Wednesday, December 30, 2009

35 Weeks

It's getting to that point. That point where women start to complain that they just want the baby OUT already. I'm 5 weeks (or less?) away and I am so effing tired.

I look and feel silly. Honestly, I haven't had many body issues with this pregnancy and I still don't, but when I see myself in a mirror or a photo, I just look SO disproportioned to myself that it's comical. I grunt when I sit. I need help to get off the couch or out of bed. I have a hard time driving now. I don't feel ugly, just silly.

I want to be able to reach my feet without horrible pain. (They don't tell you that having a belly in the way all the time HURTS. A LOT.) I want to eat real food without counting carbs or feeling guilty. I want to be able to do normal things like vacuum the carpet without being in pain later.

Not that I'm ready, or anything. The apartment still feels filthy and I literally cannot do half of the things that need to be done. Matt, in typical guy fashion, thinks that the livingroom is clean because the rug was vacuumed. He thinks that "all" of the laundry really means "some" of the laundry. So we have a lot of arguments lately where I ask him to help me do something, and he huffs and puffs because it's more involved than he wants it to be. So then I get pissed off and try to just do it myself because it would be easier than putting up with his moping, and consequently hurt myself. (I can wash and fold laundry just fine, but I can't carry it down the hall. I can sweep the floor under the couch, but I can't move the couch to do so. Rinse, repeat.)

We do this Every. Weekend. Seriously.

I don't want to go to work anymore. Getting there is such a pain. Getting home is such a pain. I get nothing done around the house because I have no motivation to do chores in the hour or two I'm awake before I leave for work. And the few times I WAS motivated to do a lot before work, I ended up dozing off at my desk later. And on the weekend, as noted above, I end up arguing about doing things more so than doing them. I need a maid. Just for one day.

I was going to try to write about something funny, but nothing is funny lately.


Wednesday, December 23, 2009

34 weeks

I hate. Hate. Hate. Going to several different doctors for the same problem.

Because when they all tell you different things, (and they will,) which one do you believe?

Went to the perinatology/OBGYN dept of the hospital today for an ultrasound. Baby looks healthy, supposedly has lots of hair, is definitely head down, and weighs in at approximately 4 lbs 15 oz. This is supposed to be about perfect for her gestational age, so that means so far the gestation diabetes has not affected her size.

While my OB feels that my weight gain has been perfectly healthy at 15 lbs so far, the perinatologist tells me I haven't gained enough and should have gained 30 lbs by now. Who is correct? I don't have a clue.

Also, if the baby gains a steady 1/2 pound per week and I get to 40 weeks, she will weigh close to 8 lbs. My OB says I should be fine with anything under 10 to deliver normally, and really, only about 9% of first time moms need a c-section. The perinatologist says I will probably have a c-section. Who is correct? I'm leaning towards my OB because ultimately, that's his call and he'll be doing the cutting. (**shudders**) That, and I really really don't want a c-section unless it is absolutely medically necessary. I would be pissed as hell if a doctor decided to just cut me open because he got tired of waiting.

Everyone agrees that my sugar looks pretty good. And unless more complications arise, I shouldn't have to be delivered early. So, first week of February at the latest. 6 weeks to go.

Holy crap.

Friday, December 18, 2009

33 Weeks

Only 7 weeks left to go. Maybe.

I went to the doctor on Wednesday and found out that from here on out I will have weekly non-stress tests because of the gestational diabetes. No big was kind of cool to see how her heartbeat elevated every time she moved on the little chart.

I'm supposed to go see a perinatologist for a new ultrasound to check her growth, and depending what they say about that and my blood sugar levels, we'll decide if I need to go on insulin and if I need to be induced before my due date. As of right now I will not be allowed to go past my due date - he has it in mind to induce me no later than Feb 1.

I'm still waiting to hear from the perinatologist about when they can get me in. There has been a paperwork snaffu that I've been trying to work out since Wednesday...hopefully I won't fall through anymore cracks and I'll have an appointment set up by Monday.

Also, while I was at the doctor, I talked to him about some issues I have been having with out of control irritability, anger and depression, notably since I was diagnosed with the diabetes. At first he tried to blow me off, which really frustrated me, because it took a lot for me to even bring it up. I almost didn't because I was afraid he wouldn't take me seriously. And I think that's part of the reason that a lot of women don't get the help they need...they're afraid the doctor will blow them off and tell them it's normal, when they know that it isn't. I finally convinced him that being sad all the time, not wanting to leave the house, see anyone, or eat, and having uncontrollable anger for no apparent reason, was not okay for me. And that I didn't want to wait until a couple of weeks after the baby is born, and we're having bonding issues, to deal with it as PPD.

Thankfully Matt was there with me. Finally the doctor turned to Matt and asked him how bad it was, really. And poor Matt, who has been awesome lately and who hasn't said a word to me about my attitude, told him that yes, it really was bad.

I figured he was going to refer me to a therapist or something, which would have been fine, but he actually prescribed me a low dose of Zoloft. I took one yesterday before work...and once the sleepiness wore off (holy cow) I felt a lot better...not goofy... I felt like I did at the beginning of my pregnancy. I realized I had been clenching my jaw for months.

I haven't taken one today, because I realized that I need to take them before bed if I want to get anything accomplished. Also, the doctor suggested I take them when I'm having a bad day, instead of taking them all the time.

$10 for a 30 day prescription is way cheaper than beer.

Thursday, December 3, 2009

The countdown starts. Also, trying to win free stuff from Aunt Becky.

