I thought I’d just let her fuss for a while. The fussing soon turned into full fledged screams, and I started thinking to myself that she probably thought I deserted her, so I ran to her rescue. Her little head was beet red and her eyes her full of tears. It broke my heart.
I’ve learned that I can survive on little sleep. She actually sleeps pretty good when she’s in bed beside me. She knows that her two favorite things (my boobs) are right there. I’ve been trying to get her to stop using my boobs as pacifiers by actually trying to get her to take a pacifier, but so far, no luck there.
I’ve learned that when babies poop, it actually sprays out of their little bums. Not only has she peed on me various times during diaper changes, she’s pooped on me too. Just the other day we were at the mall, and I changed her in the ladies room at JC Penneys, then I took her into the fitting room to feed her. Ten minutes into feeding her I noticed a smear of her lovely mustard yellow poo on my index finger.
I’ve learned that unfortunately, when tensions get high at my house (AKA: when the baby is screaming) that Ryan I and go at each others throats like rabid dogs. All teamwork goes out the window, and it’s frustrating. It mostly happens when we’re tired. Otherwise, he’s wonderful with the baby. He calms her down like nobody’s business. All I’ve got is boobs. He’s actually got magical powers that shuts her up and puts her to sleep.
I’ve learned that yes, it is true that sometimes when you’re sleep deprived and your baby is screaming that you can go temporarily insane and want to drop the baby and run screaming from your house, as fast as you can, to Mexico or some other country, change your name and never think about your former life again. But if you’re a normal person, you look at that tiny red scrunched up angry face and wonder how you could ever leave it behind, even to go to work in the morning.
I’ve learned that with my baby, there is no routine, no schedules, nothing that even resembles any type of normalcy. Maybe that’s the case with everyone’s baby. But I’m afraid I’m breaking her by not setting something for her to go by. I’m afraid that we’ve spent the last four weeks doing all the wrong things, like letting her sleep with us, nursing or rocking her to sleep, staying out later than we should and then forgoing her bath, just to have her crying until 3 in the morning.
I’ve learned patience. Because you cannot possibly survive without it. The thing about babies is that they’re very primal creatures, and they depend on you to meet all their needs. Their only form of communication at first is crying, and you have to learn to speak babyese. Is that the hungry cry or the tired cry? I’m still learning that language.
Mostly, I’ve learned that every day, my love for this little primal creature grows more and more. We wake up side by side in the morning, and she turns her face up to look at mine, and I say, "Good morning, my beautiful girl." And she smiles. And my heart swells with the most beautiful love I’ve ever felt.
Thursday, December 15, 2005
We’re offically house hunting. We’re going through a whole lot of crap with the people that own the place that we live in (they’re assholes) so we’re leaving. That means that probably by the end of February we’ll be homeless. Well, unless we find a house by then that we can move into. If not, we’ll be staying at Ryan’s mom’s house. Which scares me a little, but thankfully, they’re not there for the time being. That’s another long story, but it has to do with Ryan’s mom’s various illnesses. But I’m looking forward to getting our own house that we can do whatever we want with.
I’m hungry. That’s amazing. My appetite is finally somewhat returning. For a couple weeks there I had no urge to eat. Which was really strange, considering that I could have eaten the ass end of a dead rhino the entire time I was pregnant. But it feels good not to be so dependent on food all the time.
In other news, Ryan made a trip to the hospital yesterday. He has acid reflux and sometimes it closes his esophagus off, depending on what he eats. He ate one piece of steak and that was it. We’re seriously considering becoming vegetarians, because it only happens when he eats meat. I’m not sure if I can give up chicken though.
The beast is waking… excuse me.
(Yeah, this beast. We were talking politics when I snapped this picture. She’s telling me her thoughts on the Iraqi elections here.)
Tuesday, December 13, 2005
Everyone keeps telling me to relax, to rest when the baby rests, to not worry about the state of my home and the long list of things that I need to do. But that’s not me. I’ve never been a relaxer. And I’m lucky if I can sleep at night when the baby is sleeping. Every little peep she makes wakes me up.
The state of my body is a different story. I’ve lost a good 45 pounds of pregnancy weight. That’s right, I said FORTY FIVE POUNDS. And you know what? I still have a lot to go. Too bad I didn’t crave low fat frozen yogurt instead of all that ice cream. But my body is in sad shape. I somewhat resemble a deflated balloon, at least in my stomach area. My boobs though, they resemble over inflated balloons. They’re really quite scary, and they hurt with the rest of me.
My feet are practically back to normal. Some of my shoes are still a bit tight, but with any luck I’ll fit back into them. My hands aren’t quite there yet. My wedding ring still doesn’t fit. But it’s amazing to look at my feet, hands, and wrists. They’re so skinny looking it’s like they belong to a stranger.
The other day I had my first outing without Lyric. My mom took me to the mall to do some Christmas shopping. It was miserable. Not because I was away from the baby or worrying that Ryan was going to go beserk because she wouldn’t stop crying or wouldn’t eat from the bottle (which are two things she excels at), but because my mom kept insisting that I try on clothes. She wanted so bad to buy me something, but nothing fits me. The problem is the inner tube that currently resides around my mid-section. To top it off, I was exhausted, both mentally and physically, because my beautiful daughter kept me up all night. I know I looked at the clock at least twice every hour the night before. So needless to say, I felt like complete crap, and then got depressed on top of that since I couldn’t find anything that fit me. I still have to wear my maternity clothes. The plus side of that is that I’m able to wear all the maternity clothes that I outgrew months ago.
But the guilt. Now I understand why mothers feel so guilty all the time. Leaving Lyric, even with Ryan, made me feel guilty. I feel like she needs to be my responsibility all the time. Ryan is wonderful with her. So what’s my deal? As if I haven’t spend the last 10 months being the sole caretaker of this little girl. It’s someone else’s turn, right? Then why do I still feel guilty? GAH.
But anyway, my mom and I went to lunch at a Chinese place and I got the best fortune. It’s really not a fortune, it’s more like wisdom. It said, "He who cannot endure the bad will not live to see the good."
I think that pretty much sums it up.
Wednesday, December 07, 2005
The past few weeks have been stressful, to say the least. I think that’s probably normal, what with a new baby and all. But Ryan’s mom continues to get sicker and sicker, which puts a lot of stress on him, and when he’s stressed, I’m stressed.
Lyric tends to get fussy around 9 at night. That adds to our tension. Being alone all day frustrates me. Like having to wait until she’s asleep to run to the bathroom. Although I do love staring at her face when it’s not screwed up into the "I’m about to scream bloody murder and there’s nothing you can do about it" look.
I still haven’t had any luck getting her to sleep in the co-sleeper. She prefers to nap in her bouncer. I guess it will take time. Soon enough she won’t be interested in cuddling anymore and I’ll miss it.
Breastfeeding is a challenge. I knew it would be. Being the only one that can feed her is tough. Sometimes I feel like I just need a break from the constant sucking. And I can’t get her to take a pacifier no matter what I do. Our pediatrician said it’s fine to supplement formula, so that’s what I’ve been doing, especially when we go out. I don’t mind pumping. Pumping takes no time at all for me, however, breastfeeding can take up to an hour or more before she’s happy. She’s a lot faster when it comes to having a bottle. I may just start pumping and giving her a bottle more often. At least then she’d still be getting my breastmilk.
Ryan has been great at getting us both to calm down. There are times when she starts crying at night when I feel delirious and start crying too, and he takes over. I can’t imagine being a single mother. I give serious credit to those of you who have done it. Doing this alone would probably drive me to the psych ward.
Speaking of mothers, I have to thank both Celti and Aimee here. Celti sent me a bunch of bottles and a cute ornament, and Aimee sent us a beautiful pink wool baby sweater (did you make that? Because if so, that’s amazing). Thank you so much! Lyric is so spoiled already. Good thing she’s too young to realize it yet.
The best news I’ve gotten all week is that Ryan’s last day of work is today. That means he’ll be home with us tomorrow, and that makes me incredibly happy. It’s not that I mind being here with the baby, it’s just incredibly lonely at times. And we’re supposed to get a snow storm tomorrow night. I love snow storms when I don’t have to go anywhere.
