SO. TIRED.

It was a hellaciously long weekend and if I had it to do over, I would have spent the majority of it sleeping.  The exhaustion is kicking my ass.  Doesn't my baby deserve to have a well rested environment?

The best way to procure the rest my body seems to necessitate is to nap on the fly.  Here are a few examples from my weekend:

*  On the drive to Bloomington, Illinois from St. Louis, make sure to doze off between funny conversation with the Hub and a plethora of Rest Areas.

*  Between the dry wedding reception and the poolhall afterparty, stop in to the hotel room and catch a quick 5 minutes of drool-inducing coma.

*  After the Hub keeps you out two hours laters than bargained - forcing you to drink Sprite with a lime garnish that looks suspiciously like a Vodka Tonic, make sure to crap all over him and make him sleep in the other full sized bed in the hotel room.  Really, we both knew that we weren't sleeping in one.  Full sized beds are for children and anorexia-laden adults.

*  When the Cracker Barrel gives you the world's fastest service and you still have plenty of energy to visit Blain's Farm and Fleet, you might get stuck driving home.  To St. Louis.

*  Reward yourself with a visit to Joannie's Pizza for a Meat Pie and a double order of Spinach-Artichoke Toasted Ravioli.

*  After gorging, fall asleep on the couch with a Mini Schnauzer in your lap and the Hub face-planting into the adjacent cushion.

*  Skip the BBQ your friends have planned because all of the energy in the world is being forcibly sucked from your body and you don't want to battle the drinking issue.

Sunday was not as restful, but it was full of eating.  So, really, I consider it to have been a well-balanced weekend.  I am hopeful that in another 5 weeks, this part will be finished.

PIT STOP REVIEW!

RESTROOM LOCATION:  Hardee's on Gravois Road in Fenton
# of VISITS:  1
RESTROOM STYLE:  Two stalls.  Standard partial wall and door.
DECOR:  Typical bubble vinyl walls and large tile floor.  Nothing special.
REVIEW:  I have seen worse in fast food restaurants.  It actually smelled like antiseptic.  The floor, however, was a bit suspect.  Strange dichotomy.  I would use this one again in an emergency.

THAT'S OBG - NOT GYN

Today was an exciting day.  The Hub and I packed it up early at work in order to get to the first pre-natal appointment.

Thanks to some vicious morning sickness, the ride was so eventful that I begged the receptionist for crackers upon check-in.  Leave it to an OB-GYN office to have a pregnant nurse or two with plenty of crackers on stand-by!

While sitting under the sheet, the doctor, the Hub and I had a quick question and answer session where I learned some really important stuff:    

1.  Shooting trap is absolutely fine.  Even when the baby grows earbuds (later ears), there is enough amniotic fluid, uterus, belly body and clothes to be clear of damage.  It makes sense.  As far as lead - I'm not eating it.

2.  If the cheese is pasteurized, it's a "go"  In fact, I would be hard-pressed to find un-pasteurized cheese at a normal restaurant.  Beet and Goat Cheese salad at Lo Russo's Cucina?  OH.  YEAH.

3.  No to SCUBA, white water rafting, or horseback riding.

4.  Yes to curling, wearing spanx to a wedding this weekend and taking an occasional Zyrtec with my allergy shots.

5.  Low DEET bugspray is alright.  Skin So Soft is so much better.  I think I'll have to load up.

6.  Hard time with nausea and morning sickness?  Eat all day.  And, when that doesn't work, take a Zofran.  Sweet Moses.  It's safe.  It can be pricey.  But, if the choice is spending a little money OR dry heaving for seamingly no reason. . . 'Nuff said.

7.  I'll get the Pap and Breast Exam when I'm actually due.  I was relieved to hear this because I'm pretty sure my knockers wouldn't tolerate any contact.

If this was all I got, I would still think that it was a productive visit.  But, soon after the Q&A, we got down to business. . .