So today my weekly countdown is officially in the single digits. Um. Yeah. I've washed all the baby clothes and blankets and bedding. I have diapers in sizes NB to 3. I have bottles. I have bibs. I have towels and washcloths and swaddlers and receiving blankets. I have books and magazines and brochures and pamphlets. Will any of this help me? Probably not.

So, on to the winning of the free stuff. Aunt Becky is giving free stuff away if I answer some questions and post a button leading you back to her blog. This is probably pointless because Aunt Becky is one of three people who read my blog, but rules are rules.

1) Do you like sprinkles on your ice cream?
I feel that sprinkles needlessly ruin the integrity of the ice cream. They don't taste like anything. They're there for the sole purpose of trying to make ice cream more fun. As Hank Hill would say, ice cream is fun on its own. Fudge is a completely different story.

2) If you had to choose one word to banish from the English language, what would it be and why?

Moist. I hate that word.

3) If you were a flavor, what would it be?

Glacial Ice or something similar, like you see on Gatorade bottles. The name would give no clues whatsoever as to how I would actually taste.

4) What’s the most pointless annoying chore you can think of that you do on a daily/weekly basis?

Folding clothes. But then again, I don't actually do that (except for towels and items that will wrinkle) so I don't know what I'm complaining about.

5) Of all the nicknames I’ve ever had in my life, Aunt Becky is the most widely known and probably my favorite. What’s your favorite nickname? (for yourself)

Rizzo is the first nickname I have ever had that made fun of my personality rather than my height. I appreciate that.

6) Your stuck on a desert island with the collective works of 5 (and only five) musical artists for the rest of your life. Who are they?

Billy Joel
Buddy Holly
Stray Cats
Social Distortion

I think the key is to choose artists with really large bodies of work. Queen and Billy especially not only have a lot of music to choose from, but a lot of different styles within their bodies of work. Social D is for when I'm feeling depressed about being stuck on a desert island. People say Mike Ness whines too much, and they're right. But that's what you want when you feel like crap.

7) Everything is better with bacon. True or false?

Absolutely true.

8 ) If I could go back in time and tell Young Aunt Becky one thing, it would be that out of chaos, order will emerge. Also: tutus go with everything. What would you tell young self?

Young self is still here...but I guess I would tell her that all that beer was going to make her fat, and that she should switch to lower calorie beverages, such as gin.

Mommy Wants Vodka

Monday, November 30, 2009

30/31 Weeks

I have been lucky so far. I really have. My doctor is awesome, I'm gaining weight at exactly the correct rate, no hemorrhoids, no waddling, no back pain.

And then.

I was diagnosed with gestational diabetes. No big deal, right? Check your sugar, count your carbs. Except I was diagnosed with gestational diabetes THE DAY BEFORE THANKSGIVING.

Horror of horrors, the injustice. The mashed potatoes. The candied yams. The stuffing. The biscuits. The corn bread. The pies. Oh, sweet heaven, the pies. All calling my name.

It was awful. If I ate a satisfying helping of any one item, I couldn't have any other items. My plate was pathetic. I had two bites of mashed potatoes. Lisa's special Thanksgiving mashed potatoes. The ones with the fresh dill. TWO BITES. I had a mouthful of stuffing and half a cheesy garlic biscuit.

I could have all the turkey and ham I wanted. I am so tired of turkey. I don't even want to think about ham.

As soon as this baby is out and safe and content and they tell me I can eat, someone is going to be sent on a mission for mashed potatoes. Lots of them.

Wednesday, November 18, 2009

29 Weeks

I've been thinking a lot about my childhood the past few weeks. I guess that kind of comes with the territory. According to my doctor, in another 5 weeks I'll be considered "full term" in, they won't try to stop labor should I happen to go into it. Freaky.

A lot of people have really specific memories from their childhood. Comedians, for instance. And my mom and uncles. (Which amounts to the same thing as comedians.) They can remember in vivid detail not just the event that occured, but also who else was involved, who said what to who, and how the whole thing played out.

I don't have that. My childhood memories are vague recollections that might be memories, and they might have been dreams. It all seems really foggy to me.

For instance...I have the feeling I wore saddle shoes a lot as a kid. I have no proof of this, because my parents didn't often photograph my feet, but it's an impression that I have. Were saddle shoes for small children a thing in the mid-1980's? Or did I watch too many episodes of Happy Days? I also seem to recall Santa visiting my house and me putting on regular clothes over the top of my pajamas to go meet him. I'm pretty sure this happened. On the other hand...the memory of my aunt buying me ice skates instead of tennis shoes? I think I made it up.

Did someone really set a hand towel on fire taking a dish out of the oven? Did my dad really run over my tricyle in the driveway and then bring it in the house, lay on the floor next to its poor mangled body, laughing hysterically? Did we really have mice at some point? Did I bite down on a glass cup and break it? I don't know. It's all fuzzy.

Even as an older kid - I have memories of how a yearly tradition would make me feel, but no real specific recollections. No particular Halloween or Christmas stands out in my mind. They all kind of melt together. I remember for a few years running we had a pool. I remember sharing a room with my baby brother, who screamed a lot, until my pink room was finished. I remember my brother generally being someone I didn't care to associate with until he was about 10. But I don't remember any specific day, or event, or who said what to whom about what. I remember sitting on the porch to watch thunderstorms...after we got a new porch courtesy of a thunderstorm. But I don't remember the thunderstorm that took out the old front porch. I don't specifically remember anything that happened when my Aunt lived with us...just a pink afghan and the phone being tied up a lot. Or when my Uncle lived in that room. All I remember is the way his 20 million colognes smelled. (Horrible.)

I wonder which one is more normal...the blurry childhood or the crystal clear one?