My most motherly moment this week happened yesterday, when I had to suck snot out of my baby’s nose using one of those sucky ball things. It didn’t quite come out the whole way, so I had to pick her nose for her. Awesome.
Thursday, December 01, 2005
Originally uploaded by Elosquirrel.
Anyone who ever said having a baby is easy is either highly medicated or never had a baby. The past week has been the hardest of my life. Ever. Giving birth was nothing compared to the unpredictability of having a newborn living at your house. It’s insane. I don’t know if I’m coming or going half the time.
Yesterday was my first day alone with Lyric. It was challenging. I felt like I couldn’t get anything done because I had a kid hanging off me. Plus, for 2 days she wanted to eat ALL THE TIME. My boobs can only take so much. The good thing about that is that when we went to the doctor yesterday we found out she now weighs a whopping 8 pounds, 1 ounce, which is incredible. Most babies lose weight during their first week of life. Not mine. She’s a champion eater. My boobs have never felt so important.
Sleep is another story. I dread the night. It’s when I get most depressed, because I never know what to expect. 2 nights ago she nursed ALL night. I got probably an hour of sleep total. But last night she slept from 1:30 to 4:30, which is a pretty good stretch. She refuses to sleep in her co-sleeper. She only sleeps in the bed with us. That makes me incredibly nervous. I’ve been trying to put her down for naps in the sleeper but the longest she’s made it is 20 minutes. I’d put her in her crib but for now that just seems so far away.
We’re alone again today and it’s been much easier. Adjusting to this is harder than I thought it would be. It’s a good thing she’s so cute, or I might have second thoughts about this whole motherhood thing.
Tuesday, November 29, 2005
So we made the trip next door to the hospital. I was kind of disappointed to think that I would have to wait until the next day to actually start the induction process. They got me into a birthing suite and monitored my blood pressure and drew blood. This all started around noon on Monday. By 1:30 the midwife that I usually see came in and checked my cervix. I was still stuck at 2 centimeters and about 70 % effaced, so she stripped my membranes. The nurses assured me that I would probably start having contractions later in the evening. But they started right then and there, little teeny cramps that came and went every 3 to 5 minutes. The nurse that was with me continued to monitor me, the baby, and my contractions, and it all stayed pretty consistent, so she went to call my doctor. When she came back she said, "Good news. We’re going to keep you." I was thrilled.
Ryan called my parents and they came up to the hospital around 4:30. The nurse still wanted me on cervadil since my cervix refused to budge even with my little contractions. They put that in around 5:00. Until about 8 or 9 o’clock, my contractions were pretty manageable. Then gradually they started getting more and more uncomfortable. At 11:00 I was begging for something for pain. The night nurse gave me a shot of stadol, which gave me a nice buzzed feeling. Considering I hadn’t felt buzzed in a while. At any rate, that let me rest a little, but unfortunately it wore off pretty quick. Sometime throughout the night I got another shot of it. At around 1:00 my cervix had finally made the move to 3, so they took the cervadil out.
I was so glad my parents were there with me. My mom helped me to the bathroom numerous times. She would push my IV and my dad would get the bathroom door while Ryan tried to sleep a little. My dad sat up in a chair all night and watched TV while I writhed around in pain. Around 6:30 in the morning, Ryan was trying to help me breathe through contractions, which felt like they were right on top of each other, non-stop. I moved my leg just a little and felt a weird popping sensation. My water had broken. What a horrible feeling that was. I knew at that point my contractions were only going to get much worse, and I was right. Around 8 the nurse from the day before came in to check on me and I had finally made it to 4 centimeters, so she asked if I wanted an epidural. I practically begged for it. After what seemed like FOREVER the anesthesiologist came in and started with the epidural. I was nervous about it but I only felt the sting of the novacaine and then a weird sensation in my back as he put the catheter in. Finally we were all set. I waited. Nothing seemed to be easing the pain. I waited some more. Nothing. The nurse continued to monitor my pain level. It was getting worse. She called the anesthesiologist back and he put more stuff in my IV. It didn’t help. She called him back yet again. Finally, after 3 hours of this back and forth bullshit they re-did the epidural. As soon as he started taping my back I felt relief. I was able to smile. I was able to relax. I felt better than I had in hours. It was then that they put some picotin in my IV to help keep my contractions going.
By that time, I was already dilated to 7 or 8, so I didn’t have much time left to wait. My midwife came in what seemed like minutes later and said that I was complete. My nurse told me to start pushing with each contraction and I could labor down for a little while before we got the show on the road. This would help the baby get lower and lower. The more I pushed the more pressure I felt. Thinking about it now, I doubt that I should have felt as much pressure as I did with the epidural. I think that I just got a shitty epidural.
After that the real pushing began with my nurse. I have to say, my nurse was awesome. She stuck with me the whole time and kept encouraging me. I was beyond exhausted at this point. I started pushing at 2:30, so I’d been in the hospital for over 24 hours with very little rest. The nurse told me that I’d been pushing for an hour and I couldn’t believe it. It seemed like 5 minutes yet an eternity. I knew that it would all be over soon, and that’s what kept me going. The nurse said I’d deliver by 4:15 and went to call the midwife.
I don’t know what was more excruciating, the contractions or the pushing. I’m not going to lie, both parts were pure torture. I’m a wimp. I’ve heard women say that giving birth was the most glorious thing they’ve ever done, and how much they loved it and how it didn’t hurt and how it was such a miracle. Well, the miracle part I’ll agree with. The rest is bullshit. Giving birth was the hardest thing I’ve ever done, hands down. Even writing my thesis was easier. I’m proud of myself for accomplishing it, and doing it with class. There were so many times that I could have totally lost it from the pain, but I kept my head the entire time. I used what I learned in Lamaze and breathed through the pain. And Ryan was outstanding. I never, ever could have done it without him. I know that he was worried sick about me. I know that if I were to witness him going through that much pain and not be able to help him with it I would have gone crazy. But he remained composed and kept telling me how good I was doing, feeding me ice chips with every push, rubbing my back and holding my leg. He was a trooper.
So at any rate, my midwife got there at roughly 4. The nurse told me they were going to use the vacuum to get the baby out, because she was almost there, she just kept sliding back a little whenever I’d get done pushing. The vacuum was intense, and really scary. As soon as the midwife got it in there, I felt insane pressure and pulling. My midwife was awesome, She is such a little tiny lady with a soft voice, but when she was delivering my baby she was all business. She yelled, "PUSH! PUSH! YOU CAN DO IT!" which surprised the hell out of me since I didn’t know she had an outside voice. I couldn’t help but push with all my might then. I felt the head come out. It was crazy. It took 2 more good pushes and her shoulders came out. I felt like I was going to pass out when she was finally pulled out of my body. They put her on my stomach and I saw her girl parts and smiled. I knew she was a girl. I just knew it. However, since I have the tendency to doubt myself, I didn’t want to admit it much. I told Ryan that I thought she was a girl, so at least he knew.
I just stared at her. I was so exhausted and I felt dazed. Birth had not gone they way I imagined it would. It was everything but. Every single thing I worried about had happened. I was late, I had to have help dilating, my epidural didn’t work, I pooped while pushing (seriously… I was in labor for 24 hours and they fed me hospital food the night before… Ryan loved that) AND I felt everything. Even the stitches. It felt like I got about a million of them. The vacuum must have ripped me up pretty bad. Lyric didn’t cry right away. They had to pinch her to get her to cry. But she was so bright eyed when she came out. Her scores were perfect. And she was (and IS) absolutely beautiful.
I know it sounds scary, but I wouldn’t trade it for a minute. What I feel for her is amazing. I knew that love like this existed, I’ve just never felt it before. She’s perfect, even though she keeps me up at night and poops right after I change her diaper and falls asleep every time she’s eating. I love watching Ryan with her. Watching him be a daddy to our daughter makes me love him so much more.
I’m always on now. My senses are heightened. I listen to every peep she makes. When she cries it breaks my heart. I wake up at night in a frenzy to make sure she’s okay.
I’m a mom.
