Cap'n! She's not gonna 'old up under this kind of pressure!!

Not much going on here, which is probably a good thing. Thus, the no writing deal. The most 'interesting' thing that has happened lately is my cousin just passed away from stomach cancer. He had had stomach pains for months, but had no insurance, so he skipped the doctor. When it got so bad that he couldn't stand up, he finally went in on a Tuesday. Told it was cancer same day. Had exploratory surgery the next day. Family was told he had less than six months, but he never recovered from surgery and passed away on that Friday. Wow. That'd teach anyone to not ignore those aches and pains, huh? I wasn't very close to him, but I adore my aunt and she is just devastated of course.

I'm a bit tired of dying people around me and I demand that it stops. This. Instant.

I found out that my school district is a gigantic asshole. I finally got off my ass and went to talk to our human resources department person about my leave next year. Apparently all the sick leave I have accrued DOESN'T MEAN SHIT. Because I am due July 3rd, my 'disability' ends right before school starts. Well, since I don't work in the summer, I don't have to worry about taking time off, BUT when my 'disability' is over, I am fucked. FMLA will cover the district's part of the medical premium, but that is it. No pay. Okay, I can handle that I suppose-that is for 12 weeks, which takes me to right around Thanksgiving. Then, here's the fun part. Then, if I want to come back in January (which was the plan) then for the remaining time, I need to go on COBRA and therefore pay my medical for that time. Okay. But-when I asked if I could use my well earned with sweat and tears sick time (for which I come to work deathly ill so that I can save up), I was told no. NO?? Pardon me? Kiss my what? What the farvegnugen are you talking about?!?!?!? As I was fighting back frustration tears and getting up to go, the HR lady had the AUDACITY to tell me that I planned my pregnancy well because I was due in the summer. NO, I think that if it had been up to me (which we all know it wasn't) I should've been due in APRIL so that I could at least get some satisfaction of getting 8 weeks of pay from the piece of shit district. BEEEAATTCH!
So of course, this is not what R and I expected AT ALL, and caused us a good 2 solid days of fighting. Him being the money conscious person that he is told me in his own way (beating around the bush) that I might have to go back before Thanksgiving. Which may not seem like a big deal BUT our conferences are the week before Thanksgiving and if the sub isn't contracted until that time, they don't have to do them which means I will get to deal with all the parents who don't know me and it will be very obvious that I know even less about their child. UGGH

I told R that he needed a new job (he's a teacher too you know, that's why we can't afford all this).
After two days of me being hysterical, he told me that we'd work it out somehow.

Now that's better.

And now I am going to use my sick leave like I change my underwear until the end of the year, and not feel ONE iota of guilt like I normally do.

Cheesecakes, Pies, and Ice Cream, Oh My!

We had our latest appointment today. News is just fine-although I am a bit distressed to learn that I am gaining weight faster than I should. NOT that it is a big surprise though. Nothing tastes good except for sweets, like the pies and cheesecakes I keep insisting on making. Thank God my glucose test isn't for two more appointments! I have time to wean myself off the sugar a bit.

Dr. Nice says we will probably be having a big baby. At this point he is in the 88th percentile. This also is not a surprise as abnormally huge babies run in R's family. I imagine that it is much better than the doctor telling me that my baby is too small for the date it should be. He should be. He. Like a real person, He. Wow. Insanely wierd.

The most affecting part of the appointment was as we were leaving, however. There was a couple on the couch in the waiting room. Both had obviously been crying. I knew what was wrong. Hadn't I been there before? The husband's arm was around her, and she was holding his hand with her head on his shoulder. My gut instinct was telling me to go put a hand on hers and do anything to make her feel like she wasn't alone. Of course I didn't, because I know that if someone had done that to me when I was in the same position, I would've decked them on the spot. Whoever she was, I hope it was just a scare and that everything is okay.

