Well, if that wasn’t a mic-dropping post followed by a week’s worth of silence, I don’t know what was.

Truth be told, even though I’m all sorts of preggers, life doesn’t slow down much around these parts. I still have a full load of school work, and I’m not one to pull the Pregnant Card at work, so I’m still working lots there, and as it turns out, the kids that are already out of the uterus want to eat and play all the time. So I apologize for not being here more – October is going to be a challenge for us to get through.

Not only that, but Bryan is designing (and hanging) lights for not one, but TWO shows right now, so he’s been busy and gone and stressed as well. Add to that continuing school issues with Jack and we’re all just spent. We are all looking blissfully toward a holiday of some kind. Any kind, really.

Since I don’t have a lot of exciting stuff going on right now, it’s time for random thoughts about this pregnancy.

This is not the same kid.

When we met the doctor for our first visit, he calmed me down with the worries I’d been having – the cramping is normal (“Your uterus is now expanding again, but your first pregnancy really wore out any muscles in there. So expect to be huge the second time.”)(To be fair, my doc is an electrical engineer by trade, and I rather adore his bedside manner. I find him extremely comforting.). Also, this is not the same pregnancy.

Boy, he was not just whistlin’ dixie, brother.

I really had very few symptoms of anything with Tony’s pregnancy. I had no sickness; I was tired, but not exhausted; the worst of the pregnancy was at the very, very late stage (especially since I went a week past my due date).

But this time: AM SICK ALL THE TIME. Not like, actually productive sick, but nauseous. All the time. And this from a girl who would have a cup of coffee at 5 am and then not eat until dinner at night. I am now having to learn how to do small meals every two or three hours to stave off the awfulness. I cannot imagine people who do this with every pregnancy; you are my heroes.

Also: already am third-trimester sore and tired. Parts of me that didn’t start throbbing until late last time are now already gung-ho about making my life miserable. Let’s not even talk about my boobs, but MAN, are they demanding to be noticed. (PAINFUL.) I’m already getting twinges in my hips. And this go-around, I have a newfound asthma issue to deal with.

Also, the last: WHY AM I ALREADY HUGE?

I pretty much hate everyone.

Okay, not you. I like you. But .. man. What little filter I had prior to the knocking up is now completely evaporated. I am .. kind of a horrible human being right now. And it’s not like I can even say that I’m possessed by hormones and I don’t know where it’s coming from.. it’s that I’m literally like Jim Carrey in Liar, Liar and when I think of something, I SAY IT. OUT LOUD. You’d think it would be freeing, but it’s happening at work, y’all, and I’m terrified that I will sass my way out of a job.

Maternity clothes. As in: I should get some.

Gah, I hate shopping for maternity clothes. First of all, there’s nowhere around here that sells them reasonably. Sure, we’ve got some upscale specialty boutiques that sell Seven for Mankind designer maternity jeans (?!), but um, NO.

But then yesterday, my already basketball sized child let me know in no uncertain terms that some elastic-band waists need to happen with a quickness.

Yes, this is how I wore my pants to work yesterday. I am not proud of this.

So last night, I was perusing maternity clothes online and reading reviews, because you really are just at the mercy of the manufacturer when you’re forced to only buy maternity clothes online. And I was looking at some Gap maternity jeans, because I like Gap jeans anyway, and I thought, Why not?

And these were some of the reviews.

These jeans are amazing! I’m six months pregnant and the size 2 fit me PERFECTLY. But I had to size down because I don’t want a frumpy butt!

These are the perfect maternity jeans! I’m five months along and just grew out of my pre-pregnancy jeans, so I decided to splurge on some of these and I’m so glad I did! I usually wear a Size 00, but the baby bump has brought me a to a Size 0. Hopefully I’ll make it back.. LOL!

Seriously. I’m eight weeks along and had to use a FREAKIN’ HAIR ELASTIC TO MAKE MY PRE-PREGNANCY FAT JEANS WORK FOR EIGHT HOURS. I wish these women acreage of stretch marks.