The Hub watched - wide-eyed-as-hell while the Doctor condomed (is that even a word?) and lubed up a vaginal probe.  I have a tilted uterus, so at such an early stage, the probe had to be pushed not only in, but down towards my butt.  Really, you can't apologize to me for that.

Despite the awkward discomfort, we saw it.  Heartbeat and all.

Apparently, the Hub and I are such overachievers that we not only set this in motion in one try. . but we also managed to implant as far as possible away from my cervix.  Genius, folks.  Seriously.

The next appointment is in three and a half weeks.  I hope to come up a whole new list of crazy shit to ask.

COMMON TATERS.

I see you.

I know you come and read my crazy.

Let's even the score.  I've enabled "anonymous" comments so that you don't even have to open a blogger account.

Become a commentator and let me know who you are!

REVIEW:  Bite me.  I am a huge Little House on the Prairie fan.  I laugh every time I read about Mr. Ingalls charading "Commentators on the Acts" with a pile of common potatoes piled on an axe.

AND IT TOOK MY BREATH AWAY. .

I have always had a tiny, yet powerful nose.  Think you keep your house spotless?  I can still smell last night's dinner and I know that the cat is hidden in the basement when company comes.

Now, I fear, that I am smelling for two.

Case #1
Small meeting in my boss' office.  I could smell the small, blue, rubber football he nervously tosses when in discussion.  In fact, it was so strong that I felt like I had just eaten an entire SET OF FOUR COOPER TIRES!

Case #2
The usual twenty minute trip to the grocery store felt more like a 4 hour crawl through your friendly neighborhood house of horrors.  Everytime I passed by one of the little old sample ladies, I just wanted to punch them in the face.  Yeah!  I got something for YOU to sample, LADY!  Did I mention the Hulk-like anger issue lately?

Case #3
Don't judge me.  I have always liked the smell of gasoline.  This afternoon, however, I got a whiff and nearly swooned into the island trash bin.    Times, they are a changin'.

Everything that I read and discussed with my Veteran-friend tells me that there is no medicine for this ill.  Hopefully, I'll grow through it sooner than later.  For, now, avoid, avoid, avoid!

REVIEW:  Everything stinks.  EveryONE stinks.  Awful smells exist as grotesque tastes in your mouth.  It's a lesson in control.  You have none.  Go get a PBJ Sandwich as a palate cleanser.

PIT STOP REVIEW!

For the past two weeks, I have been spending an alarmingly large amount of time in the restroom.  Any restroom.  If you know me, you are familiar with my reticence to use public restrooms.  If it could be helped, you can believe that I would hold it until I got home.  But, I know now that this is my current state and it can't be helped.  Even after this is over, I will likely have renal issues due to labor - at least temporarily.  Does this gift never stop giving???

In honor of this particular distinction, I would like to introduce a new feature to A Spitfire's Guide to Pregnancy. . Given that I am on a forced death march through every public restroom in St. Louis, it behooves me to share it with you all! So. . . without further ado:

The Pit Stop Review!

RESTROOM LOCATION:  54th Street Grill on Lindbergh in South County
# of VISITS:  3
RESTROOM STYLE:  Individual stalls with walls to the floor.  Partial door.
DECOR:  Dark colors with super glazed tiles.  Modern fixtures.
REVIEW:  Despite my initial worry that a super busy restaurant would yield a horrifically rank hellhole, I was pleased to discover a clean and well stocked restroom.  I would definitely swing in here in case of emergency.

YOU CAN PICK YOUR NOSE. . .

My lump of cells is still in its first trimester.  Therefore, there is still a one in six chance that I won't carry successfully.  Many women choose to keep their pregnancy a complete secret until into their second trimester.  I agree with this policy.  Mostly.

There are some people in life that are more easily handled with the truth of the matter. . .

My friend Ray-Ray (I will not use real names in this blog - primarily to protect my innocent friends and family) is getting married in November.  I happen to be her head chick, so I will be donning an appropriately colored masterpiece for the occasion.  Logically, it is best that she knows that her shower-throwing, bouquet-holding, train-adjusting hand-maiden will be the size of a small monument for the event.  The fact that she is one of my best friends is also a plus.

