Archive | May, 2013

Quick Update on Fetus Eviction

So I was feeling .. off? .. yesterday and had an already scheduled doctor’s appointment. I knew I felt weird, but didn’t realize I was showing it as obviously as I was. (I only realized it this morning, when I came back into work and people were 1) surprised to see me back and 2) glad that I wasn’t “looking like [I] did yesterday”.)

We’re in the phase of weekly checks now, being this far along, but last week’s visit wasn’t groundbreaking or anything. No dilation, no eff..acing(?), but the baby was down. So that was a good start.

Then yesterday, I got the unexpected check that I’m already at 3 cm dilated and 75% effaced. For non-baby folks, that means that The wheels, they are a’turnin and everything kind of flew into high gear yesterday.

Well, I should clarify: things flew into high gear for everyone else yesterday. I really don’t feel like I’m in immediate Any day now! territory or anything. Bryan, however, was hesitant to let me out of the house, and instead went to buy a waterproof pad for my side of the mattress.

See, I just remember Tony’s last few weeks.  This conversation happened every week, and happened again yesterday.

Me: So, I’ll see you at next week’s appointment!
Doc: Unless you have a baby before then, in which case we’ll cancel that appointment!

Which reminded me then (and now) of this conversation.

Dread Pirate Roberts: Good night. Sleep well. I’ll most likely kill you in the morning.

And I think we all know how that turned out.

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The Home Stretch Where Nothing Else Matters.

“So.. how’re you feeling?”

“Um, I’m fine. I’m ready. I’m over being pregnant.”


“Yeah. I keep slamming my belly in the dishwasher door when I close it.”


“No, not like I’m throwing myself down the stairs to end this torture, more like I’m so huge I don’t even know where I end any more and I clearly have the gestation period of an elephant.


Last week in the office. Next week, I work virtually to give myself baby-steps in letting go. Then I’m officially on leave the last week of May.


UNRELATED TO BABY: Oh, y’all. The Office ends this week. I don’t think I’m emotionally strong enough to handle this. I wondered why it was hitting me so hard and I went back and looked and realized that Bryan and I have watched this show almost since we started dating. We’ve lived through Roy & Pam and Jim & Women and then Pam & Jim. We kind of grew together as this show matured.

And not even just Bryan and I. I joined this team a year after the show started. AND I BEGAN WORKING FOR (a) JIM & (a) DWIGHT. My boss was also a huge fan and we used to gossip about Office Olympics every time we’d have a party planning committee meeting.

Don’t even get me started on Michael Scott. Sure, towards the end of his run, it was evident that the writers didn’t know where to go, but .. still. What a finely drawn character. Steve Carrell is the new guy that can make me cry without even trying.

It’s this moment where I realize that, when the show started, I had no idea who I was or what I was wanting out of life. And look at things now.

Jim & Pam, man. Best ever.


ALSO UNRELATED TO BABY: last week, I graduated from a young professional’s Leadership class that I’d been taking part in since last October. It was, hands down, one of the coolest things I’d been a part of.

See, I’ve lived in Huntsville, Alabama since .. 1990? Ish? Off and on. I knew a couple of things about the city (mainly the arts community), but this class took us so much deeper into how our city is run. It gave us opportunities to make a difference, both at a city and state level, and we had so much fun doing it. The days were long and intense and tiring, but man, you’d go home sore from laughing so hard. It was a very cool environment to be with such a diverse group of folks, and know that everyone would be heard equally.

In fact, it kind of made me rethink what I want to do. As it turns out, I really really REALLY love politics.

Seriously, I’m so sad it’s over. It was a fantastic voyage.



In the event you HAVEN’T read it, let me end this by directing you to the amazing return post of Miss Allie Brosh, who pens Hyperbole and a Half. Allie’s unique story-telling abilities, combined with her whimsical and hysterical illustrations, provide the perfect platform to discuss darker things like depression. And if you’ve ever struggled with depression, you’ve probably had the same difficulty putting words to what you’re feeling (or not feeling, as the case may be). This post made me laugh, smile, and cry because I’ve been there too. I’m glad Allie’s back among the internets and I’m even more encouraged by the support being poured out in response to the post.

(And obviously, while you’re there, dig around a bit. Everything is hysterical, although I’m partial to stories about Dog and her childhood memories of The Party.)

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Baby Stuff and Kindergarten at Chick-Fil-A

So, no news on the baby front. Not really. I mean, this past weekend was ROUGH, but that was a combination of an ongoing sinus infection (BOOO) and the fact that the baby is head down and making his way toward the runway, causing painful back contractions. But my doc – whom, again, I love – just basically threw some antibiotics at me and told me to suck it up, buttercup and so I’m doing just that.

Mother’s Day is coming up, and there’s a certain feeling when Mother’s Day falls when you’re nine months pregnant. That feeling is I DON’T WANT TO DO ANYTHING AND EVERYONE LEAVE ME ALONE, but I’m going to repress that. We have our final soccer game on Saturday (weather permitting .. if it gets canceled again, I’m going to go insane), plus a family visit on Friday night, and then a Mother’s Day Brunch on Sunday. I’m excited about Sunday because, well, FOOD. I am, however, debating wearing pajamas because do you know how much fun it is to wear real clothes now? The answer is: negative. Negative fun.

