Sunday, November 22, 2009

The middle

I am in the part of pregnancy they call the "second trimester". I am big enough to look pregnant, but not big enough to birth yet. I am over the worst of the sickness but I still randomly puke at inopportune times. I am not yet experiencing the "could it be time" feelings but I have contractions. This is supposed to be the happy time. When you glow and feel good and go on a "babymoon" with your loved one and nest and dream about your baby and all that other crap the books say you will most definatly do in your second trimester.

Me - I call this the middle and I hate middles. I have never been a fan of the middle of anything. Middle of movies, books, oreo's, nothing about the middle impresses me. I want the nervous anticipation of the beginning or the way an ending feel tidy and complete, even if they aren't what you expected. Middles bore me. I start reading faster, I fast forward, I do what ever I can to get to the end. But here I am, in the middle of this thing they call pregnancy and I can't fast forward. What to do with myself for the next 8 weeks????

Now, I know you are all thinking that I hated the begining of my pregnancy and it seems par for the course that I will hate the end, so it is obvious I would hate the middle too. Here's the thing, for about 2 hours a day now in this "middle phase" I don't hate it, and that scares me.

I have more energy. I can stay up till 8:00 now instead of 7:30. If there are no mirrors around I sometimes forget I have a giant stomach. I can eat chicken again. It's weird. I feel a little more normal. Now, don't get me wrong, I am still miserable about not having any cute clothes and the severe downward spiral that is the aging process is still happening to me way to quickly and I can't stop it for another 4 months, but overall, life is better than it was just 3 weeks ago. That scares me, but is preparing me for having to like or at least tolerate middles. I will now be the parent of a middle child. I will now use the middle seat in my car, I will become a lot more used to middles. Someone in my family is now always going to be the "middle one" and sometimes, it might even be me.

I need to get over my constant need to know what happens next so quickly. I have to learn to slow down and not think about the finish line and enjoy the view a little more. I am learning that reading quickly means you are left with nothing to read just as quickly and skipping the middle of your favorite movie isn't always so great, you lose some really good moments in the middle (like the rap sequence in Teen Witch). Maybe it is because I am turning 30 in just 2 more months, but slowing down seems like a really good idea these days. Or is it realizing I can't control everything no matter how hard I try. Probably both. I don't have the energy to go so fast now nor do I have the energy to worry so much. If there is anything good about being pregnant right now, it is that it is teaching me to slow down. Enjoy my kids, bake more, worry about work less. I still am planning on finishing my quest to conquer the world, but now, if it takes an extra day or even year, that's ok. I guess with second trimesters and impending old age comes a little knowledge that slowing down isn't losing, it's just enjoying the middle more.

Thursday, October 15, 2009

10 years ago today

So, this blog is usually reserved for my bitching about being pregnant.. Today though I thought I would be a decent human and blog about something important. Today is my 10th wedding anniversary! If you don't want to read a mushy post that is probably just rambling, then I would stop now.

10 years ago today I married my high school sweatheart. We were young. I was 19, he was 20. We weren't pregnant, I didn't need a green card, he wasn't shipping away to a war, we just wanted to get married. Our parents (well, mostly his), didn't really agree. Kids don't get married, they experience life, they go to college and have lots of fun and drink and don't settle down with just one person so soon. Well, that wasn't our plan. I can honestly say that from the day I met Mike I have never, ever wanted to spend one day apart from him. I mean, I can and I will, but he is always on my mind. Not all creepy Fatal Attraction like, but more like with him, I feel comfortable, I feel myself, I can be me and he can be him and we just work. I don't ever think of a life without him. I don't cry a lot, but show me an elderly person who just lost their spouse after 70 years of marriage and I am on the floor in tears. Why? Because I know we are only human and our time on this earth is limited, but living without Mike is something I never want to experience. I don't care if we are 90 and spent 74 years of our lives together, it wouldn't of been enough. There is a comfort in our relationship that I hope everyone can experience. I know him better than I know anything and he knows me better than I know myself. He has also changed me. I am who I am today only because of him and I will be even better tomorrow because of him. For anyone who says you can't find your soul mate at 16 - I did...