R is painting the spare bedroom right now (I still can't call it a nursery yet). Picture from the floor up-Green (like a celery color) up to about eye level, 1 inch white stripe, 6 inch light blue stripe, 1 inch white stripe, then yellow to the ceiling and on the ceiling. So far, very cute. We'll see once we get all the doodads that go in a room of that nature how it looks. We registered on Sunday-what a nightmare that was. Holy cow. I never thought I could spend THREE HOURS looking for baby things. Twenty minutes alone on the stroller and carseat combination. Wow. All I can say is that the market is definitely cornered. I mean- I can go buy a decent twin bed for $99, but a crib matress of decent firmness costs $109??? They bank on new parent paranoia, let me tell you.

It's a beautiful day here in the usually rainy northwest. I think I am going to go out and enjoy it in some way!

Stems and apples

As my husband put it...

"The stem is on the apple."

Which means, it's a boy.

With all the appropriate body parts in the correct place, including five waving fingers. I have been saying all along that I'd have taken six fingers. After all, that can be surgically corrected. But it looks like we won't need to hire a neonatal plastic surgeon anytime soon.

R had some interesting perspectives while getting the ultrasound.

Tech: And there's the legs. See, and they're crossed. Relaxed, even.
Me: ummm, if you say so (looking at the faintly spooky yet recognizable outline of legs)
R: We know it can ride a bike then!
Tech: Oh, and there's a hand, four fingers and a thumb here.
R: And high five too!
(later)
Tech: Do you want to know the sex?
Me: YES!
Tech: moving the u/s around and freeze framing. Can you tell from the picture?
Me: mmmm?
Tech: moving the arrow to point at a very specific part. Now?
Me: Ahhh. A boy, right?
Tech: Yep. I noticed earlier that he had his had his hand down there. Now what do you suppose that's all about?
R: laughing his ass off . I don't know where he got THAT from!!
Me: Yeah, well, like father like son I guess.

Anyway, I am just happy that I didn't get the stone silent treatment, and an "Excuse me, I'll be right back." without explanation. I have said from the beginning that I would be happy with either a boy or a girl as long as it was healthy and had all the right parts in the right places. But, there is a tiny, itty bitty part of me that wanted a girl just a teensy bit more. Partly because my SIL just had a boy, partly because being an only child and a girl myself, I ain't got no idea what to do with one. I imagine I'll figure it out though.

Does this mean I get to relax a little bit now? I'd like to worry about other things, like nursery color schemes and names. I think that's pretty fair, don't you?

Oh How I Wish I Worked Retail

So I could leave my job at my job.

Sorry I haven't blogged lately. It's nothing having to do with the pregnancy.

My grandpa died and my mom has been a basket case.

I currently hate my job. Well, I currently hate the parents of a couple of my kids in my class to be more specific.
Because I am not warm and cuddly, don't give mercy grades and referred a boy for special education, I am picking on him. Mind you, the mother agreed to everything I said during conferences. But she tells her child that she is going to try and get him out of my room. That might be good. But maybe she will be just too busy to bother like she normally is with anything else that matters because she is too busy putting on her pound and a half of makeup and her slutty clothes that she goes to work in because she works at a bar at night and NEVER SEES HER SON FOR MORE THAN AN HOUR A DAY ANYWAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Stupid Hoochie Mama Bitch. Go ahead. Make. My. Day.

Another child who has the mental stability of Sybil (does anyone remember that movie/book?), and who's mother agreed that she needed to be involved in social skills groups with our counselor (but then told me that her daughter was just fine and that she didn't need it and that I just needed to deal with the bullying that was going on in my room, yet when I asked her to be specific, because her daughter hadn't told me one SINGLE incident about bullying (she's the bully by the way) I got NO reply at all) just emailed me and told me that just because her child was absent that she shouldn't be restricted from getting the mail that she didn't recieve when she was gone (Say WHAT???) because I was out when the girl asked me and I told her that since I was out of the papers she needed to go to the FUCKING office like every other child that has a brain between their ears. Obviously walking 100 yards to get a forms for the yearbook by the deadline (which is March fucking 1st) will be SOOOOOOO detrimental to the child that she will never recover.

