I woke up this morning, the first of a four day weekend, with a throat on fire (this ain't no Alicia Keys song) and a head full of pressure. Suddenly, plans for my mini-vacation went soaring through the window and into the sunlight - to melt away like Icarus' wings. Melodramatic, you say? Yes. I am. In fact, some of you will be privy to me using this injustice to get my Hub to bring a Coke Slurpee home. I'm dying. A little every day. More, today.
Either way. . . there is a very short list of medications that are approved for use while pregnant. The best for me right now is to take some Sudafed to un-stuff me and hope that I don't drain tonight. I'm not really big on taking medications for run-of-the-mill illness. . . but right now, compounded by the morning sickness that has set in, I am looking for the magic bullet of all pills. It doesn't exist.
So, I wait. And hope that those horse pills that we call Pre Natal Vitamins give me the strength to get well sooner. . .
***EDIT***
Note that I did not take the Sudafed. I felt guilty and so waited to hear back from my OB. Sudafed is safe (here in Missouri) but my OB prefers that use be limited and only after the first trimester. It is worthy to also be stated that decongestants, in particular, should only be used after the first trimester.
It has been a while since I stated this. . and it bears repeating:
THIS BLOG IS MY EXPERIENCE WITH MY OB AND MY PREGNANCY. ALWAYS CHECK WITH YOUR OB AND YOUR GUY.
Friday, March 29, 2013
Wednesday, March 27, 2013
MIRROR, MIRROR. . .
With every day that passes, I am growing a baby. I am reminded of this every time I feel like I haven't eaten in weeks (this is not a waxing feeling), every time I feel like I could sleep for days (what? Did I fall asleep at 7?) It's hard. You know what else is hard? My poop. Seriously. I have to work at that shit. This is classic pregnancy shit right here. Shit.
Meanwhile, the words I am about to type have been hustling through my head since Monday. . .
I feel like if I were to hold a mirror to investigate my Girlie Junk, I would need something a little more potent than a hand mirror. I know that the increased blood flow to that "area" make things feel a bit more, ummm, interesting. But, let's be honest. . . I feel like my goods must look like elephantitis took hold - can I wear this thing like a hat? Mammoth Mons. Leviathan Lips. Colossal Cootchie. Jumbo Junk.
Despite what the books say, I personally have not taken on a purplish hue. I think that might freak me out more than feeling like I have a Planetary Pubis. Yeah. I'm done.
Meanwhile, the words I am about to type have been hustling through my head since Monday. . .
I feel like if I were to hold a mirror to investigate my Girlie Junk, I would need something a little more potent than a hand mirror. I know that the increased blood flow to that "area" make things feel a bit more, ummm, interesting. But, let's be honest. . . I feel like my goods must look like elephantitis took hold - can I wear this thing like a hat? Mammoth Mons. Leviathan Lips. Colossal Cootchie. Jumbo Junk.
Despite what the books say, I personally have not taken on a purplish hue. I think that might freak me out more than feeling like I have a Planetary Pubis. Yeah. I'm done.
I COVET.
Cravings are a normal part of pregnancy. More often than not, they are sudden and they are always horribly strong. In my world, you must give in to the urge or it will devour you. Really. If I don't get a proper sample, the craving persists. The pizza I had the other day? Didn't do it. Yuck.
In honor of the new beast that resides within, I give you my "List of Cravings"
* A Crunchy Peanut Butter and Strawberry Jelly Sandwich. (OMG! Editted to include!)
* Sriracha Covered Sausage, Spinach, Onion, Green Pepper and Cheese Omlette
* Fried Huevo Sandwich con Jamon y Mantequilla (o Mayonesa) on Pan de Agua (Specifically the ones found on Vieques outside the Pescaderia)
* A Half Pepperoni and Pepperoncini and Half MEAT Pizza from Happy Joes
* Coke Slurpee
* Reese's Topped White Cake Cupcake from Jilly's Cupcakes
* Chipotle Cheddar Chex Mix
* Spicy Chicken Sandwich from Wendy's
* Cool Ranch Doritos
* Salad Bar at Sweet Tomatoes
. . . The list goes on. However, these are the cravings that persist. I try to eat healthy in between these jaunts into excess. Apples and veggies provide a balance for every horribly salty item I inhale.
