Holy Expanding Bellies, Batman!

Seriously, where does the time go? It's been a month since I last updated this thing and I could have sworn it was a only a week or so!

Mr. L and I have been eight hundred different kinds of busy getting ready for the appearance of the girl child and trying to maintain our regular personal and work lives to boot. There isn't really anything of much interest going on right now, just waiting and waiting and waiting.

Hopefully I'll pop soon, due date is less than two weeks away - weeeeeeeee!

Highly Laughable

Biggest maternity lie out there:

Purchase your pre-pregnancy size!

30 Week Update

Weight gained so far? 22 pounds
How much of that went to your ass? 21 pounds
How much of that went to your breasts? 21 pounds
Are you still in possession of your ankles? Amazingly, yes.
Number of toilet paper squares it takes to encircle your belly? Nine
How long did it take you to heave yourself out of the tub this morning? Fifteen minutes.
How many times have you gotten stuck while trying on clothes at Destination Maternity? Twice
Would you say you are still in control of your emotions? Yes, of course. Why? Have people been saying something? Those bastards, who are they? I'LL STRANGLE THEM! PEOPLE ARE ASSHOLES! WHAT DO THEY KNOW?! I'M IN COMPLETE CONTROL HERE!!

Weeee! Only ten-ish more weeks to go!

Something Sinister Is Going On In My House

It started maybe five or six months ago, I would notice that items were misplaced around the house and then my dog Cami started following me everywhere as if protecting me against some unseen evil. The clues back then were subtle and I wasn't really picking up on the fact that something was wrong, it was more or less just a small annoyance that occurred every couple of days or so. Still, Cam would not leave my side and even went so far as to guard the bathroom door when I was showering and getting ready for work in the morning.

I suppose the presence in my house became more apparent when the little monster started messing with my clothes. One day, a blouse wouldn't fit quite the same, as if someone had shrunk it - but no, I always dry-cleaned that particular blouse so how could it have shrunk? Then a short time later, someone took in an inch or two from the waist of all of my pants. At first I thought it was funny, I mean, obviously this was not a mean spirit if the worst it would do was alter my clothing, right?

I was wrong. Not even a week later, it started poisoning my food. Everything I ate I would almost instantly vomit right back up. When I finally just gave up on eating, it resorted to tampering with my toothpaste so that every time I brushed my teeth I would gag and gag until finally I resolved myself to my fate and stuck my head in the toilet. At about the same time, the presence also emptied all of my perfume bottles and refilled them with a most foul smelling concoction that would send me racing to the bathroom.

All of this non-eating and throwing up was really taking a toll, I was more exhausted than I thought physically possible and yet somehow SOMEHOW! I had managed to gain weight. But then it dawned on me that no, the spirit had adjusted my scale! At this point I realized the spirit's trickery knew no bounds.

After a few weeks, the presence grew bored of playing with me and things returned to normal around my house - well, normal aside from the wide-angle mirrors it had left behind. I still can't seem to get those to return to the way they were before and show my true figure -all it shows is the most ridiculous bump around my midsection. But aside from that, life had returned to normal. I was finally able to sleep and eat like a decent human being, though Cami was still keeping a close eye on me.

Just when I thought I was in the clear, the spirit has returned. This time it swapped all of the shoes in my closet with those of someone with smaller feet! When I was getting ready for work this evening, it was almost impossible to wedge my feet into my shoes and that's when I realized - they were two sizes too small! Ooooh, you mean little spirit! Why must you torment me this way?

So that's that, I've had it. Mr. L and I are selling and getting as far away from this house as possible. Of course, it will probably take us a few months to sell and find something new, so I'm hoping by February I can be free of this presence.

A Not So Sweet Deal

So my OB called me yesterday and it turns out, I failed my gestational diabetes screening test. So apparently all of the effort I have put into eating healthy was a waste - I could have been eating french fries and ice cream this whole time, damnit!

In all honesty I have a feeling that my "slightly elevated" numbers are directly related to the fact that they tested me the day after Halloween. So thanks to the splurge I let myself have because I had been good all week and eaten mostly fruits and vegetables, I get to take part in the three hour glucose challenge tomorrow morning. This will involve drinking a sugar syrup concoction and then having multiple blood draws performed every hour - yay for the human pin cushion!

In other news, it appears there are now certain areas of my body that I am no longer able to see. Hopefully Mr. L will appreciate the lengths I went to in order to obtain optimum smoothness and reward accordingly, if you know what I mean.

Hip Update

So it's been almost four and a half months since L's injury and all x-rays are coming up positive. L's been cleared for light duty at work which means that instead of going crazy at home doing nothing, he can go crazy at work dealing with idiots. Amazingly, he is looking forward to this.