Deceived Double Bitch. No wonder your child is psycho.

Because I hold my mail ransom from kids I don't particularly like.

And I pick on kids with learning disabilities that their parents don't want to admit to, because that would mean that it MIGHT HAVE SOMETHING TO DO WITH THEM AND NOT THE SCHOOL SYSTEM OR THEIR CURRENT FUCKING TEACHER!!!

For those of you that think that being a teacher means that you like all your kids, and that you don't have to deal with the assholes of the world, think again. It is so fucking easy to be a jerkoff when you don't see a person on a daily basis, and you can send evil messages through your child. And every child is not peaches and cream and all about the excitement of education, even at the third grade.

Gah.

I will be the most silent parent you have ever met. EVER.

So yeah. I'm okay. The baby is okay. My blood pressure, however, right now, is not.

Ultrasound to find out the sex is Friday. Since I denied the triple screen test, they will be looking to make sure all is okay as well. Let's cross our fingers, shall we?

That's a 10-4 good buddy

10 pounds 4 ounces is what my new nephew weighs.

After 2 full days of contractions in the hospital.

And the inevitable c-section.

Yeeowww!!


Congratulations SIL. No matter how incredibly jealous I was/am of you, I am still thrilled to be an auntie.

Even if he is a tank.

You turn your back for one second...

...and all hell breaks loose!

Alrighty. What an enormously stressful few weeks it has been.

First-beyond baby news.

My Grandpa, my only living grandparent was put in the hospital for gall stones. And lo and behold, guess what else they found!! Yup! The C word. In three different places. He apparently has a tumor on his backbone that will probably paralyze him, one on his lung that will kill him, and one in his prostate. He's 94 people. He can't do chemo. It's radiation or nothing. Damn.

My dad was in town for Christmas. Yippee. Ahem. So we went to my aunt's house for Christmas eve dinner (a German feast of bratwurst, saurkraut, and cabbage rolls-something I look forward to all year long). I relished in the fact that I didn't tell my dad a damn thing about me being pregnant. It's like twisting a knife he doesn't even know is there. Jerk.

We then drove to my brother in laws house for Christmas. You know. The one that's married to the pregnant SIL? Well, holy schnikees! I have NEVER seen a pregnant woman so swollen. She looked like a Macy's parade balloon. No, she doesn't have toxemia. She is borderline diabetic, but not enough to warrant how big she was. Her feet were unrecognizable!! She wasn't due for another two weeks, but at Christmas it was estimated that the baby was at least 9 pounds.

Yes. I said 9 pounds. At least.

My stepdad's father died. Not totally unexpected. He was a diabetic and in the last few weeks, the ambulance had to come and revive him from insulin shock. We last saw him at Thanksgiving and he looked like hell in a handbasket then. Soooo, we had to drive Raymond from my brother in laws house after Christmas. Mind you. On the map, it looked like a straight shot. R insisted that we would only need an hour and a half to get there. I, however, being the pessimist that I am, told him we'd be late if we only left that amount of time.

Can you guess what happened?

Yep.

I was right. We skated in the door after the rosary (which I am glad we missed that part, because it was open casket during-yech) and came in during some rowdy Catholic singing. So we were late and I tried my best not to say I told you so more than twice.

Back to the SIL. She went in to get induced on the 30th at 11pm...and apparently the hospital was overrun with pregnant women trying to give birth that they sent her home. Apparently, this year is a good luck year on the Chinese calendar? So, there were a plethora of Asian women trying to squeak their babies out before the end of the year.

Wierd.