Thursday, November 12, 2009

28 Weeks

So yeah, everyone at work seems to think I've grown overnight. I don't know if I've really gotten that much bigger recently, or if it's because I stopped bringing in my lap blanket. (They finally turned off the air conditioning in the building.)

Went to the mall last week and bought some maternity clothes - I only had 1 pair of long pants, and no sweaters that fit me, so that was fun. Can someone tell me why the waistbands of maternity pants are always navy blue? This really bothers me. Because if I'm wearing a shirt that doesn't correspond with navy, and some of the waistband peeks out, I can't just pass it off as an undershirt. But your only choices are navy blue and now (I think this is new) nude. The idea behind the nude waistband is that if some of it shows, it just looks like your skin. Which is just dandy, as long as you're white. Wasn't there an issue with the crayons a while back? And the band-aids? This just seems to me like a lawsuit waiting to happen. (I bought em anyway. Because, well, I really hate the navy blue ones. And I am white, after all.)

These pants come with specific instructions on how to put them on. Really? Can it really be that confusing? If I were raised by wolves, maybe I would need these instructions. But if I were raised by wolves, I probably wouldn't be at the mall shopping at Motherhood Maternity.

When you walk into this store, the staff cheerfully says "Welcome to Motherhood!" It's a little play on words, see. It bugged the crap out of me. I don't know why. They were very nice, attentive ladies and they were only doing their job. Although I was glad when someone showed up who needed to be measured for a bra, because that meant they stopped following me around. I considered buying a bra but the whole getting-felt-up-by-a-stranger-at-the-mall thing has never been appealing to me. And they would have insisted. That's just how attentive they were.

Tomorrow my cable gets hooked up. It took me two days of talking to various people at Time Warner Cable to convince them to sell me cable. They kept insisting that they were not the service provider in my area. All the other big companies insisted that they were, plus I had physical proof. ("Look, you guys have a van parked outside my building RIGHT NOW. Here, talk to Charlie.")

So if you don't hear from me for a few days, I've passed out under the influence of too many episodes of "A Baby Story".

Wednesday, October 28, 2009

26 Weeks

So this week the stretch marks have started to show up. I mean, they've been on my hips for a couple of weeks now, but I've always had stretch marks on my hips so I was pretty okay with that. But now they've started forming in a semi - circle under my belly button. And they're really, really ugly. I've been using the lotion and drinking the water and all that crap, so it's not like I didn't give it a sporting chance. And frankly, all the girls who lectured me on the importance of doing these things ended up with stretch marks themselves. So there's that. But the people who try to convince me that the stretch marks are like a motherhood trophy or a badge of honor or something; fuck off. The kid is the trophy you moron. The stretch marks are to be reserved for guilt trips later.

Can I talk about foot care here??? A lot of pregnant women talk a lot about painting their toenails. Screw that. It's fall and in a few weeks I won't be able to see my feet anyway, so who cares if my plum polish is chipped? But here's the thing that you don't think of when the gals are complaining about their pedicures: How the hell do you CUT your toenails? I did it the other night and I had to take a breather in between feet. What happens next time it needs done? I can't trust Matt to do this. While I don't care if my toes are pretty, there is still a certain amount of shaping that needs to be done here, and I just don't think he's up to the task.

So who do you ask to trim your toenails? It's not as embarrassing as asking someone to wipe your ass, but it's definitely something I'd rather not ask a good friend. What if they find something under there?? I'll never be able to make eye contact again. But paying the $30 for a pedicure seems ridiculous. I don't want french tips. I just want to not snag the sheets.

Baby shower is this weekend. Halloween themed, laid back, men invited, beer allowed, no games, no frills, no bullshit. I'm excited. Just found out that Marie and Ringo, who are giving me the party, are allowed to use an old stump in their backyard as a fire we'll have a bonfire later in the evening if it doesn't rain.

Tune in next week to find out if I still have room in my apartment

Wednesday, October 21, 2009

25 Weeks

I used to think that the most bodily frustrating feeling in the world was a sneeze or a yawn that wouldn't come out.

I was wrong.

It is infinitely more frustrating to go to the bathroom and, after having JUST PEED, feel like you have to pee.

So I sit. And I wait. And I wait some more. I try leaning forward. I try leaning back. I try drinking water WHILE I'M SITTING THERE. Nothing happens. But I still feel like I have to go.

Everyone assures me this is normal. It sure as hell does not feel normal. It feels like torture. And because I've never done this before, my brain is screaming "Oh god, my kidneys are failing!" I know this is paranoia. But I cannot help it.

I wake up every day at 8am. I do not need to wake up at 8am, nor do I want to. But that's what time my body decides that it absolutely cannot go any longer without food. It doesn't matter that I had a snack at around 3am. What sucks about my 8am wake up call is that nowadays, I have a hard time going back to sleep. (If you call or text me too much before noon, rest assured that while I may not say anything, I probably hate you for the rest of the day. And possibly the day after.)

So what I do is, without completely opening my eyes, or turning on any lights, I shuffle to the refrigerator and open it. I then squint and fumble around in the door, which doesn't require looking directly at the light, until I find the applesauce. This I drink straight out of the jar. Then I put it away and shuffle back to the bedroom to pass back out until at least noon.

It's a lot like being hung over.

Tuesday, October 13, 2009

Week 24

I spoke too soon last week.

I thought things were getting better for me health-wise, but in fact, they are simply getting different.

Last Tuesday, what had seemed to be a case of the sniffles turned into full head-congestion. I stayed home from work, ate oranges and drank soup, and tried to will my body well. By Tuesday night I had a little wheeze and a cough.

