Setting aside the humor for a second, I thought I'd put it out there for all who haven't heard about the recent crib recall. Several makes and models of cribs are being recalled b/c of a dangerous defect that can (and unfortunately, has) resulted in the suffocation of an infant. All cribs that have DROP DOWN SIDES (as opposed to a drop down mattress) are most likely in this category. Some areas have gone as far as making it illegal to sell cribs with drop down sides while most manufactures will have completely dropped the production of drop down side cribs by early 2010. The problem is that many people buy cribs second hand (like myself) and will have no way of knowing if the crib they're buying for their infant is in this category.
The story that put this into perspective is absolutely devastating. As a mother, I almost had to leave the room while the story was being told on the local news station, but forced myself to watch it in order to get the facts. A loving mother puts her 10 month old infant son down for a nap without a worry, and just hours later walks in to find her son dead. The baby some how got his head through the side post and a rail and giggled the drop-down side loose causing it to fall and suffocate him. The mother said she dropped to her knees at the site of her son and screamed.
I don't know about any of you, but I would be in a MENTAL institution. I have tears running down my cheeks just thinking of that poor baby and his mother. I can't help but think of the situation in terms of my own daughter.... and how I would feel if I ever found her... I can't even type the rest. That has to be the worst thing a mother can experience..... the death of her baby. Especially when the child is so young and innocent and had so much life to live and so much left to experience. How does one cope with such a tragedy? I know the saying goes, "God doesn't give you more than you can handle" but I don't think ANYONE is equipped to handle that. I have total respect for anyone who has gone through something like that and emerged a semi-normal, functioning, individual. It's funny how if I had heard that story 2 years ago (before I had a baby), I would've thought it was sad, but it wouldn't have struck such a deep cord in my heart. I NEVER would've cried about it... or felt like puking over it. Being a mother.... it changes you. You see the world in a whole new light. And there's no right way to describe that "light" b/c it truly is different for everyone and for every child. All I can say is that it has softened me. It has made me respect my mother. It has brought me closer to my family. It has put those silly dramatic chapters of my life away in a box.... things I used to get up in arms about or get in the middle of... just seem to slide right on by now (and boy could I stir up the drama back in the day). It has made me see that a bad day at work means nothing in the grad scheme of things. It has made me realize just how much I DON'T know. It has made me look at people with less of a judgmental eye. It has made me learn how to put others before myself, and nothing before my child. It has defined the word, "Love." It has made me appreciate ALL that God has given me and made me notice the things I had previously taken for granted. It has made me a better person. It has given me direction. It has given me peace. I could go on and on... but the truth is, I find something new everyday, that motherhood has given me. To sum it up... I love it. Sure, it's got its up's and downs and it's not always happy moments. There are many moments of frustration and anger, tears, and disappointment... but overall, it's taken life to another level. Yeah... that's the best way yet I've come up with to describe it.... it's taken life to another level. And not everyone gets it... especially if you're not a mother. It's like a whole different culture. Before I was here, I used to wonder how someone could consume themselves with bottles and nap times and squeeky toys.... and how anyone could be so obsessed with the smallest detail in their child's life... or how they could not go an entire conversation w/o mentioning something about their child... in fact, it used to bug me. Now, I see why. The fog has been lifted and I feel bad for ever thinking those thoughts. Truth is though, no one gets it until they're here. And it's a scary thought for a lot of people to end up like us loonies who can't go 5 minutes w/o adding and "ie" to the end of a word, but it truly is the greatest gift in life.
And... my brain is fried. I stopped to read what I had written and blanked, so this will be the end even though I know there was more I wanted to write. See? That's what happens when you're pregnant! You loose your mind! Anyone seen mine? I'll settle for marbles at this point.
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
Sunday, November 15, 2009
What's a little weight gain between friends??
