Mr. W prepares for the worst...

Now, bless his heart, he means well, but sometimes Mr. W can be a little dramatic when it comes to "preparing" for things. He has a very strong desire to provide for and protect his family. He likes to remind me of this when I ask why he needs to buy more ammunition. He tells me it is for when the zombies attack and I remind him that there are no zombies. He also tells me that he plans to buy a bunker for us with his lottery winnings. We'll wait and see how far that gets us. He is more likely to build a bunker out of paper mache from the losing tickets he has accumulated.

However, with a baby on the way, and the swine flu spreading, Mr. W has decided it is time to put a disaster plan into action. He tells me this when he calls to let me know he got to leave work early today. He is going to "pick up a few things" before the pandemic worsens. He points out all the school closings in Texas as his motivation, and I tell him go ahead, it won't hurt.

He arrives at the house, quite pleased with himself and begins to carry in a few cases of water. Fair enough. Water is never a bad thing to have on hand. It's what happens next that makes me laugh at him, and actually makes him stop to laugh at himself. You see, in Mr. W's mad panic to stock up at the store, he was not careful in reading his labels. He proudly shows me two giant boxes of ramen noodles, and as I look at the box, I realize he has selected the microwave cups.

12 packs of ramen, huh? That ought to tide us over for 3 days. This is when he admits he didn't read the packaging and thought he was buying 2 giant boxes of the packets. Mr. W thought he surely had 50 packs of ramen when really his bag was filled with 12 big cups.

The good news is, Mrs. W does the grocery shopping and knows for sure that we have some canned vegetables, mac and cheese, and several meat selections in the freezer we could grill if we become quarantined. She also knows that a little reduction in our average calorie intake wouldn't hurt, so we could surely hide out for a decent amount of time, if necessary, before Mr. W will have to start using his ammunition on squirrels.

The other good news is, Mr. and Mrs. W have lunch for the week(chicken and beef flavor!).

Oh, the places we'll go...

So I am starting to think I should make a scrapbook for the baby of all the places where I had to pee because it was tap dancing on my bladder.

Yes, the baby and I have been so many places together already. We have been to the far corners of the departments stores. We have been in the filthy trash filled discount store bathrooms. We have been in half of the employee restrooms at companies I went to for business. Yesterday, we went in a car dealership bathroom and a gas station bathroom. We went several times at the horse track, and also in the casino. We went to several lodge and gym bathrooms before mommy knew she had a passenger along. We also went to a few bar bathrooms back then, as well. We made several stops in the bathroom in the park last weekend. Baby and I have traveled to most of the fast food establishments on this side of the state, in order to check out their facilities. It hasn't happened yet, but I know this summer, we will hit more than one wet and slippery pool bathroom, a stadium bathroom or two and who knows what else. I should carry a quarter with me at all times so I can buy baby a memoir from the machines. "This condom is from BP on May 14th...". Something to that effect.

I would guess that if all places don't have napkins, a carryout menu, schedule, roster, weekly ad, matchbook, brochure, business card or what not, they most likely, at the very least, sell Durex in the bathroom. I wonder if anyone else ever put these into a book for baby? Is this the best invention I am going to come up with?

Lord help me if that is my "aha" moment. I really was hoping it wouldn't have anything to do with a crapper.

Dear fetus, you owe your mom...

...a big thank you.

I think I should be the first one to document that the baby already owes me and it isn't even out of the womb. I am not saying that because of back pain or morning sickness or any of those fine pregnancy treats. No, my baby owes me because I am already protecting it from it's father.

One might wonder what kind of man this is, that I have to protect my unborn child from? What has he done? How can he be so horrid? Did you move into a safe house?

No, you see, Mr. W has some German blood in his lineage and actually thought that there might be a mild possibility that we would give this child a German name. Excuse me a moment....BWHAHAHAHAHAHA....no.

I bought a book of "cool baby names" and it had a section for international names. He wanted to see which German names were listed and I promptly informed him that there was no "German" section because German names are hideous.

So you're welcome, baby. Thank your mommy that you won't grow up being Adolf, Jarvis, Roberta, Brunhilde, Dagmar or Erhard. Mommy would never call you Freida, Gunther, Hildebrand, or Inga. She hears nothing but years of taunting and abuse in Manfred, Olaf, Rudolf, and Ursula.

She reminded Daddy that while Mommy is not dainty, Daddy is huge, and you could, quite possibly, be a girl. There is no reason to start you out in life with a fat kid name.

So high five me, Baby W, because Mommy made her point, and Daddy dropped the subject for the last time.

Keep this favor in mind when you start asking me to do your school projects the day before they are due.

Is this normal?

Pregnancy related websites abound on the Internet. They are everywhere, and they are loaded with 15 to 45 year old women who are expecting. They are also loaded with "mommy people" and people who want to have babies, and I am sure a few sexual predators, criminals and loony bin escapees.
One thing I find wildly amusing as I read posts and comments by moms to be everywhere, is just how many stupid people are out there making babies! It reminds me of a pretty funny movie called Idiocracy.
I happened to catch this on TV one night, and told Mr. W he needed to check it out, that he would find the humor. Turns out, he loved it. Another great call by me. It has stupid humor in it, but what I really appreciated was the satire and the absolute truth to the message of this movie. It featured the idiots of the world populating the earth with millions of offspring, as everyone intelligent began to die off, and the human race becomes, well, just stupid and lazy.
Anyway, my point in mentioning the movie is that often times when I read some of the posts from these pregnant women(or do I need to say individuals, now, to be PC?), I can't help but see the truth in this movie.