Wednesday I tried valiantly to get through the work day and made it 6 hours. By about 10 pm I was working hard for each breath. I had a doctor appointment scheduled for Friday, and was trying to hold out...but when my breathing became labored I headed for the ER.

4 breathing treatments, 6 vials of bloodwork, 1 bag of IV fluids, 2 shots, 5 hours, and $100 dollars later, I got to go home.

My doctor gave me instructions to stay home for the next few days and wrote me 5 different scripts for medication. Another $70 later, I took home 2 inhalers, an antibiotic, an oral steriod, and a bottle of heavy duty cough syrup. I asked the pharmacist if my insurance had covered any of my medication. She said yes - I had paid a co-pay of $30 each on the inhalers, which would have been $150 each out of pocket.

Even with the best health-care coverage available to me, I spent $170 total in co-pays and fees because I have bronchitis and have developed asthma.

$170. That's a car payment. That's a car load of groceries. That's money that most Americans need to spend in order to keep living and earning.

If I didn't have that money put aside already, I wouldn't have been able to afford the medications I needed to keep my body breathing. Many people don't have that sort of money put aside in case of emergencies...even if they have good jobs like I do.

And those that have a good job, and health care, but they don't have the extra cash for emergency medications? Do they get the help they need? No. No, they don't. The hospital can't turn you away. There's no such stipulation at the pharmacy.

Don't tell me there's nothing wrong with our health care system.

Monday, October 5, 2009

Week 23

The list of things wrong with me is slowly dwindling, which is good.

See, after the whole staph infection in my face fiasco, I went to my OBGYN and told him my story. He was very surprised that the family practice doctor only prescribed antibiotics and DIDN'T prescribe an antiviral as well. I told him I figured it's because I was so bold as to self diagnose myself with a cold sore, and god knows the patient is never right.

Side note - I went to the emergency room once, and told the registrar I had a pilonidal cyst. She very snarkily informed me that I couldn't possibly know that for sure and refused to write it down. When I got to see the doctor, and explained what was going on, she said "Oh! A pilonidal cyst!" Bitch.

So anyway. He told me that if it happened again, and it probably would, I should call him up and he'd fax me in a script for an antiviral.

So last Friday, when I noticed I was getting another cold sore, I called my doc's office. They told me that they would call in the prescription to my drug store. I thought this was all just fantastic. Until they told me the name of the drug they were putting me on.

Valtrex. (tm)

For those of you who have never watched TV, Valtrex is a drug commonly used to treat genital herpes. People in Valtrex commercials kayak and canoe and hike and smile alot.

Now, I can deal with a lot of things. I can deal with dirty looks at the OBGYN because I'm wearing a PBR t-shirt. (There is no rule that says I must consume the beverage while wearing the t-shirt.) I have never had a problem buying my own tampons, condoms, or diahrrea medicine. But I just cannot walk my pregnant ass into the pharmacy to pick up my herpes prescription while the cashier smirks knowingly and snickers behind her hand. I just know I'll make a big deal out of telling everyone behind the counter that it's for a cold sore, while they roll their eyes and mutter "Yeah, right" under their breath.

So I made Matt pick it up.

Thursday, October 1, 2009

Stop being such a turd.

I originally started this blog because I wanted to have fun. I wanted to write Dave Barry-esque blog entries about my ridiculous exploits as a pregnant chick in Cleveland, with the most awesome and outrageous friends and family imaginable.

But then...Nothing. Happened. Okay, except for the whole ass bleeding thing a couple of months ago, but that's IT. I didn't have morning sickness. I haven't gained 20 zillion pounds. I have like, one stretch mark, and I think it might be from before. I'm sure weird, gross things will happen eventually. But in the meantime there isn't anything to make fun of myself about.

So I get on here and I write about my feelings. How pathetic is that? I'm sure I could find some way to word my feelings so they would be more funny and accessible. I mean, wanting to punch people in the throat for telling me I'm pretty is funny, right?

I need to stop being such a turd.

Wednesday, September 30, 2009

22 weeks

Nothing going on this week really. Baby kicking a lot more. That's about it.

Don't have energy for any damn thing anymore. Seriously. Sitting upright for 8 hours is draining. This isn't supposed to happen this soon, I don't think. Could be because they keep pumping me full of antibiotics which of course screw up my system and make me sick. This is why I never go to the damn doctor.

Next week they want me to come into work at 8am on a Friday for additional training. I don't get off work until Midnight Thursday night. It's a 45 minute drive. One way. They have got to be kidding me.

Find that I've become increasingly annoyed, angry, and disgusted by guys hitting on me or flirting with me. Even if they are nice guys. I don't know why. It's good for my self esteem, I guess, in a disconnected sort of way, that I'm not completely hideous. But on a very basic level, it makes me want to lash out irrationally. Punch, kick, yell, etc.

I mean, I'm fine hanging out with guy friends until the flattery starts. And then I just completely shut down. It's like nobody really believes me that I am absolutely not even a little bit interested in dating/kissing/banging/being ogled right now, and really I just need someone to swoop in and take care of me. Like I don't really know how I feel and it's their job to show me the light.

Also, the whole "you never call me" thing is getting old. If I don't call you, it's because I'm tired and I can't call every body every day. You can always call me. If you do call me and I take a while to get back to you it's because I'm tired. Or because you keep flirting with me and I don't like it but I can't just tell you that because it would hurt your feelings.

So...yeah. If anybody needs me I'll be on my couch in a bathrobe. Probably eating something.

Monday, September 21, 2009

21 weeks

Well, the past week was interesting to say the least.

