Teeter-Totter

I don’t know who is on the other end, but when they go down, I am up.  Things I can see from UP:

-There is a baby on the way, and Tony and I saw her at an impromptu ultrasound because the doctor didn’t have any patients after us.  We saw her move and kick, and she is now the size of an APPLE!!  I should start to feel some flutters any day now.  I still feel like she is a girl…we’ll find out in a few weeks.

-I now have time to do all the things I didn’t have time to do before…like hang out with my husband, my family, my friends.  I have time to read novels and to write.  I can’t help but be excited about this, and then I feel a little guilty…

Because the view from the ground when I’m DOWN is this:

-I had to withdraw from the last semester of nursing school due to my lecture exam grades.  I won’t get a failing grade because I withdrew in time, but I will have to repeat the sixteen week class in order to sit for boards.  And I won’t be retaking the class until sometime after the baby is born.

Life is a constant struggle, and yet I can’t help but love the view from the air.  It makes the ground a little easier to walk on.

freaking out a little bit

Whoever says pregnancy is beautiful has not seen what is happening to my belly button.  I noticed it yesterday…what started as a nice vertical slit in my stomach, is now a round opening where the INSIDE of the cavernous button is visible.  I don’t think we are meant to see the cave!!  I know it’s only a matter of time befor the cave becomes flat and then flips inside out and I don’t think I am emotionally ready for this.  I mean, my belly button is one of my best features!  What am I going to be left with?!  Big, leaky boobs, four chins, cellulite ALL OVER THE PLACE and an inside-out belly button?  It’s too much.  It’s too soon! 

One question…does it go back?  The button?  Does it go back to the way it was before or will it be round and weird and warped forever?

You are what you wear?

First, I just want to say Thank You for all the support in my last post!  It’s still a rough road, but it feels better knowing I have so many people rooting for me.  And also, my mom came over and CLEANED OUR APARTMENT this weekend!  I hope I will be as awesome as she is at being a mom.  I have some VERY special shoes to fill.

Saturday, I was studying while my mom was cleaning, and Tony was getting ready to attend a wedding…solo.  Neither one of us was happy about it, but waking up at 5am and staying out late the night before go together like ground beef wrapped in a fruit roll-up (wow…that just got gross-er after I typed it).  He walked out of the bedroom all decked out in his finest wedding guest attire and then proceeded to put on a houndstooth sport jacket that is two sizes too big.

“You can’t wear that jacket.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s way too big and it doesn’t even match!  You look like a coach on Game Day…in a bad way.”  I could tell he was getting irritated and he was running late.

“What the hell am I supposed to wear?!  It’s cold out there!”  I walked to the closet and pulled out a black, nylon jacket that zips up the front.  It has a fleece lining, so I figured it would be enough to keep him warm.

“Here.  Wear this.” I handed it to him.

He didn’t take it.  “I can’t wear that.”  I shoved it at him and sat down as he proceeded to put it on.  “Nik, I’m not wearing this!”

“Why not?”

“Because I look like a gas station attendant!”  My mom started laughing and I joined in because, well, he was right.

He ended up wearing the jacket because he was late and it was better than freezing.  When he got home around 1am, he woke me up to tell me about the wedding and who he saw and all the details which I don’t remember because I had just been SLEEPING…and then he told me a detail that I couldn’t help but remember:

At the end of the night, an older gentleman walked out of the reception hall where Tony was standing around smoking, I presume, and…

… handed Tony his VALET TICKET.

Noise

Things are unraveling fast, and while I think I am handling the stress pretty well, I wonder sometimes if I’m not really just numb.  Go ahead, pinch me…I doubt I would even smack you.  The truth?  I love learning the things that I am learning.  I am great at patient care…not trying to toot my own horn here, but I really surprised myself as I’ve worked through this program.  I am good at this.  I sail through the skills and clinicals and I enjoy it, for the most part.  I can imagine myself doing this as a career, and given the right environment, I think I will be happy.  If I pass.