. . . If I put off sating my cravings, I'll have to start calling them "crazings" Great. I'm coining Preggo-Lingo now.
In honor of the new beast that resides within, I give you my "List of Cravings"
* A Crunchy Peanut Butter and Strawberry Jelly Sandwich. (OMG! Editted to include!)
* Sriracha Covered Sausage, Spinach, Onion, Green Pepper and Cheese Omlette
* Fried Huevo Sandwich con Jamon y Mantequilla (o Mayonesa) on Pan de Agua (Specifically the ones found on Vieques outside the Pescaderia)
* A Half Pepperoni and Pepperoncini and Half MEAT Pizza from Happy Joes
* Coke Slurpee
* Reese's Topped White Cake Cupcake from Jilly's Cupcakes
* Chipotle Cheddar Chex Mix
* Spicy Chicken Sandwich from Wendy's
* Cool Ranch Doritos
* Salad Bar at Sweet Tomatoes
. . . The list goes on. However, these are the cravings that persist. I try to eat healthy in between these jaunts into excess. Apples and veggies provide a balance for every horribly salty item I inhale.
. . . If I put off sating my cravings, I'll have to start calling them "crazings" Great. I'm coining Preggo-Lingo now.
Friday, March 22, 2013
HISTORY REPEATS ITSELF?
Those obnoxious folks we refer to as "they" often say that the second pregnancy is nothing like the first. I disagree. A lot.
The week before my positive test, my chest felt particularly prickly. It wasn't nearly to the extreme as last time - with the Jacks, remember? But, I definitely felt a change. Something was letting me know that the fun-bags (yeah, I just said that) were about to explode with joy. Right.
Just like last time, if I don't eat often enough, I get sick. How is this possible, you ask, with nothing in my tummy? Yeah. I'm not sure either. And don't even get me near the bottle of pre-natal vitamins if I haven't been stuffing my face for a while and plan to after. The things makes me wretch. It's awesome.
Last night, while I was brushing my teeth, I had the first of the foamy gags. It was like that annoying snot-nosed boy on the school bus when you are young . . . really awful to have around but when he's gone, you actually kind of miss him. Sort of.
The fatigue is here - Again. I don't want to over-exert myself; this may be part of the fear of losing my pregnancy. But, I don't want to do anything but nap after work, before work, on the weekends. . . all of the time. That definitely did not change.
For now, we are only telling those people who will catch on pretty quickly if otherwise not informed. These are the folks on whom I lean for support. . my team, if you will. The people who will pat me on the back as I go along OR hold my hand when things fall apart. They did hold my hand when things fell apart. Their smiles at getting the news are giant rewards of my faith in them. This is history repeating itself.
The week before my positive test, my chest felt particularly prickly. It wasn't nearly to the extreme as last time - with the Jacks, remember? But, I definitely felt a change. Something was letting me know that the fun-bags (yeah, I just said that) were about to explode with joy. Right.
Just like last time, if I don't eat often enough, I get sick. How is this possible, you ask, with nothing in my tummy? Yeah. I'm not sure either. And don't even get me near the bottle of pre-natal vitamins if I haven't been stuffing my face for a while and plan to after. The things makes me wretch. It's awesome.
Last night, while I was brushing my teeth, I had the first of the foamy gags. It was like that annoying snot-nosed boy on the school bus when you are young . . . really awful to have around but when he's gone, you actually kind of miss him. Sort of.
The fatigue is here - Again. I don't want to over-exert myself; this may be part of the fear of losing my pregnancy. But, I don't want to do anything but nap after work, before work, on the weekends. . . all of the time. That definitely did not change.
For now, we are only telling those people who will catch on pretty quickly if otherwise not informed. These are the folks on whom I lean for support. . my team, if you will. The people who will pat me on the back as I go along OR hold my hand when things fall apart. They did hold my hand when things fell apart. Their smiles at getting the news are giant rewards of my faith in them. This is history repeating itself.