Let's see. Tuesday, I think it was, I woke up with the beginnings of a cold sore on my nose. I get them maybe once or twice per year, so while it was annoying and painful, I cleaned it, put some salve on it, and didn't think much more about it.

Wednesday I woke up feeling as though somebody really big had punched me in the face. The pain started in my lower jaw and by afternoon had spread up to my upper jaw and nose, and down to the gland under my ear. All on the right side...the same side as my cold sore.

While it was not bad as long as I took care not to touch was weird enough to have me looking up a family practitioner in my network. Thankfully I got an appointment for the next day. The doctor took one look at my nose and my now swollen face and said "I'm putting you on antibiotics." Apparently, with my immune system all screwy, the cold sore (which was partially IN my nose) presented a perfect opportunity for Staph A. to get into my face and spread. Yuck.

I'm on what seems to me to be a pretty large dose of antibiotics - 4 pills a day for 2 weeks - and am thankfully feeling much better. The baby didn't move around much the first couple of days I took the pills, so I was worried, but now she's boogying around in there again. I'm guessing she wasn't feeling much better than I was.

I have a follow up tomorrow to make sure the drugs are working, and until the sore on my nose heals over, I'm not touching any babies or sick people.

Went out to see Matt this weekend, which was cool. Just kinda lounged on the couch and watched cable. He got to feel the baby kick, which was a very cool moment. You can only feel her from the outside when she really gets going so I wasn't sure it would happen for him just yet.

Luckily the people who care about me are starting to understand that I'm still maintaining a friendly relationship with him for a reason. Which is good because I was really starting to get tired of defending my decision. It comes down to this - while, yes, what he did to me was really shitty, it's not about that anymore. It's about our daughter now. And I just don't see how alienating him until she's born and then expecting him to snap to is going to help anything. I don't see much point in making it difficult for him to be involved. That will only hurt my child. Our child.

Even though we aren't together anymore, I would like my daughter to be able to have both parents with her on birthdays, and at school plays or basketball games or dance recitals. I don't want her to have to choose.

I can't tell the future. I don't know that he will always want to be as involved as he is now. I don't have any idea how it's going to play out. But I know that the right thing for me to do is to put aside my anger and think about our child.

Monday, September 14, 2009

20 weeks

It's very strange to think that my pregnancy is halfway over, when it's only recently started to become real to me.

She kicks me. Constantly. Sometimes it makes me smile that I can feel my daughter in there moving around. Other times it sort of creeps me out. I mean, my daughter is in there. Moving around. It's hard to explain why it's sort of creepy. But when I can feel her move she's not just a concept anymore I guess. People descibe feeling the baby move as different things - to me it feels like exactly what it is. Someone trying to get comfortable in a very small space.

I feel like I'm growing by the minute. And I keep catching myself doing very cliche pregnant things already - like walking around with a hand pressed to the small of my back.

Matt came up again for the weekend and we started my registry at Babies R Us. The big stuff was easy, but once we got into the little stuff it got overwhelming. I'll have to go back with a mom friend, because for the most part I was looking at this list of stuff they claim I need going "but WHY? What does it DO?"

Also, why do I need a pack and play, a full size swing, a travel swing, a crib, a cradle, and a bassinet?? I live in a 1 bedroom apartment. The crib is going in my bedroom. 2 feet from my bed. I could see MAYBE a bassinet if I had more bedrooms. Or if I lived in a 2 story home. But the amount of stuff they claim you need is ridiculous. I know they just want to make money. I know it's all marketing. But really? A crib and a cradle and a bassinet? No.

I think for now I'll manage my registry online. Hopefully it will cut down on the panic attacks.

Friday, September 4, 2009

Just don't buy me pink, okay?'s a girl! I'm a teeny bit disappointed, but I think I'll get over it.

***Update!! I registered for a bunch of cute stuff online, and I looked at some more baby names, and I listened to Derek and the Dominoes....and I'm not so much disappointed anymore. See? Told you I'd get over it.***

Heart looked good, kidneys looked good, ten fingers, ten toes, etc. etc.

She has her daddy's nose.

The only name I like is Layla. So of course my mom hates it. Because that's how these things work, right? She insists that people will call the baby "Lay". I insist that they won't. Besides, according to that logic, my nickname should have been "A man" and it wasn't.

Let the games begin!

Wednesday, September 2, 2009

18 Weeks

It's Wednesday. I haven't seen a flea since Sunday.

I caved to the fact that summer was officially 10 days long and bought pumpkin and apple candles. I fell asleep last night with visions of pumkin pie dancing in my head. My whole apartment smells awesome and is the perfect kind of chilly - the windows are cracked for fresh air, and the blanket is with me at all times.

Matt came up for the weekend and moved furniture, washed dishes, cleaned the litter box, and hung curtains. We did not fight, argue, or call each other names. It was nice.

Friday I have my anatomy ultrasound. I'm incredibly excited.

Oh, and I almost forgot...I felt the baby move for the first time last week. He kicked me when the shower suddenly went cold. Since then I can feel him when he moves suddenly or when there is pressure on my abdomen, like when I lay down or the cat lies on my belly.

It's very weird.

Wednesday, August 26, 2009

Week 17

Went to the doctor today. Everything's fine.

Next Friday is my next ultrasound - hopefully the little one will cooperate and we can tell if he's a him or a her.

Matt is actually acting like he gives a crap this week. So that's nice.

Still have fleas. Although considerably less. You'd think 5 canisters of fogger would do the trick, but no. My floors are currently covered in 20 Mule Team Borax. This stuff is supposed to be miraculous. We'll see.