We have been through heaven and hell together, you have been awful to me and I have been awful back, we have been really poor (remember when I tried to pawn my ring :)) and we have been really successful, we have 2.48 kids, we have made good and bad decisions (sometimes all at once), but what really matters more than our bank account or our house or even if our kids turn out to be decent (we should still work on that though) is that I have you by my side. I take your hand and don't say a word and you squeeze it hard and I know that I am safe, that I am surrounded by your love and that we started a journey when I was 16 years old that I hope never ends. I know that my life is what it is because of you and our silly love and I wouldn't trade it for anything. You are my constant, you are my everything. I wouldn't even trade you for David Beckham. I could spend all day talking about us, but I have to make breakfast now, so just remember that these past 10 (really 13) years have been wonderful. You are stuck with me. I will try to look good in a bathing suit again one day and you just keep wearing your hat backwards and we will grow old by the ocean together. I love you. Elizabeth

Tuesday, October 13, 2009

A rant or two..

Yes, I did say I was going to update this blog a few times a week... Yes, I am still pregnant. No, I am not going to catch you up on the last 2 months. They weren't very exciting, just me being miserable and sick.

Now. A list...

What I miss about being not pregnant:
1. My jeans - I don't have great clothes, but I have great jeans. I know it is ridiculous, but I look forward to fall like you wouldn't believe. Jeans and heels and cute shirts. There is nothing better. Now, I have one pair of maternity jeans from Old Navy and a stubborn streak in me that won't let me buy any jeans unless they are of the premium kind. Mike won't allow me to spend money on the nice maternity jeans. Bastard.

2. Alcohol - I am not an alcoholic. I do though enjoy a glass of wine or a vodka every now and then. I most enjoy it when out with Mike for dinner. There is something awful about ordering a Shirley Temple when all the other adults order crown and cokes. Call me selfish, it's OK. I am. I won't drink when I am pregnant, but I can miss it!

Is it bad that these are the two things I miss the most? I mean, I miss a lot of other things too, like sushi, sleeping on my stomach and playing with my kids more, but the jeans and wine take the top spots this week. Especially since my 10th wedding anniversary is in 2 days and I can’t look hot in jeans or drink to the memories with my dear husband…

What I hate when I am pregnant:

1. Non-pregnant people - All of you. I don't care if you are my best friend. I hate you right now.

2. Skinny pictures of me - Especially if I am wearing my nice jeans or holding a drink.

3. People who are overly excited around pregnant people - Really, stop giggling and staring at my stomach, I promise it is less baby and mostly fat at this point. Yes, I am pregnant. I know, a shocker, now, can we get back to our day?

4. My mother - Now, I don't really hate her, but she has the energy of a f-ing bat on speed and it gets on my nerves. I used to be that person damn it! I used to be able to do laundry and grocery shop all in one day. She makes me feel like a lazy slug. She does help out though which negates most of the resentment, but still, must she wake up at 4:00 am and talk so fast?

5. My inability to get Botox - I have never had botox, but I think I need it. I am terrified that this 9 month hiatus from beauty routines will set me back so far on the anti-aging front that I will look 40 by next March. I am obsessed with Botox. I am sure I need it. I hate wanting something I can't have.

6. Vacations – See, I love to vacation. LOVE IT. I was going to learn to ski in Tahoe this winter and scuba dive in the Caribbean this spring. I had plans. Now, I am going to take the kids on the Polar Express train this winter and birth a child this spring. Sure, that will all be fun, but between scuba diving and birthing a child, I sometimes think Scuba wins. I mean scuba has to be less painful and not as messy, right?

7. Sleeping – Because it doesn’t happen. Unless it is at 11:00 AM on a Saturday when I need to be up being a mom.

8. Did I already say non pregnant people?

I know.... Small sacrifices for a bringing a life into this world, but see, I already have 2 kids and while they are great, they don't appreciate all I went through to get them here. They don't care I couldn't wear my cool jeans for 9 months or that I still looked pregnant for 6 months after they were born. They care about new baseball cleats and if I will give in and buy them lucky charms. Never once has Ryan came to me and thanked me for giving up red wine for 9 months nor has Reed grabbed my hand and told me I look good in maternity wear. I know they love me and they are good little kids and I am thankful each day for them, but honestly, I can't wait for March and a glass of wine while Scuba Diving in my William Rast premium denim. :)

Sunday, August 9, 2009

Kelly Ripa is not my friend

Oh the agony. I think I am dying. My throat is swelling up and I can’t swallow. I take a sip of water and it comes right back up. Ryan is next to me pretty much in the same shape. He has a dr. appt today. I try to muster through but it is evident by about 10:00 AM that I am dehydrated and in desperate need of fluids. I call the dr’s office. They tell me to try the BRAT diet. Perhaps she didn’t hear me. I tell her again I can’t eat or drink as it all comes right back up. I am not calling her for diet advice, I am calling as I am worried the lack of fluids and a steady pace of vomiting has taken its toll on my body. She tells me to take smaller sips of water. I tell her that would make me just throw up smaller amounts of water. She tells me to go to the ER for fluids and anti nausea medicine. I hang up on her. She has obviously never been pregnant nor had a stomach virus.