Thanks to Google, you don't even have to be able to spell pregnant to find your way onto and post on one of these forums or sites. Trust me, there are plenty of pregnant girls out there who can't spell their own name. They ask every question in the book. They cry to the world about their boyfriends being so mean and not wanting to have children. Did I mention the whining? It is almost unbearable. I'm sorry, last time I checked, my back was hurting, too, and the last thing I want to read about is how mean everyone is at the government offices you have been to in order to sign up for all of your benefits.
Seriously. My heart bleeds for you.

Whether you are pregnant or not, it would be worth your time to check out a few of these.

You will find questions about nausea. "Is this normallll? I feel soooo sick!". Nope, go to the hospital and find out that its called morning sickness and you can't do sh*t about it.

"My back hurts soooooooo bad. Is this normal? Anyone else feel like this?". Nah, the rest of us have never felt better. We'll probably go for a hike when we get done weightlifting.

Today, I probably read the best one yet. "I feel soooo fat! My clothes are all too tight. Is this normal?". Are you f-ing kidding me? No, the rest of us are losing weight and have never felt thinner.

Yet, these people are reproducing. I could go on and on with this one, but I think I will save it for another day.

It's too tiring right now and I have a headache and my back hurts. I think I will go ask a bunch of other pregnant women if they feel the same way.

2009, summer of the orca

So I realized the other day, as the sun heated up in the sky, that being fat and pregnant is not going to be very much fun this summer. I knew it wasn't going to be a big blast, but I also thought that I would be glad enough that the weather was warm that I could get over it.

This is only partly true.

The other thing I noticed is that I kind of look like Humpty Dumpty already, and I have a long way to go.

Now some people might think that pregnant women are cute. I think what most of those people really mean is that pregnant women look "funny". Sure, it is amusing to see Mrs. Dumpty waddle along looking miserable, but cute? Not really.

Still, despite the fact that I feel like I am growing a baby rhino, and have 5 months to go, I feel compelled to have a snack whenever possible. This is because I am allowed to.

I am not going to get into a list of all the things that I am not allowed to do, because it would dominate this blog, and quite possibly the entire Internet. What I am allowed to do is eat, and I am getting really good at it.

I have always appreciated good food, but now more than ever, the smell of a steak grilling makes me want to pull my car over and find out where it is coming from. I have superpower in my nose these days and it seems to be making even burnt popcorn smell delicious. This is a welcome change from a few weeks ago when nearly everything I smelled made me want to cry or vomit.

Today, I had a hamburger for lunch. I can honestly say it was one of the most delicious hamburgers I have ever eaten. Nothing special about a single from Wendy's unless you are making a baby. All of a sudden it transformed into a gourmet delight. This probably also had to do with the fact that I waited until 2pm to eat, which used to be normal for me, and now is practically impossible. I used to also wait on my husband to eat, or listen to him whine about it until I caved and fixed or ordered dinner. Not anymore. If he isn't in the house and ready to eat at 7:30, he's on his own. Mommy can't wait.

Yes, despite cramming myself into stretchy clothes and putting on shirts that come down over my rhino hump, I still feel enormous, and yet I have so far to go. Mr. W explains this away by just stating the obvious "you're pregnant." Really? I had no idea. Never before in my life have I asked him to buy me a hot fudge cake at 9pm, or seriously considered eating a blue Icee and a soft pretzel for dinner. Even if I had, he would have told me to forget it. Now, Mr. W responds by putting his shoes on and grabbing his keys in the hope of avoiding tears.

I have no idea if the mad desire to eat everything that isn't bolted down will go away. It did last night when I actually felt slighted because I just couldn't bring myself to eat all my food or even have dessert because I ate too much salad. Normally this would make me proud, but yesterday, I just felt robbed. I was entitled to dessert because I am pregnant.

What I do know is, I will be expanding to greater proportions than this before all is said and done, and as that happens I will waddle around in the lightest clothes I can find to fit over my Humpty Dumpty bumpy ass body. I will flop my fat into a pool somewhere and people can just deal with it. No one has to tell me I am cute. I won't be. But I will be pregnant, and probably enjoying a snack at the pool.

When I was your age.

Say what you want, but I can't wait to start using this more often! Now, of course, thanks to friends and family there are a few young minds I have already infected with these things, but man oh man, I can't wait to use this phrase daily! The thought popped into my head as I was delightedly filling my gas tank with $1.96 gas today. What a deal! Hooray! I thought back to when I started driving and remembered getting gas for less than $1 per gallon, and then I immediately thought about the little bean. In 16 years from now, will cars still even run on gas? Will they fill up their tank with water, rubbing alcohol, urine? If the greenies have anything to say in this, it won't be gas.

When I was your age, I used to listen to something called records. When I was your age, Michael Jackson was cool. When I was your age, cartoons were on Saturdays! When I was your age, school lunches were 75 cents, and we didn't get to pick what we wanted. When I was your age, I had to learn the Dewey decimal system to use the library. When I was your age, no one had 3 game systems, there was only one to have. When I was your age, no one had a cell phone, we used pay phones. When I was your age, a worn out pair of jeans or a sweatshirt was 25 cents at goodwill, not 100 dollars at Abercrombie. When I was your age, there were no CDs, no ipods, and no laptops. When I was your age, people took Polaroids. When I was your age, there were no ATMs. When I was your age, people wrote checks for things. When I was your age, people just pierced their ears. When I was your age, Aerosmith was already old. When I was your age, people wrote their own music instead of singing and rapping over everyone else's. When I was your age, people read books...the paper kind. When I was your age, people wrote letters, because long distance wasn't free.