I'll tell ya what it is,... a competition! Of course, we are all very supportive and wouldn't dare let a thought like that cross out minds. Riiiight. Have you ever been to the beach with a bunch of girlfriends? We all break out our "best body" bikini, make sure our legs, pits and other spots are freshly shaven (or waxed if you're a waxer... personally, I can't put scalding hot wax on a place known as the "predominant focus of female sexuality".... or anywhere near it for that matter. Anyway..) We throw on a little extra bronzer in areas we don't normally use it... heck, we might even do a couple hundred crunches just to make sure. It is quite obvious that although most of us are targeting men with our appearance, we most value the opinions of other women. And GOD help us if we don't look better than the bitch next to us... and by bitch, I mean friend, of course. Our comments to each other are always so nice and flattering... while we let our eyes wander to places only a doctor should notice and make mental notes of each dimple of cellulite. Behind those white teeth and fake smiles we're thinking of all the ways we look better than our girlfriend and if there aren't any obvious reasons, we'll use our female goggles to add a couple love handles or a saggy boob or two.... just as not to ruin the picture-perfect, just-the-right-angle, good-sided, paparazzi-smile image of ourselves that took a good fifteen minutes in front of the mirror to perfect (and engrave in our brains). Even if you're reading this going... I don't do that. You do. Every woman does! Even if you're one of those women who is always finding something wrong with yourself, you're still out to compare yourself to your female friends. In fact... you're the worst kind (don't worry, that's all of us). It's all evolutionary if you think of it. Our minds and bodies are trained to see each other as competition for a mate... no matter what other relationship exists, that is the bottom line, so don't feel bad, just blame the monkeys.
So bringing me back to the topic at hand... If you've ever been pregnant while any of your friends are,... or heck... they don't even have to be friends, they could be the person walking down the street,.... then you know the same philosophy applies.
So here's how it goes. You get pregnant, and you're all like, "yay! I can't wait to tell everyone!" and you do, and everyone is excited and makes a big fuss. Then, one of your friends gets pregnant, and then everyone gets excited and makes a big fuss.... for them. And you can see how it gets worse with every friend. So for a slight minute there, you're brain reverts back to the third grade and you start thinking of circus tricks you can preform to get the attention back on yourself. Thankfully, in most cases, this is a passing moment and your adult brain gets a hold of you. Well... it only continues on with each passing week. Now, there's almost no way that all of you are due the same exact day, therefore, someone is "ahead" of the others. And this is particularly hard for the competitive type that always likes to "win." (um.. that would be me... in case you didn't already know). So, on occasion you may "round up" to the next closest week when asked how far along you are by mutual friends.... as if you're actually going to catch up. I have to admit... I've totally done it. Or, even worse, you think you're "ahead" and ANOTHER friend drops the atomic bomb of the "secret pregnancy" and all of the sudden, SHE takes the lead! (How dare she!) You have to laugh b/c even though it all seems to childish, you can't help but think it. So, then here comes the topic of weight gain.... the equivalent of the Olympics when it comes to competition during pregnancy. No one wants to be the "big winner" here... no no no so suddenly you find yourself thinking of your girlfriends as you contemplate that second hot fudge sundae. You've re-learned 11th grade calculus to calculate who's won the weight gain track meet for the week. "Well, so and so is at 15 weeks and only gained x amount of pounds and I'm at 20 weeks and have gained y amount of pounds, but when I was at 15 weeks I was only at T amount of pounds therefore she will probably shoot up around week 18... to even more than me if she's already at x lbs even though technically that's less than I was but the difference b/w my 15 week and 20 week is R lbs so if you add R lbs to x lbs then she will totally be fatter than me. YAY, I win." Oh, then there's the belly pic you have to post. In most cases this involves an unknowing husband who thinks a picture can't take THAT long, can it? And by the time you've got one you ACTUALLY like, he's learned f-stops and shutter speeds and could teach an entry level photo class at the local college. It would be like pregnancy suicide to post a less than perfect belly pic. And by perfect, I mean you must look skinny everywhere except for where the baby is and that bump better look perfectly round and hard, not at all like there could be some beer gut bunking up with your future child... no no no, you basically have to look like a supermodel with a basketball under her shirt. This could take a while. And when one person's picture goes up, all the others are soon too follow... usually at the same bench mark as the first, so as to have an accurate comparison. Then, you check your site 15 times a day for comments and you check your girlfriends site 30 times a day to read her comments, b/c if you loose the comment war, you might as well just take down the picture and have photo shoot number 2. But on the surface you're all so supportive of each other... "OMG you look sooo good... you're ALL belly!" or "You've gained how much? I can't even tell!" or "It's ALL baby... definitely not in your thighs".... but deep down you're thinking, "probably a size 6 by now, bye bye skinny bitch... hahahahah" Well, not ALL the comments are deeply rooted in competitive hash. I mean, we are all friends and every once in a while the pregnancy hormones let the rational, kind-hearted side of you out of prison for a day or two. Ahh... the joys of pregnancy. And to think in 9 short (okay long) months, none of this will even matter.... b/c when you see that beautiful baby, nothing in the world matters. That is... until the pre-pregnancy jeans conversation come up, then it's back to where it all began!