Food is Amazing.

Oddly enough, I’ve cooked almost every night. I’ve missed cooking; I love how soothing it is at the end of a chaotic day. And when I cook, I control what we eat! So if I have a craving – I COOK WHATEVER THAT CRAVING IS. It’s pretty damn awesome, if I do say so myself.

Also, since I now have to have small snacks all day, I’m reverting to my childhood loves.

Also: anything dipped in peanut butter. Also: olives of any and every kind.

BRAINSTORM: Peanut butter filled olives on Triscuits. YESSSSSS.

I am having some guilt issues.

Lemme tell you about this night I had the other night.

My first dream was that I had the baby and I was so excited to get back to non-pregnant life that I knowingly left the baby at the hospital. I had no emotional attachment to this baby whatsoever.

Like, have you seen Eraserhead? If you’re pregnant, DON’T. But .. that’s kind of how I saw this baby.

So the hospital calls and they’re like Don’t you want your baby girl? and I was all, “Wait, it’s a girl? I have to get a wreath for my door!” And I picked her up and she was overjoyed to see me, like full-on grinning, and I handed her over to Bryan, because I had better things to do.

OHMYGOD, RIGHT?!

So about this time, in real life, Tony comes barreling in to the living room (it was my night on the couch), yelling and screaming at me about “not turning off the powers”. I bluntly tell him to get back to bed NOW, and then I go back to sleep.

In my next dream, Tony and I are hurrying to get somewhere. Tony, per usual, is taking his sweet four-year-old time to dawdle behind me and generally not keeping up. “Stay with me,” I threatened, “or I may leave you here.”

AND I DID.

Y’ALL, I GOT IN MY MINIVAN AND DROVE OFF FROM MY CHILD, LEAVING HIM RUNNING BEHIND ME IN A PARKING LOT.

(I’m crying now, as I type this.)

Still in the dream, Jenni finds out what I’ve done and is livid, so she makes me go get him. I find him wandering in a neighborhood close to the parking lot, cut and bleeding and bits of trash in his hair. I barely acknowledge him while Jenni cleans him up.

And then – THE COUP D’ETAT – Lola jumps in the van. FREAKING LOLA. The cat that we gave away because she was continually attacking Tony in the eyes made a freaking guilt cameo in my dream.

Now, I know that pregnant dreams in general are weird and don’t follow logic of any type, but DAMN.

Brain, lighten up just a little.

No matter what: the Hot Apple Cider is back.

So I encourage us all to go get one.

You know how you felt at the end of The Sixth Sense? You felt like NO WAY I HAD ALL THE CLUES THE WHOLE TIME AND I NEVER PUT IT TOGETHER. We all felt that way.

****

Back in late July, I had my IUD removed. At first, it was because we were going “to try” and see what happened. But in all honesty, that lasted about two weeks.

Because of our unusual sleeping situations (we take turns sleeping on the couch since Bryan’s snoring is preventing us from sleeping in the same room), I was INSANELY tired. Like, cranky pants tired, times eleventy frillion.

So about two weeks after the removal, I said, “I’m done. Really.” Bryan agreed and began to set plans in motion for a vasectomy.

****

As you can imagine, sleeping in separate quarters doesn’t really lend itself to spontaneity, if you catch my drift. I really, really, REALLY never thought twice about anything.

****

I was cold all the time. I’m normally always my own personal space heater, but all of a sudden, I could be dressed in layers of sweaters outside in 90-degree weather and still complain about the chill. I was EXHAUSTED.

But – again. I was working (more than) full time, going to school (more than) full time, and still had other stuff happening. Exhaustion and taking crappy care of myself were not a surprising result of these things.

****

One morning – at 5:00 a.m. before a big customer meeting – I got up and shut off my iPhone alarm, like I usually do. I stumbled to the bathroom and checked my bangs to see if I could get away without shampooing that day, like I usually do. And as routinely as I did everything else, I took a pregnancy test.