It is also important to have some veteran input.  Your partner is good for support - or should be.  Your good friends are also equal to the task.  But, sometimes, you just need a quick answer.  One that you don't have to sift through eleventy-four websites to get.  For this dedicated post, I suggest choosing a good friend that you trust, who is also a mother, OR a family member who has a monkey of her own, other than your mother.  These ladies know they can't squeal and they know why.  They are invaluable annals of gestational goodies.  (Hehehe.  I just said annals.)

<IMAGINE THAT I INSERTED A PICTURE OF A TREASURE CHEST FILLED WITH PREGNANT WOMEN HERE>

If something happens and I can't see this pregnancy to term, I will have the best support crew possible.  Think about that.

REVIEW:  Pick your nose secret-keepers carefully.  They are your support crew and driving force.

DIRTY LITTLE LIARS AND CONNIVERS.

As most of the baby books will tell you, the biggest risk of losing pregnancy is in the first 12 weeks (first trimester).  Logically, because of this, the Hub and I are telling very few people (we'll get to how to pick the special few later).  Meanwhile, there have been some obvious life-changing events happening and some of your sneakier, snoopier friends and family might just notice. . . here are a couple ways to combat "the nosy"

This one took a little premeditation.  Quit smoking prior to trying to get pregnant.  Make sure that you get hammered at least one time and then massacre your husband when he won't get you cigarettes on the way home.  Then, when you find out you are pregnant and you have to quit drinking, make sure that everyone remembers just how hard it is to quit smoking if you continue to drink like a bastard.  That will shut them up for just a little while (and make them feel awful for the Hub).  And, it doesn't hurt that it is true.  Partially.

When you must stop being the tackling-dummy target for ambitious base-runners, you must tell your teams something. 

Make sure that your lie is believable. The best lies, as any conniving ass-hat will tell you, are as detailed as you can remember. In this case, I sent an email to my teams' captains explaining that my orthopaedist (note the snotty entitlement spelling) had nixed my run for 2012 Olympic co-ed softball Gold. More specifically, I was having some issues with hip joint pain and impact activities, such as running and twisting and sliding and getting slammed into, aren't ok. Again, it is partially true since the ligaments in my hips are giving salt-water taffy a run for its money.

REVIEW:  Not ready to tell?  Feel free to lie.  Best lies?  Partially true and very detailed.

. . . Yes.  I have heard that I am a spectacular liar.  Need some help coming up with awesome excuses while you are pregnant?  Apply here.  I could use a new extra-curricular!

OPINIONS ON THE INTERNET ARE LIKE ASSHOLES. . .

Yes.  I am home with the dog on a Saturday night.  The Hub is visiting family and I stayed in the city to celebrate Mother's Day early with my Mum.  I've been watching The Wall and googling random stuff.

THERE IS A LOT OF SHIT ON THE INTARWEBZ, PEOPLEZ!

The reason I bring this up is because you can find EVERY point of view on pregnancy issues if you look hard enough.  In fact, you don't even have to look very hard because the good folks at Google manage to make it easy for you.

Thursday Night is my Trap League.  About 2pm in the afternoon, I had the brilliant realization that it might not be the best hobby - considering all of the lead shot in each shell. 

Cue:  the first call to my OB.

While waiting on hold, I masterfully browsed the links I pulled up. . . WAIT FOR IT. .
"shooting trap while pregnant" 

Now, I'll let you in on something. .  I found plenty of people who stated that shooting Trap was the equivalent of eating a bucket of lead paint with a funnel.  I found equally as many people who stated that as long as you washed your hands and face with cold water after shooting, you wouldn't absorb enough lead to hurt your baby.  OMGWTFBBQ?!?!  I might absorb the lead through my pores because they enlarged when I splashed them with hot water?!?!!  Then, of course, there were the folks who cautioned that as long as I didn't eat the lead shot, everything would be fine.