Then it dawned on me. Nothing is stopping me from putting whatever I want at the end of that sentence.
When I was your age, I got 2 dollars a week for allowance. When I was your age, I did 4 chores a day. When I was your age, I had to be home at 7pm. When I was your age, I had my mouth washed out with soap. When I was your age, I never would have said that!

Yep. This could be fun.

I hope the baby has my taste in music

So, I think it is normal to think of yourself and your other half and want all of the finest qualities to come together and morph into the little mini me you've created. As I was driving(I do my best thinking and composing while driving), I started to "mold" the mini me I have always wanted. Now, everyone keeps saying Baby W is a girl, but to be honest, everytime I think of my child, I keep picturing a boy. Not that I would prefer a boy, just maternal instinct, I guess.

Anyway, like a ton of bricks it sinks in just how badly I really want my child to have my ear for and taste for music. Not that Mr. W has awful taste, we just disagree on some things. For example, he has this thing for 90s music. Thinks it is the best ever. Now I can appreciate some of every kind of music, and when we start talking decades I can point out some very heavy hitters, but the 90s are not quite up to par. Of course I will enjoy explaining to my kid how Layne Staley single-handedly silenced and destroyed the best rock legacy of the 90s. They will know their Pearl Jam and Nirvana and probably a few other notables. Yes, I know Alice in Chains was formed in the 80s, but they made their mark in the 90s, and that is how I base my decades.(and this is my list)

I want my kid to love the psychedellic music from the 60s and the southern rock gems from late in the decade and into the 70s. I want them to feel moved when they turn up the guitar solo at the end of Free Bird and let it clear their mind of everything else. I want them to know that when their mom was a dj, she used to fade up the end of certain songs, like Caught Up In You, by 38 Special, because the guitar solo at the end was one of the best parts and always got cut off on the radio. I want them to know that one of my favorite things to do in my 20s was drive my Jeep with the top down and Green Grass and High Tides at full volume because the music was all I needed to feel good. I want them to need the same thing.

I also want them to have Mr. W's athletic ability. He's very good at lots of sports, and Mrs. W can't hit a hot air balloon with an oak tree. I want Baby W to have Daddy's butt. Mommy has a bus driver butt. I want Baby W to have my teeth. Mr. W had braces. I really hope we don't have to pay for braces.

I want the baby to have my eyesight. Mr. W has to wear glasses all the time and really should just go get lasik. I want Baby W to have Mr. W's patience. Mrs. W has very little. I want Baby W to have Mr. W's interest in history. Mommy can't guess within 5 years of when the Civil War was fought, name any of the battles, or tell you what country used to be called what. Daddy knows all that stuff. Mrs. W thinks it is terribly boring and can't be bothered.

I want the baby to have Daddy's energy. He comes home from work, goes to the gym, pulls in the driveway, and gets out the weedeater. If he gets to keep eating, he can keep going and going. Mommy gets home from shopping and wants to take a nap.

But, I would get little Poindexter glasses, a history tutor and private coaching just as long as its ipod is filled with the Beatles and Boston, and not Chumbawumba and the Crash Test Dummies.

More than likely, our baby will be tone deaf, clumsy, lazy, bitchy, suffer from fits of anger and smell like garlic, but I'm sure I won't know any different once its here. Parents never do.

What exactly do insurance companies do?

So, my company decided to switch to an HSA plan this year, and it couldn't have come at a worse time. In case you are not familiar with them, they are a lower cost option to the rising cost of health insurance. From what I am learning, they also don't seem to save the insured any money, result in very high deductibles that must be met before receiving benefits, and require medical billing specialist skills in order to decipher who should and can be paid. Did I mention that in addition to paying the same out-of-paycheck expenses, I also now contribute nearly 100 dollars per pay period into my HSA account. A real delight. My insurance costs 3x what it did last year, and my service basically sucks.
The HSA account is where I save money, tax free, to keep paying these never-ending bills with. The reality is that the bills come in the mail much faster than the funds accumulate in the account. It is really frustrating.
After making a call to my doctor's office to inquire why, after making several payments to them, I was reflecting a 90 day past due balance, I am told that is because they applied my payment to the services from a week ago instead.
Why? I have no effing idea. All I know is that after nearly an hour on the phone with the billing person, I still didn't understand but had to hang up because I had other things that needed to be done that day. She assured me I was fine and would still get treatment regardless, and that was enough for me to finally hang up.
The people that take my blood charge the most. That's some irony for you.
I owe those people a deposit and first month's rent. It's enough to make you want to cry.
The billing person at the doctor's office said that the insurance company has denied my claims so far, but sent them the amount they were allowed to bill me. In other words, they want me to hit my deductible first. This is what I have already been told. What I then think to myself is what exactly do people at the insurance companies do, these days? I can tell you what they don't do. Provide any pleasing level of service at a reasonable cost. They also love to not handle problems with billing disputes. Hospital says you owe 10,000 dollars, insurance company says you owe 5,000, hospital says 10,000, insurance says 5,000, hospital comes after you saying they will try to collect the 5,000 that insurance doesn't pay, insurance says they only owe 5,000. Insurance sucks.
So what do they do? Other than selling insurance and collecting money, I can't think of much.
This new swing toward the HSA has me thinking, what a great idea. Bill more, do less. Charge me to save my own money to pay my own bills.
Damn, insurance companies might just be the new banks.