Still nesting. Shannon came out over the weekend and helped me clean and rearrange. Other than my coffee table, my living room looks great. My kitchen is getting there, the bathroom now has storage, and I haven't even touched the bedroom. I'm kind of afraid of the bedroom, to be honest.

Not much going on. Bored bored bored. Really bored. I keep agreeing to babysit for friends while they go off and do fun things without me. It's kind of depressing.

I would kill for a back rub and a cuddle.

Tuesday, August 18, 2009

16 Weeks

Having weeks to go by is great, because it saves me the trouble of having to think up a clever title. Sometimes I just don't have one.

Well, I'm definitely showing now. Not in an "Oh my god you're huge" sort of way, but in the sort of way that if I lay down on my back that little bulge above my pubic bone doesn't flatten out. And other people are starting to be able to see it. it is.


I don't really know how I feel about it. Part of me thinks it's cute and exciting...and the other part of me thinks I just look fat(ter) and can't wait to get bigger. That's right, I said bigger. The theory here being that when I get bigger I'll actually look pregnant instead of just looking like I had a few too many twinkies.

I'm still at my pre-pregnancy weight, which my doctor was fine with once I convinced him that I am absolutely not starving myself. That helps. Other than the mixed feelings about the slight tummy, I'm actually feeling pretty good.

Had a bad start to the weekend. Friday night driving home from work, something just hit me. I don't know why, but I just started sobbing. It was horrible. But Shannon came out in the middle of the night and picked me up, and we laughed and talked and set up for her yard sale the next day. Played rummy all day while trying to convince people to buy her crap. We've come to the conclusion that she's my new baby daddy, so I feel better.

Got dressed up and went out Saturday night, which felt great. Got hit on a lot, which upped the spirits. Also, watching the reactions of would-be beau's when I tell them I'm knocked up is priceless.

Sunday went to the county fair with Team Fat Kid and the Spitfire crew to see the demolition derby. It was a long, hot day, and I was exhausted by the end, but it was fun. Hanging out with Gunner, who is 2, while his dad drove in the derby made my day. We learned that goats and horses are terrifying, but cows and sheep are not. Also, he asked me where "The Team" was and if he is a member, which made me laugh. Had him yelling "Hey Fat Kids!" and "Go team go!" which...well...let's hope he doesn't repeat at daycare.

Getting rid of the fleas tomorrow!!!!! (Hopefully) The flea chronicles have been an ongoing saga since the end of July. I have used carpet/upholstery powder. I have used spot on treatment for the cat. I have used a spray that you put on the carpet/upholstery AND the cat. Nothing kills them. The cat has been okay since the spray, but there is no spray for humans. My feet and ankles are covered in flea bites. The only safe haven is the bathroom (I keep the spray in there and the tile is white so I can see the fuckers coming). My house is a disaster area but a. I don't see the point in cleaning until I use the fogger, because I'll have to clean again, and b. I won't get out of the bathtub long enough to try.

So I finally found someone who doesn't have animals of their own to take the cat overnight. (In case of one or two errant fleas). I have to give him a bath tomorrow, treat him again, and then take him over so I can set the foggers while I'm at work. And then cross my fingers and pray that it works because otherwise I will have to give up and move.

Oh...and Matt has now accused me of sleeping with random guys and "fucking up our kid". I haven't seen anybody but him naked in over a I think it has to do with guilt more than anything. I'm guessing he's approaching this from an STD standpoint, as the child is still in utero and I can't really provide a bad example yet.

I think I'll send him the bill for the STD scan I got after I found out he was whoring around. (It came up clean.)

Tuesday, August 11, 2009

15 weeks

Well, for lack of anything better to do, I think I'm nesting.

At least in my head I am.

Okay, so far I've only done a couple loads of laundry, cleaned the bathroom, and gone shopping. But my apartment looks very clean and homey in my mind.

Planning on getting a buffet or desk for the kitchen appliances, some new drapes and rugs for the living room, getting rid of the ugly love seat nobody sits on and getting a desk.

Rugs are proving to be more difficult than I thought. How come everybody HAS old, crappy persian looking rugs, but nobody wants to sell them on the cheap?

Also got some book shelves and I'm thinking about slapping some paint on the coffee and side tables.

Probably bagging up 70% of my clothes to give away. And I need to get a vacuum. The handheld just ain't gonna cut it anymore.

Once I get all this done, all I have to do is maintain it for the rest of forever. No big deal, right?? Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha...

Friday, August 7, 2009

Gone Like Yesterday

He's gone.

Tuesday afternoon I didn't make him leave the house when I left for work.

Tuesday night I went home early to find a girl on my couch.

His mom found him Wednesday afternoon and took him home to Canton.

He is apparently undergoing psych evals once per week for the forseeable future, and will be treated for bipolar disorder as well as depression.

I'm not sure what I'm going to do.

The only thing that I can't really afford on my own is day care, but that's a big hurdle. I have applied for home access at work, and I will work on getting a computer.

Maternity leave is unpaid as it falls under FMLA leave. I have started a baby savings and have enough for one month of expenses right now. Hopefully I will be able to save enough for at least another month of leave as well as any emergencies.

The thing I am most worried about is being alone. Well meaning friends and family keep telling me that I am not alone. But the fact remains that when I go home tonight, I will be. And tomorrow. And next week.

I worry that I will have some sort of medical emergency.

I worry that once the baby comes I will never ever shower, eat, or sleep, because there will be nobody there I can hand the child to and say "Here. Take this."

After the last 3 months, I really didn't expect much from him.

But I really didn't expect this.