It is important to point out that these fine experts ranged from some seemingly crazy moms who likely smother their children with more than love, NRA shooting coaches and hunters (who I'm sure took all kinds of Anatomy and Physiology classes), those proclaiming themselves to be doctors and nurses. . and all of these were bolstered by a small group of well meaning fathers.

When my doctor picked up, I was pleasantly surprised to discover that I should be just fine in my current state. In fact, it is probably good to let off a little steam in what one of the Hub's books defines as the DefCon1 Crazy stage.

So, off I went to my league and shot an amazing 100 rounds.  Yes, I'm awesome.

The reason I tell this really boring-ass story is that I want to make sure you talk to your doctor - not mine.  It's my version of an idiot-clause.  What is right for me is not always going to be right for you.  What worked for me isn't guaranteed to work for you.  Get where we're going?  Good.  Now, go out and have some fun!

NOM. NOM. NOM. *UH-OH*

I'm not sure if it is a mental thing or not, but as soon as I saw the positive results, I wanted to NOM everything in sight.

Salty snacks are my favorite thing - unless you count salty foods.  Wait. . what?  Hrmmm.

Cereal for breakfast with Almond Milk to avoid the Lactose problem?  Oh yeah! 

Spicy Hummus with crisp veggies for snack times?  OH YEAH!

OBG (Oil Butter Garlic) Pasta for dinner?  OH!  YEAH!!!!

But, wait.  Is that saliva rushing through my glands?  If I let myself burp, am I going to hork instead?

Morning sickness has definitely arrived.  And, it ain't no friend of mine.  It comes around at random times, forcing me to run for the facilities.

Sure, there's nothing like a good prayer to the porcelain god when completely shit-faced and you want to feel better.  But, this is a different kind of awful nausea.  Unrelenting waves of saliva filling your mouth and throat.  Ew.  You know burping is going to relieve the pressure you have in your stomach, but it might also relieve you of your pride when you blow chunks into the tiny waste can under your desk while your co-workers look on.

So, I had to ask myself:  Self?  What is it that really sounds good?  What will smell good while cooking AND eating?

The answer:  Lots of OBG Pasta (which I'm realizing may have a completely a propos name), gallons of water to sip, spinach and iceberg salad with Wishbone Italian dressing (specifically). . . that's about it, folks!

The word on the streets is that this shit passes with your first trimester.  I have about a month and a half to go. . .

REVIEW:  Yes.  You want to eat healthy for your baby.  Yes.  You want to healthy for you.  But, the key here is to EAT.

TICK. . TICK. . TICK. . TICK. .

Let's talk timing. 

No, not the incessant ticking of your biological clock.  I'm a Tomboy.  My clock is broken.  For me, baby-making was a logical decision.  Really.

So, timing has influence on many womens' pregnancies.  There are several that I took into account. . .  .

Work Timing
Some of my teacher friends planned their pregnancies around their school years.  For me, however, my crazy resides in a marked busy season.  In my office, we typically go Chernobyl crazy from mid January through March (maybe longer).  Per the chicks in my office, I had be knocked up by mid May to enjoy the hiatus from the madness. 

Ding!  Done!

Weather Timing
Despite being raised in Puerto Rico in my youth and then the nasty humidity of St Louis, I cannot stand the heat.  I would rather freeze myself to a sleepy death than swelter one more moment in unrelenting waves of gross.  I think you can always get warm.  You can't take off any more clothing than you put on - despite seriously considering peeling off layers of skin.  So, I knew that there wasn't a chance in Hell that I could handle being ginormously pregnant through the hottest months - July, August and September.  Can you imagine the damage I would do trying to sit in the grocery store freezers?

Ding!  Done!

So far, I feel like the timing has been all but perfect. . . sans one tiny mishap.  Two days before my rampant stick-peeing began, I refilled my tampon supply in grand form.  I'm talking credit card-destroying, truck-bed-filling, tonnage-moving, Sam's Club-stock-depleting, every color and size arraying. . . it was big.  Yeah.  Now I'm not going to use them.  For a long, LONG time.  Maybe it's still perfect.