Thursday, November 24, 2005
Thursday, November 17, 2005
Fuzzball is doing well, with lots of fluid surrounding him/her. We could have found out the sex at our ultrasound today, but we figured what's the point? We've waited this long, we might as well be suprised when he/she finally decides to come out. I do know that I have a VERY big baby in there. The ultrasound tech said 8 pounds 7 ounces. All I have to say is PLEASE COME OUT SOON OR MY VAGINA WILL NEVER BE THE SAME (that is if it can even come out of there at this point).
All of the people who guessed my due date were wrong, and I think all of the people that guessed the weight were wrong too. Fuzz likes to keep everyone on their toes.
My doctor said that nothing is happening with my cervix, so chances are I'll be induced next week. I'll get to schedule that on Monday. Until then, I'll cry 20 times a day, grind my teeth until my jaw is sore, and try not to scratch. That seems to be my daily routine.
Tuesday, November 15, 2005
I’m very cranky, very emotional, and VERY itchy. In the past few days I’ve developed a weird ass skin condition known as PUPPP, or the less pronounceable Pruritic Uticarial Papules and Plaques of Pregnancy. It’s like a really hivey outbreak. They say that it’s caused by an allergic reaction to the placenta. It usually occurs in late pregnancy and is pretty rare. So leave it to me to get it. It should clear up as soon as I give birth, WHENEVER THAT WILL BE. At any rate, my itchiness is increasing my bitchiness. It’s not nice to have a giant bumpy rash getting worse daily all over my body. Thankfully it’s not dangerous to me or the Fuzz, it’s just really motherfucking uncomfortable. So much so that all I want to do is tear my skin off. Now I can really sympathize with Ryan for dealing with eczema his whole life. Unfortunately, the only thing I can do about it is put on hydrocortisone. And try not to scratch. I wouldn’t wish this on my worst enemy. Seriously.
I’m the most miserable creature on the face of the earth at the moment. How do women forget these days and continue to have multiple children? How is it even possible?
I told Ryan that when our baby is crying non-stop and I'm on the brink of insanity, to look at me and say, "at least you're not itchy!"
Friday, November 11, 2005
I have been having mild contractions. When I say mild, I mean sometimes they aren’t terribly noticeable but sometimes they take my breath away. I still have my cold, which thankfully is just a very stuffy nose at the moment. The sore throat has gone away for the most part, so I’m hoping that it might just be allergies. It’s annoying not being able to breathe, especially when that’s a major part of my pain relief. It’s difficult to breathe through a contraction with a stuffy left nostril.
Ryan has taken the last couple days off, and it’s been so fun spending our last bit of alone time together. We haven’t done much other than visit his parents and grocery shop, but it’s been nice to have someone to spend my day with. I hate being alone. He went to work today so I’ll have to deal with the alone time.
At this point, I have to learn to trust my body. It’s apparently not ready to deliver a baby yet. I don’t really want to be induced either. I am, however, sick of people calling my house every five minutes to check and see if I’ve had a baby yet. Nobody warned me how old that was going to get.
The doctor was extremely depressing. Nothing is happening. I have 2 non stress tests scheduled for next week, and another ultrasound on Thursday to check fluid levels and stuff. Fuzz is super hyped up today and moving like mad, and it's really uncomfortable. Imagine an 8 pound being rearranging your organs. Not fun.
What is fun though, is googling the word "failure." Try it.
Wednesday, November 09, 2005
I honestly didn’t think I’d last this long. Every day gets more and more uncomfortable. On top of all of my pregnancy discomfort, I’ve also developed a cold, which sucks. I’ve fretted this whole entire time about what I would do if I got a cold, because I almost always get a really bad cold in the summer that just never goes away. I’ll cough and cough for weeks. Luckily, that never happened, so I attributed it to all the vitamins I’ve been taking. But now, suddenly since I’m not working or even in contact with the public, I’m all stuffy and have a sore throat. I broke down and took a Benadryl this morning, since that’s one of the drugs I’m actually allowed to take. I feel bad even taking a Tylenol, because I hate to drug Fuzzball, so that was a big step for me. Needless to say I slept for 5 more hours and woke up in a puddle of drool.
Ryan’s dad is supposed to go home today. Tomorrow is my due date. With any luck, we’ll see some action soon. If not, I’ll find out Friday what the doctor has to say. Until then, send me healthy vibes.
Monday, November 07, 2005
I’ve been thinking lately of significant people in my past, both positive and negative forces in my life. I’ve had so many people come and go that sometimes it’s hard to keep track of them all. But there are a few that really stand out, and one of the ones that does isn’t even human.
You all know about Rosie and Peanut, my family’s Yorkies. I can’t even tell you how much joy these dogs give me. Every single time I go to my mom’s house it’s like I have my own personal cheering squad, because these dogs greet me with such blinding enthusiasm that I can’t even comprehend it. It's unconditional love at it's finest. Rosie wasn’t the first Yorkie that we had though. Honey was.
Honey was the sweetest little dog. She was full of sass and spunk, and she weighed in at a whopping full grown 3 pounds. She was tiny and fragile but had the personality of a Labrador. She thought she was much bigger than she actually was. Needless to say, she was an easy dog to love, and much like Rosie, everyone that met her fell in love with her.
I was always terribly worried about her size and the fact that she was so little and fragile. It scared me to ever think that anything could happen to her. So when she was accidentally killed when a heavy oak chair fell on her, my heart felt like it was literally ripped out of my chest. It was the most freak thing to ever happen in my presence, and the only time in my life so far that I’ve ever experienced such a painful and traumatic loss.
I know my sister blames herself for Honey’s death, because it was my 2 year old nephew who was playing in the chair that fell on her. He tipped it over, and although we all knew it was a complete accident, I know she was horrified.
It was gut wrenching to see my mom grab her little dog off the floor screaming. Honey's tiny little neck was broken, and even as my mom ran to get my dad, I knew there was nothing that could be done to save her. My parents ran to the car and started towards the vets office as I freaked out. Ryan tried to calm me down the whole time. My sister took my nephew and left, and I felt horrible that she blamed herself. Silently I was blaming myself, I had been holding her minutes before it happened, then I put her on the floor. If I had only held on to her for a few more minutes…
My parents came back within a few moments, and my dad drove the car into the yard. Both of my parents were a wreck. This dog was their baby. I ran to meet them and my mom had Honey in her lap. Seeing her broken body yet again was a moment that I’ll never forget. The moments that followed were somewhat of a blur, but I can remember thinking that I wasn’t planning on spending the evening burying my dog.
My parents buried her in the backyard. They even got a little memorial stone to put at her grave. I painted a purple flower on it, because I have a really cute picture of her sticking her nose in a big purple flower.
Like I said, this has been the most traumatic moment of my life to date. Every once in a while I would relive the moment. After a while that faded away, but lately it’s come back, full force, and I know that my anxiety levels and depression are building up again. It’s inevitable, because again I’m faced with a tiny and fragile life, a life that is totally in my hands. I never talk about my anxiety, but I know I have some form of an anxiety disorder which leads to depression. It's never been properly diagnosed, but I have an irrational fear of bad things happening, mostly to the people that I care about the most. The last time I was at my doctor she asked me if I wanted anything for depression, knowing that it runs in my family. I declined, because I’ve always been able to fight it off. I’m hoping to remain as strong in the future, but with so much more on the line I know it will be hard. So right now I’m preparing myself and Ryan for a bad couple of weeks. Since I’m prone to depression, I’m afraid that the “baby blues” will be full blown post partum depression, and I’m not sure if I’m prepared to deal with that. Ryan is prone to depression too, so I know it will affect him if I’m depressed.
Not only that, but thinking about Honey and how heartbroken I was (and still am) about a little creature who was in my life for such a short amount of time scares me. And that’s the problem with love. Once you take that leap of faith into loving someone, there’s always that fear. And it’s inescapable. So when I look at my husband, or when I see my baby for the first time, I know that if anything ever happened to either of them, it would crush me. I don’t know if I’d be able to live.
But that’s what makes LIFE so meaningful.
Friday, November 04, 2005
The doctor I saw today informed me that I'm "almost" dilated to 2 cm. She was AWFUL. I waited for over an hour to be seen and then she COULDN'T FIND MY CERVIX. How? Why? I thought she was going to have to stick her whole arm up there just to find it. Meanwhile, she's apologizing and telling me how high up it is, and I'm sweating and trying NOT to scream my face off. I thought my head was going to explode.