Too all my friends on myfamily that are prego... none of these thoughts are true or about you. They're all hypothetical and in good fun. P.S. In all seriousness.. you all look amazing..... and that one came from the heart.
So bringing me back to the topic at hand... If you've ever been pregnant while any of your friends are,... or heck... they don't even have to be friends, they could be the person walking down the street,.... then you know the same philosophy applies.
So here's how it goes. You get pregnant, and you're all like, "yay! I can't wait to tell everyone!" and you do, and everyone is excited and makes a big fuss. Then, one of your friends gets pregnant, and then everyone gets excited and makes a big fuss.... for them. And you can see how it gets worse with every friend. So for a slight minute there, you're brain reverts back to the third grade and you start thinking of circus tricks you can preform to get the attention back on yourself. Thankfully, in most cases, this is a passing moment and your adult brain gets a hold of you. Well... it only continues on with each passing week. Now, there's almost no way that all of you are due the same exact day, therefore, someone is "ahead" of the others. And this is particularly hard for the competitive type that always likes to "win." (um.. that would be me... in case you didn't already know). So, on occasion you may "round up" to the next closest week when asked how far along you are by mutual friends.... as if you're actually going to catch up. I have to admit... I've totally done it. Or, even worse, you think you're "ahead" and ANOTHER friend drops the atomic bomb of the "secret pregnancy" and all of the sudden, SHE takes the lead! (How dare she!) You have to laugh b/c even though it all seems to childish, you can't help but think it. So, then here comes the topic of weight gain.... the equivalent of the Olympics when it comes to competition during pregnancy. No one wants to be the "big winner" here... no no no so suddenly you find yourself thinking of your girlfriends as you contemplate that second hot fudge sundae. You've re-learned 11th grade calculus to calculate who's won the weight gain track meet for the week. "Well, so and so is at 15 weeks and only gained x amount of pounds and I'm at 20 weeks and have gained y amount of pounds, but when I was at 15 weeks I was only at T amount of pounds therefore she will probably shoot up around week 18... to even more than me if she's already at x lbs even though technically that's less than I was but the difference b/w my 15 week and 20 week is R lbs so if you add R lbs to x lbs then she will totally be fatter than me. YAY, I win." Oh, then there's the belly pic you have to post. In most cases this involves an unknowing husband who thinks a picture can't take THAT long, can it? And by the time you've got one you ACTUALLY like, he's learned f-stops and shutter speeds and could teach an entry level photo class at the local college. It would be like pregnancy suicide to post a less than perfect belly pic. And by perfect, I mean you must look skinny everywhere except for where the baby is and that bump better look perfectly round and hard, not at all like there could be some beer gut bunking up with your future child... no no no, you basically have to look like a supermodel with a basketball under her shirt. This could take a while. And when one person's picture goes up, all the others are soon too follow... usually at the same bench mark as the first, so as to have an accurate comparison. Then, you check your site 15 times a day for comments and you check your girlfriends site 30 times a day to read her comments, b/c if you loose the comment war, you might as well just take down the picture and have photo shoot number 2. But on the surface you're all so supportive of each other... "OMG you look sooo good... you're ALL belly!" or "You've gained how much? I can't even tell!" or "It's ALL baby... definitely not in your thighs".... but deep down you're thinking, "probably a size 6 by now, bye bye skinny bitch... hahahahah" Well, not ALL the comments are deeply rooted in competitive hash. I mean, we are all friends and every once in a while the pregnancy hormones let the rational, kind-hearted side of you out of prison for a day or two. Ahh... the joys of pregnancy. And to think in 9 short (okay long) months, none of this will even matter.... b/c when you see that beautiful baby, nothing in the world matters. That is... until the pre-pregnancy jeans conversation come up, then it's back to where it all began!