The lecture portion of this last semester has been extremely difficult for me for a few reasons:  I was sick for the first couple months due to pregnancy, I work full-time and don’t have nearly the time that others in the class have to study, and I am mentally burned out.  Crispy, brain-fried, burned-to-almost-ash out.  And so, I have failed the first two lecture exams of the semester.  Failed.  I have three exams and a final left, and there is no room for error.  This, of course applies NO PRESSURE AT ALL on my already pulled tight at both ends, frayed and tattered rope!  Disappointed doesn’t begin to describe how I would probably feel about myself right now if I could feel anything.  But really, I am just sitting down to dinner after eating a big bag of potato chips, and the plate is heaping with food I can’t imagine swallowing.  And I lift the fork to my mouth anyway.

Things are coming undone, and I just keep walking along as if everything is fine.  I predict that one of these days I’m going to lose it completely.  But until then, I keep searching for a job…and I keep studying for tests I may or may not fail…and I keep waking up at the crack of dawn seven days a week…and I turn the radio up louder every night so I don’t fall asleep driving on the way home…and the laundry and the dishes keep piling up…and and I just keep doing.

Seven weeks.

Seven weeks and one 15-page paper, three exams, one comprehensive final, four skills test-outs, and a final comprehensive skills test out.

Seven weeks.

Transition

I have eight weeks left of school, twenty-eight weeks left of pregnancy, not sure how many weeks left to find a new job, and zero weeks left of sanity.   

The pressure is on…this became blaringly evident this week when a friend of mine who is also pregnant (with twins!) was dropped from the nursing program.  It can happen to any of us at any time for a variety of reasons, and it is just a reminder that I need to STAY FOCUSED!  So let me apologize for the lack of updates lately.  I’m just trying to walk in a straight line and breathe at the same time.

Speaking of breathing, it is SO HARD TO DO LATELY!  I feel like a camel drank for twelve hours and then planted its water-logged ass on top of my lungs!  I get winded just walking to my truck in the morning.  It’s really pathetic.  I can’t imagine what I will be like in my third trimester…I have visions of an oxygen tank strapped to my back. 

Here’s a photo of the little one at our 11 week appointment to hold you over until the next time I am able to write.  Actually, the picture is of very poor quality because evidently, the doctor had other patients to see and wasn’t concerned with giving us a clear shot of our child.  So maybe you can play the “what do you see?” game…you know, like when you look at clouds and everyone sees different animals or shapes?

I see a bat in hibernation.

Keepin’ On

First things first: I can’t find my camera charger, so Bump Watch is suspended until I do.  I’m on week ten…almost eleven, so I guess it’s time to clean the apartment! 

The past week or so has been very stressful between school and work drama, and all I can say is that my family and knowing this baby is growing inside of me are the only things keeping me sane.  I’m doing my best to not let the stress affect the baby.  Tony called me the other day to tell me that currently in our child’s development, my moods directly affect her/him – I’m pretty sure our child is going to be born PISSED OFF if things don’t start shifting soon.

I must admit that even though sometimes I feel I am constantly climbing the steepest mountain in the universe…and I may never reach the top…I know that there are others on their own journeys upward.  I read some other blogs where it hasn’t been so easy for the women to conceive, or they have conceived and then they go to the ultrasound only to find out that the baby isn’t going to make it.  So I guess part of the reason that I haven’t written is because anything that I have to say about my trivial scrapes and bruises from the side of my mountain are nothing compared to the rockslides that other people are facing.

I just want us all to reach the top in one piece.

why husbands don’t have gynecologists (besides the obvious reasons)

So I thought it might interest you (okay maybe not you, but someone…a fellow preggo, perhaps) to know more about my first gynecological experience with my husband in the room.  Because let me tell you, it is nothing like the appointments when he is not in the room.

Similarities:

1.  You dread being weighed by the nurse

2.  The doctor is sticking foreign objects into your body via your vagina, and it is uncomfortable

3.  You are still a little paranoid about farting while your naked lower body is in someone’s face

Differences:

1.  You still dread being weighed by the nurse, and now you are whispering to her to not say the number out loud because you don’t want your husband to hear.  I knew she felt my pain when I heard her click her tongue and sigh out of irritation when Tony practically ran to the scale and stuck his face right up to the numbers.  Who invited that guy, anyway?