Funnily enough, the doctor that I saw last week had no problem finding my cervix, and it didn't hurt ONE BIT.
Thankfully I made it through that, but I know that I'm definitely going to need that epidural when the time comes. I'm a total wuss.
And that's all for today. Stay tuned for another episode of "Find My Cervix."
And Happy Birthday to Pup!
Thursday, November 03, 2005
Sorry. No Fuzz yet. But SOOOOOOON. I don't plan on working anymore after today, so I'll be scarce for a while. Tomorrow I’ll find out how much I’ve progressed in the past week. In other happy news, I get a full week of vacation pay for next week, so while I’m pushing the Fuzz out I’ll be getting paid for it. Now that’s labor.
Tuesday, November 01, 2005
Ryan is done with all of his shows and practice and all that fun crap. He’s devoting all of his free time to me, which is nice, because I can boss him around. I literally don’t have to get up unless I have to go to the bathroom, which is really quite frequent, so typically I get up and do stuff for myself anyway. Last night he was like, “why don’t you just SIT?” and I realized that I couldn’t. I just can’t sit still for too long. I’ve never really been very good at relaxing, unless it’s bedtime.
At any rate we had what I consider to be a relaxing evening at home. We did our annual pumpkin carving for Halloween, roasted the seeds, and watched football. We were asleep before the game was over. I woke up around the time the news was on and found out that the Steelers won. I knew they couldn’t lose on Myron Cope night.
All in all yesterday was a pretty good day.
So now it’s just waiting, waiting, waiting. And waiting. And hoping that my water doesn’t break at work. And waiting.
Monday, October 31, 2005
I have 4 tattoos, none of which I’m very fond of anymore, all except for the original, the cute butterfly on my shoulder. I got it when I was 19. I also have my tongue pierced, but I never wear a barbell in it anymore. I loved getting tattoos, call me sick and twisted. I also enjoy giving blood, so maybe I just have a thing with needles and my skin. That might be why I’m rearing to get an epidural.
Eventually I want to get all my tattoos touched up and beautified so I like them better. And maybe then I’ll get a new one. I want to get one for Ryan too, since he’s always wanted one but has always been too much of a wuss to get one, even though back in the day he had more metal in his body than should be humanly allowed. He even had his bellybutton pierced. How many guys do you know that get that done?
Which brings me to the time when I pierced Asshole’s penis.
Can I tell you how much pleasure it gave me to stick a metal rod through that guy’s dick? Even when I was dating him I didn’t like him. Ok, so I didn’t actually do the piercing part. That was done by a professional, in a sterile shop environment. But since I was there and witnessed it, the guy doing the piercing, who we were friends with, asked if I wanted to do the follow through with the barbell. So I said yeah, because of the being a needle freak thing, and he stuck the piercing needle into his dick. I’m sure that none of this was very comfortable for Asshole, and really, it’s fuzzy in my mind because I’ve blocked most of that part of my life out. But when the needle went through the whole way, I met him on the opposite end of it with the barbell. As he withdrew the needle, I pushed the barbell in. Then it was like “voila! I pierced your dick!”
And that's my happy Monday story. Actually it's more like a scary Halloween story.
I decided to work today. I woke up feeling pretty good, and to be honest, I feel a lot better today than I felt all week last week. So I decided to keep earning money.
I do, however, feel kind of like a walking time bomb. I wonder why?
Friday, October 28, 2005
I’m only one centimeter dilated. 50% effaced. All the contractions I’ve had in the past few days have done not much in the way of prepping my cervix. Although I did find out that the Fuzz is only about 7 pounds right now. So for the huge belly I have, there is only 7 pounds of baby in it. If I go until my due date, Fuzz should be roughly 7 pounds, 11 oz. I’m right in the “average sized baby” range. I’m not, however, in the “average sized pregnant lady” range. Unless the average sized pregnant lady looks like a house.
Eating Mexican food last night did make me continue to have contractions accompanied by a lot of back pain, but nothing regular. I felt still pretty crappy all night, so I retired to bed around 10 to watch Animal Precinct. I can’t fall asleep without that show. Last night it was pit bulls with mange, and I rested easy knowing that they were cured of all their skin disease and growing their hair back. Whew.
Today is my last day of work. I’m very happy about this, because I’ve felt pretty much just terrible all week. Terrible and uneasy. I’ll feel much better at home where I’m only 5 minutes away from the hospital as opposed to 30 minutes while at work. I may however work a few days next week, part time, but I’ll have to see how I feel. Right now I feel like my body is telling me to take it easy, so I’m listening.
Just for the record:
My due date is November 10th.
I don’t know if Fuzz is a boy or a girl. Nobody does. The Fuzz is very modest and likes to cover up his/her parts.
I’ve gained double the amount of weight that a normal pregnant woman should. Although 2 of my doctors have attributed a majority of it to fluid retention, since I’m swelling like crazy still.
I have some names picked out that I like, but we haven’t settled on anything. We thought we were settled until we realized that telling people the names you picked is a bad idea, cause once you see so many funny faces or hear “huh?” so many times you want to shoot yourself for ever picking that stupid fucking name out.
I’m not sure how much I’ll be able to blog in the next month or so. But I’ll do my best to keep you guys updated. I’ll keep posting, but I don’t know how often I’ll be able to visit you guys, so don’t be offended. Keep checking my comments, because if I do have the Fuzz I’ll have either Starr or Greg break the news there.
MWAH! Love you guys.
Thursday, October 27, 2005
I thought that this was HNT appropriate, so I'm jumping on the Half Nekkid Thursday bandwagon that you're all so fond of. My giant nekkid belly. Which is always almost half nekkid anyway, because now it's so large and so low that it pokes out of the bottom of my shirts. Today it is jumping with Braxton Hicks contractions and it's making my legs sore. If you look closely you can see the stretch marks that I've developed over the last few weeks, but the picture is a little fuzzy. You should see the tattoo on the other side of my belly, which used to be on the part of my body that I knew as my hip. It's damaged beyond repair and has stretch marks ripping through it. It's cute.
Tonight I'll get to see if these contractions, along with the evening primrose oil that I've been taking, are doing anything to my cervix. Then I'll eat Mexican food with glee and celebrate my anniversary.
Hopefully I'll make it through the day today. I managed to tough it out all day at work yesterday, even though I was completely exhausted and felt like shit all day long. Today I'm a little more awake but my legs are crampy and my pelvis feels like it's being crushed. So we'll see.
Wednesday, October 26, 2005
Lately when Fuzzball moves around in there, I can feel exactly where he/she is. I’m able to poke his/her little feet, knees, and bum. It’s so neat to feel those body parts. It’s even better when he/she responds and pokes back.
Just touching my belly I know I’m already in love. I love this baby. I love this creature that I’ve never met, that I’ve never even seen other than alien pictures on a black and white screen. I’m not sure when this connection happened, if it’s been a gradual thing or something that happened overnight, but it’s certainly there. An unmistakable feeling of love and joy and a bunch of emotions ranging from fear and anticipation to excitement and happiness. And it’s all stuff I’ve never felt before. Not like this.
Sometimes I can’t help but pull my belly out and just look at it and touch it. I can’t believe what it contains, and I can’t believe that what’s been growing in there for so long is going to come out soon.
I’m going to be a mom.
On Sunday Ryan told me he had practice on Wednesday. I said okay and didn’t give it much thought until last night, when I remembered that he told me that. Knowing that today was our anniversary, I asked him again, “do you have practice tomorrow?” He said yes. I just kind of sighed and sat on the recliner and he went back to rearrange his fantasy football team. I wasn’t upset, you see, because I know my husband probably better than he knows himself. And I knew that in his mind he was quite aware that today was our anniversary, but his brain wasn’t matching up the fact that he had scheduled band practice on the same day.
Later on after we retired to the bedroom Ryan said to me, “Hey, tomorrow is our anniversary. What do you want to do? Go out to dinner or something?” I calmly replied, “Um, don’t you have practice?” His face fell. “Yeah… SHIT. Are you mad? I’m so sorry!” I just nodded and smiled and acknowledged that yes, having a penis does in fact affect the way your mind works. Duly noted, many times (c’mon, guys, you know it). He offered to move practice to Thursday instead and I said, “do whatever.” This morning I told him not to bother because we have a doctors appointment tomorrow evening and to me that’s more important than going to dinner tonight.
