That La Kid

wishin' an' hopin'!

tara

At the end of “Gone with the Wind,” when Scarlett is despondent over losing Rhett, she hears the voices of Ashley, her father, and Rhett saying her strength comes from the red earth of Tara… she is happiest at Tara! Return to Tara! Tara! Tara!

I had a checkup today with the OBGYN and the gestational diabetes person. Things are looking good.  I don’t know if it’s because my blood sugar numbers weren’t THAT bad, or  because I’m home, or because we finally moved everything out of the old house and never have to go back… But I just want to assure anyone who thought I might be suicidal that I’m not. I had a horrible couple of days, but things are getting better and better.

After all, tomorrow is another day!

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is this normal?

Are hot flashes normal during pregnancy?  I guess I could Google it.  I just wanted to know what y’all have experienced. 

I hate that the answer to everything is, “well, your hormones are just going berserk right now…”

I wonder if it has anything to do with my body producing exorbitant amount of testosterone for this little dragon.  I think I want to get that tested.  The testosterone, I mean.  His junk looked huge for baby junk on the ultrasound.  Is that normal?  Could that have to do with testosterone levels?  Or is he… just… well… is it just in the genes?

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this makes me sad

I found this while I was packing at the old house last week.  It’s a calendar that I made one of the times that I was late and “sure” that I was pregnant.  I even bought a dress for this “baby” to wear to Kelly’s wedding.  You’d think that it would make me happy, because the hopeless desperation has finally been replaced with legit joy.  I guess I just feel sorry for that girl.

My period showed up at some point in September.  Image

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lately

It’s been a busy couple of weeks.  No progress on Little Happy’s room or anything.  At this point we’re just trying to get out of the old house.  We’ve got one week.

It’s been a rough few days.

We bought a house, closed on 7/27 and have to be moved out of our rental by 8/18.

I don’t have gestational diabetes per se… but my numbers are elevated.  So I’m diligently trying to figure that whole mess out.

Tom went to Dallas last Thursday and Friday, so in addition to be pregnant and having to work on the old house by myself, I was super-duper depressed at being alone.  There’s nothing in the new house to eat.  So, I had to go to the store.  Everyone I know who has a pet can just walk out the door and go to the store.  Not us.  We have to dog-proof the whole house.  Close all the doors to all the bedrooms…  Put boxes on the couch so she doesn’t jump up there and cover it in fur…  Move anything that’s edible higher than 5 feet off the floor…  It’s exhausting.  I just want to be able to go to the freaking store without having to turn my pantry into Fort Knox.  I just want things to be easy.  I just want my life to be simple!

So.  I put the dog in the garage.  I prayed she wouldn’t crap in the garage – because I’m still nauseous all the time and didn’t want her sh*t to make me throw up.  Still, I bought clothespins at Walmart so I could put one on my nose if she did poop and figured we could use them at the baby shower.

It started raining when I went into Walmart, when I was ready to leave it was a gosh-darned MONSOON.  I got soaked, despite the umbrella (“…big ol’ fat rain.  Rain that flew in sideways…”)  I looked like a drowned rat.  Aaaand I slipped in the parking lot.  Stubbed my toe.  I’ll live.  My super-long second toe kind of folded and saved the rest of me from going down, but it got cut pretty bad and hurts like a mug.  Added injury to the insult of being soaking wet, and lonely, and sad, and frantic about Jasmine.

At home, of course there was sh*t in the garage, which infuriated me.  Of course.  Just because I DID NOT NEED THAT IN MY LIFE AT THAT MOMENT.  So, okay… fine.  I can pick up poop.  I mean.  I’m having a baby.  Me an’ poop are about to get real friendly.

But geeeeeez… do I hate dog poop.

So, I open the clothespins and they don’t fit on my GIGANTIC, HUGE, ENORMOUS, TITANIC nose.

I stuffed a paper towel up my schnoz and picked up the crap, put it in a bag and cracked the garage door so I could throw it out on to the driveway and throw it away when it’s not raining cats and dogs.  Oh!  And speaking of rain/dogs… Jasmine decides she’s out.  She’s gon’ bounce.  She peacin’.  So, she runs out of the garage into the rain.  Nice little plus.  Like my evening wasn’t already awesome… now I get to go find a wet dog.

