Blue.

For the past few days I have been feeling down in the dumps, like somebody kicked my puppy or stole my husband. Nothing specific has happened to make me feel this way but I have an overall feeling of sadness that is constantly dogging me.

Late last night/early this morning I woke from a fitful sleep to be bitchy to my husband and burst into a puddle of tears while trying to silently cry so as not to alarm him. I don’t know why I started crying or why I haven felt the need to be bitchy to everyone who surrounds me. I am not generally known for my bitchi-ness nor do I cry often in front of people. You can ask my husband, I’ve maybe (save for last night) cried a grand total of two times in front of him, plus or minus watching Brothers & Sisters (it doesn’t count.)

I felt like a giant baby hating asshole when my OB had her giant dildo-esque ultrasound wand up my hoo-ha and I didn’t ohh and ahhh over the baby. She kept clapping her hands and “yay” ing me “there is your baby!” she exclaimed happily but, I just nodded my head and kept my arms tightly wrapped around my too small robe to keep my “bubbies” from falling out.

Do most women pass out from sheer exhilaration? Cry? Scream? Laugh? I mean she was clearly trying to coerce some sort of emotion out of me but all I could think was, that’s got to be a boy. Girls don’t bounce around like that. I didn’t reach for Mark’s hand or have any tears. I literally felt nothing, except awkward and uncomfortable.

Mark’s Aunt e-mailed me after I mass e-mailed the ultrasound to the folks who asked for it, asking how I felt when I saw. Honest to God, I wanted to write, “Well um – I had a giant wand up my vage so I was a bit uncomfortable and a teeny bit cold …” before realizing she meant how I felt when I saw Nuggey (yes, I know Nuggey is the nick name of one of MckMama’s children but, I don’t care.)

I understand “baby blues” but I was always under the impression that generally happened AFTER you gave birth. So is it my hormones or should I see somebody? It’s becoming epic hard to explain what I am going through to Mark without sounding like a terrible no good asshole.

So tell me ladies (privately or publicly) when did you have your first connection with your baby (ies) ?

Woosah.

I’m finding that today is just one of those days. You know the, holy-shit-if-this-day-doesn’t-hurry up-and-be-over-I’m- going-to-actively-start-looking-for-a-shotgun-kinda-days? My eyeballs feel like I’ve been in the Sahara desert for eleventy billion hours and the sand has take up permanent residence on my corneas. I have a substantial list of complaints (about my job) I’d like to voice to anybody willing to waste 10+ minutes of their lives.

First; let me start off by saying I have equal parts of love and loathe for my job. I am a “graphic designer“  (I use the term v.v. loosely) for a playground company here in Houston, that is owned by v.v. old friends of the family (I’m talkin’ 40+ years.) We (and by we I mean, not me) build SplashParks™ (oh yea, we trademarked it bitches) and playgrounds and various other amenities: trashcans, basketball hoops, benches, etc. I am responsible for designing the ad publications for the three or four publications we publish to every year. I am restricted by the following things; I am to only use seven pre-picked pantone colors, I am only to use four pre-determined fonts and must show smiling children but using a different photo in each publication.

It might not sound mind numbingly boring to you but let me be the first to assure you that most days I’d rather be dragging my face against an asphalt parking lot, in the heat of summer. With my design work taking up a whooping one week of my year, I must find other ways to keep myself occupied. Mostly my other job is to sort sale receipts from our foreman; first by person, then by date, then find the job number and write it on the receipt. I make sure no porn or alcohol is being purchased by company credit cards. Total work time: one day a month if I’m trying really hard.

I also get the distinct joy of working with a man named Bob. Bob is three years away from retirement, he is dumb as fuckin’ nails, he wears entirely too much patchouilli (while I find nothing wrong with patchouilli I find myself thinking to myself, take it easy on the pinetree perfume kid) and thinks I was born entirely to service his working needs. Needs of which include but are not limited to, uploading useless fuckin’ pictures of playgrounds from his camera, printing them, waiting for a job number for them, then migrating them to the server to take up valuable space (because you know, rocket science and all.) My other job requirements include keeping tabs on other people in the office, for the sole purpose of, “Bob might need you right now so please let me know where you are at all times.”