I didn't know I was pregnant aka toilet birthing

OMG, seriously, I about fell off the sofa while watching a show on The Learning Channel last night. At least, I am pretty sure that was the channel. With 200 to choose from on cable, I am already too old to remember.
There were three episodes of this special about women who gave birth in toilets and in random places because they didn't know they were pregnant.
WTF?
Sounds like most of them had an irregular or no cycle. Fair enough. However, at nearly 4 months pregnant, with the worst yet to come, I want to know how none of these people noticed changes in their body?
Seriously, I have felt so bad some days that, had I not known, I would have thought I was terminally ill. The stabbing pains in my boobs would be enough to, at the very least, make me go see the OB/GYN.
There was a woman who had her baby at a campground in the bathroom. She bent over to have her other half check to see what was coming out of her and the fool thought it was her intestines and told her not to push.
I'm not a doctor, but if my intestines ever start sliding out of my vagina, I seriously doubt I would be standing bent over asking Mr. W to have a peek. Writhing in pain on the floor, maybe.
This tool ran off to call an ambulance while the woman proceeded to push out a baby onto the concrete floor, directly onto its head. Why, when it started falling out and she realized what was happening, she didn't try to catch the poor thing, I don't know.
I was startled to see that all the parents featured here actually got to keep their kids. At the very least, you might think this would show evidence of some form of incompetence?
There was a picture of one girl in a bikini 2 months before she delivered(about a month early, if I recall correctly) and she was still very thin. To be honest, I wish I looked like that before I was pregnant. It made me wonder where they hide these babies? Most of the rest of them, I admit, were bigger women, but two of these women had TWINS.
Seriously, there's one for you. You go to the hospital and leave with 2 babies and had no idea they were hiding in your belly? Did they think that was just the Hostess snacks kicking them?
What disturbed me the most were the babies born into toilets. How do you tell your child they came into this world in the toilet?
Despite all the odds, the babies all were born healthy. I think this just goes to show you that all the prenatal care in the world can't promise you a healthy baby and that my baby should be fine despite the fact that I still really enjoy my coffee everyday, have eaten lunch meat with preservatives whenever I want, and got the baby drunk on jello shots about 2 or 3 weeks after it was conceived. Don't blame me. These people were clubbing and camping and dropped their babies on their heads and into the commode and they came out fine.
Miniature humans...they're resilient little things.

The doppler

So, the doppler arrived the other day. I bought it on ebay and got it priced about 25-30% lower than listed online, but still, it sucked 100 bucks out of my pocket.
I was actually surprised that I didn't hear much complaining when I decided to tell Mr. W that I had purchased this item and what it cost. I expected him to tell me I had lost my mind. I know I can resell the thing when I am done with it, and even at 100 dollars(the money I have surely already saved in cocktails since getting knocked up), I felt it was worth the entertainment value. I find a lot of things to be worth the entertainment value these days since my faves are all no-nos. Really, I can't even hop on a roller coaster this year.
Now, there are people who get these because they are high risk and have had problems in the past. They are nervous Nellys and they have a need to know that all is well. I am not on that team. I am not worried at all(well, certainly not the same type of worry) but I think these things are really cool. Hell, we have a thermometer and a stethescope and a BP cuff in our house, why not have a doppler, too?
I also realize that some people probably flip out when they can't find the fetus. C'mon people, the doctor couldn't even find my baby the last time he tried using his. Sometimes this happens.
On the other hand, once you have a tool like this, everyone wants to listen to their belly. The husband, even the dog. Talk about having a hard time finding the baby's heartbeat. We searched and searched on Mr. W but it just wasn't there.
There is some debate on the overuse of these devices, but there is no proof that they harm the baby. There is also no proof that baby enjoys this. After all, they liken the noise in the womb to a helicoptor flying over your house. I think, there are a lot of things in life that this baby is not going to like, so they better start getting used to it.
The last time we listened in, we heard a strong 160ish beat for about 15 seconds and then the little parasite swam off to a quieter area of the belly. Learning to fend for itself already.
Dopplers are a great thing.
Don't overuse them(or your baby will come out swinging and have six heads-just kidding) and don't flip out if you can't find baby(if it hasn't come out, it's still in there).
When I say overuse, look up some of the research online and decide for yourself or ask the Dr. We'll probably only really use this over the course of a few weeks until Baby W starts kicking mommy. Until then, it is like a fun little game. Find the baby and make it swim away.

Top 5 things a pregnant woman should never do

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I smooshed my baby...

So I was sitting on the sofa last night, watching a show and bending over to get something out of my very full handbag. I was fiddling, I guess you could say.
Out of nowhere, I felt a pulse racing down toward my hip and then I felt it. BAM
The baby moved. And it wasn't a cute little kick, or a little flutter or anything sweet and adorable. This was scary! I felt it wriggling and squirming out of an area that was low and somewhat near my left hip.
Now, I was bent up in a very odd angle, and truthfully, it was pretty unnatural how I was hunched. I shot up and my eyes popped open wide. My heart started racing for a minute and I yelled at Mr. W from the other room.
"Honey...I just felt the baby move".
Tears started welling up because all I could think about is when we sort of sit or lean on(accidentally, of course) our little yorkie and he wiggles around to get away because he is feeling the weight of a thousand anvils shooting through him.
My poor baby. I squished it!
My Dr. said when I know I felt the baby move, it would be called quickening. Well, I know that is what this was. My organs don't wiggle away from me and to be honest, I felt for a minute like an alien was trying to crawl out of my belly. On the other hand, had I not been so lazy as to winch myself up to reach something, as opposed to standing, I would never have felt this.
Forced quickening due to maternal laziness. I don't think this counts. I just hope I didn't smash the poor little thing! From what I hear the uterus has strong similarities to bubble wrap at this point, so I will assure myself all is well.
I'm looking forward, however, to feeling my little alien invader move without mommy smashing it first!
Aside from feeling a little guilty, it was very, very cool.
If baby looks like a pancake at the next ultrasound, I will be deleting all evidence of abuse.

