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.
Monday, October 03, 2005
Here are some of the highlights of what I’ve learned about pregnancy and about myself during the last 35 weeks:
It doesn’t matter if you’re not as big as other women who are also pregnant, people will still comment on how big you are. They’ll even tell you that you’re having a big baby, or possibly even twins, even though you know it’s impossible, since every single time you go to the doctor you’ve only heard one heartbeat. You can tell people this over and over again, but they’ll refuse to hear you.
Your life becomes something you would have never recognized pre-pregnancy. 9 months ago if you would have told me that I would sit home every Friday and Saturday night and be in bed by 11 pm, I would have laughed at you as I puffed on a cigarette and guzzled a beer. Now, the old me seems like some kind of pathetic stranger. I struggled for a long time with letting the old carefree E-Lo slip into the void, but now I’m totally ok with who I am. In fact, I really like myself a lot better. I’m still me, only a more responsible version of me. A new, improved version of myself. E-Lo 2.0.
Your relationships with people inevitable change. I’ve read article after article about how your single friends will slowly slip away and you’ll seek out mommy and daddy friends, or people who are on the same level as you. Although my single friends haven’t deserted me (thankfully), we don’t hang out nearly as much. But it’s not because they’ve changed, it’s because Ryan and I have changed. We’re tired, we’re busy, and we’re building a whole new human. That takes a lot out of you. There’s a lot of stress involved, and as much as you’d like to go have fun with your carefree, unmarried, childless friends, sometimes life gets in the way. I haven’t hung out with my best friend from high school since May. I just can’t relate with her, because we’re at totally different stages in life. She’s just getting married, but I’ve been there with the married stuff. In 23 days I’ll celebrate my third wedding anniversary, which is cool, but I’m totally focused on my kid at the moment. And I know I’ll be totally focused on my kid for the rest of my life. And if you don’t have a kid, you really can’t understand. Until my friends start having kids, we’re going to be on different levels. Single people don’t really want to hear about your kid every single time you talk. I know I didn’t. One article I read about this phenomenon summed it up great: you look at your childless friends with a mixture of pity and envy. Pity because you feel that your life has a deeper meaning, and envy because you know how it felt to be on their level and not have to worry about the needs of a tiny helpless human before your own needs.
It doesn’t matter how many times you’ve heard the same questions, you’ll hear them over and over again 27 gazillion times before it’s all over. And you know what? You will become a robot when you answer them. You’ll answer the same way every time, you’ll even throw a chuckle in there from time to time, just to spice it up. You’ll pass the point of being sick of answering the questions, you won’t even think about it. The answer will just fall out of your mouth like you’re drooling.
When you go to buy a travel system, the one you want will be out of stock at every single Target store within a 50 mile radius. And because you have 300 dollars in Target giftcards, you really won’t want to actually spend money out of your pocket elsewhere, mainly because you’re having a kid and need that money.
Just when you thought your feet couldn’t swell any more, they’ll swell to double the size that they originally swelled to.
When your kid drops, that’s when you’ll get stretch marks on your stomach. You can go your whole pregnancy with not one single belly stretch mark and be totally proud (although I have stretch marks on every other part of my body). But when that kid wants to move down into your pelvis, they’ll suddenly appear. You can also expect to pee every 30 seconds or feel like your bladder will burst.
Once you hit the 30 week mark, it will take you at least 5 minutes just to roll yourself over in bed. Sometimes you’ll have to ask for help. For each week that you’re still pregnant, you can tack at least another minute on to that. Right now it takes me 9 minutes to roll over. It also takes extra effort to get out of any seat.
There’s a lot more, but this will do for now. Maybe I’ll do some pregnancy reflections every week until Fuzzball decides to show up.
I have to send a big thank you to Pup, who sent me this. Ryan almost crapped when he saw it. We found it on the Hot Topic site months ago and he really, really wanted it, so thanks!!! You’re awesome. Fuzzball is going to be such a rocker kid.
This week is going to be a busy week, because I’m training a new person at work. So I may not find a lot of time to visit everyone, but I’ll be lurking around when I can.