In some ways I feel kind of let down but at the same time I don’t really care that much. For our first anniversary I had just started working at Target and he brought me dinner from Panera which we shared in the food court. Romantic, no? Last year I made him dinner and waited around patiently for him to get home from work. So really, I’ve never had much of an anniversary celebration. Every day is a celebration of our marriage. Really. (insert gagging face here)
Oh well. He might be a bumbling idiot but I love him. I can’t help it. I must feel sorry for him. At least he’s entertaining. And fodder for my blog on his better days. He has music, I have this.
I'd do it all over again in a heartbeat.
I was serious about the doing it all over again part. I may not have a picture perfect marriage, but it's pretty damn close to being exactly what I want it to be. I don't want anyone to feel all sorry for me or anything, because sometimes life is just what it is, imperfect. Besides that, I'm a walking ball of emotions and hormones, and I tend to write most about the things that frustrate me instead of the things that make me happy. I love Ryan, and I know he loves me more than anything. He'd drop everything in a minute if I asked him to, but I refuse to do that, because what's the point?
We'll have our time together tomorrow evening, after going to the doctor to check out Fuzzball. With any luck we'll get to guesstimate how big the Fuzzball is and how much it's going to hurt coming out of my vagina and exactly when that might happen. Then we're going to go eat spicy Mexican food and probably have sex. With any luck that will get things started and I won't have to work on Friday. Wouldn't that be nice? But like I said, life is imperfect, so who knows what will happen.
(Keep your fingers crossed for me anyway).
Tuesday, October 25, 2005
One day she ran into some freshman boys from Butler. She kind of knew them, but not really. One of them was a boy named Greg.
Erica had met Greg before, back in high school. The first time she met him was with her good friend Sarah, and they all went to Hills (remember Hills?) together to buy Greg some beautiful bright red hair dye.
Here’s what Greg looked like then… you can see the remnants of the red dye fading to a lovely shade of pink. Back then he was known as GK.
At the time Erica didn’t have that great of an impression of Greg. She knew his friend Jon quite well from years of riding the bus with him, but one day Greg and Jon made fun of Erica’s feet, which she didn’t take to very kindly. Back then, Erica was a bitch. If you crossed her, she let you know, and to be honest, she could be a little scary.
So with some trepidation, she began to get to know Greg at Clarion, and she quickly realized that this was someone she could be friends with. He was silly like her, he had a lovely lady friend named Starr that she was quite fond of that was going to school at Pitt, and while Erica introduced him to his first college keg party, Greg introduced her to the Star Wars trilogy for the first time. They had many adventures in Nair Hall together, most of which involved sticking carrot sticks up their noses and taking pictures, or playing with a little buddy of theirs that they called the “ecstatic massager,” which really isn’t as dirty as it sounds. They drank Mad Dog in her dorm room and almost got caught (thanks to Biff). They wreaked havoc on Erica’s bitch roommate (“they spilled my fucking soda!”) and eventually she moved out. Greg never judged Erica, even though she was going through her slutty phase of life, and Erica was grateful to have a friend like him.
Fast forward 9 years. That brings us to present day. If in fact by present day you mean TO-day, which is October 25th. I’ve arranged this day to be very special in my own mind, not only because it’s the day before my wedding anniversary, but because it’s my dear friend Greg’s birthday. Today he is 28. And I’ll never forget his birthday, mainly because of the wedding thing.
After all this time, you can see that Greg still really likes me.
So Greg, although the day is rainy and cold, and although Fuzzball may not be born today (I’m feeling fine, thanks), I hope you have a wonderful birthday. I’ve had a lot of fun this morning reminiscing about our Clarion days. I wish I could drink a beer with you, but this will have to do.
Monday, October 24, 2005
Asshole came from a very um… how do I put this nicely? impossible… white trash family. When I say white trash, I MEAN exactly what you might think of when you think of white trash. A family of 6 kids, a single mom (who was a sweet lady, I’ll give her that), an abusive and pretty much non-existent dad who worked as a carnie tattoo artist. His oldest sister was missing teeth and her husband was in jail. His oldest brother married his dad’s ex-wife and adopted his nieces and nephews as his own children. His other brother and his 3 year old son lived at home along with Asshole, his mom, his step dad (also a sweet guy) and his sister, who was also a single mom, working on number 2 when I broke up with him. All of these people (count them, SEVEN, with number 8 on the way) lived together in a 3 bedroom apartment. The most normal of his siblings ended up killing himself a few years after we broke up in a jealous rage over his ex-wife.
People, I’m not even kidding. I can’t believe I was sucked into anything remotely like this. Asshole was very good with the Jedi mind tricks. Seriously.
So, here I am at Wal-Mart, pretty much the only place that I might run into any of the Asshole family other than the Dollar General, and I turn a corner with my cart to grab some tomato soup. I hear someone say my name. I look up. Asshole’s sister is standing on the other side of the aisle.
In my head I’m going “no, no, no… ugh… why me, WHY ME?” but on the outside I give her a big fake smile while trying to remember her name. Remember, it’s been 5 years since I’ve talked to her. This is the one that lived at home with his mom and was working on kid number 2 when I was last on the scene. Fortunately for her, she has all of her teeth, but got knocked up the first time because she thought jumping up and down after sex was an effective form of birth control. Then she got pregnant AGAIN. She also set fire to their couch after falling asleep with a lit cigarette in her hand. I actually witnessed it. Lucky me.
While I’m mentally abusing myself for shopping at Wal-Mart AGAIN, she strikes up a conversation.
Asshole’s Sister (AS): How are you?
Me: Great, how about you?
AS: Good, are you expecting?
Me: (wanting to just tell her I’ve gained weight but resisting) Yes, very soon.
AS: (eyeballing my belly) Just one?
Me: (biting my tongue) Yep, just one.
AS: Is this your first?
AS: Oh… man, it hurts you know. Especially the first.
Me: Uh, yeah, that’s what I hear. But I also hear the pain medication works wonders.
AS: I’ve had five, the last was twins and I was already dilated to 9 when I got to the hospital so I didn’t get to have any pain medicine and it hurt so bad.
Me: (trying to figure out how she might have possibly had 3 more kids in the past five years and wondering why she didn’t try using BIRTH CONTROL) Wow. That’s something.
AS: What are you going to get that needle thing in your back?
Me: Yeah, that’s exactly what I’m going to get. I believe it’s called an epidural.
AS: (eyes getting really big) OH. Just be careful with that because you can get paralyzed. That’s what happened to my sister.
Me: (wondering if Asshole’s toothless sister was really paralyzed) Really? Wow.
AS: So when are you due?
Me: November 10th.
AS: You’re HUGE.
Me: (biting my tongue again and praying for the conversation to be over soon, please God) I feel huge.
AS: (laughs) I know how it is.
At this point Ryan came around the corner and I thanked my lucky stars.
AS: Alright, well, good luck.
Me: Thanks, I’m sure I’ll need it (what with all the pain and paralyzation).
Ryan met my eyes and started laughing hysterically. I told him to shut up. Then I started laughing because I couldn’t help but think about her FIVE KIDS! She didn’t even like the FIRST kid she had. I’m sure she’s a great mom though.
Butler’s finest, people. Let me tell you. And I’m sure she wasn’t trying to be rude, she’s just THAT dumb.
I’m never shopping at Wal-Mart again.
Friday, October 21, 2005
I’m slightly fearful that my husband is running himself ragged. I don’t know exactly what he’s trying to pull off these days… maybe he’s trying to fit in everything he ever wanted to do before the baby gets here, but it’s getting ridiculous, and frankly, it worries me a little. We talked about it last night as he was telling me how utterly exhausted he is.
He booked 2 shows for 2 different bands that he plays in for next weekend. I was sort of kind of pissed about this, because next week is our anniversary, and to me that meant that we weren’t doing anything for our anniversary weekend. And because it’s our last anniversary as a childless couple (sort of) I was hoping we’d do something special. Not looking good for what I want though. Then I was pissed because one of the shows is in Pittsburgh, and the other is in Zelienople, both of which are a far drive from Butler, and both of which are in bars. I can’t hang out in bars anymore. The cigarette smoke kills me and trying to move through a crowd and waiting for the bathroom makes me miserable. He was actually shocked when I told him I wasn’t going. And here’s the real kicker, I could go into labor at any time, duh!