Tuesday, March 19, 2013
CURRENT CONDITIONS.
For the first time in years, I did not celebrate St Patrick's Day with a visit to DogTown. I did not pull down my customary driveway in the dark to park behind the house with the Gazebo. I did not greet the yearly group of old-timers with hugs and my special brand of sarcasm. I did not make the rounds through a two block-radius of houses - all of which stock their freezers with some form of Irish Whiskey for me. I did not sober up in the early afternoon so that I could drive everyone home in the evening. Instead, I took my brother's kids to the Magic House while the Hub worked on beginning the bathroom redux.
Last night, the ONLY thing I wanted in the world (aside from that pesky world peace) was a Pepperoni Pizza (well done with crispy pepperoni) with Pepperoncinis on half of it. Seriously. It pained me. Instead, I was good and I cooked as the menu designated: Curry Chicken and Caramelized Brussel Sprouts.
This morning, every single shirt I tried on make me feel fat. Recently, I made the enormous mistake of purchasing several new shirts with one thing in common: STRIPES. They are "in", people! Or, at least that is what has been intimated to me. When I tried them on in the store, they looked good. Maybe it was just the crazy clerk who was pumping up my ego? At home, I look like a very upset Puffer Fish. The Hub insists that I look good. I just feel like they are highlighting my rotundity. (Is that a word? Spellcheck thinks so!)
I have an appointment April 12th. I am currently 6:6 today.
Last night, the ONLY thing I wanted in the world (aside from that pesky world peace) was a Pepperoni Pizza (well done with crispy pepperoni) with Pepperoncinis on half of it. Seriously. It pained me. Instead, I was good and I cooked as the menu designated: Curry Chicken and Caramelized Brussel Sprouts.
This morning, every single shirt I tried on make me feel fat. Recently, I made the enormous mistake of purchasing several new shirts with one thing in common: STRIPES. They are "in", people! Or, at least that is what has been intimated to me. When I tried them on in the store, they looked good. Maybe it was just the crazy clerk who was pumping up my ego? At home, I look like a very upset Puffer Fish. The Hub insists that I look good. I just feel like they are highlighting my rotundity. (Is that a word? Spellcheck thinks so!)
I have an appointment April 12th. I am currently 6:6 today.
Thursday, March 14, 2013
STUFF NOBODY TELLS YOU.
As a filler for the time, I have decided to talk about some of those things that nobody talks about. I'm not talking about farting on the train on your way to work - but sure, gas can be shitty. Really. I'm talking about those things that happen while you are pregnant or afterwards that are mentioned in books but not to the satisfaction of people like me. I don't need a four words blurb. I need details. I want to know how much, how long, why, when, what does it look like, what does it feel like?!?$!?$ Use some fucking adjectives, people?!#?!%%(#
So, here are some of my favorites that I experienced either during or after pregnancy that weren't adequately addressed in the books. . . .
1. When you are pregnant, you will often stop the regular shedding of hair. You know what I mean. All of that hair in your brush or comb isn't there because you yanked it out. Your hair naturally sheds between 100 and 200 hairs per day. Once pregnant, I found that I was no longer clogging the drain with my luxuriously Rapunzle-esqe locks. But, that didn't last. About two months after our daughter was born, the evacuation of follicle-town began. I felt like I was losing large clumps at a time. But, in reality, I was just losing all of the ones I had retained. Because when your body is working hard to grow a baby, it doesn't need the added work of growing a few hundred new hairs. Seriously.
2. Post-Partum bleeding ain't no joke. I have never been so thankful for mesh panties (procured from the hospital) and giant post-partum pads. Seriously. I have never been so secure feeling over nights than wearing the equivalent of a twin mattress stuffed against my crotch and held there by white fishnet hot pants. Mine lasted about four weeks. Our daughter was very early but it still felt like I made up for all of the "missed periods" Lochia, which is the blood that is draining out, isn't like menstrual blood. It's what I have affectionately nick-named, "death blood" It does not smell like period. It also seems to "decompose" faster than period. Change frequently, ya'll. Mine started BLOODY RED and morphed over time to a rust and then finally to light brown spotting color. Then, one day, it was finished.