In trying to find the silver lining, I will say that having the baby lower is helping quite a bit with the crippling heartburn AND the breathing issues. Also, he we play high-five through my stomach. I like balancing bowls and things on my stomach and watching him knock it off.

I’m starting a list of shows that I should watch during late night feedings. So far, I have Mad Men, Justified, Game of Thrones, and possibly Duck Dynasty. I don’t know anything about the latter, but folks seem to like it. And the rest of my list is a little drama-heavy. Am I missing anything? Oh, probably Downton Abby. I don’t know how I lived through a baby before DVR.

There is currently a Verizon commercial running that features a little redheaded boy growing up and while that description doesn’t exactly sound groundbreaking, it RIPS ME APART every time. The realization has hit our house that in a matter of weeks, we will house not only a newborn but a thirteen year old. A teenager and an infant. BECAUSE WE ARE INSANE. And OLD.

Ooooh, and this: I am TERRIFIED that I will have this baby on Jack’s birthday. Wouldn’t that just be awful? Like, I am debating asking for an induction two days prior OR a written guarantee that June 2nd will NOT be the day, because I cannot imagine taking the child’s birthday from him. His thirteenth birthday, of all things.

Also, funny story: for weeks now, Tony has been talking about being onstage at Chick-Fil-A. Well, you know, he’s five and he makes up wild stories anyway, so we’ve kind of just ignored him. But then he started asking me about when I was onstage at Chick-Fil-A. So we wondered where we’d led him astray, thinking that there was a stage inside a fast-food restaurant. Then he mentioned that his pre-K’s teacher was a teacher at Chick-Fil-A. So I realized we needed to dive deeper.

“Chick-Fil-A, huh? Like, where we eat chicken? With the big slide?”

“No, Momma – where I’m going. In August.”

“The big school?”

“Yeah! The big school!”

“You mean, the Acad.. OOHHHHH, TRIPLE A.”

The Academy for Academics and Arts. Triple A. Chick-Fil-A. So now that we’ve got that ironed out, I need to figure out how many folks believe we’re sending Tony to receive an education at a place with exceptional chicken biscuits.

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Just Getting By.

I am what most people lovingly (or not so lovingly) refer to as Type A. Also known as a Virgo. Also known as OCD. I like to be in control of all things at all times. And I want everything I touch to be perfect.

Usually, this can be turned into an asset. I’m known for killing myself over details, for working insane hours to make sure that everything is done and as close to perfection as anyone can muster. This also means I may pick up slack from others who don’t .. share my drive. It means that a lot, actually.

But we’ve reached a point in my pregnancy where I just. can’t. anymore. I’ve been trying – and it’s hard because last pregnancy? I worked until PAST my due date. Like, in the office, working 8-9 hour days two or three days after my due date, until my boss just finally got skeeved out at the thought of my water breaking at an event or a meeting. Even then, I worked virtually until the day of my induction. So I have this standard of insanity that I SET BY MYSELF that I’m trying to hold myself to. But this time is so different.

I have another kid, as it turns out.

My job is a bit more stressful now than it was then. (Although I love it! I really do!)

I’m in school.

This fetus is harder on my body than the last one.

While I’m textbook healthy – and therefore hate complaining – this pregnancy has been so MISERABLE. I’m not sleeping because I can’t get comfortable. I have allergies that are causing me to have a reflex dry cough that has caused me to vomit on more than one occasion. And y’all. Let’s not even TALK about my feet. I have ONE pair of shoes that fit. ONE. My feet/ankles/calves/knees swell to two or three times their normal size. To the point that coworkers stare at me with a mix of sympathy and disgust and say, “Oh, honey.” I KNOW.

I am HUGE. I literally cannot turn around in my shower without having to open the door to allow room for my belly. (It’s a standing shower, to be fair.)(NO, SCREW IT, THERE IS NO FAIR HERE.) I have to wake up to roll over, because it is an event. I get winded walking from my desk to the bathroom.

AND I STILL HAVE FOUR (and a half, in reality) WEEKS TO GO.

So we’re getting to the point that I’m just getting by. Work stuff gets done, but it gets done when I can get it done in a realistic (i.e. normal person’s) timeframe. If stuff is not getting done by the person who should be doing it – I’M LETTING IT GO UNDONE. (This is massively painful for me.) I am currently holding a high C average in the class that’s caused me heartburn all semester. I have an opportunity to retake the final for a better grade, but I’m really like, Meh. That’s passing.

The house is not spotless. I haven’t cooked in AGES. Bryan has picked up more than a fair share of the household duties and I just can’t help any more. It is all I have to not come home from work and go straight to bed. (Mostly to get my feet up.)

The boys’ room is done; they are now sharing a (pretty cool, if I do say so myself) room. The nursery .. well, we have a bassinet, so it’s not like we need a nursery on Day 1, right? RIGHT?

It’s only a small amount of weeks left, but each day seems so looooong (especially when I can’t sleep) that I don’t know if I can make it. (.. you know, like I have another choice.)

Right now, it’s all about just getting by. So that we can get better later.

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