There are a few other things I do around here which don’t include surfing the Interwebs for approximately 6.45 hours of my day that I sometimes find enjoyable and allow me to flex my brain.

Also please let it be known that up until a pay period ago I was making $11.50 an hour. I now make a whopping $12.50 after two years of literally, BEGGING for a raise.

Now I know you might all be thinking that I should find another job or offer to do more and let me tell you that I have honestly asked about 700 thousand times over the last two years. Nobody here is willing to give up any ounce of control over what they are doing, no matter how much it could help them. Another sticking point for me is, I have unlimited access to Adobe Creative Suite with no questions asked. I’ve taught myself Adobe Illustrator since starting here and that my friends, is huge. When I get contracted to do design work for outside entities, I do the majority of the work here. If I were an ethical person, I would do the work on my own time but, I’m not ethical. 

Plus number two is that the “bosses” leave for at least four weeks in the summer and various other weeks throughout the year so nobody is watching over my shoulder. We often get free lunch. Nobody cares how many breaks you take.

I guess my point is this, should I stay here and further my self education of design software whilst wanting to stab a dull object in my eye (or quite possibly, someone elses) or should I go look for some other less paid apprentice design job elsewhere.

Two other points to also consider: everybody smokes in the office save me and two other people. I sit in the server room where the A/C is broken and I can imagine Hell would be a welcome break, environmentally speaking (quite honestly I don’t how the server hasn’t crashed.)

Introducing Nuggey McNuggerson.

 

Hurrah for finally getting to meet our baby This morning I had my first date with the ultra terrifying vaginal probe. It was far from sexy, I assure you. I was unaware of why they asked me to strip down completly but was later given a breast exam and it all made sense. Just a thought but perhaps OB’s should carry a larger size “robe” for us larger gals.

All of my “feelings” were quickly kahboshed (I thought we were having twins and that I was further along) when we only saw one little Nuggey on the ultra sound screen. Our babe is currently 9 weeks and 4 days with a due date of May 22, 2009 (thank God for small miracles [and big ones too], I won’t be pregnant in the heat of the summer!)

I also have to say, I love love love my doctor! Stephanie Champion at Care for Women. I was dreading a doctor that was going to lecture me on my weight and be like the scary Asian guy from Knocked Up. So far, she is a dream and I’m so happy they paired us up.

So without further adeu – our blob baby.

Cloth Diapering

 

I need advise on cloth diapering. I’ve been looking into it but holy ess there is TOO much information!

Thoughts, experiences and preferences?

Also, Mark’s job offer has been taken off the table when he attempted to re-negotiate the contract. With what they were offering, we wouldn’t have made our bills each month so it’s back to looking!

Alien baby, no!

 

Last night as I was cruising the Interwebs I came across a photo a friend of mine had posted on her Facebook acount. 4D ultrasound of her baby. At 16 weeks. Please loves, picture my face with the most horrified expression you could possibly imagine me making. Holy alien baby batman.

 

I think it’s great that she got to experience meeting her baby before well, actually meeting her baby but, I have officially decided no 4D ultrasounds for me. At least until the baby is well you know, a human baby; with a normally shaped head and fully formed limbs and eyes and not all “alienlike.” I certainly won’t be posting an alien baby ultrasound photo as MY.FREAKING.DEFAULT.PICTURE.ON.FACEBOOK. where like, the whole world can see dude. I felt fully alone in my “miraculous technology holy shit this is cool” 4D ultrasound loathing until I showed Mark. He got a major case of the heebs.

Lesson of the day folks: just because you can, doesn’t mean you should.