Too all my friends on myfamily that are prego... none of these thoughts are true or about you. They're all hypothetical and in good fun. P.S. In all seriousness.. you all look amazing..... and that one came from the heart.
Saturday, November 14, 2009
Kicked in the hoo-ha aint no happy ending!
Yes, it's exactly how it sounds. I have spent my day being kicked in the hoo-ha. No, that doesn't sound that bad, when you think that the earthling inside me can only have so much power behind his micro-sized feet, but let me tell ya... it aint no picnic (yes, I just used "aint" and yes, there is a red line under it from spell check). I think after about the 43rd time in a 2 hr period I had a better understanding for what men go through when they are kicked in their special place. I've tried everything, standing up, sitting down, laying down, laying down with my legs in the air, laying down with my legs AND butt in the air, walking, cartwheels.... okay well, not actually, but I was contemplating it. What could he be doing in there? Seriously? Is he practicing for the olympics? Although, I'm not sure what sport... kick boxing maybe? Is that even an olympic sport? Who the heck knows.... speaking of nose, my other battle-wound today came from my blossoming and abnormally strong toddler who's head is harder than a giant diamond (in case you are uneducated in the rock thing... diamonds are the hardest rock, material... whatever i'm pregnant i can't remember the right term). Yeah, so a good-night lullaby turned into a head butting contest and ended with a possibly broken nose (I heard a crack and in my book, that's enough to call it a break... but I don't want to look like a sissy, so we'll say "possible break"). Advice of the day: Beware the forehead of a toddler, it's harder than you think!
Other than that, I have to say that the perk of my day was early this morning when, number 1, I GOT TO SLEEP IN!!! and 2, I got to indulge in a little extramarital pregnancy dream (sorry Den). In case you have no idea what that is (that could only be if you've never been pregnant), it's basically a dream on steroids... and in some cases, the passionate make-out session turns out to be a random stranger yet, it's not weird, it's just plain amazing! Thank-you hormones! Don't get me wrong, I did awake feeling slightly guilty... for a brief moment, then I hit snooze and tried to pick up where I left off. I have read that these dreams are totally normal and actually a sign of a healthy, normal, relationship, so don't go betting on divorce dates. It's a way for your super-charged hormones to get out some, eh hem... aggression? Yeah, we'll call it that. Some even come with a happy ending... so I hear. So, happy dreaming pregos!!
Other than that, I have to say that the perk of my day was early this morning when, number 1, I GOT TO SLEEP IN!!!
Friday, November 13, 2009
A quick synopsis of the last 5 months..
Okay, so the whole point of this thing is to document, so here are the cliff notes of the last 5 plus months of pregnancy with baby # 2:
How it all started: Everyone is always taught in high school that it only takes ONE time... but c'mon, who really believes that? Well... I am here to testify on behalf of all 9th grade health teachers and text books that it is... in fact... true. My PG rated version of this story starts with a conversation that Den and I had after Ali was born in which we discussed timing for our next child. Originally, we had said that when Ali was one, we'd start trying again... and we thought... oh how nice it will be to actually be TRYING (as Ali was an example from health class as well). Then, as Ali approached the 1 year mark, we both had a change of heart... it seemed a little too soon being that the year that went by must have only had 7 months in it b/c there was NO way a whole year could go back that fast! Well... a little second honeymoon in the Dominican Republic ruined that idea! Ironically... on Ali's first birthday. And yes... it was another health class lesson. You can just call me fertile myrtle.
I can't be pregnant!: So the DR vacation comes and goes and life returned back to normal. About a month passed and while some family was visiting, I made a comment that I felt so bloated, it looked like I was pregnant. We all had a good chuckle and went out to dinner, had quite a few cocktails, and an over-sized meal. Another two weeks passed and I thought... hmm... maybe I should take a test, and on my way to the bathroom I literally laughed out loud at the outrageous idea that I could be pregnant. I even uttered the words, "I can't be pregnant!" out loud before entering. Two positive pregnancy tests later and I was eating those words..... followed by a nap.