I am awake and watching Live with Regis and Kelly. I remember reading somewhere that Kelly has 3 kids. She is the size of my left ankle. I hate her. She is giggling and moving quickly and sampling chocolate fondue. All things that make me sick. Did Kelly ever feel like this when she was pregnant? I decide she didn’t and change the channel. I watch The Price is Right. That guy is annoying and the people on the show seem way to excited to win a lawnmower. I change the channel again. There is nothing on. I try to work but throw up. I decide I have to go to the ER. My body is cramping and I have the worst sore throat.

Now, the most likely choice to take me to the ER would be Mike. I mean, he has been wonderful thus far. I call him. He agrees I should go, but – he is busy in a meeting- he can’t go for a while. I am feeling worse and worse and need to go soon. I am left with no choice but to call my mother…. I think this is Mike’s way of getting back at me for being so needy and emotional. My mother, of course is ready and willing to come with me. The problem with my mom is – she’s my mom. She wants to talk about how I feel, how the baby is (really? I don’t know, I am sick and throwing up and haven’t asked the baby recently how it feels). She drives with one foot on the gas and one on the brake. We are constantly braking and I might throw up. I try not to. We are in Mike’s car and I don’t want to do that to him. We get to the ER and she misses the turn. I want to cry. We finally get inside and the woman in front of me in line appears to be just fine. She is talking normal, standing up straight, smiling. All things I am not capable of in my current state. My mom thinks I have swine flu. She is getting ready to tell someone I have swine flu. I hit her in the arm and she shuts up. I just want to lay down. I am sitting in the waiting room and she is trying to use my phone. I don’t know why she is trying, but she is. She needs help of course as my mother and Blackberry’s don’t really go together. I take my phone and throw it in my purse. I am acting a little bit like a brat, I know it and she knows it, but damn, I am about ready to throw up in the waiting room of a hospital.

I start looking around for the best place to be sick. I have 3 options. Find the bathroom, use the trashcan out here in the open or use my purse. Considering my purse is Prada and a gift from Mike, I rule that out. The bathroom is not close enough to get to quickly and I can’t guarantee access at all times. I decide on the trash can. This might be the most embarrassing thing ever. I am a successful person, capable of making grown men cry if they cross me and I am now going to throw up in a hospital waiting room trash can. Thankfully they call my name and we go back to triage. There, I meet a Dr. He is really excitable. He mentions that he used to be the Chief of something at the hospital. I wonder what he screwed up on to now be the Triage Dr. at the ER. He asks me if this is my first baby. I say no, my third. He literally looks at me like I have 3 heads and says “Oh, wow, don’t you know how babies are made?” and shakes his head and stares at me all weird and shocked looking. Now, this is weird on a lot of levels. 1. We are in Gilbert, Gilbert has a large Mormon population. It isn’t weird for families to have 3 or more kids here. 2. I am not 23. I am almost 30. I don’t appear to look 23. Perhaps we wanted 3 kids. Who is he to cast his opinion? Shouldn’t he still be the Chief Something? 3. Lots of people have 3 kids, I have been keeping track. I swear 3 is the new 2. You can’t tell me he doesn’t know this.

We get to a room, I get fluids, I get Zofran and Phenergan, I get two Tylenol with codeine for my throat and head. My stomach doesn’t feel sick right now. I am on cloud 9. I am back to my old self. I can look at the emails that have piled up and respond. I can watch sportscenter without getting motion sickness. I might be cured! 4 hours (and I am sure a hefty bill) later, we leave. My mom had left a while ago when Mike got there, so we drive home without any missed turns or excessive braking. I am feeling good and eat an entire quarter pounder with cheese from McDonalds and fall asleep.

Ryan had hand, foot and mouth disease. So did I . We had the kind that settles as blisters in the back of your throat and causes high fever and vomiting. It sucked, we both feel better and Mike takes us out to breakfast. We each eat like we hadn’t eaten in a week and all is well with the world.

UNTIL… apparently I was in some drug induced happiness stage of my life. By noon my throat blisters are raging, my fever is back and I am nauseous again. I manage to make it to work as Erin is gone for the week on vacation and I fear my employees being alone with the internet. I get to work. Someone left 6 kittens outside our door. It is hot out. Rachel (our assistant) makes them a temporary home in our office and I contemplate keeping one. I am not as delirious as I think as I make a sane decision to not keep one (I don’t know if Mike would be OK with one more thing to look after) and I get through my work as best as I can. I can’t promise I was nice to every Realtor who called me on Friday, but I did my best.