Also, what is the deal with newborn moms thrusting their tiny babies into my arms because “you need the practice!” Um, no … no I don’t. I am MORE than happy to hold babies I have at least somewhat of an aquantance; you know like, ones that are in my family that if I drop or make cry the moms wont be all “whattheeeeefuckkkkkk lady!?!” And I won’t have to be all, “oh don’t cry little baby (whose name I don’t know) um, where is your Mom? Please don’t stop rooting around my titay. These don’t belong to you. Oh ma’am! There you are, here is your baby back.” We could just avoid the awkward moments all together if these crazy ladies would just um, stop.giving.away.your.babies.dude!

I only bring it up because it’s happened to me no less than 3 times since I found out I was pregnant. So anyway, if you have a baby or are about to have a baby, PLEASE ask before “Hail Marying” your baby into a strangers arms, it might be a wee bit uncomfortable.

Also, on the randomness, don’t ever pick your nose whilst still having remnants of spray adhesives on your finger. Things turn out weird.

The whole point of this post was to get to baby names and your thoughts and suggestions:

Boy – Baylor ______________ Hernandez  (No, not the college but, yes Yaya Sisterhood. PS. If you haven’t heard a more badass baseball name, you have lost your braaaaain.)

I really like the idea of James as the middle name but my immature self starts to giggle when thinking of his initials. I’m dumb … let’s move on. I also like the middle name Judah. Marcus (my step dad’s middle name and well, Mark.) Garrett (my sister’s new last name and they have been like wayyyy supportive of us.) Lorenzo (eh but, it’s a family name.) Another J name but I REALLY dig the idea of giving all of the boys in the family the same middle name which would be Jackson (my nephew is Tyler Jackson after my grandpa Jack.) Last and final thought, an uber Japanese middle name that had some meaning.

 

Girl – Peyton Olivia Hernandez

We were going to go with Olivia but, my grandma is like full on Japanese and L’s are just NOT in her repetoire. I don’t really want my child known as Oh – rir – ia. Not cute. For reals, you should here her say Hobby Lobby and Dillards. Pure entertainment, I tell ‘ya. I’ve always liked the name Peyton so, unless something better pops up in the mean time, that’s the winner. 

Thoughts and/or suggestions?

P.S. Mark and I are compiling a list of the worst names we’ve heard that are in fact, real names, that real parents gave to their babies, to carry with them the rest of their days. Child abuse I tell ‘ya.

Among the list are:

1.) Snowflake (or some such shit that we heard during a fooseball game)

2.) Blade (which Mark texted me, suggesting we use after hearing somebody being paged at a MENTAL INSTITUTE by that name. Haha, he’s so funny!)

3.) Bullet  (I actually know this person and yes, he lives in a single wide. Not that there is anything wrong with living in a trailer, some of them are actually quite lovely.)

Welcome to the Blah Blah Blah.

 *The majority of this post was composed last week*

I don’t really have anything important or relevant to post so I thought I’d just do a little “blah blah blah – ing.” I woke up this morning to the InterWebs ablaze with news that President Obama was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize. Um … wait … what? Come again please?

 

Wiki defines the Nobel Peace Prize being awarded to “the person who shall have done the most or best work for fraternity between nations, for the abolition or reduction of standing armies and for the holding and promotion of peace congresses.” Color me puzzled. That’s all I am going to say about it. Even I, somebody who has always been willing to give the dude a chance, am left wondering what in fuck the committee was thinking.

 

In other news, barf. It should be defined as an emotion. Honestly, sometimes it’s all I feel all day long; the unending need to ralph. It’s not even a feeling of nausea so much as an, “oh shit, I’m going to puke on the floor if I don’t hustle to some sort of receptacle.” No warning, no signs, it just happens. Mark and I went to Babies R’ Us on the eve of our 3 year anniversary and bought got some “Preggie Pops.” I found them to be pretty useless. I could buy a bag of dum dums for much cheaper and have the same outcome. Not to mention, the preggie pops, are pretty gag inducing.