3. Gestational Carpal Tunnel will wane. But it takes time. Mine took two months (post partum) to resolve itself. And by resolve, I mean stop hurting when I put pressure on my wrist and bent my hand forward or back. Yeah. It goes away.
4. Two days into post-partum-ness, I began running a low-grade fever. I didn't have to ask. My boobs looked like they had been overinflated and no one bothered to do the skin stretches after a boob-job. Don't know what I mean? I'm not going to show you. Go Google "Bad Boob Job" You will figure it out. My milk came in. Like a tsunami. And it was awful. Psychologically, I was sad because I had two enormous containers of food and no one to eat it. Physically, I was in more pain than my then recent memory could recall. I toughed it out with some REALLY FUCKING TIGHT sports bras. My amazing Hub even ran out and bought a head of cabbage, but I just couldn't bring myself to make coleslaw in my bra cups. I hear it helps, though. The major pain went away after three days. But, I can't tell you how many times after that for WEEKS that I would randomly dribble. It's sexy.
. . . I will post more as time passes. You can count on me to talk about the shit nobody else wants to talk about.
So, here are some of my favorites that I experienced either during or after pregnancy that weren't adequately addressed in the books. . . .
1. When you are pregnant, you will often stop the regular shedding of hair. You know what I mean. All of that hair in your brush or comb isn't there because you yanked it out. Your hair naturally sheds between 100 and 200 hairs per day. Once pregnant, I found that I was no longer clogging the drain with my luxuriously Rapunzle-esqe locks. But, that didn't last. About two months after our daughter was born, the evacuation of follicle-town began. I felt like I was losing large clumps at a time. But, in reality, I was just losing all of the ones I had retained. Because when your body is working hard to grow a baby, it doesn't need the added work of growing a few hundred new hairs. Seriously.
2. Post-Partum bleeding ain't no joke. I have never been so thankful for mesh panties (procured from the hospital) and giant post-partum pads. Seriously. I have never been so secure feeling over nights than wearing the equivalent of a twin mattress stuffed against my crotch and held there by white fishnet hot pants. Mine lasted about four weeks. Our daughter was very early but it still felt like I made up for all of the "missed periods" Lochia, which is the blood that is draining out, isn't like menstrual blood. It's what I have affectionately nick-named, "death blood" It does not smell like period. It also seems to "decompose" faster than period. Change frequently, ya'll. Mine started BLOODY RED and morphed over time to a rust and then finally to light brown spotting color. Then, one day, it was finished.
3. Gestational Carpal Tunnel will wane. But it takes time. Mine took two months (post partum) to resolve itself. And by resolve, I mean stop hurting when I put pressure on my wrist and bent my hand forward or back. Yeah. It goes away.
4. Two days into post-partum-ness, I began running a low-grade fever. I didn't have to ask. My boobs looked like they had been overinflated and no one bothered to do the skin stretches after a boob-job. Don't know what I mean? I'm not going to show you. Go Google "Bad Boob Job" You will figure it out. My milk came in. Like a tsunami. And it was awful. Psychologically, I was sad because I had two enormous containers of food and no one to eat it. Physically, I was in more pain than my then recent memory could recall. I toughed it out with some REALLY FUCKING TIGHT sports bras. My amazing Hub even ran out and bought a head of cabbage, but I just couldn't bring myself to make coleslaw in my bra cups. I hear it helps, though. The major pain went away after three days. But, I can't tell you how many times after that for WEEKS that I would randomly dribble. It's sexy.
. . . I will post more as time passes. You can count on me to talk about the shit nobody else wants to talk about.
Tuesday, March 12, 2013
LIKE DANCING.
February, despite being the shortest month has been the longest. Now that we are out of it, I feel like I can write about it. . .
In the beginning of the month, I had a really bad week. I'm talking a fucking-shit-ass bad fucking week. I was incapable of "being"
I couldn't get out of bed. Sleep was everywhere I could get it.
If I got out of bed, I couldn't get out of my PJs.