JASMINE!  WHY YOU SO DUMB!  WHY YOU RUN OUT INTO STORM!

I don’t get it.  I’ll be damned if I’m going out there.  I yelled and she came back.  I yelled at her to stay and went inside to get a cup of water the flush out the pee that she also made for me while I was gone.  Come back out – she’s gone again.

SUNNUVA!

I called her again and she came back.  WTF, Jasmine?!  It. Is. RAINING.  Stay in the garage… if for no other reason, because I JUST told you to.

WHY YOU SO DUMB?!

This happened every time I went in to get another cup of water.  By the time the pee was flushed out into the rain I was ready to just shut the door and leave Jasmine out there.  I didn’t.  I called her back into the garage from wherever the heck she was.  I stood by her bowl and watched her eat the food that had been there since I left.  (If you don’t know this dog, she loves to eat.  We pour the food at dinner time, she eats it.  Interesting, huh?  Leave her in the house and she will eat anything within those 5 feet of ground level.  Leave her in the garage with a full bowl of food and she doesn’t touch it.)  Poured her some water.  Stood there while she drank it.  Went in the house, told her to get the F away from me, and I finally got to eat something.  Finally.  Sat in the kitchen and cried and ate “dinner,” a Lean Cuisine.

I was beginning to think Tom had forgotten about his wife.  It was about midnight, Texas time.  So… clearly he’s having more fun than I was.  Whatever.  I’m going to bed… Jasmine was finally dry, but I didn’t want her near me and she knew it.  She got as close as she thought she could safely, which was the landing halfway up the stairs and eventually outside my bedroom door.

Tom called at about the same moment I gave up on him.

Maybe none of it is a big deal, but I FEEL depressed.  So, I FEEL like it’s a nightmare.

Tom got home and we decided that we’re never doing that again.  Ever.  That was stupid.  Lil’ Happy and I are going next year.

The screen on my laptop, my only means of communication with the outside world, went black on Tom’s first day away – JUST as I was opening photoshop to create Baby Shower invitations.  I also have someone WAITING for me on Etsy, and no way to create a listing.  Our shower leaks.  The washing machine stopped working.  The ceiling fan and light in our bedroom turn on and off at random.  And oh yeah, we have a house to move out of.  Oh yeah, and my nose is huge.

Friday night – Tom was finally home!  I met him at the door.  It was like in the movies where they guy has been over seas fighting Nazis for 9 months.  We just wanted to be together.  We drove to get food at 11:30 – not because we were hungry, but because we wanted to drive around and talk and just be together.  Took the Holy Terror with us.  Got home and Tom showed me cupcakes! And presents! We were in bed around 12:30.

At about 1:30 am, his phone starts going off and we both thought it was the alarm.  We were supposed to leave early to go to Virginia.  It wasn’t the alarm, it was the neighbor that lives by the old house.  She said some kid told her he thought our house was robbed.  We got dressed, loaded Jasmine up in the truck that was full of stuff from me moving earlier that day and went to the old house.  The cops were there.  They said the back door was open.  Great.  We went in the front door.  The cop was like, “alright – what’s missing?”  “Nothing.  It looks just as it did when I left this evening.”

Turns out, they had parked the getaway car in front of our house, broke in to a house about 5 houses down and ran behind all the houses in-between with the goods.  But it wasn’t us.  It’s like Tom’s back home and all is right with the world.  Nothing is a big deal.  Everything’s okay.

We were up late.

We went to Virginia for a glorious wedding – but traveling is always tough anyway.  I’ve got this gestational diabetes problem and it’s been tough to find good nutritious food on the road.  Anyway.  Being on the road is just an extra stressor on the existing list of crap that’s going on.  We were both tired from the night before.

It was a whoooole weekend that we weren’t moving.

It was a great weekend.  Great wedding.  Great day at Busch Gardens – although I could not ride a damn thing.

I take that back, I rode the carousel.  Everything else was either too dangerous or part of the Sesame Street Forest of Fun.

As if my list of whiny complaints wasn’t long enough, at the wedding a friend of mine pointed out that my voice is suddenly very deep.  Yes, it is.  Thank you.  I actually find it quite devastating.  Huge nose… growing a beard… voice of Gaston… wedding band doesn’t fit… yes… pregnancy is AWESOME.