So in the build up of all these shows, he’s had practice whenever he possibly can, and after working a 12 hour day then having practice, he’s pretty much useless. We’re also trying to get a mortgage from somewhere on our house, since we’re just doing a rent to own thing now, and that’s pretty pointless. Our checkbook hasn’t been balanced all month and I have no idea how much money we really have, therefore I can’t pay bills (and I’m not allowed to balance the checkbook because I always seem to fuck it up… I have number dyslexia… seriously, I don’t know if that’s real, but if it is, I have it). This weekend I have a wedding and he’s going to see U2. And I mentioned to him last night that we don’t have much alone time left together. He’s spent every weekend for the past few months going out, leaving me at home by myself, and personally, I’m fucking sick of it. We didn’t even go out that much before I was pregnant, people used to come to our house. Now he goes out and I’m alone.
I’m just a little frustrated, because even though he has been a huge source of support for me, and I know I probably couldn’t have made it through the past 9 months without him, this is the time that I need him the most, and he’s spending it running his ass off. I’m sick of the phone ringing constantly for him, I’m sick of falling asleep by myself every night, and I’m just plain sick of being by myself all the time. The person that I hang out with the most these days is my mother.
So I flat out told him last night that tonight he’s hanging out with me. And that’s that.
I’m seriously so fucking tired today I could probably bitch for hours.
I went to the doctor yesterday afternoon and they didn’t check my cervix, which was disappointing. Not that I enjoy getting it checked by any means, it’s just nice to have a gauge of what my body is doing in preparation for having this baby. I was told that they’ll start checking it next week, which will be week 38. Since I was just starting to dilate and efface last week, I was pretty curious to see what a difference (if any) a week would make. But oh well. Yesterday was my last appointment with a male doctor, so I was kind of glad they didn’t check me. I think I’ve decided I’d rather have a woman looking at my area. Men creep me out.
Also, I have carpal tunnel syndrome. Very common when pregnant. Should go away once I deliver the Fuzz. For now I have to deal with a numb and tingly right hand.
Happy news that I got yesterday:
I don’t have to pay as much for my insurance as I originally thought I would. That makes me incredibly happy and takes a huge load off my back. Now I don’t feel like I have to rush back to work. I can take my time and recover and get to know my kid for the whole 12 weeks. Joy.
Also, my mom did finally sell a puppy. She sold Ziggy, the male, to a family member for a mere 500 bucks. She wanted to know that he was going to a good home and not a bunch of freakin weirdos, so my dad’s ex-sister-in-law bought him. I know that sounds a little strange, but to me she’s always been Aunt Karen. That’s just my family. So I’m happy that one of our puppies found a good family to live with, especially since we can keep tabs on him and they won’t mind.
Have I mentioned how incredibly tired I am?
Thursday, October 20, 2005
So, my mom, much to my dismay, is working on selling the remaining 2 Yorkie pups. She’s keeping Peanut, the little batty looking one in the picture, but we still have a male and a female, who we call Ziggy and Ivy. They are both super cute and fun and playful and I love them. I could eat them and their little puppy feet and noses.
So a couple days ago my mom gets a call from a lady whose son is looking to get a Yorkie. He goes to Penn State, so she wants to come check out the pups. Of course my mom is thrilled, because she’s starting to worry that nobody will ever spend 900 bucks on our dogs. I like Yorkies, but shit, I don’t have 900 bucks to spend on a dog. I probably never will.
So the lady comes over and plays with the dogs for about an hour. She’s interested in Ivy, the female (her picture is in the post from Monday). Seems like they hit it off. The only thing she’s concerned about is that like Rosie, Ivy is going to be a blonde Yorkie. Some Yorkies are blonde, some stay black. Rosie is pretty much all blonde and Ivy already has blonde roots in her black puppy hair.
So the lady calls my dad yesterday and says, “I don’t think we’re going to take her. My son wasn’t even concerned that she’s blonde, we just didn’t think she was very affectionate.” My dad was dumbstruck. Rosie has to be one of the most affectionate dogs ever, and her puppies are pretty damn lovable too. The other day when I went over there the three of them almost peed all over me because they were so excited to see me. I literally got smothered with puppy kisses. And out of all of them, Ivy is probably the most intelligent. Sure, she’s more independent than the others, she likes to play and explore, but she’s just as lovable as the other two.
Is it not incredibly rude to tell a stranger, after they welcomed you into their house for an hour to play with their dogs, that their puppy is less than perfect? All she would have had to say was “we decided not to take her,” and that would have been sufficient. What a fucking bitch.
Maybe I’m overreacting because of my hormones, but my mom was pretty upset. She actually said to me, “well, I NEVER.”
Yeah, me neither, Mom.
Wednesday, October 19, 2005
“I can’t wait until you’re not pregnant so we can wrestle.”
Oddest Find Of The Week:
Oatmeal raisin cookie crumbs in my cleavage.
The Thing I Feel Funniest Doing This Week:
Breaking open evening primrose oil capsules and using the oil to massage my… uh… area. It helps prevent tearing! I swear!
Food That I Most Want To Eat This Week:
Anything Mexican. But that’s every week. It’s usually that or ice cream.
Thing I Could Be Doing This Weekend But I’m NOT (And it PISSES ME OFF):
Going to see U2 with my husband. For our anniversary, even (which is one week from today). But nooooooo, I’m stuck at a wedding that I was SUPPOSED to be in. Thank the lord that I’m NOT in it, what with my pelvis troubles. It’s a Catholic wedding. That’s a lot of sitting and standing for anyone. It would surely bring on labor if I had to do it in a gigantic purple circus tent of a dress.
(Although Ryan claims if the baby is born on Saturday that it’s name will be “The Edge,” whether male or female.)
Hardest Thing To Accomplish This Week:
Putting my pants on. And forget about socks.
Things Making Me Laugh My Ass Off Yet Go, "Hmmm..." This Week
Suffocating Me With Cuteness This Week:
Things That I Need to Get Done This Week:
Put thank you cards in the mailbox. Put together the co-sleeper. Wash the baby’s clothes. Pack a diaper bag. Find a car seat. Install said car seat. Learn how to be a mom. Revel in my extreme feminine form. Listen to my inner child. Relax. And win the Powerball.
Tuesday, October 18, 2005
Here’s my list of complaints for the week:
My vagina feels like it’s going to just FALL OUT. At any given moment. There is so much pressure on my pelvis that when I stand up I want to fall over. Seriously, Fuzz, I know your head HAS to be there, but could you let up a little? I’m afraid you’re going to come out while I’m peeing. And that would be hard to explain at work.
I’m still growing. I checked out my nekkid body the other day and was very unhappy. The belly I can understand, but the rest of me? C’mon, the baby isn’t in my ASS!!!!
My boobs ACHE. I can barely fathom what they’re going to feel like with a strange little critter gumming at them for survival. Plus they’re like, super leaky. It is so effing embarrassing.
It’s hard to breathe. Fuzzball is tap dancing on my lungs.
I can’t pee the whole way when I go to the bathroom. It’s like when you put a kink in a hose, that’s what Fuzz is doing to my bladder.
But it’s not all bad stuff of course. I know that I’m ready to move on to my life as a mom, but I’m going to miss all the quiet moments of sitting and just watching my belly move. I’m going to miss the feeling of a living being residing within me.
Pregnancy has been tough on me psychologically, but in some ways it has been very therapeutic (not to sound all Britney Spears, who had a c-section so she could have a tummy tuck too, selfish bitch). I’ve done a lot of growing (physically and emotionally) and learning about myself. I’ve spent a lot of time alone. I know how it feels to be lonely, and I don’t want to do it again. Thankfully, I won’t have to.
I’ve tried to give Ryan space so that he could continue to enjoy life without being completely burdened by his whiny pregnant wife, but sometimes I wish I would have been more demanding. I know I couldn’t have asked for much more than what he gave me though. He’s worth his weight in gold, and I’ve learned that much. I’m pretty fucking lucky to have a guy like him, even if he can’t clean a bathroom to save his life. And even though I spent MANY MANY weekend nights alone, bored silly because who the fuck wants to hang out with the pregnant girl? Not even me!