IN THE BEGINNING. . .

Having talked about making babies, not just practicing, I informed the Hub one Wednesday night that we needed to get down to business the following Sunday and Tuesday nights.  I did my job and calculated 14 days from the start of my last period.  That's all you have to do, right?

Yeah.  We did the business that Sunday night.  When it came around to Tuesday, I felt so sluggish that I didn't even want a repeat.  Sad?  We'll get to that.

By Wednesday, I felt a change.  My boobs felt like they were stuffed to their capacity with Jacks.  You remember those, right?  Jacks?

The only thing that seems to help is wearing a super tight bra on all of the super tight settings.  Yeah.  I enabled the back-fat to ensure my upstairs-girlie-parts were secured.  It helps.  A lot.  If it gets worse, I think I'll upgrade to wearing a sports bra.  Also.

Additionally, my hips felt like someone had taken a giant wrench and twisted my legs backwards in the sockets.  They hurt deep inside - where continual rubbing just doesn't help.  Trust me.  It doesn't help.

(Who am I fooling?  My boobs and my hips STILL feel like that.)

Fast-forward to two days ago. . . I woke up and peed on a stick.  When I saw the results, I peed on four more.  I'll just tell you. . . I have peed on a stick every day since.  I'm not sure why I expected a different result.  Insanity?  Brick wall?

It is very uncommon to have a false positive.  It is even more UN-possible to have five.  Or, seven.  Just sayin'.

So. . . you see this: 

Tell your Hub.  Tell your Partner.  Tell whomever is sharing your life!

HOLY SHIT!  SCREAM BECAUSE YOU AREN'T SURE WHAT TO SAY!

And then, don't do what I did and throw the stick at your Hub.  It's not celebratory and frankly, you just PEED ON THAT!

Now, you should probably call your OB-GYN.  They will likely make an appointment for you around your sixth week.  They will perform a standard Pap to ensure there isn't anything irregular and then they will likely run an early ultrasound to ensure that your little lump of cells is attached in a good place.  So, let's hurry up and wait together!

REVIEW:  Boobs filled with jacks, Hips experiencing exorcist-like contortion pain, FATIGUE!!  Along with a positive test, it's time to call the doctor!

ANOTHER PREGNANCY BLOG???

I'm a thirty-four year old analytical genius who works for a fortune 500 company in St. Louis, Missouri.  I play softball, volleyball, shoot on a trap league, and have had a standing Card Night for over 6 years.  The outdoors, sans the severe allergy issues that I have been treating for years, is a good friend of mine.  You can often find me camping, fishing, hunting and hiking. 

I met a great guy in 2007, shortly after my father passed, and we married in 2009.  Now, a couple years later, I find myself in uncharted (is this MARS?!?!) territory.  I'm pregnant.  And a Tomboy. 

So, like any expectant chick, I hurried to the bookstore to gather a few materials. . .

 For the Hub, I found some amazing stuff:  "Dude, You're Gonna Be a Dad!  How to Get (Both of You) Through the Next 9 Months" by John Pfeiffer and "The Caveman's Pregnancy Compaion:  A Survival Guide for Expectant Fathers" by David Port and John Ralston   These two gems are chock full of nibbly bits which help point men to cater to their womenfolk during this especially trying time in their lives.  And, they're amusing!

BUT. . . when I started to look for books for expectant mothers, I was very disappointed.  I found the standard "What to Expect When You're Expecting" by Heidi Murkoff and Sharon Mazel.  I even talked myself into "Your Pregnancy:  week by week" by Glade B. Curtis, MD, MPH and Judith Schuler, MS.  Sadly, I couldn't find a book for ME.  I want a cool preganant mother book! 

That brings us here.  This blog will track my progress and I will record all of my experiences.

Welcome to a Spitfire's Guide to Pregnancy!