 

I’m feeling much more positive and happy about things in general. I have my bonding moments with my little nug mostly in the shower or in the mornings when Mark kisses my belly and tell us he loves us.  

I still haven’t made it to the doctor and I am DYING to. Medicaid hasn’t given us an answer but, the good news is, Mark was offered a job that provides health insurance after 3 months. Currently he is negotiating the terms of the contract, salary wise.

 

This week in my pregnancy:

1. My pants are still baggy but my shirts are becoming a little snug. It might be time to invest in the Bella Band.  Thoughts or recommendations? Is there a better brand? Cheaper? Better made?

2. I can no longer lay on my stomach which is my FAVORITE way to watch TV in bed. Suck.

3. Last night I sneezed and thought I had blown out my vagina.

4. I am feeling incredibly unattractive. I am in that akward but not unfamaliar stage of people looking; trying to figure out if I’m just fat or if I am in fact, pregnant. Maybe I should buy a slogan t-shirt to answer everyone’s question but, I fear I would resemble Jon Gosselin pre deuchebag days.

5. My eyebrows are in a current state of, wookieism. I look like a wildabeast. Hair is.growing.too.fast.

6. My belly is hard and distented. I feel like that poor little African boy on those donation shows.

7. If I stand for too long, my feet become swollen and puffy and hurt for hours. I know, it’s only going to get worse.

 

**UPDATE**

 

I have finally gotten sick of waiting around and waiting to talk to somebody from Medicaid (2 1/2 hours on hold today before I gave up) and taken it upon myself to schedule an appointment with an OB and will be paying cash.

My cash payment options are these: If I have the balance paid off by my 15th week (roughly the end of November) they will give me a 30% discount. Those numbers translate to: $2,100 due by the end of November. I have doubts that it’s going to happen but, I am going to try everything in my power to do it. I’m selling my Nikon D50 to my big sister for $300, I’m TRYING to sell my breast cancer awareness pink Kitchenaid stand mixer for $350, I have $300 coming in from a freelance job I did, about $400 in Scentsy commission and my regular paychecks.

If I don’t make the deadline, we will owe $2,900 by my 28th week. That cost includes, 14 office visits, delivery and 4 post partum visits (2 in the hospital and 2 in the office.)

Keeping in mind and hoping that I deliver 1 baby, vaginally. Also keep in mind, this does not include the cost of the hospital stay or anthesiologist (this girl ain’t goin’ natural Icantellyouthatrightnow.)

 

Here are my other options: ask my Mom for the money or sell my engagement/wedding rings. I have approximately $6,000 sitting on my left ring finger and every time I look down at them, I feel a terrible sense of guilt. I know I couldn’t sell them for even a fraction of what we paid but, it would be enough to get us over this hump.

In other news, I wish the sun would shine, if only for a moment. I have had too many days of darkness lately.

Also, I’m convinced I’ve run off a good portion of my readers with my Debbie Downer attitude lately and I’m sorry.

This just sucks.

*Warning* This post is full of bitch.

 

I’m not sure what is making my mood so particularly foul this day but I have dark, angry, sad thoughts racing through my mind at a bazillion miles a minute. There doesn’t seem to be an end in sight. Perhaps it’s the dark rainy weather or the fact that I haven’t had a decent night’s rest in weeks.

 

Here are a few of the things currently bothering/bugging/making me sad.

 