And that is the thing that I say to myself when I'm feeling lonely and pathetically sorry for myself. I’ve spent a lot of time doing that. But for all of the time I’ve spent feeling sorry for myself, I’ve also found that I wouldn’t have it any other way. I wouldn’t give this up to have my old life back. That seems crazy. I wouldn’t turn back the hands of time and used a condom that day. This is a struggle that I needed.
Ok, pregnancy talk OVER with for today.
Speaking of struggle, I'm KILLING myself by daring to look at the Birkenstock website. Who knew that Birkenstock had so many cute shoes? Case in point, these little numbers. God, if I only had $120 bucks to spend on a pair of shoes.
And a big thank you to my favorite peon, Kate, who sent me this. Fuzzball will love it. So cute. You guys are seriously spoiling me. Stop it! No, don't!
Et tu, Target?
Kate mentioned in my comments section about how Target sucks, and I agreed that that used to be my catch phrase when I worked there. But now I know it REALLY sucks. (Thanks for the link, Greg.)
Monday, October 17, 2005
Originally uploaded by Elosquirrel.
At my shower we handed out some note cards and asked women to write down their advice about childrearing for me. As my mom said “write down any advice you have to help her with this baby!” She said it in a slightly panicked voice, but only because she’s nervous talking in front of a bunch of people. So it came across sounding like I have no fucking clue what to do with a baby.
Which isn’t far from the truth. But damnit, Mom, you’re supposed to make me look good!
Yesterday I FINALLY wrote out my thank you cards, which took me roughly 5 hours. While I was doing that I came across the advice cards and realized that the majority of the advice I got was REALLY bad. I may not know a lot about babies, but I know enough to know that the advice I got SUCKED. Some of it was good, but the older women gave me terrible advice. Here are some of the gems:
“Get an epidural.” (Actually, that’s really good advice. But that’s all they wrote. It’s kind of startling to a first time mom, don’t you think?)
“When in doubt, ask your mom for advice.” (In essence, this sounds like good advice, but everything about baby safety has changed in the last 30 years. My mom smoked while she was pregnant with me. She put us to sleep on our stomachs in cribs filled with quilts, bumper pads, and stuffed animals. She formula fed us. She held us on her lap in the car. All because these things were considered safe. And I’m sure she still thinks most of that stuff is safe.)
“Get your baby attached to a blanket.” (This was from my cousin, whose 3 year old will not go to pre-school without his “bubby.” I had a blanket that I carted around, but I don’t recall being super attached to it. So I think I’ll let Fuzz choose what he or she like the best and hopefully he or she can retain some independence and not spaz out when these things aren’t available.)
“Don’t read or follow those doctor books, listen to your mom instead.” (Again with the mom thing. And someone telling me NOT to read advice from professionals! Yikes!!! As much as I love my mom and appreciate the fact that my brother and I survived and even flourished under her care, I think that medical professionals have a lot to offer… but that’s just me.)
“Don’t breastfeed. Let Ryan get up at night to feed the baby.” (This was from Ryan’s aunt, and this by far was the most offensive piece of advice. I was appalled when I read this. I don’t care that breastfeeding means that I have to wake up several times a night to feed my kid. Ryan has to work. He has to operate heavy machinery every single day. Chances are, he’ll be sleeping on the couch for the first few weeks. I believe it’s my duty as a mom to continue to nourish my baby with the food that my body makes. How cool is that? And if this woman gives me ANY shit about breastfeeding, I’m going to kick her ass. Of course, this will probably be the one person who lights up a cigarette right next to wear my baby is sitting.)
The best advice I got? “Listen to your instincts and don’t let anyone make you feel uncomfortable about what you’re doing.”
Friday, October 14, 2005
I spent the morning getting stuff stuck in places that I otherwise wouldn’t stick foreign objects. Mainly q-tips and a strange man’s hands. Let me tell you, nothing will quite wake you up in the morning like a q-tip to the ass.
Turns out I’m a fingertip dilated. A fingertip? I don’t even understand what that means. I’m also 50% effaced, so the cervix is thinning out. Yay! That’s better than Tuesday, when my cervix was closed tight and just starting to soften.
Now that I’ve bored you with the intimate details of my lady parts, I want to say THANK YOU to Jeanette, who rose to the challenge of my pathetic plea to outdo Pup in sending me baby gifts. I was (halfway) kidding (I mean, c’mon, who doesn’t like getting gifts in the mail?), but she sent me the Diaper Genie from my Target registry. JEANETTE, YOU ROCK!!! I was torn between buying myself the Diaper Genie or just getting a cheap diaper pail. Thanks for making that decision easy for me.
You people I’ve never met before are AWESOME.
I hope you all have a great weekend.
Thursday, October 13, 2005
Well, on Tuesday the 16th baby fell out of the woman's vagina.
And they're already talking about having more. You know, if God wants them to.
God, if you're really there, please, pleaaassseee stop making them have children, otherwise Arkankas is going to be WAAAAY overpopulated, and FULL of little breeding Republicans.
Was Tuesday a full moon???
Wednesday, October 12, 2005
It was between noon and one by this time, and I’d been feeling these pains for an hour and a half. My boss left for lunch. I was sweaty. Ryan called. He tried to be calm but I could tell he was silently freaking out. I told him I couldn’t get the doctor’s office. He told me to try again. I did. Still busy. Five minutes later, he called back. I told him it was still not ringing. He told me to call the hospital, but stupid me, I didn’t have that number with me. Why??? Why wasn’t I carrying that number yet?
By 2:00 the pains were pretty much gone. Things were calming down. I didn’t even time them to see how far apart they were, I just guessed between 7 and 10 minutes. For the rest of the afternoon I’d get slight twinges of pain here and there. By quarter to 4 I decided I was going home to rest. I talked to my boss for a few minutes and he was very understanding. Before I left I decided to try the doctor one more time and lo and behold, it rang. I told the woman on the other end my situation.
“I’m 36 weeks and I’ve been having pretty intense cramping on and off all day.”
“You’re 36 weeks? Where is the pain? In the back or in the front down low?”
“Front down low.”
“Go on up to the hospital.”
“HUH? Oh… ok.”
“Are you able to breathe through the pain?”
“Ok, I’ll call the birthing suite and tell them you’re on the way.”
Needless to say I was pretty baffled. I knew that I wasn’t in labor by any means. But I called Ryan and told him I’d meet him at the house and that we were going to the hospital. Then I called my mom and told her. She was calm. So was I. I knew there was nothing going on that was out of the ordinary at this point. She told me very nonchalantly to call her when I knew what was going on.
Then she proceeded to call Ryan, freaking out, and left a message: “Ryan, PROMISE ME you’ll call as soon as you know what’s going on. If she’s in heavy labor I want to know. PLEASE CALL ME.” When he listened to this message he simply looked at me and said “your mom is retarded.”
So when I’m REALLY in labor, calling my mom is out of the question. When Ryan called his mom she was like, “Oh? You’re going to the hospital? Ok. Call me later.”
So they hooked me up to the monitors in the birthing suite. Fuzzball decided to get hiccups for the first time twice yesterday, so I got to hear those. Then the Fuzz kept kicking the heartbeat monitors. Lots of babies were being born all over the place. Every five minutes or so we heard newborn wailing. Three different nurses came to see me. One made me pee in a cup. The next one took my blood pressure and checked my cervix. Let me tell you, I don’t like getting my cervix checked. That was my first cervix checking experience, and the sensation of a nurse practically sticking her whole hand up your hoo-ha is not a nice one. Unless you’re into that sort of thing. Apparently, women dreams or not, I’m not into it.
I’m not dilated. At all.
However, the pains are back today. Oh, the fun. They’re not as strong as yesterday, which is good. I think I’m in for an interesting few more weeks.
I'll leave you with this, which is enough to cheer me up all day.
And if you need more of a smile than THAT, read this.
Tuesday, October 11, 2005
(Also, if you know me personally and are reading this, I’m sorry if that makes you uncomfortable. You may leave now, or continue reading. It’s your choice. I hate to offend anyone with talk of my sex life, but this is MY outlet, remember?)