Side note: this sounds like me, http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC1770619/, I’d love to know other peoples’ opinions on the subject.  People on various message boards claim the nose thing will go away after I have the baby, but the deep voice bit sounds like a legit issue (that will resolve itself eventually, but an issue nonetheless).  All the stuff about the ovaries sounds like me… just sayin’.  Look at it.

So… yeah.  That’s what’s happening down here.  I’m just kind of waiting for this pregnancy thing to get fun.  At first, I figured it was lame because I was waiting until after my cousin’s wedding to make a big deal about it.  But here it is a month later and I’m still miserable.  I don’t feel special!  I’m not glowing!  I’m just… kind of… blubbering.  I’m tired.  I’m fat.  I’m sad.  Projects are not getting done.  The house is a mess.  I was looking forward to the baby shower because that’ll be fun… show off my new house, you know?  But like, people have a problem with it because I want it to be at my house in Charlotte.  That’s really getting to me for some reason… like, making them unhappy is completely filling me with anxiety and irritability.  There really just aren’t words to express my feelings about that.  I can’t imagine any of the complainers being like, “oh – you know what, I’m going to have my baby 4 hours from home because that’ll be easier on Wendy,” but that’s what I’m doing for them.  (Not just for them, I like the doctor, too – but if you ask, “wow, why are you having the baby in Cville?”  First thing out of my mouth is, “Well, my whole family is there.”)  And they can’t come here, to my home for a shower, so I can nest for one f*cking minute before I have to move to Charlottesville for a month – away from Tom, and we’ve seen how well that worked out – and live as a guest, out of a suitcase while I have this baby?!

Buuuuut…. trying to be optimistic.  I don’t know.  Trying.  Sorry if you wanted a fluffy entry about magic baby fairy dust.  Tom makes me feel better.  We tried for so long.  This is our little miracle.  I’m hoping it’ll be a whole different story when he emerges from… my… gosh… I do not want to think about that right now.

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not to keep bringing it up

One thing I am noticing about being pregnant, moms LOOOOOOVE to talk about their birth stories.  (Don’t traumatize me.)  Well, I’ve got one for you.  (Let me traumatize you.)

I’ve said that 2 weeks after surgery I was at Disney World.  I was thinking of my anniversary, December 16th being 14 days after I checked out from the hospital.  You know what?  I can make it sound better than that.  December 2nd, I was at Martha Jefferson.  December 11th I was at Walt Disney World.  That’s 9 days!  Crazy!  I’m awesome!

I suddenly have a new burst of energy thinking about our trip this coming December.  For some reason, I had assumed that I’d basically be on bed-rest for 3 months after giving birth… so how the heck will I finagle an anniversary trip 2 months after the baby’s due date?  So.  Okay.  What?  Like, this is the one year we don’t have dinner at California Grill on our anniversary?  Poor baby.  Can you cope?  It’s the end of the woooorld…

No wait.

I was cut wide open and had a 15 lb. pot roast removed and 9 days after I checked out of the hospital, I checked in to Disney’s Wilderness Lodge!

It was no little cut either!  No little golf-ball sized cyst that was removed with 3 tiny incisions.  No.  Every doctor that I have seen since (and it’s a lot with this pregnancy thing) who sees the (like 10? 12 inch?) scar from Mr. Nasty is taken aback with a gasp and a distinct “WTF” face.  They all ask who did that to me, like I went to a butcher (and it was a pot roast – ha).  None of them can believe it.  I should start carrying around the picture of that bad boy in my wallet.

Boom.

Image

and 9 days later… BOOM.

Image

Look how happy I am!  I could see my feet!  This isn’t a girl who’s on bed-rest or in unbearable pain.  This is a girl on the mend!  This is a happy girl – glad to have that disgusting thing out of her!!!

Tom says Dr. Stadler said that I am one tough cookie.  I like that.  I am.  I can do this.  It might be a slower trip.  The trip last year was slow.  That’s good.  I can relish every moment.  Last December I was feeling like it was a new beginning, and like I had the best husband in the whole wide world.  So optimistic.  So happy.  We were both just over-the-moon excited.  You know, like, maybe this year we’ll be able to get pregnant… finally.

Not much has changed.  Tom is still the absolute best guy in the wide, wide world.  And just think of the “new beginning” that we’ll be celebrating this year.  A brand new life!

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