I should have.

Friday, July 31, 2009


***Warning. As the title implies, there are a few things here that are gross. If you don't want to know that much about my bodily functions, you should stop reading now. Seriously. Okay...well, if you're still here, I don't want any complaints about TMI later.

So I went to the doctor for my monthly appt. They weighed me and took my blood pressure. I lost a couple of pounds and was accused of not eating or cutting calories. Ha. Ha ha ha ha ha. No. It was the first time I have ever been in trouble for losing weight.

Really it was the sort of appointment that could have been called in. They didn't poke me with anything and they didn't make me take off my pants.

Oh - scheduled the next ultrasound. It's the anatomy one. So on September 4th I *should* know what the gender is. Hopefully.

I've been reading my "What to Expect" manuals every time something weird happens. There is extensive coverage on constipation and hemerhoids. There is one teeny little passage about internal hemerhoids and broken blood vessels. I would like to know why there isn't an entire chapter, printed in bold letters, entitled "Don't freak out if your butt bleeds a little." Because there should be.

Tuesday, July 28, 2009

2nd Trimester

My pants have not been buttoned in about a week and I'm okay with that. I have an awesome contraption made out of cotton and spandex called the belly band, and it's basically the bottom half of a shirt. It covers the fact that my pants are not buttoned in a highly fashionable way. I don't think I'll ever button my pants again, as long as these things are available.

Supposedly I'm going to feel more energized soon. Maybe instead of napping on the couch I'll have the energy to go somewhere else and nap. Sleeping under trees is good. Apparently, sleeping in bed is not so good. I can't seem to sleep at night and I can't stay awake during the day. It makes me want to throw things and cry. Sometimes I do throw things and cry, and that helps.

My mini vacation was good. I spent most of it helping Marie prepare for the wedding, as intended. So there wasn't a whole lot of relaxation, but at least there wasn't any frantic running back and forth from work, trying to get things done and failing miserably. Went to the zoo with Shannon and the kids last Wednesday. Between helping to run herd on the infant, the toddler, and also helping Shannon's mom get around, I think I got my exercise for the next month. Then, wedding prep, loading and unloading vehicles, shopping, and dancing the night away at the big event... I'm wiped. I'm also good on being social for the next little while. I just want to chill out by myself and read.

Going to the doctor tomorrow for my monthly. I don't know what he's gonna do except root around in my nether regions and tell me if everything looks normal. Probably order a whole bunch more blood work so I can go back to the hospital and let them torture me. (Yes, I finally went. They wanted six vials of blood. SIX! And a nurse made fun of me for my needle fear. Because I have tattoos. How many times to I have to explain that tattoos don't go in your veins??)

Will post again if anything weird happens.

Tuesday, July 21, 2009

It Just Keeps Getting Better

Okay so this week Matt continues to be difficult. Matt had a freakout on Sunday, for reasons unbeknownst to either of us. In a desperate attempt to keep him from hurting himself, I called his mom and put her on speaker phone so she could talk him down.

Well, it worked. But, while on speaker phone, his mother did something I didn't expect.

As you may know, Matt and I have been fighting repeatedly because he wants a key to my place to get in when he gets off work. I have refused to give him a key, because he abused that privelege TWICE. In March, he had girls in my apartment, while I was at work, without my permission or knowledge. I found out from someone else. He apologized, and I decided to give him the benefit of the doubt. I gave him his key back.

In May, he had a girl in my apartment, while I was at work, without my consent or knowledge. I found out from someone else. Only this time, he admitted that he MADE OUT WITH HER. IN MY APARTMENT.

I've been letting him stay with me while we try to figure out how to relate to each other, since I'm 3 months pregnant. He has been upset that I won't give him a key, because according to him, it's been almost 2 months, and he did apologize after all, and he's tired of wandering around all night while I'm at work. Nevermind that there are all night coffee shops at his disposal in the city. There are places he could go.

Now, cut back to Sunday. We are in my kitchen, with his mom on speaker phone. He's been cutting himself and she has convinced him to give me the razor and agree to go see a doctor this weekend. And then I hear this:

"I understand how hard it must be not to have anywhere to go after work. I just can't imagine having to deal with that. I don't think it's right, and I don't think it's fair...but I'm not going to get in the middle of it. If you can't handle that though, just know that you can come home."

WHAT???!!! First of all, saying that on speaker phone while I'm in the room - thanks for the guilt trip. You're right. It's my fault your son cuts himself. It can't have anything to do with him being unable to deal with the consequences of his actions.

Second - there are a lot of things that are unfair about this situation. Now, I'm not a doctor, maybe I'M the one who is disturbed here. But I don't think that precious widdle Maffew having his key priveleges revoked after HE FUCKED ME OVER TWICE is the least bit unfair. Considering that I'm still letting him stay with me, I let him keep the phone line in my name, I've been feeding him, driving him around, taking him to Canton to visit his mother and his daughter, ordering his daughter's birth certificate for him, etc. etc. I think I have been MORE than fair.

Third - If you're not going to get in the middle of something, don't express your god damn opinion on speaker phone with both people in the room!!! That's called jumping into the middle with both feet.

I can't even describe how furious, disgusted, and hurt I am over that comment. I understand a woman protecting her son. But that comment made me feel that she has no respect for me at all. I seriously doubt that would be her opinion if the cheater in question was anyone but her son.

When it comes to things that don't pertain to me and are absolutely none of my business, I have an opinion too. But since this is a public forum, I'll keep it to myself.

I promised last time that I wouldn't bitch but I didn't expect to be passive aggressively barbed by his mother.