Still sick, but now it's not just the baby making me sick!

Ahh, August is here. It is hot and I am still sick. It’ s getting worse. You see, the more weeks I am the worse it gets. I heard it is supposed to go away around 13 weeks. I am keeping a countdown by my bed. I am sure Mike hates me. He has become the sole caregiver to the kids. I can’t stay awake past 7:30 and have to be in bed by 7:00 or I am sick. I can work as long as I sit in my chair and constantly eat, but after a while even that makes me sick.

Reed starts school. This means he will get sick and he does. He runs a fever for an entire weekend and doesn’t leave the couch. This is good as I don’t leave the couch either. My mom comes over and grocery shops and takes Ryan school clothes shopping. I am an awesome mom… My guilt meter is in over drive. I am happy about this new little one, but feel it is taking a toll on my other two. Reed tells me I am sick because the baby in my belly eats all my food and I am hungry. He is so cute. Ryan tells me he wants it to be a boy so Reed will want to play with the new baby and Ryan won’t have to share. That doesn’t seem cute, but incredibly self serving. I am not throwing up and birthing this kid so you don’t have to share. I don’t know why I am doing it, but I am sure that is not the reason.

So, Reed is better and Ryan gets sick. So do I. Not my usual sick, but a fever and more throwing up and I can’t eat. Ryan and I both are a wreck. We can’t get up, we just sleep all day. This is the first day in about 3 years I haven’t checked my email or worked at all. I am so sick I just sleep. Poor Ryan wants water. I get up to get it and get sick. We summons Mike home to take care of us. He seems a little stressed. I am sure it has to do with the fact that he is busy at work and now he gets to start at us poor sick souls and work at the same time. I don’t envy him, but I don’t let him get near me as I can’t have him sick too!

Vegas and Pregnant, Whoo Hoo!

I decided that Mike and I need a vacation. My mind needs to focus on something else. We decide to go to Vegas. What a great idea for someone in my state. Let’s go gamble and watch people drink! First though we have the US. The lady immediately finds the HB. All is well with the world. I start to feel better. She takes a ton of pictures and measurements. Baby is measuring 6 weeks. That depresses me. I swear I was 8 weeks along and 2 weeks is a big deal in this 9 month game. She gives us a ton of pictures and asks if we are excited for our first baby. We correct her with a nice “This is our 3rd”. She looks at me weird. I just want to get to Vegas.

Vegas was fun, but I was sick the entire time. This is why I was not looking forward to being pregnant. I get really sick. REALLY SICK. Now, I know lots of women get sick and I am not alone, but right now, I don’t see anyone else puking or feeling sea sick 23 out of 24 hours a day. I am pretty alone with this feeling. I see skinny 20 somethings and want to scream at them for being skinny and pretty and not pregnant. I see 50 year olds and wish for menopause. I just don’t want to be sick. I have come to terms with having 3 kids, in fact, I am getting excited about that, but my excitement is tempered by my overwhelming feeling of nausea.

I spend the rest of July sick and miserable. Mike’s 30th birthday is here and just a month or so ago I was planning a big party. We skip the party idea for a family dinner at Carrabbas. I fall asleep at 8:00 and wake up crying as I never thought I would fall asleep at 8:00 on my husband’s 30th birthday. We will have to have re-do’s next year.

Ryan turns 6 two days later and I again try to act like the fun party mom, but my stomach won’t let me. We bbq chicken and eat cake. I go to bed at 8:00. He doesn’t seem to notice that I can’t stand up without getting sick. He has a lot of toys and grandparents around.

At some point in that week, I had to tell my Dad I was pregnant. That conversation is just as akward as buying the pregnancy test was. I don’t know why. I guess it is me admitting to my dad that I have sex? Who knows. I just blurt it out to him and then tell him I have to go as I am going to be sick. He seems to deal with it pretty well. But then again, so does everyone who isn’t carrying the child.

Dr's, Ultrasounds and Birthdays.

July was a blur. Had my first dr. appt. The best part about being pregnant that I haven’t mentioned yet???? We don’t have maternity insurance. Why would we? We weren’t planning this! We don’t need no stinking maternity insurance! Having a baby is expensive. Having a baby without insurance is ridiculously expensive. At the doctor’s office I fill out the paperwork and see the dr. She is shocked to see us. Thanks Doc! I am shocked too! I think I might have started crying. I look at Mike, he looks at me in horror. ‘Don’t Cry, the dr. might think you are unfit to be a mother’ he seems to be saying with the look in his eyes. Maybe that is the point, I think to myself. She asks me all the regular questions; she seems to think I am fit to be a mother. We go to the ultrasound room. Without insurance the luster of the US room isn’t as great. They can’t find a heartbeat. Super. Now I am a horrible person who didn’t want this baby and willed it to be gone. I start crying again. Mike is really confused by my emotional issues. Dr. tells us it is probably too early for a heartbeat. We will do some blood work and come back in 10 days.