The 24/7 HANGOVER: Those first couple months were rough. Unlike with Ali, where I was plagued by only passing bouts of nausea, this time felt like I had about 15 jager bombs and a bottle of well tequila the night before..... ALL the time! Unlike with the first pregnancy, there was no time to lay in bed.... having a 1 year old while being pregnant is like running a marathon after all-night binge drinking fest.... TORTURE. I swore up and down, left and right that there was NEVER going to be another pregnancy and that this kid was testing the limits. I did consider throwing myself down the stairs a couple times,... but I'll just keep that one to myself (or post it on a blog). When it came time for my 8 week checkup, I had to call Den and make him drive me only to have the doctor say that it wouldn't be until FIFTEEN weeks that I would see some relief.... "I want drugs" is all I could think about and eventually the words popped out of my mouth, but they were quickly shot down by Dr. Safety. What do you have to do to get that stuff, puke on the speculums? Because... I'll do it. I'm not gonna make it here, man. But.... somehow, I made it. Thank GOD it didn't take 15 weeks.
Second Trimester: Once that hangover was gone, I was like a new woman! In fact, I can't remember much from the last couple months. I felt good, I started exercising religiously (due to seeing photos of myself after giving birth to Ali in combination with being asked if I was 5 months pregnant), I became a clean-a-holic which was great for our kitchen, but didn't apply many other places, and I only had to hit snooze 3 times in the morning as opposed to.... well, sleeping through the alarm (and by alarm, I mean Ali crying over the monitor... poor thing, had to make friends with the flowers on her bumper some mornings to keep from boredom). I started to show, for real (not just the... i'm gonna let my beer gut hang out and pretend that it's all baby even though i'm only 8 weeks, showing). I got to go maternity clothes shopping and break out the stretchy-come-up-to-your-boobs pants that every woman should own... and wear during things like Thanksgiving dinner or a long night of beer drinking... they're just great! I FINALLY broke the news to my boss (via text message), who was frantically trying to find out if I was pregnant by asking every person who knows my name. All in all.... things were good.
Some minor set backs: Well, things can't be perfect forever. True to form, I developed a nasty case of bronchitis after a weekend at my parents house, cuddling with Boomie (my dog, that I'm allergic to), which turned into an even nastier case of pneumonia, that kept me out of work for a whole week (I must admit... it was almost nice to have the break). Then, to top it all off, I contracted poison ivy, or oak, or whatever it is from God only knows what (Den had it too) and as of right now, I'm typing with one hand so I can itch my leg with the other. Oh, and did I mention the trip to the ER as a result of another Boomie visit in combo with the pneumonia..... so, just a couple set backs, but the baby is 100% healthy (knock on wood). Hopefully, he'll get his father's immune system.
It's a BOY!: During that mess of a month and a half, we had our second ultrasound and found out the baby is a BOY! Now, there's just one small problem..... the whole name thing. Den prefers names like "Walt" and "Dale" which make me think of a double wide trailor in the middle of a corn field complete with 2 or more old, rusty pick-ups and at least 4 dogs. Do you see what I mean by problem? I on the other hand, prefer more eclectic names like Cooper and Tucker. It's all going to come down to who's got the pen when the birth certificate comes around and I have a feeling, it won't be me. So, if our baby boy's name is Walt Dale Jennings, you'll alllll know who picked it.
You can't see the heart??!!: Everything seemed to be going so well until we went for our 20 week appointment. The first thing out of the doc's mouth was, "Did you come back for the ultrasound of the heart yet?" Den and I both looked at each other in horror b/c everyone knows, you don't come back for another ultrasound unless something is wrong. I replied, "No, why? Is something wrong?" She assured me, there wasn't anything wrong, the ultrasound tech just couldn't see the baby's heart... well, that's what her mouth was saying. Her body language was telling me that I should be worried. Then, they insisted that I come back the following day for the ultra sound which only added to my terror. "Why so soon? What aren't you telling me?" is all I could think of while the doctor walked us out to the check out station where she whispered something to the receptionist and typed in her own notes. I left that office thinking the worst.... all I could do was go over and over in my head all the things that I'd done wrong in the last few months. I cried my eyes out and no amount of "It'll be okays" made a difference. That night, I did some research and found out that it is fairly common to have to go back for things like this... and that I shouldn't worry, but how could I not? In situations like this, I always pray... and I always ask for a sign that everything will be okay. There are two things that I have as staple "good-luck" or "everything is going to be okay" signs.... and they are triple 7's (777) and sunflowers. The next morning, as I was leaving my first account, I prayed that everything would be okay and thought to myself, "777" and as I pull out of the parking lot, a car drives by with "777" on the license plate. I immediately broke into tears of relief and didn't have a doubt from then on. When we got into the ultrasound room and he put the probe on my belly, the first thing he hit, was the heart.... all 4 chambers, beating at a healthy 140 bpm. It just goes to show..... and all kidding aside here...... that God is here and if you look, you will see him.... if you listen, you will hear him... you just have to know how. Little miracles happen right before your eyes everyday..... and so many of them go unnoticed,... so if you ever need a little hope, just keep your eyes open to miracles.