You really shouldn't do that...

I thought about making the title of this post Google Is Evil. Because this is linked into Google, I thought that might not be a good idea. Suddenly, my rantings might vanish off the face of cyberspace. Only a force as strong as Google could make that possible.
The title was a quote from my friend Katey. That is very close to, if not the exact phrase she spit out when she asked what I was doing the other evening. I told her I was looking at a website about hermaphrodites.
I know it has not been long since one of my fave channels, either TLC or Discovery or Nat Geo(the new, hip name for the magazine's sister channel) ran a special about this genetic condition. Of course, you can't turn around without seeing an autism commercial telling you that nearly every child is autistic. They all blend together for me, but I told her that I remembered hearing on one of these features about how this is a very common condition. Now, not as common as being left handed, of course, but WA-HAY more common than you might think. In between staring at scan pictures with mounting questions, this thought popped into my head.
Perhaps this is because I learned that here in 4-5 weeks, we should find out what we're having.
You will find, if you visit online resources and forums, much discussion about how "scans are often incorrect". You hear about people with blue or pink accessories taking home a baby that doesn't match.
I have to say, I am glad I found out about my pregnancy quite early on, and while I had no crack addiction to break, it enabled me to make "behavior modifications" fairly quickly that help to ease my mind.
You see, from the minute I called to schedule an OB appointment(day after I found out)and they told me to immediately call my GP and get prenatal vitamins, I have tried to, at the least, follow their recommendations.
First thing was first. What is up with folic acid? Why should mothers take this before they try to get pregnant? Of course, I turned to Google. Ummmmm...I got my answer. It led to more and more Googling on every defect I had never heard of before. Holy sh*t, I hope I was eating some stuff with folic acid before I got my vitamins!
Don't get me wrong, there are a lot of mothers out there who did and do everything right, and still have babies with health issues. Sometimes these things just happen. There is not always a way to understand or explain, but let me just say, I now know of at least 100 or more conditions I can worry about that I didn't even know existed.
Probably the same reason she told me "You really shouldn't do that...".
I am human. I have always been inquisitive. It is my nature. I just can't let it go. I have to know more. It may be a curse or it may just be natural to want to know about every little thing there is to worry about.
There are no shortage of these things on Google.

Ultrasounds

So I had no idea before all this that there would be a procedure called an internal ultrasound. It has a few other names, but I will leave it at internal.
Talk about invasive. It is bad enough getting a pap, but when I saw the wand they used for these things, well...the Dr. had described it as a candle. Let's just say that I was expecting a taper candle. What I encountered in the ultrasound room was more of a pillar candle.
Had this not been the key to confirming that I was growing a human, I would have probably walked out the door. I made it through, but lost a bit of my dignity. Men should be very glad they have not designed a means to use this tool for prostate checks.
I know I discussed a little about Mr. W not being able to see the baby in the pictures, but the ultrasound is a very unique experience for a pregnant woman. Let me explain.
Because the baby is not completely visible in all the pictures, this can lead to very long bits of time spent studying the shadows on the printouts for a mother to be.
Any black spot must be taken in good faith as being a shadow. Is the right side of baby's face missing? Why do the legs look like a pretzel? Is this normal?
Any question from the ultrasound tech becomes loaded.
"Did you have an appointment with the Dr. today?"(no, why, is something wrong?)
What makes it particularly worse is, clearly, this is not like taking a video of your cat on your cell phone. The resolution is of a much lower quality, everything is a spooky black and grey, and there are infinite shadows. It's hard enough to see your baby in that alien blob that they point out to you, but every little shadow covers a hidden baby part.
Still, there is a peace of mind in seeing the little fish-like baby bouncing around in your belly. It's those weeks in between the ultrasounds that you find yourself looking at the photos and questioning them, deeply.
I would also like to add that the new 3d and 4d ultrasounds are pretty eerie, in my opinion. I prefer looking at my baby in a sort of x-ray fashion as opposed to pictures that remind me of a very creepy orange glob of partially molded clay.
Why people are paying hundreds to document their child in this way is hard for me to understand. Hopefully, Baby W will grow up and not be angry that mommy didn't need more 3d pictures of Baby that seem to say "Boo!, I'm your baby!!".(or find funny globs and bumps on to obsess over )

My Turquoise 4X4 isn't bright enough...

I had no idea until today, when magically, it was like I simply disappeared from the road.

It started with people going out of turn at a 4 way stop. Everyone makes mistakes. I am annoyed, but I get over it. Clearly, out of 4 cars, I placed 7th in line.

I go about my business, driving from point A to B and running my errands, then as I am pulling out onto a main road while traffic has come to a complete stop, I notice, despite the fact that I am patiently waiting and not pulling out in front of a Firebird going 5 MPH, that he rolls directly in front of me, leaving a car length and a half between him and the car in front of him at the light. This is despite the driver in the next lane over politely stopping to open up a route into the turn lane. Not the 16 year old in his dad's midlife crisis vehicle. Not a chance. He and his 85 pound girlfriend stop directly in front of me, sipping their Slurpee's, and I notice her giggling about what a douche bag he is. I imagine pulling the 4WD lever and driving over this kid's car.
Being only a half mile from home, the grand finale was still in store, as a bleached blond eases her giant truck into the road and and completely stops me and all the traffic behind me in my lane while she waits for a chance to turn left. It finally occurs to me that my Jeep is far too camouflaged, being the fluorescent aqua shade that it is.
I probably need to buy a bullhorn and some reflectors for it.
Yes, this all happened in broad daylight.
Being a pregnant woman, I now instantly resent anyone who drives recklessly even more than ever. Believe me, I have always hated those people.
Right now, I am the incubator. Kill me, kill my parasite.
I will not be purchasing a heinous Baby on Board sign for the Wrangler, or any of our other cars. I can, however, think of a few choice phrases for bumper stickers and car signs that I might want to have custom designed, but no one would see them anyway, since my vehicle is invisible.
It makes me think of pedestrians who step out into traffic. I mean, sure, I will stop if I notice you, but didn't anyone ever tell these people that is probably not a good gamble? What happened to looking both ways? Has society ditched this rule, too, or are these people so miserable in life that they don't care if I happen to be looking in my rear view when they step into the street? Note to these foolish people...if I hit you, I might feel bad, but I bet you will feel worse.
I think my little slice of town is becoming too "city" for me. I like the city, but not in my yard. This is no NY, or Chicago, it's just traffic, bus stops and a bunch of tacky strip malls and discount stores. With these great amenities we have many dumb pedestrians and even more careless drivers.
Did I mention that we have a Super Wal-Mart going in across the street? It is starting to make me wish I could live in a cave in the jungle.