Oh yeah - this week I'm 12 weeks. Woo hoo.

Thursday, July 16, 2009

11 weeks

So according to the books, this week the little one is about the size of a plum. He's growing fingernails (I wonder if that hurts?) and moving around a little bit. I can't feel it of course, but yeah.

I'm noticing a little tiny bit of a belly now. It's not so much that it's any bigger - it's just kinda filled up the flab I had there before...which actually kind of makes my stomach look better, really. My jeans are just a little tighter now. Not a big deal. I just pull an Al Bundy when I sit down. I did that half the time anyway.

Fighting with Matt has been getting worse. We had a blow out yesterday morning, complete with screaming and slamming doors. (Him this time, not me. Ha!) By last night he was apologetic but I just don't know what to do any more. It's getting ridiculous and I'm fed up. I can't take care of him and a baby...and he just can't seem to take care of himself. And every time I say no about something he throws a serious, full-blown, 2 year old temper tantrum. He's made a new set of promises that I don't even want to hear anymore. And on top of that - it makes me really uneasy when guys cry. I know that sounds sexist but I don't really care. I mean, a few tears here and there, okay. You're sensitive. That's maybe even a little sweet. An "Aw, he has a heart" moment. But if you are outright sobbing somebody had better be dead. Seriously.

Missing my mom. She went back home yesterday morning. I wish she didn't live so far away, but I really really really don't want to move to Florida. It's just never been a dream of mine.

I've been doing pretty good with putting my money away in preparation of maternity leave, hospital, etc. I started a new account today just for baby expenses. I still haven't gotten a bill from my first doctor's visit - so maybe my insurance is better than I thought? Or maybe they're going to hit me with the bill on my next appointment. Oh, and next week I HAVE to go get my bloodwork done. I expected them to do it at my OB visit, but they just gave me the paperwork ordering it and told me to "just go anywhere". What the hell does that mean?? What kind of doctor am I supposed to call for this? Is there a list? Ugh. Plus I hate needles, so I've been putting it off.

Now before anyone starts with the mocking, smirking, "you'd better get used to it, kiddo" crap...I KNOW. I know that I'm going to have to do unpleasant things that I don't want to do, such as repeatedly letting people jab me with needles, carrying a purse, making several trips, etc. I don't know where people keep getting the idea that I'm a complete moron, but I am fully aware that my life is going to change. I am fully aware that there are things I will do that I never did before, because I have to. I am fully aware that a baby is not an accessory but a little needy person that I will have to take care of and worry about for the rest of my life. And I'm tired of hearing about how horrible having children is from people who raised me. It's hurtful and unneccesary.

Well...I feel better. I'll bitch less next time.

Friday, July 10, 2009

Total Lack of Concentration

What a week. My mom made it here safely on Wednesday, and we've been having fun hanging out. I always forget how fun and funny she is. Awesome.

I've been soooo tired this week. And I cannot seem to concentrate on anything. I'm resolving to be more focused next week. For now, thank heaven it's the weekend.

Going shopping tomorrow - I've been culling inspiration for quick, healthy meals from a bunch of places. I'm excited to make black bean chili tomorrow. Also tomorrow I am going out with mom to hang out with the gang at Nolans, and visit with my uncles. I'll have a cran and sprite, please.

Missing Team Fat Kid and the Spitfire crowd. Unless it's a show though, I just can't go in there and deal with the smoke and the beer. It makes me want those things and I cant have them.

Cant wait for Marie and Ringo's wedding. Since stepping in as last minute MOH I don't feel like I've done enough, though. I know Marie isn't mad at me, but I feel sure I should be doing something else. Bachelorette party next weekend!!! Woot!!! I'm excited.

I'm also excited to go get my outfit for the wedding. The polka dot halter dress just ain't gonna middle has expanded ever so slightly and there isn't any room in there. So I'm gonna hit The Mission for this awesome Lucky 13 halter top I saw on the website, and pair it with my stretchy pencil skirt. All black is better anyway.

Baby has fingers and toes this week!!! Sweet!

Monday, July 6, 2009

10 weeks

I decided I should start a pregnancy blog. Partly so people who want to be updated can be (it's exhausting to call or text everyone individually), but mostly for me. If all goes well, it will be so I can remember all the little joys. If not, well, it will serve as a reminder of why not to do this again. I hear people tend to forget either way.

Went on my first official doctor's appointment last week. All seemed fine - doc noticed a wheeze when he listened to my lungs but I reminded him that I had been smoking until recently. Heard and saw the heartbeat on an ultra-sound....amazing. The doctor couldn't find the heartbeat on the doppler, and I was really worried...but it turns out the baby was just hiding. My due date is February 4th - 2 days before my birthday.

I'm impatiently awaiting summer here in Clevo. I'm so tired of being cold. And it will be winter again in about five minutes so I'm starting to get ticked off. Ugh.

Really emotional this week. Kind of feeling anti-social, which sucks because my mom is coming to visit this week and I really am excited... Having a hard time dealing with Matt. With everything that has happened it's hard for me to trust anything he says as sincere. I feel like he always has an ulterior motive.

On the other hand, I'm tired of explaining to people why I still have him around. It boils down to this; I don't want to do this alone. And he is willing to be there and do the stupid shit that I really can't count on anyone else for. Need a quick back rub?? Sure. Pickles at 2am?? No problem. I'm not going to call friends, even dear ones, to come and do those things for me. Even if they would.

I can feel things really start to move around in my abdomen now. Not the baby of course, just the shifting around of my organs. It's not exactly comfortable. I am pretty sure I'm going to start showing any minute.

Oh no! Maternity clothes!