How it all started: Everyone is always taught in high school that it only takes ONE time... but c'mon, who really believes that? Well... I am here to testify on behalf of all 9th grade health teachers and text books that it is... in fact... true. My PG rated version of this story starts with a conversation that Den and I had after Ali was born in which we discussed timing for our next child. Originally, we had said that when Ali was one, we'd start trying again... and we thought... oh how nice it will be to actually be TRYING (as Ali was an example from health class as well). Then, as Ali approached the 1 year mark, we both had a change of heart... it seemed a little too soon being that the year that went by must have only had 7 months in it b/c there was NO way a whole year could go back that fast! Well... a little second honeymoon in the Dominican Republic ruined that idea! Ironically... on Ali's first birthday. And yes... it was another health class lesson. You can just call me fertile myrtle.
I can't be pregnant!: So the DR vacation comes and goes and life returned back to normal. About a month passed and while some family was visiting, I made a comment that I felt so bloated, it looked like I was pregnant. We all had a good chuckle and went out to dinner, had quite a few cocktails, and an over-sized meal. Another two weeks passed and I thought... hmm... maybe I should take a test, and on my way to the bathroom I literally laughed out loud at the outrageous idea that I could be pregnant. I even uttered the words, "I can't be pregnant!" out loud before entering. Two positive pregnancy tests later and I was eating those words..... followed by a nap.
The 24/7 HANGOVER: Those first couple months were rough. Unlike with Ali, where I was plagued by only passing bouts of nausea, this time felt like I had about 15 jager bombs and a bottle of well tequila the night before..... ALL the time! Unlike with the first pregnancy, there was no time to lay in bed.... having a 1 year old while being pregnant is like running a marathon after all-night binge drinking fest.... TORTURE. I swore up and down, left and right that there was NEVER going to be another pregnancy and that this kid was testing the limits. I did consider throwing myself down the stairs a couple times,... but I'll just keep that one to myself (or post it on a blog). When it came time for my 8 week checkup, I had to call Den and make him drive me only to have the doctor say that it wouldn't be until FIFTEEN weeks that I would see some relief.... "I want drugs" is all I could think about and eventually the words popped out of my mouth, but they were quickly shot down by Dr. Safety. What do you have to do to get that stuff, puke on the speculums? Because... I'll do it. I'm not gonna make it here, man. But.... somehow, I made it. Thank GOD it didn't take 15 weeks.
Second Trimester: Once that hangover was gone, I was like a new woman! In fact, I can't remember much from the last couple months. I felt good, I started exercising religiously (due to seeing photos of myself after giving birth to Ali in combination with being asked if I was 5 months pregnant), I became a clean-a-holic which was great for our kitchen, but didn't apply many other places, and I only had to hit snooze 3 times in the morning as opposed to.... well, sleeping through the alarm (and by alarm, I mean Ali crying over the monitor... poor thing, had to make friends with the flowers on her bumper some mornings to keep from boredom). I started to show, for real (not just the... i'm gonna let my beer gut hang out and pretend that it's all baby even though i'm only 8 weeks, showing). I got to go maternity clothes shopping and break out the stretchy-come-up-to-your-boobs pants that every woman should own... and wear during things like Thanksgiving dinner or a long night of beer drinking... they're just great! I FINALLY broke the news to my boss (via text message), who was frantically trying to find out if I was pregnant by asking every person who knows my name. All in all.... things were good.