• My bank account is reflecting $68.33 : thirty of those to come out later today for a bill payment that hasn’t cleared yet. I got paid this past Friday. I have to make $38.33 last until October 23rd. Ha. I live 20 miles from my office, 40 miles per day, gas is at about $2.17 a gallon.
• My acid reflux/heartburn makes me want to cry. It is painful and beyond uncomfortable and unless you have had chronic reflux, you can kindly shut the fuck up.
• I haven’t been able to schedule a doctor’s appointment because 1.) no answer from Medicaid 2.) $38.33 ain’t gonna pay for an intial O.B. visit
• Not only do I only have $38+ in my bank account, I had to take a day and a half off last week to get our A/C fixed so I will be  minus 12 hours from my next paycheck. SUPER!!
• $300+ and 5 days to fix the A/C. Enough said.
• My husband’s teeth are falling out of his head and we can’t get them fixed. He needs to have 2 front teeth pulled and get a “flipper.” He is chronically in pain, can barely eat and I am trying my best to help him through this but, efforts are failing.
• I haven’t had a BM in 4 days. I have eaten 5 Fiber bars. Nothing.
• My sister’s are annoying. AS HELL.
• The Scentsy transition is a clusterfuck of epic proportion. Good job Scentsy.
• I am in a constant state of gag.
• The stepchild peed in her bed this weekend. I won’t even broach the other issues we are having with her. It makes me angry and sad that my words and wishes go wholy un – noticed. I can talk until my lips fall off but, I can’t do anything so, that’s that.
• My laptop is broken.
• My pants don’t fit.
• I haven’t seen my friends in longer than I’d like to admit. I want to go to lunch with them but, $38.33 (it ain’t in the budget.)
• I want to know what it feels like to have money in the bank. I want to go to Target and not feel bad about buying $6.00 on leggings for the girl because, um, it’s getting cooler and she only has shorts.
• I don’t want to be rich, I want to have financial stability.
• I keep thinking to myself, “when will it get better?” At some point it has to get better right? God only doles out so many blows before he/she says enough is enough, right?
• I don’t want to be a complainer or a whiner or bitchy.
• I want to be able to be mad without feeling bad about it and not having to apologize for it.
• Why in Hell do I see all this dirt that I never saw before and for fuck sake, why can’t I get my ass off the couch long enough to clean it?
• If I have to deal with one more snake, spider, frog, toad or other amphibious, reptillious creature in my house, I am going to go bezerk. What.the.fuck.
• I need a break. I feel as if I am about to lose it. I am stretched to my very limit.
• Oh also, shut the fuck up about Obama. Seriously. He is your President. For the next 4 years. Whether you like it or not. Your bitching is going to do NOTHING to change it. If I have to hear how much everybody hates Obama for the next 4 years, I’m going to shoot myself in the fucking face. Seriously.

 

Sigh. Rant over but I still feel an overwhelming amount of sadness right now. I think I’ll listen to Miranda Lambert’s “Virginia Bluebell” on repeat for the rest of the day.

“Carryin’ the weight on the end of a limb, you’re just waitin’ for somebody to pick ya up again.

Shaded by a tree, can’t live up to a rose, all you ever wanted was a sunny place to go.

Pretty little thing, sometimes you ‘gotta look up, and let the world see all the beauty that you’re made of, ’cause the way you hang your head, nobody can tell, you’re my Virginia Bluebell.

Even through a stone a flower can bloom, you just need a little push, spring is comin’ soon.

Umbrella in the rain; let it roll off your back, weather what you can; realize what you have.”

Hot.

I’m hot and I’m sweating and I don’t like it, I don’t like it one little bit.

 

Our A/C went out yesterday and unless you’ve been living under a rock, you probably already knew that. I’ve been complaining about it about every 3 1/2 seconds for the past, almost 2 days. From what my lovely husband has explained to me, there is a slow Freon (sp?) leak somewhere in the A/C (plumbing?) which causes the damn piece of shit thing to ice up about every 6 months and shut down completly. Last time it happened was 2 days before the wedding. When we had about 12 family members staying in our v.v.small house.  The repairmen (who by the way, need to lay off the CRACKPIPE!) have already been here and let me know there is nothing they can do today, until the unit defrosts. Well thanksfornuthincocksuckers. 

 

I am trying to maintain my composure but, I am failing, miserably. Saturday night I slept about 4 hours for reasons I will not discuss. Last night, I slept on and off for about 5 hours. Not gonna lie, fuckin’ tired and cranky, and hot and AHHHHHH OMFG can somebody just PLEASE FREAKING FIX THE AC!?! The shit part? I can’t leave because oh, maybe they will be back this evening to fix the unit but, if not, first thing in the morning. Oh, well, thanks so much. So now, I’m laying oh-so-seductively on the couch, in my sports bra and underwears with a box fan very near my face and my the TV blaring because shit I can’t hear anything, that fan is loud.