For about a week there, I was having very very sexual dreams. They were very, uhh, VIVID. And also sexual. Did I mention that they were sexual? They were explicit to the point of making me uncomfortable, which is no easy feat, unless you are talking about physical discomfort, which is very easy to achieve. The weirdest part of all of these dreams? They did not involve actual “intercourse” per se, and they involved women. Which could be why the “intercourse” part was out. Although one of the dreams involved a friend of mine (one of my oldest friends ever) and she did have a penis. Uh huh. Yeah, that made me HIGHLY uncomfortable. Others involved a lot of nudity and masturbation. The last sex dream I had was on Friday night. I confided in Ryan about them, and he chalked it up to hormones, which I know is highly plausible. Also having no sex for a while might have had something to do with it.
Finally I had a non-sex dream on Saturday. I had a dream that I had a c-section by some doctor that I’d never met before. The weird part? All of my friends were in the room as I was being cut open. I didn’t even question what had happened to me until I saw the stitched up incision across my belly, and then I was like, “but that’s not how I wanted it to happen!!!”
The nursery dressed my baby up in a baby raincoat and galoshes. And also sunglasses. On the name tag it said “Baby Cool.”
So far this week I haven’t had any hormone induced dreams, and I hope it stays that way. Pregnancy dreams are by far the weirdest, most vivid dreams ever. And I have pretty animated dreams to begin with. I’m looking forward to my dreams dulling down. I'm also looking forward to getting some sleep tonight, since I was wide awake this morning at 3 and unable to fall asleep again. Mommy basic training, I suppose.
Monday, October 10, 2005
What a weekend it was. I survived, although barely. I was so exhausted yesterday I could barely move. My feet were killing me. We got home around 3, but it felt like 7. I was in bed by 8:30.
It was a strange weekend. I think though that it was more strange for my friends than it was for me. I knew that for me, it would have to be kind of lame, although I did hang out in a couple bars (fighting a giant crowd to get to the bathroom while 35 weeks pregnant is something I never want to contend with again). But the weather was crappy and it sucked the energy out of the whole entire weekend. I watched a lot of pretty bad weekend night television, like Law and Order. I can honestly say that I’ve never watched an episode of Law and Order in my entire life until this weekend. Although I did discover a wonderful show on Saturday night, My Name is Earl. That’s a gem. I’m a fan. It’s usually on Tuesday nights at 9 on NBC, so if you get a chance, you should watch. It is hilarious.
But the weekend wasn’t all about fighting crowds in bars and watching television. It was about getting together with my friends and having fun. Fun, unfortunately, was hard to come by without having late night bar adventures (the trips to the bar were morning/afternoon). But I felt like I was in good company all weekend. I was surrounded by good people and puppies and that’s what was important. And I’m excited to bring Fuzzball to ALF next year, because I’ll have more energy pushing a stroller than I did lugging him/her around in my body. Me and walking are not getting along well right now.
Being around 4 little puppies all weekend was like boot camp for moms to be. I think every 9 month pregnant woman should have to do the puppy basic training challenge. My parents left the puppies in their cage in the living room of the camp at night, and unfortunately for me, I was sleeping closest to them. They cried. They pooped. They peed. I was up several times a night with them. I got up every morning between 7 and 7:30 and let them out of the cage. They would all attack me with puppy love and foot chewing and then proceed to pee and poop everywhere. Only 1 of them is truly paper trained, so while we try and get the other 3 paper trained we have to pick them up mid pee or poop and put them on the paper, which often leaves a mess to clean up. But many of my zen moments over the weekend was having the puppies greet me in the morning when I let them out.
My other zen moment which I could relive again and again was cuddling up by the fire outside on Saturday night. It was cold, probably in the lower 40’s, but I was all bundled up and the fire was hot. I was so comfortable and relaxed.
It’s weird how it suddenly became fall last week. There was no transition period. Thursday it was summer. Overnight it became fall. I love fall.
Thursday, October 06, 2005
I’m sitting here trying to determine what exactly it is that I’m pushing on at the top of my stomach that keeps on pushing back. Is it a foot? A knee? I’m hoping it’s not an elbow or something. It’s definitely some appendage that is little and pokey.
It’s so hard to tell which body part is which on this kid. I do know, however, that I’ve got a squirmer in there. Just as I was drifting off to sleep last night, I got a sharp jab to my left side that jolted me awake. I’m fairly sure that after a few weeks of worrying what position Fuzzball was in, that he/she is head down and possibly engaged in my pelvis. That would explain all the rapid dropping and the sudden explosion of stretch marks on my lower belly. I’ll have to wait a week though to see if I’m dilating or effaced or anything though. I know it doesn’t mean much, but it would be nice to know that my body is at least making progress.
Last night Ryan made his famous super spicy pepper chicken pasta for dinner. I was sitting in the living room and suddenly started coughing. Then I realized that I was inhaling the fumes from the peppers cooking, that’s how hot it was. I hesitated a bit before eating it, wondering if it would send me into premature labor. Luckily it didn’t (obviously), so my weekend plans are safe for now.
After work today I’ll be driving myself to Clarion. Ryan is working tomorrow, so I’ll be staying at camp tonight with just my mom and dad and the puppies. The puppies are super cute and playful now. They just had their vaccinations yesterday, so they’re ready to go to their new homes as soon as next week. I’ll be sad to see them go. I’ve learned what each of them is like, personality-wise, and they’re all super lovable. My mom has names for each of them. The one she is keeping is a little boy, who was the runt of the litter. He was sick for a few weeks, and had to go to the vet and be hooked up to an IV for dehydration. I guess the bigger puppies wouldn’t let him eat. Since he’s been home Rosie refuses to acknowledge him, so my mom has made him her baby. She feeds him and gives him all the attention that Rosie won’t give him anymore. Rosie is in for a rude awakening since he is the one that is going to live with her permanently. His name is Peanut. The other boy is Ziggy, and the two girls are Ivy and Maggie. Maggie is the biggest, weighing 1 pound 9 ounces. Peanut only weighs 15 ounces. Maggie is also the only one with a home so far. I know that if my mom doesn’t find a home for the other 2 soon she’ll keep them forever, and that’s what my dad is trying to coax her into. My dad is a sucker for little dogs and babies.
I’m feeling a little strange about being without Ryan tonight. I had no idea how much I’ve come to rely on him. I haven’t spent a night without him in a really long time. Probably at least 2 years. Now I’m more dependent on him than ever, so I might feel a little separation anxiety tonight.
It’s been a good week. This weekend will actually feel like fall. The temperature today is supposed to be in the 80’s, and tomorrow it’s only supposed to be in the 60’s. That makes me happy. Ryan also got a raise this week, which is a good thing. And Crass just came on my Yahoo Music radio station. Nice.
And just when I thought Pup couldn’t possibly be any more awesome, he outdoes himself. He sent me the bottles that I had on my registry, since I was bitching that nobody got me bottles. That makes 2 presents from Pup in less than a week! Who wants to top him? Huh? Who? Yeah, that’s what I thought. Punks.
Have a good weekend everybody. I’ll be back on Monday.
Wednesday, October 05, 2005
Is this week going slow or what??? I even have a vacation day on Friday. This is ALF weekend in Clarion, so that’s where I’ll be. Dodging the drunks and watching the parade. Good times. I’ve never been sober at one before, so it will be a whole new experience. And of course it will be a good thing that we actually have a REAL designated driver, not just someone who had only 6 beers as opposed to my 10. I’m lucky to be alive at this stage in my life, much less actually reproducing.
Speaking of reproducing, having a kid means totally uprooting your home and making a cutesy living space for your little one. I’ve got to say, I’m not a big fan of cutesy kid stuff, but I love the teeny little room I created for my Fuzzball. Sometimes I just go sit in there and stare and try to imagine what it’s going to be like when Fuzzball can mess it all up.
Here’s a peek:
And the quilt that Ryan's mom made when she was pregnant with him (it even has a little squirrel on it, but I have to get a good close up shot of it):
And the wall of diapers (now the closet of diapers... seriously, you should see this kid's closet. It looks like it's going to explode with teeny clothes and diapers... I'll have to take a picture).
All I need now is the kid.