Some minor set backs: Well, things can't be perfect forever. True to form, I developed a nasty case of bronchitis after a weekend at my parents house, cuddling with Boomie (my dog, that I'm allergic to), which turned into an even nastier case of pneumonia, that kept me out of work for a whole week (I must admit... it was almost nice to have the break). Then, to top it all off, I contracted poison ivy, or oak, or whatever it is from God only knows what (Den had it too) and as of right now, I'm typing with one hand so I can itch my leg with the other. Oh, and did I mention the trip to the ER as a result of another Boomie visit in combo with the pneumonia..... so, just a couple set backs, but the baby is 100% healthy (knock on wood). Hopefully, he'll get his father's immune system.
It's a BOY!: During that mess of a month and a half, we had our second ultrasound and found out the baby is a BOY! Now, there's just one small problem..... the whole name thing. Den prefers names like "Walt" and "Dale" which make me think of a double wide trailor in the middle of a corn field complete with 2 or more old, rusty pick-ups and at least 4 dogs. Do you see what I mean by problem? I on the other hand, prefer more eclectic names like Cooper and Tucker. It's all going to come down to who's got the pen when the birth certificate comes around and I have a feeling, it won't be me. So, if our baby boy's name is Walt Dale Jennings, you'll alllll know who picked it.
You can't see the heart??!!: Everything seemed to be going so well until we went for our 20 week appointment. The first thing out of the doc's mouth was, "Did you come back for the ultrasound of the heart yet?" Den and I both looked at each other in horror b/c everyone knows, you don't come back for another ultrasound unless something is wrong. I replied, "No, why? Is something wrong?" She assured me, there wasn't anything wrong, the ultrasound tech just couldn't see the baby's heart... well, that's what her mouth was saying. Her body language was telling me that I should be worried. Then, they insisted that I come back the following day for the ultra sound which only added to my terror. "Why so soon? What aren't you telling me?" is all I could think of while the doctor walked us out to the check out station where she whispered something to the receptionist and typed in her own notes. I left that office thinking the worst.... all I could do was go over and over in my head all the things that I'd done wrong in the last few months. I cried my eyes out and no amount of "It'll be okays" made a difference. That night, I did some research and found out that it is fairly common to have to go back for things like this... and that I shouldn't worry, but how could I not? In situations like this, I always pray... and I always ask for a sign that everything will be okay. There are two things that I have as staple "good-luck" or "everything is going to be okay" signs.... and they are triple 7's (777) and sunflowers. The next morning, as I was leaving my first account, I prayed that everything would be okay and thought to myself, "777" and as I pull out of the parking lot, a car drives by with "777" on the license plate. I immediately broke into tears of relief and didn't have a doubt from then on. When we got into the ultrasound room and he put the probe on my belly, the first thing he hit, was the heart.... all 4 chambers, beating at a healthy 140 bpm. It just goes to show..... and all kidding aside here...... that God is here and if you look, you will see him.... if you listen, you will hear him... you just have to know how. Little miracles happen right before your eyes everyday..... and so many of them go unnoticed,... so if you ever need a little hope, just keep your eyes open to miracles.
The Joys of Motherhood.... Minus a Brain
I have come to the conclusion that pregnancy is as much a mental condition as it is a physical one... or should I say.. a mental HANDICAP! I've always prided myself on my ability to memorize numbers, remember tiny details, and almost NEVER make stupid, completely avoidable, mistakes. Well, I can officially say that skill has been hit by a truck, run over a couple times, then thrown back on the highway. My career has taken the biggest hit and my poor accounts are starting to look at me as if I've gone nuts. But, maybe that's what being pregnant it, after all. Things as simple as remembering to wear underwear are requiring a sticky-note on my mirror and more complicated tasks, like remembering to send my orders through at the end of the day, may as well be tattooed on my forehead! Or how about this one.... I can't even remember what I was going to write next, so I think I'll just leave it at that.
Introduction
So after reading Jess's ingenious, witty, and entertaining blog about her journey through pregnancy, I decided that I was going to start one of my own if for nothing more than to have these moments documented (especially since Den insists this is the LAST one and he's getting snipped after the birth). I can't promise a best seller here, but it may be mildly entertaining at times. Although... I have NO idea what I'm doing. This will surely be a learning experience as well as a HUGE surprise if I even complete more than one post and don't abandon this after the introduction.
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