So, they went back in yesterday afternoon to try again. The last we heard was...they gave her pitocin, and she was having contractions, but not labor yet. BUT every time she had a contraction, it was depressing the baby's heartrate. Her doctor was all about doing a C-section right then, but the nurses were arguing with this idea.

Ummm

Last I heard, the doctors are in charge, right?

Yeah. So, like I said, that was the last we heard, and that was last night at 7p. So we're worried.

Baby news from me:

I'm 14 weeks today.
I thought for sure it wasn't going to happen. Since I stopped the prometrium, I hadn't felt much of anything, so I was a basket case. We had an appointment on the 30th though, and we heard the heartbeat. Very well and strongly. I immediately came home and rented a doppler. It came the next day, and it is my new bestest friend.
We took the big plunge and told our neighbors that we were expecting, and are going to tell some other friends tonight. That's the scary part, because, then, it's, like, real and all.

And then today I did a most outrageous thing.

Now don't scream.

I bought maternity clothes today.

That would be because I have 2 pairs of pants that fit me at this point that are decent enough to wear in public. I could fit into just about everything last week at this time. I don't want to have to go to work in my sweats, no matter how appealing that sounds, so I bit the bullet and went to Old Navy and Motherhood Maternity.

Okay. So tell me. Who the FUCK wears low rise pant when they are pregnant? Hmmm? Just tell me that, because all I saw at O.N. were that type of pants. I suppose if you are 16 and a hoochie and pregnant, but COME ON!! I don't wear low rise in any case, thank you very little!! Ugh.

But I did find some in-between type of pants at M.M. that will work for a few months I think. I am not showing yet. To the untrained eye, it's just a bit too much eggnog or mashed potatoes, but I figure if it only took a week for me to lose half my wardrobe, I better step up and face my fears by going into one of those pregnant lady shops.

I have to get my blood drawn for the ominous triple screen in two weeks. Don't know yet how I feel about that, considering I don't think I could terminate if given bad news. So, if it is acceptable news, I will skip the amnio altogether and just cross my fingers....I have another appointment with my doc two weeks after that for poking and prodding time.

Until then, my bestest friend (Doppler) and I will be hanging out together on a daily basis.

Happy New Year everyone!!

Withdrawals

I admit it. I am going through withdrawals. I got the old heave ho from Dr. Soap Opera and went to my first official OB appointment with Dr. Caring. I really really like Dr. Caring, because she seems so genuinely interested in keeping me pregnant and wanting me to be happy. Anyhoo- I went to my appointment, but it really was a big letdown. Lots of poking and prodding and question asking. You know, Dr. Caring's assisstant came in and asked me all the pertinent questions...

Assistant: Do you drink alcohol?
Me: No, but I'd love to if you think it would help.
Assistant: Do you smoke?
Me: Does pot count?
Assistant: Have you had sex with more than one partner in the past year?
Me: Hey, I've barely had sex with the one I've got.

And then the advice check list:

Don't eat underdone meat.
Okay, red meat is making me gag right now anyway. No problem.
Don't eat moldy cheese.
Check.
Don't lift anything heavy.
Like the desks I want to pitch at my students every once in a while??
If you bleed during or after sex. Stop immediately and call us.
Refer to sex question above.
Don't take anything except Tylenol.
You mean besides the Prometrium, Baby Aspirin, Prenatal Vitamin, Vitamin B6, B12, E, and extra Folic Acid I am taking? There is a large neon sign that says 'No Vacancy' on my pill organizer as it is, thanks.

Then I see Dr. Caring. She pokes. She prods. She says 'Yep, it looks like you are around 9 weeks". I think: Oh shit, I am 9w4d at this point. I say: So everything is fine?
She says yes. How completely accurate can they be by just using the old finger probe and push??? Ack!

I get to come back in 4 weeks.

4 weeks?????

I don't get another ultrasound until 18w or so.

What the hell?

I am used to getting that every week reassurance.

I don't know if I am going to make it.

I'm a wreck already.

Damn.