Polly wants a cracker, Mommy wants a cocktail.

So let me set this straight. I won't be having one. Yes, I have heard of Fetal Alcohol Syndrome. Yes, I know what it can do to my baby. Yes, I can make it 9 months without drinking. While all of this may be true, it doesn't change the fact that I enjoy having a cocktail, especially after a stressful day at work. These are the days when I find being pregnant to be similar to a 9 month(or 10 month if you get right down to fact) lent.

I feel like I am deprived on those days, of something so gloriously relaxing, that it makes me very sad to think how long I have to go with this incubation period.

I like to drink. I also like to smoke(another reason to lynch me). I actually enjoy doing those things at the same time and sometimes, in excess. The horror. My solace is that, by the holidays, I will be able to indulge in the occasional festive adult beverages again, and also, will have a very limited tolerance for it. I will, in essence, be a cheap date.

I have noticed Mr. W choosing to indulge himself more often than usual right now. I honestly think he is rubbing it in. As I watch him down beers and margaritas with contempt, I remind myself that paybacks are a bitch, and so is mommy.

I must admit that I am getting adapted to this, however, the first month was painful. There was no more going out with the "gang" for beers and no more happy hour. Happy hour is something I think everyone who works should try to enjoy at least a few times per month. I prefer the once a week plan, but have always made a point to at least enjoy that monthly call to the watering hole. I am starting to realize this is an event that mommy will probably rarely, if ever, enjoy again. Good thing I will love this child so much...if anyone else were to take this away from me, I am pretty sure I would hate them for it.

At least I have my coffee.

The Grimace Dress...

No, I am not here to ponder what Grimace is. Probably because I had that question answered through extensive online research. OK, so I stumbled on it. Did you know that Grimace is supposed to represent milkshakes?
That marketing guy surely got fired back in 1972.

What about grimace resembles a milkshake? He kind of looks like a fat purple teardrop, I will give you that. Did McDonald's sell grape milkshakes back then?
If so they were long gone by the late 70s, but they left Grimace right there on all the McDonald's marketing campaigns for the world to ponder his purpose.

My point in mentioning Grimace is a particular summer dress I have. It is from the Gap and is actually really comfy, though it almost looks more like a housecoat than a dress. It has an empire waist and is a bright purple gauze material. It is great to wear in the summer when it is hotter than hell and you can't imagine what would keep you from sweating like a pig. Mr. W hates it. I let him know he will be seeing a lot more of it than he would like this summer.

You see, because of the style, I will be able to cram myself and growing Baby W into this dress while I am growing to offensive proportions in the heat of the summer. Mr W already calls this my Grimace dress, but he ain't seen nothin yet.

Mwroar Mwroar...Hi honey, its me...your wife, Grimace...

Hello, 911?...

I recently heard of a woman in Florida, I think it was, who called 911 because she did not get her chicken nuggets at McDonald's.
As the sun rises and sets, I am certain that woman was pregnant.

Nothing smelled or tasted good to her, but those vile little chicken flavored molds from McDonald's.

I know. There has now been more than one occasion that the only thing I can possibly imagine ingesting is McDonald's strange little fish patty covered in tarter sauce and ketchup, with the very odd half slice of cheese. I sometimes wonder who had that idea? I know...let's cut the cheese in half, and make up for the calories with a 1/4 cup of tartar sauce. Still, when that is what I feel I need to sustain the next 3 hours, I have to have that sandwich and 15 packets of ketchup to dunk it in(which, pre-preg, I have always hated).

It was my first real craving, except for one day very early when I wanted something sweet...nothing was in the house to be had but a can of cake frosting, so I did what I had to do. I opened the sucker up and ate it with my finger until that sugar urge was gone. Still, I think the Filet-O-Fish with ketchup sounds a little more nasty and pregnant-like. And it is the one that keeps coming back around.

My friend Tiffany, who has a few kids of her own, has told me that she was a Whopper eater while she was pregnant. Burger King stock went up those months. I promise if they were out of Whopper patties one day, it would have brought her to tears.

If McDonald's is closed the next time I need that fish sandwich, I will be beside myself.

McNugget lady? Pregnant.

"I loved being pregnant" people

What the hell planet are these people from?

Really, who loves this?

I find it to be painful and restrictive, on its best day.

Every time I hear someone say that from now on, I will secretly call her a liar. I think that maybe they remember loving pregnancy, but in reality, they have simply blocked out what blows.

Just contemplating wanting 2 children, but knowing I would have to brave this all over again is making me reconsider. I can look at adoption in a new light. Not that I was ever against it before, but I also felt like I really wanted to experience this. Now, not so sure.