2.  The doctor is still putting things up your vagina, and it is still uncomfortable.  And even though it isn’t the first time your husband has seen your vagina…it is the first time they have both seen it at the same time.  And your husband is crouched down right next to the doctor saying, “oh, so that’s what you do!” and “okay, that goes there, so what is this thing for?”  And then the doctor is answering him.  And the whole time I am PRAYING that I can make the whole farting thing happen…because they totally deserve it.

Overall, the first prenatal appointment was amazing, and Tony was like a little boy on a field trip.  When it was time to view the heartbeat, I couldn’t see it right away…not because it was difficult to see on the monitor…but because Tony was standing in front of the screen like it was a football game, and I couldn’t see through his body.  When he finally moved and I was able to see our baby floating around inside me, it was all worth it.  The weight gain and the sickness and the crazy husband in the doctor’s office – all of it.  So, so worth it.

My next appointment is October 9th.  Can’t wait!

And then there were three

Dear Baby,

Your daddy and I saw you for the first time this week, and I haven’t been able to be away from your picture since.  I carry it around with me everywhere I go, and Daddy carries it on his phone.  We are in awe. 

I can’t fathom that my body is alive so that your body can grow.  I feel things moving around inside to make room for you, and it makes me smile because I know that for the rest of my life I will be in a constant state of shifting so that there is always room for you.  I wouldn’t have it any other way.

My heart beats for yours.

Love, Mama

From here on out, I’m blaming everything on the baby

I went to lunch yesterday at one of the restaurants here at work, and as I was walking to an empty table, I heard a woman clearing her throat.  And then I heard her cough up phlegm and spit it into her napkin.  Yes, I said phlegm.  I tried to move past this in my brain because I knew if I thought too much about it I would start to gag, and then I would lose my appetite, but just as I started to eat my broccoli and cheddar soup…she did it again.

She proceeded to continue this behavior every forty-five seconds for the next thirty minutes.  Several people stood up from their seats that were surrounding hers, and moved to the opposite end of the restaurant.  Part of me felt bad for her…here she was, a little old lady, by herself…clearly she was not able to keep her mucous from coming up and out into our auditory presence, surely she should not be alienated, right?  Right?!  But I ended up leaving the restaurant altogether.  Because I have enough problems with my gag reflex these days…I really couldn’t stand to add another variable to the mix.

On a positive note, I have almost a whole cup of soup left for lunch today!

Completely unrelated to mucous-y phlegm, but probably very much related to pregnancy is the peculiar fact that this morning while driving to work Gretchen Wilson’s Redneck Woman came on the radio.  I started to sing along, and was completely shocked when I couldn’t get through one sentence of it before I STARTED TO CRY!  After that, every time I would compose myself and attempt to sing again…I would start to cry AGAIN!  It really was the strangest thing.  It happened through the whole song so I gave up trying the rest of the way to work.

Week 7

So today is the first day in awhile that I feel like I am able to function.  I still have some nagging nausea, but I don’t feel over-heated/feverish, and I’m only eating every two hours instead of every 15-20 minutes.  AND…the best news of all is that the scale went DOWN a pound instead of up.  I mean, seriously, people….those stupid pregnancy books keep telling me that the healthy weight gain for the first trimester is 3-5 pounds and I am here to tell you that is COMPLETE BULLSHIT.  This morning I am officially up eight pounds.  Eight.  I sincerely hope that once the nausea passes, I can level things out.

More importantly, our little one is growing by leaps and bounds this week!  My mucus plug is forming (gross) as is the placenta.  SIDENOTE:  I keep forgetting to take my prenatal vitamin.  I mean, I get it in there about 4 out of 7 days, but sometimes I just feel so awful, I can’t stomach the taste…and so I conveniently “forget”.  I’m screwing my kid up already.

We still can not agree on boys’ names.  I emailed five names to Tony yesterday and he shot every single one of them down.  I believe this is just another sign that this baby will be a girl.  Or…that he will be called Baby Boy forever and ever.  If you guys have any suggestions…please leave a comment.  We need all the help we can get…especially because my coworkers have been coming up with things like Gustavo and Guido.  Really.