 

P.S. in case anybody was wondering where I would rather be. Here . We stayed here after our wedding. It was $89.00 a night and I loved it. I want to go back. They have the Heavenly bed. If you live in Houston or surrounding areas, I HIGHLY recommend it. It’s in the Vintage Park community. I miss it. I want to go back. I wish I wasn’t so drunk that I couldn’t fully enjoy it. I can almost envision myself laying in that bed with the AC fuckin’ CRANKED! man. The bathroom, oh the bathroom. Had a rainshower head. Oh, did I mention, it also has a full kitchen? Oh, and that it is $89.00 a night?

 

Sigh. Doesn’t it just look delightful? That’s the kitchen off to the left. That bed, there are no words.

 

I wouldn’t mind staying a few days.

 

Don’t mind me if I start sobbing, very soon.

 

The desk and couch.

 

Anyway, my dreams are far out of reach. I am trying hard to imagine I’m there, sleeping, sleeping, oh and sleeping.

 

I’m going to soak some towels now, crying.

Dear Texas -

 

Or insurance Companies, or whomever the following may apply.

 

Your policy for privately owned insurance to cover maternity SUCKS. Why you ask? Probably because THERE ISN’T A PRIVATE POLICY IN THE ENTIRE STATE OF FREAKING TEXAS THAT COVERS MATERNITY.

 

The entire state. Not one company that will provide it. Really? I mean really? Last time I checked, Texas was a fairly large State with quite a few female residents. Have you ever driven across Texas? I have … you would think there might be one policy hanging around out there.

 

Exuse my language but that, my friends, is fuckin’ bullshit.

 

Just so everybody is aware; below are your options as a pregnant woman in Texas when 1.) your company does not provide insurance (for anybody except themselves) and 2.) your husband is a contractor because it is the only work available due to the downsliding economy.

1. You can apply for Medicaid (but make sure you make less than $1800/month for 1 person) and have Texas tax payers pay for the birth of your child.
2. Pay for the doctor’s visits/birth/hospital stay/unforseen complications, etc. in cash, up front. Estimated cost of a well birth for a well baby and a 2 day hospital stay $10 – $13k not including the prenatal OB visits.
3. Have your baby at home, in a wooden box lined with clean towels and blankets. Cut umbilical cord with a shoelace from your wedding Chuck Taylors. (Don a prarie dress, wear your hair in 2 long plaits, homeschool your children and warn them about the evil insurance empire, chose not to vaccinate and ride a wagon to and from the farmer’s market once a week. When the kids are 18, they can decide if they’d like to join this fucked up “civilization” we have become. )
4. Get a new job, with insurance.

 

Issues I am currently having with my given choices as a pregnant woman in Texas.

1. I don’t really want to be on Medicaid. Call it pride but, I can pay for an insurance policy. I would love to pay for an insurance policy but, I am not allowed the right. Also, I make too much. My only option would be to go to part-time hours to not make as much moolah.
2. Holy fuck ten thousand dollars is ALOT of money. Maybe I’ll sell my car so I can have a baby and not go into debt. Bankruptcy just doesn’t seem so glam and plus, I wouldn’t be able to online shop @ Sephora anymore. I like Sephora too much.  
3. I am none to keen on the idea of giving birth less a very strong epidural. I am just not that girl. I am a puss & I’m not afraid to admit it. Also, I like my car and the Inter-webs so I think I’ll stick with civilization.
4. I don’t want to so, suck it.