Yes, all you people ready to lash out at me, I know there are many people who wish so badly that they could get pregnant. Sure, I feel for them, but when I want to crawl into bed at 7pm, I feel for me. When I wonder how I am going to tolerate the hot flashes when summer rolls through and I am gigantor, I couldn't care less about them.

In fact, as my sciatic nerve acts up and nausea sets in this morning, they couldn't be hidden more carefully in the back of my mind.

Oh Garlic, how I loathe thee...

So I have been pretty lucky so far. I am not having much along the lines of morning sickness. I have felt sick while eating, after eating, later in the evening, and a few random times, but overall, not so bad, and not puking. How can I complain?
The one thing I have noticed that is making me sick pretty consistently, is garlic. Every time I have more than a little, it just makes me want to vomit. I feel overwhelmed by it. I think my sniffer is so sensitive right now, I just can't handle it.
This leads me to my story. Mr. W loves garlic, but garlic doesn't love Mr. W. He smells like it for days after eating it. Despite his best efforts with brushing and flossing and mouthwash, it just comes from his pores.
The other night, I noticed the smell, and knew he had been into some of mommy's pregger pickles(the good kind from the cooler). No problem, or so I thought. Since having new carpet installed, we have been careful to keep the doors shut and the dog confined in our room to discourage any intentional "accidents" in the middle of the night.(which works pretty well, by the way) I wake up around 3am or so, and the stench of garlic is so bad in the room, I start to gag. I have to hurry to the door, open it, and start fanning air in the room.
Mr. W wakes up and asks what I am doing and I tell him.
Sorry dear, you stink of garlic so badly the whole room smells and I have to air it out or I will surely vomit and not get back to sleep.
Mr. W proceeded to say "no problem, I will start sleeping in the other room".
He wasn't even mad. His feelings were hurt. I didn't mean it, but OMG the stink in that room. Well, it was a little too much to take.
On a side note, my friend Beth reminded me that vampires don't like garlic. Probably some other creatures, too. My baby must be one of those things.

To pee or not to pee...

So, I have never in my life had this close of a relationship with pee. It all started when I peed on a stick. I peed on that stick, and let me tell you, I didn't have the time to put the cap on and set that sucker down to cook, both the lines were staring me in the face. Fair enough. You do what you have to do. Now, every time I have to go to the Dr's, I have to pee for them, too. First thing's first, don't get comfortable here in the exam room, we're going to need you to pee in a cup, please. I head to the bathroom at Dr.'s office, turn on the faucet to get up the urge, hold my hand down there with the cup. Get pee on my hand, some in the cup, move the cup a little, get pee on the cup. Take the cup, wipe it off, wash my hands, carry it through the office to the exam room where they test my pee with a strip. Yes, still knocked up. Then, before I even get out of the office, I have to pee again. I have to go 6, 7, 8 times a day I bet. I haven't counted, but maybe I will. I'm not sure I have felt any quickening, but I bet my bladder has. Then, to top it all off, most recently I learn that right now my poor little baby is swimming around in pee. No, I never heard that before. Yes, I am a walking litter box for the next 5 to 6 months, while my little kidney bean swims around and drinks its own pee! Lord in Heaven, I now know why they don't teach this in school. Why don't they call it like it is and refer to amniotic fluid as fetus pee? Why do they call it water, when it ain't water breaking? How could I have been so uninformed all these years? Again, I am just waiting for more pee secrets to come out as this whole conspiracy unfolds...I will keep you posted!

Things no one tells you before you get pregnant...

So, with many dear girlfriends who have children, I honestly am unsure why no one shared some of this information with me before. Maybe they only talk about it with other moms, maybe they figure if they let the cat out of the bag, their kidless friends will remain that way. I am not sure. I do know that things started happening to me early on that I just don't remember hearing much about while my friends were incubators.

Morning sickness you hear about. Cravings, too. No biggie.

What I am talking about here are some things like round ligament pain. Sure, people brag that they don't have to deal with tampons for 9 months, but no one had mentioned to me that I would have cramps on a quite consistent basis. Every few days, sometimes for days in a row? What is this sh*t about, anyway? Yes, I know things are stretching down there. Duh. Seriously, I guess I figured it would be more gradual, like flexing and relaxing muscles, rather than being gutted with a fishing knife.

Another thing, here. Booby pain. I never realized that along with very sore and sensitive also comes stabbing, throbbing, aching, and the sensation of passing a kidney stone from my nipple. All of these things, I am now assured, are normal. Are you kidding me?

Having shooting pain in my crotch is not something I knew was even possible. This has to be as bad as some of the most vile STDs known, and again, only now am I hearing this is normal.

Maybe I would have been more versed in this had I read a copy of the well known "What to Expect.." however, since I didn't really expect to be expecting, it wasn't on my book club list.

Hmmm...I am now being told that this thing called a mucus plug will dump itself into my pants to let me know that the baby is coming soon. I would rather get a phone call or an email. Even a rash, I think.

Meconium. I learned about this only days ago. How nice to know my baby will come out to see me and the rest of the world all filled up with poop that won't even come off with bleach and a blow torch.

I learn more things I don't want to know almost every day. Why did no one mention these before? Why are these mommy secrets? Maybe I should have asked more questions before deciding to buy.

This post will be continued as I learn more through my new mommy status, experience, or a secret decoder ring...

I don't see anything...

When I came home from my second ultrasound, at a little under 12 weeks, Mr. W, aka Daddy, got to see the first pictures of something that mildly resembled a human being. You see, my first scan was at all of 6 weeks and a few days. They were just checking viability at that point, and from what it looked like to me, Mr. and Mrs. W were expecting a kidney bean.