While the report on the hip is great news, there was some not so great news regarding his knee. Since he put down the crutches about three weeks ago, L's been having pain in his left knee and some associated popping which the doctor says is more than likely torn cartilage. Since L's been on crutches for the past four months and therefore not using his knee joint at all, the possibility of torn cartilage has gone undetected. So we've started another waiting game - wait and see if the pain and popping goes away and if it doesn't, come back in a month for an MRI to see if the cartilage is torn. Then, depending on the significance of the injury, face the possibility of knee surgery.

So let's break down the time line on this one taking into consideration a worse-case scenario:

1. First week of December - go back for follow up knee visit
2. Sometime a week later - have an MRI
3. Find out L needs surgery
4. Christmas/Busiest time of the year for L as far as work is concerned
5. January - have baby
6. Tear out hair and gnash teeth

I am so ready for this all to end. I'm tired of being on tender hooks about L's condition - I want my husband back NOW. People, we have a baby on the way, when the hell are we supposed to deal with all of this AND get ready for that huge life-changing event? I have absolutely no idea how I am going to manage taking care of everything if L has surgery and is out of commission again - not with only twelve weeks left to go in this pregnancy. Sure, I had to do it all in June when L's accident first happened but I was only nine weeks pregnant and a hell of a lot more mobile.

When L's accident originally happened, we knew we were in for a long haul. We knew things would suck for a while and there would be stress, but I will be honest and say that I never for one second anticipated how far-reaching all of this would be. Stress about taking care of each other, stress about taking care of the house, stress about money, stress on our relationship, stress which lead to pregnancy complications, stress which lead to fights between the two of us, stress which affected how we handled daily activities and encounters... no amount of money that we may eventually settle for is worth what we have been through. If I could choose between all of this with a large cash settlement or none of it - I would choose our boring, ol' vanilla, normal life hands down.

Being Hormonal and Judgemental

After my second miscarriage, it was hard for me to see other pregnant mommies and not feel jealous and guilty. Going into my OB's office for weekly check ups and blood draws didn't help the matter much as inevitably there would always be at least one pregnant mommy in the waiting room - such is the peril of going to an OB's office.

While that feeling of jealousy diminished over time, it never really went away as far as some pregnant mommies were concerned. I can remember being at the checkout counter at the grocery with Mr. L almost two months after our miscarriage and the cashier was in high school, unmarried, talking about catching her boyfriend with a cheerleader and quite pregnant. I cried and cried and cried and cursed such an unfair world for allowing someone who couldn't even support herself let alone a child to carry to term. I could provide a baby with a loving home, I could provide a mommy AND a daddy, I could do all of those things and more except actually stay pregnant long enough to have a child. Obviously, I was quite emotional and rationality was something with which I struggled.

Today, despite being pregnant, I felt some of those same feelings creeping back in - but not for me. A close and dear friend of mine is beginning the process of infertility testing/treatment after a long, difficult process of trying to get pregnant and I just hurt so much for her. Here is an amazing woman who would make one kick-ass mom and a little piece of me crumbles when I see these girls bringing children into the world that they didn't plan and can't afford. Just to rub more salt in the wound, tonight on one of the pregnancy message boards I frequent there was a 19 year-old girl talking about how she is living with her boyfriend, can't afford to buy food, and wishes she had never become pregnant. It is all. I. can. do. not to snipe at this girl.

I realize in life there are things we cannot change, but damnit it can suck so hard sometimes.

28 Weeks

Yipes!! Only twelve-ish more weeks to go!

Dear...

Stupid Yankee New Yorker Bitch in My Childbirth Class:

You're right, my child is not going to love me more because I choose not to have an epidural during labor and delivery. Little Bit will have no idea what that even means for many, many years to come nor will she understand the amount of energy, effort, and love that is put into making a birth plan for a pending delivery until she has children of her own, if she so chooses. In fact, by the time LB can understand all of that, she and I will have formed a bond that will be totally independent of whether or not I had an epidural. That relationship will be formed and based on the choices that I make as a parent, not the least of which will include decisions made for my family regarding their health and well being.

If your decision to have an epidural is because it's "available and why not" and is in no way based on any thorough research and long discussions with your spouse, then you are the fool and not I. My health and the health of my baby will not be subject to societal whims simply because "everyone else is doing it." This pregnancy has been difficult enough already (what with almost losing the daddy, heart complications, and random bleeding just to name a few) and if there is one thing I've learned, it's that you have to arm yourself with as much information as possible and try to make the best choice possible for you, if not the most informed. I am in no way opposed to an epidural - it is a great option for many women, it just isn't the best option for me.

And yes, your accent is fucking annoying.

Hugs and kisses,

greeneyes

LUAU!!

October 27th and we finally have heat! As Mr. L and I moved into the house in the late spring, we never had a reason to turn the heat on and therefore we had no idea that we had GAS HEAT and needed to call the GAS COMPANY to have it turned on.

So when we finally went to use our heat in the first week of October, imagine our surprise when it didn't work - and by surprise I mean witness the deathly scowl of a six-month pregnant chick who is cold.