 

Things we are currently doing, whether I like them or not:

1. I am individually applying for Medicaid but shit, that thing is confusing. I did pretty well on my SAT’s & this one has me bamboozled. I guess only the strong survive, right?
2. Mark is looking into small business owner insurance since he has a DBA and uses it monthly. Advise would be appreciated, if you have any.
3. I am trying to set up a meeting with a “financial counselor” at our local hospital to discuss our payment options.
4. Trying to avoid marching to Austin and beating someone’s stupid ugly face in because, what the fuck dude? No insurance policies? You should get your ass kicked for that one.

 

Have pity for Mark because I have been on meltdown overload the past few days and he is bearing the brunt of Hurricane Preggerson. I am wishing that I could enjoy just being pregnant, making my first OB appointment, perusing baby bedding, etc. After looking for a short time last night, I am not allowing myself to do so again until I have our situation figured out.

 

Expect a full detailed post tommorrow about, dude seriously – can’t you just please fucking put your socks in the laundry basket. It promises to be a doozey! I was furiously writing it in my head last night as I threw drinking glasses and knives haphazardly into the dishwasher whilst sobbing and silently cursing my sleeping husband. My life is so fun.

 

Signing off, Fatty McPreggerson. Word to your mother.

I feel like an asshole.

So as most of you know by now, Mark knocked me up. Bastard. Just kidding. I found out yesterday at lunch and I think I’m still in shock. At this point, it’s just not concrete. It hasn’t really set in and I don’t think it will until I have some proof, a heartbeat or a kick, something other than 2 lines on a stick. I’m having a hard time expressing the way I am feeling without coming across as ungrateful and unhappy.

 

I am happy but, I am also nervous and terrified which defeats the whole feeling of happiness in my opinion. Currently, we do not have medical insurance and people are quick to point it out. Yes, thank you almost complete stranger, I am fully aware of our current situation. No, I will not discuss the situation with you or what we are doing to fix it, it is none of your business. Mark is trying diligently to find a job to provide for our medical needs. We had extraordinary benefits and just like that *poof* sorry bud, we are downsizing, best of luck. So it goes.

 

I will tell you that it is a blessing that my Mom never dropped me from her insurance. I have my best friend and her Mom who are schooled and v.v. well trained in the Insurance Industry going over my policy and will advise me later in the day about whether I am covered as a married person.

 

My other issue is completely selfish and I am willing to admit it. I have lost 17 pounds. I don’t want to give them up. I worked hard to get where I am and I was so happy and optimistic about my future and the road I was taking. I feel like the Queen of the Deuche Bag Assholes saying it out loud but, I am being honest.

 

Of the people I’ve told after their admonishments about lack of health care comes the disappointment that I’ll more than likely gain the weight back. Do people not think that yes, I understand that you aren’t supposed to eat like a line backer? More than anything I’ve heard to, watch what I’m eating, don’t drink or smoke. Well thank you for the advise because *whew* I was just about to run out and smoke some black tar heroine with my homies and pick up a few 40’s of Olde E. Seriously?

 

I understand people are trying to be helpful but I’m pretty up to date on the standards of pre-natal care. Don’t drink, don’t smoke, eat healthly, don’t lay on your stomach, don’t ride a rollercoaster, etc. I may be young but, I watch alot of TV folks. I’m not even THAT young anymore, I will be 25 when this is said and done.

 

While I know most were expecting this post to be full of sunshine and rainbows the fact is, I am Switzerland right now. I am standing neutral for a few weeks anyway. Mark and my besties are falling down with excitement while my Mom and other parental figures in my world are concerned about our situation. My Mom soooo did not have the reaction I was expecting and I was actually a little let down at her overall lack of reaction. Therefore,  my stance on Switzerland. I will ride the center line for awhile.

 

Am I the only person that has felt this way? Is it normal? Am I being an asshole? I always thought that as soon as I got pregnant, I’d have an instantaneous bond with the child I am carrying. It isn’t happening and I am overwhelmed at all of the emotions I’ve felt in the past 24 hours.

 

Feedback is appreciated from mothers, nonmothers and anybody else that reads this. Signing off, Preggy McPreggerson. Word to your mother.