Bloodwork results come back the next day. My numbers are low. Not really low, but kinda low. The best part is that this apparently doesn’t really mean much as numbers can be all over the board. What it does mean is that I have to take medicine to help my numbers and repeat blood work and US. I spend an entire week sick from the medicine and convinced I am evil and the baby never took shape because of my attitude.

Vacation without wine? really?

This is weird. I am pregnant. We are forced to tell our families at this early stage as we are all going to Coronado together and a week of me not drinking will give it away. We tell Mike’s sister first. She seems excited, then again, every single person who doesn’t have to carry the baby for the next 9 months seems excited. We make it to the beach that week and I look pregnant. I swear I do. I read that isn’t possible, it’s just bloating. That’s neat. I am bloated. At the beach. I had spent the past 4 weeks making sure this didn’t happen and in the span of 2 days, I know look 3 months pregnant and feel like I might throw up at any point.

We tell Mike’s mom next. We made the mistake of telling her at dinner when our kids were being less than perfect and our parenting patience had been stretched a little too thin. She doesn’t believe us. I get why, she can’t comprehend why we would add one more child to this mess. I start to cry. Mike tells her how great it is going to be. Brigid drinks white wine. Welcome to my new life.

The rest of the week was pretty much a repeat of the beach and me being miserable. I am trying to come to grips with this, but it is hard. It was very unexpected. We know how babies are made, we just didn’t think we were making one, so I have had about 4 days to adjust to this new way of life. I will adjust. I like my kids, I am sure I will like one more, but it is all happening so quickly. We finish the vacation with only a few meltdowns on my side. The kids have many, but it wouldn’t be vacation if they didn’t.

June 27th - I am not a cryer....

We are leaving for Coronado tomorrow. I am literally dreaming of white wine and margaritas on the sun deck at the Del. I look forward to our week at the Hotel Del like a little kid looks forward to Christmas. All that's left is to get my hair cut and pack the car.... While I am getting my hair cut, the hairdresser is talking about her kids and how they grew up so fast. I start to cry... I am not a crier. NOT AT ALL. My crying concerns me. I get in the car and feel sick to my stomach, like I am hung over. I am not. I scramble to find the calendar on my Blackberry. It does me no good. Since I was 100% sure Mike and I were done having children, I don't keep track of cycles or anything like that. I start to panic.

I get home, Mike has a margarita waiting. I take a sip and tell him about the hairdresser. I start to cry again. My mind then starts playing weird tricks on me and I all the sudden tell him how great it would be to have 3 kids. I paint a pretty Norman Rockwell like picture setting of the 5 of us skipping through fields and scrapbooking together. I start to cry again. I know I am pregnant. I don't need a test to prove it, I just talked about scrapbooking and skipping. I put the margarita down and head to CVS.

If you have ever purchased a pregnancy test, did you feel ashamed doing it? I did. I don’t know why. I am almost 30, have 2 kids, own a business, any kid would be lucky to have me as a mom! But there I am at CVS, trying to hide the fact that I am buying an EPT by also buying 4 magazines and some Nerds. The clerk doesn’t say much but probably feels sorry for me.

Test is positive, not even any hesitation on the positive part. Before the pee hits the stick I swear there is a plus sign. I start to hyperventilate. Mike looks like I just told him I crashed the S4 (Which I am sure won’t fit in with our new supersized family). This sucks. I am not going to lie. We didn’t want this. We were taking precautions against it. We were the perfect even numbered family. I don’t like odd numbers, I don’t like being pregnant. All I want is to drink Cakebread white wine and sing along to the band in Coronado. I don’t want to be sick, I don’t want to get huge. I just had my boobs done, what a waste of money, Erin and I were starting a work out plan, I had plans to learn how to ski this winter… (Yes, these are the thoughts that are going through my head at that moment. I know they seem shallow, but hey, I am in shock)

Mike recovers and now seems excited. I almost want to kill him. He thinks 3 kids is a great idea. He doesn’t have to carry it around for the next 9 months, or birth it. For him it is another chance for me to birth the next Eli Manning. I am still in shock. I tell him this. He smiles and tells me it is going to be just fine. Hope so….