Monday, January 5, 2015


There has been so much going in the past few weeks that I have not had the energy to tie my shoes- when I can see them- let alone, sit down and get funny with the World Wide Web. But, here I am. Shoes tied and trying to make sense of this homestretch that I am in.

Christmas was amazing. I always think every Christmas is the best, but this year- this year ranks up there with our last year in DC. Bennie walked into the living room, saw what Santa left and said, "WOAH, Daddy! Woah, woah- WOAH DADDY!" As she bee-lined for what was obviously hers. We did not spend an exorbitant amount of money, we did not buy everything on Leenie's list, and yet, they were content with the bounty they received. It was a good lesson for this mom who went to sleep worrying if she had done enough. All four of us enjoyed the time opening presents, seeing what kind of gifts we gave and received and- in general- were a happy little family of four.

New Years Eve, ok- I am going to tell this story. I shouldn't, because my typing cannot do it justice. But, if I am being honest about myself and being pregnant- well, why not share it with the masses? So... New Years Eve. We went to dinner with our favorite couple, Dr & Mrs Eye. We don't get together for supper just the four of us that often, but when we do, oh, but when we do. We laugh. We drop random movie quotes. Someone gets lost in the conversation. We talk about nothing and everything and it is the most fun. Dr. Eye made reservations for us and hired his favorite designated driver- me- and off to dinner we set. 

While the non-pregnant ones were drinking copious amounts of a plethora of things, I had my unsweet tea, 75 Splenda packets, and just as much fun as they were. A woman walks past us and Husband leans over and says, "Hey Baby- check out that hot-New Years get-up." It was a quiet whisper for the table to hear. We laugh. Oh, do we laugh...

But then... well, there is just no getting past this... I *in all my sobriety* respond with, "Those aren't leather pants. They are wax cotton and she is not wearing any underroos." No, I didn't say it quietly. No, I was not trying to be obnoxious. No, I could not pull my foot out of my mouth. There was no redemption. None. She looked over at me. I kept in a dead stare talking to Husband and not making eye contact and all I could do was laugh. That, and not break eye contact.

Husband laughed. Dr. & Mrs. Eye hung their heads and laughed- both probably out of embarrassment and amusement. 

It was in that moment that I realized all those things that pregnancy does to you are hints of what it is like to be an old lady. 

You're louder than you mean to be.
There is no filter- if it is in your head, it is out of your mouth. 
You cry a lot.
Continence is a thing of the past. 
There are other things, but humiliation ain't one of 'em. 

The sad part? She was wearing underroos. How do I know? She told me. Just kidding. 


In the past few weeks, I have upped the ante on crying. I cry all the time and I cry for legitimate reasons. Like two days ago- I had had enough water to fill the Atlantic Ocean. All I wanted was a glass of milk to go with my spaghetti. That's it. We were out. Those dang cherubs of mine had the last bit. I searched high and low to no avail. Finally asking Husband, he pointed over to their tiny table where there were two empty glasses with milk rings around them. I sobbed. 

Leenie looked over at me, cocked her head and asked what was wrong. "Nothing, baby." She gave me a hug and kissed her brother. I sobbed harder. She looked at Husband and took a few steps back from the ticking time bomb that was her mother. 

I went to the doctor two weeks ago and cried telling her that I cry all the time. She raised her eyebrows and asked if I had experienced anything traumatic lately. 

I told that I started throwing up every morning. 

You know what happens when you're 155 weeks pregnant and your morning sickness returns? I'll give you a clue... It starts with an IN and ends with brushing your teeth before grabbing a rag, some cleaning solution, and changing your clothes. Your five year old will ask you if need to go back to potty training TT school. Your two year old will bring you their training potty and you will hang your head and laugh. Laugh a lot. Before you start crying. Crying at the fact that you are 155 weeks pregnant, need to change your clothes, and cannot get off the floor without the help of someone else. 

Pregnancy is embarrassing. And humbling.

Definitely humbling.

I have not been to the grocery store since well before Christmas. This speaks both the my tiredness (read: laziness) and my ability to stock a pantry... hence the lack of milk. Today I finally caved as I really want some milk. I pick Leenie up from school and off to Publix we go. Leenie must have known that I was in a weak spot, because she asked, "Mommy, can I have this?" (doughnuts) "Sure..."
and into the buggy they go.

"Mommy, can I have this please?" (Oatmeal cream pies)
"Sure...." into the buggy.
"Mommy, may I please have this?" (Cheez-its)
"Sure..." into the buggy.

An extra loaf of bread? Sure. 26 cookies? Sure. Am I paying with a debit card today? Sure. Do I want plastic bags? Sure. Do I want to donate to XYZ charity? No, thanks. The cashier looks at me and laughs. "Sure to everything else, but 'no' to charity?" Yep. 

It's been a surreal experience- wrangling two children while incubating a third. 

New Years Day was fun, too. Husband was on call and I got to spend several hours in the hospital. Mama was keeping the kids for me for a few hours and I walked in to get them. She and her friend looked at me and told me to sit down. They got me some water and then some more. Contractions... more contractions.... I called Husband. He told me to leave the kids with mom and go home. Lay down. Drink water. Rest. I did. Contractions came on harder. Every ten minutes. Eye Yie Yie.

Husband came home to check on me and after another hour of contacting, I told him it was time to go and get this checked out.

Getting to the hospital, they knew I was coming and swept us into a triage room with a blanket that, upon fastening 75 strings and 44 snap-ems became a hospital gown. Mental note #1: If I am not having a baby today, order my own dang hospital gown. This is too complicated. My nurse was not the sharpest tack in the tray, but I kept my calm as Husband was beside me. If worse comes to worse, he can deliver this spawn I have been incubating. 

An EKG is ordered as my heart rate is all over the board (imagine that). Nurse tells me to lay still- as if I could move. I am held together with 75 bowties and 44 snap-ems. She attaches prongs to stickers and stickers to body parts. I remind her of my latex allergy and she says, "Gosh- I hope these stickers don't have latex in them....Hold still, I'll be right back," and walks out of the room. 

I look at Husband with saucer eyes and he says, "It's a latex free hospital."

My saucer eyes dim just slightly.

The doctor comes in and an exam must be performed. Pregnancy is mortifying. I am strapped down and hooked up to some monitor that is beeping and swishing as part of the bed falls away. All of a sudden, my head is light, I am seeing colorful spots and that swooshing and beeping monitor is making all kinds of fun noises. My poor first year resident looks at me with some saucer eyes herself and suggests that I lay on my side.

I am 155 weeks pregnant and have put on a substantial amount of weight in the last two weeks. There is no "just roll over to your side" without some heavy pushing and pulling. I sob and am reminded of a beached whale flapping their blue fins in the sun. Of course, the beached whale does not have to deal with cords, wires, 75 strings- most of which are untied and 44 snap-ems that have fallen to the wayside. I am hogtied in a skinny blanket that won't let me move. 

I sob harder. The spots start circling. I swear there is a bright light somewhere that is not hooked up to a lamp. 

Husband peeks through the side of the hospital bed and asks, "Do you want to build a snowman?"

Did you know it is possible to laugh, cry, be completely helpless, and find all your energy all at once? I would have killed him had he not completely changed my demeanor. He could not do anything about the swirling spots, but he did what he could. 

The spots subsided. 

More water, more tests, and we were discharged. I left with the knowledge that this might be my third pregnancy, but I might have been acting like a first time mother (read: overreacting). I gave myself orders of "take it easy." -- more sitting, less doing. It's working out well. I rearranged the living room today. Yeah, that's where we keep the grand piano. No big deal. It's on wheels. 

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