Fair enough. Something was in there, and that was why mommy was "late".

Now, I have heard story upon story of how people cry and cry when they see/hear the baby's heartbeat. This looked like a worm, and the tech showed me something of a flicker that I thought I saw, but couldn't swear on it, and while I may have welled up a little, this was a tad uneventful compared to what I was told to expect.

I felt a little heartless and cold.

So the next scan, at nearly 12 weeks, I was ready. I sat back, thanking the good Lord that this was an external ultrasound(another day, another topic) and waited to see something.

There it was. In all its glory. Head bigger than its body. Bouncing around in my belly. It had arms and legs. I didn't cry, but felt this overwhelming sense of happiness and pride. That is my baby. My little kidney bean. It has arms and legs! Just way too cool. It moved around some and I got to see fingers on a hand, and even saw the baby turn around and throw up its arms when it was tired of being poked at. (yes, I know movement is not conscious at that age, but let me have my moment) With a few good pictures, I came home thrilled to be able to show Mr. W all of our progress.

He looked at the picture, I pointed out the nose, mouth and eyes, and he said "I don't see anything".

There was an episode of Friends when Rachel was pregnant and could not see her baby in the ultrasound pictures. I always feared this would be me. So many friends had showed theirs to me and though I tried to act like I saw it, I totally didn't. I was so relieved when I was able to see exactly what was in the pictures, but I felt so bad for Mr. W.

At least he's being honest.

Why am I here?

This pregnancy experience becomes very fascinating to someone who has never been there before and never had any interest. Sure, for years I have had friends making babies and raising kids, and while I always thought they were cute and cuddly, I also know what a P.I.T.A. they are. Losing sleep and giving up things you love and spending all that money, well, it never appealed to me so much. I knew one day I would want one of my own, but really never felt in a hurry. Now, thanks to hormones, weekly updates, ultrasounds and all that comes along with being pregnant, I nearly shudder to think that I might be excited to become a parent. Ew. It just sounds really corny to me. Thus the blog.

Many people want to blog to update family and friends on the pregnancy and the anticipation of baybay, as Mr. W likes to call it, but I am not really feeling that vibe. I started a journal for the little parasite, keeping notes of my thoughts, parasite's progress, ultrasound pics and whatnot, but this is more for me. I know I am not alone. There are mommies and mommies to be out there who wretch at the thought of being mommy-like. I refuse to wear holiday sweaters and lose my sense of self to be a mom. I will love this kid more than life itself, and the best thing I can do for him or her is to be me. I want my kid to think I am cool. I don't plan to let him or her get away with things, that is not what I mean. To be honest, between Mr. W and myself, it won't get away with sh*t. Bad luck for the kid that we've been there, done that. What I mean is I want them to realize that no one should ever stop being who they are. Not for a child, not for a spouse, not for friends, not for anyone. Well, unless their "self" is really obnoxious or horrid...then, by all means stop.

Really though, I know that the possibility of my kid thinking I am cool is pretty slim. What's cool about someone who tells you no all the time? Hmm...probably the cool thing would be they have already done (insert stupid, irresponsible, dangerous action here) and can tell you what will happen. OK, then, probably the best I can hope for is that this kid knows how cool Mr. W and I used to be. Alot of that goes way back to before we even met. Probably good topics for parasite's journal. Not much of interest for this blog.

I am determined to keep a journal for parasite because I lost my mother over 2 years ago and not long before she died, I had asked her to fill in a book/journal I bought for her called "My Story", I think it was. Going through her things after she died, I found the book. I cried when I opened it and found that she had never written anything down. As many stories as she told, you never seem to remember it all. As the years pass, you forget some, or the names and details, and certainly, there are times when you just weren't paying full attention. I would have felt so comforted to have had something there to read. Something my mom wanted to say that she had never mentioned or something she had mentioned, and I had forgotten. It was heartbreaking, really.

I have a friend who lost her mother to cancer when she was very young. Her mom made a tape for her, talking to her about all the things my friend would experience in life. Years later, she still listens to that tape.

You never know when your time may be cut short, so as I sit here, choked up(pregnancy hormones will get their own post), I think to myself that it's important I write something in that journal today, even if it is just how badly I am craving ketchup on a fish sandwich.

I Know Where They Come From

So today I am 14 weeks and 3 days pregnant, and with every day that passes, I learn about new things that no one mentioned to me before. New terms that only parents use, expressions, and how chaffing the annoying "mommy people" are. When I say mommy people, I mean baby crazy incubators that pass judgement on everyone who does not handle pregnancy and parenting in the same way that they choose. I will inevitably find them with their own dedicated post at some other time, but today my focus is just how easy it is to make a baby. I always wondered how people got pregnant so easily when they weren't trying. I think I'm still pondering that. I made it all the way to 33 without having a pregnancy. Nope, not one that was "unplanned" or what I would call an "accident". No kids, nada. Sure enough, when my husband, Mr. W and I realized that it wouldn't be a problem anymore, we knew what was involved and how they were made and to be honest, I was a little surprised that it happened when it did and so quickly. Not that I was upset but I have to say I was a little surprised how easy it was to make after all that time not making one...lol. Of course, my heart goes out to those who try and have trouble, and for them, no, it isn't easy at all, but for anyone feeling bad about finding themselves "with child" I say to you...."did no one tell you how it happens?". Really, in my experience, this was not rocket science. To be honest, after the hormonal swings and emotional highs and lows in my last 10 weeks or so, it wouldn't shock me at all to see Mr. W building a "bumper" for the center of our bed. Ok, probably not the center, my side would be much closer to the edge.