Of course the GAS COMPANY cannot immediately send someone out, nooooo. They make you wait a week, during which time you learn the very fine art of piling on shirt, after shirt, after sweater, after sweater, after blanket (much like this dude) in a sad attempt to stay warm - and no, piling on extreme amounts of clothing is not conducive to moving around. After said week has passed, the GAS COMPANY is a no show and when you call to see what the hell happened because hello! we're fucking cold over here, they tell you the earliest they can dispatch someone is the following week.

I actually started looking forward to going to work so I could thaw out. *shudder*

Stressed

I don't think my husband wants to have sex with me anymore.

I can't believe I'm putting this out into the Innerbunny (as Michelle would call it), but there you have it. I am fully admitting that I am whining here and yes, there are more important things to be stressed about in the world - I get it. Unfortunately knowing that makes me neither less stressed nor less whiny.

Obviously I understand L's lack of desire recently because let's face it, I'm 15 pounds heavier than I used to be and just not a shining example of sexiness in my current pregnant state. It's not as if the man has ever even thought about looking at preggie porn or anything, so why would he be attracted to me? I just don't fit the status quo of his sexual desires these days, folks.

Now L tells me I'm beautiful on a regular basis and I believe him when he says that, but that doesn't necessarily mean that he's attracted to this particular brand of "beautiful." I think most pregnant women are beautiful in a glowing, maternal way, but I would never look at one and think, damn, I could get with that. And yes, I have thought that about other women before so that isn't just from a same sex standpoint.

Another part of this equation is a certain ex-boyfriend who, after a year of dating, just decided he really wasn't that into sleeping with me anymore. Didn't know why, didn't think it had anything to do with me, just flat out wasn't interested anymore. So at this point in my life, I've taken two perfectly healthy, young, virile men and, for whatever reason, caused them to stop wanting to have sex with me.

It's a blow to my self esteem. *sigh*

So what is there to do? I've stopped coming on to L in the hopes that a little absence makes the heart grow fonder will spark some interest - but after a week of feigning disinterest, I've got nothing. No attempts made on his part and for fuck's sake, I can't even remember the last time we kissed. I've previously tried just jumping him but that resulted in a disastrous episode entitled "The One in Which L Tries Really, Really Hard to Come and Ends Up Doing So While Only Semi-Hard."

I thought the only reason you were supposed to be married when you're pregnant is so that there is someone legally bound to have sex with you. Apparently I was misinformed.

I think it's time to break out the Old English...

...and dust this puppy off. :o)

I'm not even going to try to catch up on the past, oh, seven months that I've let this thing rot but I will bring y'all up to speed on the most important things:

1. Bought a house
2. Old house is broken into on THE DAY we are moving out
3. Rear-ended on the freeway while driving up to see my parents in Delaware
4. Came back from Delaware, found out we're pregnant
5. Much freaking out ensued
6. Mr. L is out on a training ride for a charity cycling event and is hit by a truck
7. Even more freaking out ensued
8. Dropped to part-time at work in order to take care of L (currently known as Broken Hip Boy™ or Hobbes)

So yeah, my summer has been a rollercoaster to say the least. Hopefully now that I'm working a little less - ok, who am I kidding? I'll be working the same amount if not more, just not in an actual "office" - I can keep up with this thing a little better... but no promises. :)

Enough hormones to kill a horse

So while I may not technically be pregnant, I still have enough hormones in my body to supply three teenagers... and boys at that. Normally when my hormones spike I get all "don't fuck with me" but now I am "yes, please, fuck me, yes, you, anyone, fuck me."

Ok, maybe not anyone but at this point I think Mr. L is ready for a designated hitter to take over. Apparently yes, you can oversex a 26 year old male, especially if you have sex seven times in three days. The poor man cannot even come so you can imagine how serious the situation is.

I think we're getting to a point where L is afraid to fall asleep for fear of being attacked by the Post-Miscarriage Hormonal Woman from Hell™. I used to tease L that he would midnight stealth me in the middle of the night but oh, how the tables have turned.

Maybe he should start sleeping in one of these...

Dear...

Dick-Wad ER Nurse in Dover, DE who told me the miscarriage was my fault:

Blow me.

Hugs and kisses,

greeneyes

It's getting dusty in here

My apologies for the long hiatus (you know, to the three people who actually read this), it's been a stressful few weeks. Allow me to give you a quick run down:

1. Quit Mega-Stressful Job from Hell™
2. Started new, less stressful job
3. Found out I was pregnant (despite being on birth control)
4. Had miscarriage
5. Parents come to town
6. Thanksgiving
7. Some how made it through Thanksgiving without strangling my mom (henceforth known as Da Momma)
8. Found out I was pregnant, again
9. Decide that husband has ultra-strong swimmers
10. Second miscarriage
11. Twenty-second birthday
12. Christmas

I have many things to blog about so keep an eye out for many entries to come!