And it was positive.

And like any normal person, I held up the two blue lines and said out loud, “Nope, don’t have time for this,” and shoved it in a drawer.

****

Naturally, once I had caffeine in me, I assumed the whole thing had been a dream. It was so surreal, and really, WHO REACTS THAT WAY? So I came home, greeted the boys playing video games, and excused myself for a second test. While the first test had some fuzziness to it, the second test arrived with fanfare and confidence. Pos-i-TIIIIIVE, it sang.

So like any normal person, I shoved it in the drawer with the other one and went to do homework.

****

When I told Bryan I was pregnant with Tony, I had planned a nice little revelation that revolved around a cute baby book and a private, intimate moment, the kind of memory that is absolutely perfect to record in a baby book that you then hand over to your teenager and they can be embarrassed at how saccharin their parents were.

Bryan knew something was up when I offered to come lay down with him for a little while.

Noting how cold my feet were, he mentioned how odd it was that I was now cold all the time. “Well, I’m about six weeks pregnant.” There was no fanfare, no sweet hesitation, no cushion.

He began giggling while gushing about how excited he was.

“I’ll let you get through that,” I said, rolling away. “I’m not there yet.”

****

We had just made the decision of No More, which resulted in the final purging of all baby-related items in the house, and the dregs of my long-forgotten maternity wardrobe. It was all gone. We had finally settled into this being our forever family, and it felt okay, honestly. I didn’t feel incomplete, I didn’t feel discontent. And now. NOW.

Irrationally, my main concern – outweighing the fact that we’d now have to upgrade EVERYTHING: house, cars, more baby stuff – was that I already had a baby. I mean, he didn’t look like a baby any more, since he was now approaching his 5th birthday, but he was. He was MY baby. My lap was his; he occupied over half of the pictures on my phone. I already carry so much guilt that he doesn’t get enough time, enough attention, and this would just split us further.

Bryan and I had made peace with the decision that we were done having kids. I made no bones about telling Tony that he would always, always be my baby, no matter how old he got. How would I tell him that there was now another? HE WOULD BE SO MAD AT ME.

****

Yesterday, we went to the doctor, finally having reached the magical eight weeks point. I had both dreaded and longed for this day; the arrival of this news meant I could finally TALK about it, and y’all, it has been KILLING ME to not talk about this.

Well, while we did get good news, it was certainly surprising: we were not eight weeks along, as the data suggested. Because of my IUD, my cycles were way out of whack. I was about six weeks, from what they could guess. Which means I knew I was pregnant at, like, THREE WEEKS.

MY OWN SIXTH SENSE.

Anyway, healthy little bean thingie in there, good heartbeat, all that jazz.

Due to scheduling yesterday,  my master plan of us picking up Tony early and taking him for ice cream to tell him the news was kind of shit upon, so instead, I knelt in the kitchen and showed him the ultrasound picture. “There’s a baby in my tummy,” I admitted, like I had been lying to him.

“Where is the surprise again?” he asked.

“This is it, bud. Surprise.”

“Okay. I will keep this secret for the surprise tonight.”

And that baby – not a baby anymore – did, and we surprised the hell out of my family after a southern banquet.

Everyone is genuinely, truly excited. And I know I will be too. I think having to keep this a secret from EVERYONE is partly why I’m still so disassociated from it. I am trying to force it, trying to make myself feel excited because I know how some people would trade anything to be in my shoes, and I know that and that’s the logical way to see it, but I’m not there yet. I’m just not there. I am tired and overwhelmed and exhausted and I can’t see the light at the end of the tunnel yet. I see a swirling hole of finances that are suddenly about to avalanche upon us and I see more uncertainty. I’m not there yet.

But thanks so much for your support thus far. All the kind words and sweet sayings and .. really, thank you. I’m not there yet, but you guys will get me there, no doubt about it.

Say hello to the world, bean.

I’m sorry. This is just CLEARLY a dancing chipmunk.