I called into work one day.
When that made me feel worse, I worked from home the rest of the week.
Even my work-aholism didn't help. That's when it's time to pull the plug.
Eventually, in an effort to give my Hub a "happier" me, I headed out to the St. Louis Mardi Gras parade on our Krewe's float - as is tradition.
MISTAKE.
When my Hub left me that evening to celebrate new niece's christening with his family, I had reached the point. That dangerous point. I wanted out. If it was so painful for him, then he wouldn't have gone. And, left me. If he really didn't want to see the baby, he wouldn't have. After all, when I don't want to, you won't catch me doing shit. I was finished. Like, "get me off this fucking train" and I'll "kill everyone who tries to stop me" finished. With my Hub. With his family. With everything.
But, I wasn't. And we weren't. And nothing stopped. It kept going.
So, we saw a grief counselor who specializes in pediatric loss. We were confronted with some things that we knew and some we needed to hear out loud (sometimes the shit you think you know materializes like bright shiny objects that hit you in the face when they are spoken out loud.)
These are the things we must keep sounding in our heads, even when times feel good ~ more when times feel shitty. .
1. As long as we are honest with each other about how we feel and where we are on this road together, there will be no fault.
2. Just because we mourn differently for our Perfect Girl doesn't mean that one of us is less grief stricken.
3. *WE* are a family. . . even if it's just us, our large retirement fund and our Schnauzer. A Family.
4. We must be more forgiving to ourselves when we begin moving backwards. One step forward, two steps back, 20 steps forward, 8 steps back. . . we are still moving forward. Backwards stepping is still movement. . . . is still healing.
5. We cannot throw out the proverbial baby with the bathwater. While one thing is horribly off kilter, our marriage is not.
We learned that we are doing the things we need to do. We just need practice. We will probably check back in with our counselor as we move along and encounter new waters (or old ones! But, we both came out of there (I love referring to therapy as a hole in the ground) feeling accomplished in our 4 1/2 months of grieving.
And so, we have continued to move forward. We continue to acknowledge that solace isn't gained by sling-shotting ourselves through grief - though we wish it were. Instead, we rock on the water, back and forth. And, we rise and fall on the barf-tastic roller coaster that a wise G-ma talked about on Parenthood (the movie, kids, not the TV show.) And, we are dancing with that flourished give-and-take we have been practicing for six years. . . it keeps getting better.
In the beginning of the month, I had a really bad week. I'm talking a fucking-shit-ass bad fucking week. I was incapable of "being"
I couldn't get out of bed. Sleep was everywhere I could get it.
If I got out of bed, I couldn't get out of my PJs.
I called into work one day.
When that made me feel worse, I worked from home the rest of the week.
Even my work-aholism didn't help. That's when it's time to pull the plug.
Eventually, in an effort to give my Hub a "happier" me, I headed out to the St. Louis Mardi Gras parade on our Krewe's float - as is tradition.
MISTAKE.
When my Hub left me that evening to celebrate new niece's christening with his family, I had reached the point. That dangerous point. I wanted out. If it was so painful for him, then he wouldn't have gone. And, left me. If he really didn't want to see the baby, he wouldn't have. After all, when I don't want to, you won't catch me doing shit. I was finished. Like, "get me off this fucking train" and I'll "kill everyone who tries to stop me" finished. With my Hub. With his family. With everything.
But, I wasn't. And we weren't. And nothing stopped. It kept going.
So, we saw a grief counselor who specializes in pediatric loss. We were confronted with some things that we knew and some we needed to hear out loud (sometimes the shit you think you know materializes like bright shiny objects that hit you in the face when they are spoken out loud.)
These are the things we must keep sounding in our heads, even when times feel good ~ more when times feel shitty. .
1. As long as we are honest with each other about how we feel and where we are on this road together, there will be no fault.
2. Just because we mourn differently for our Perfect Girl doesn't mean that one of us is less grief stricken.
3. *WE* are a family. . . even if it's just us, our large retirement fund and our Schnauzer. A Family.
4. We must be more forgiving to ourselves when we begin moving backwards. One step forward, two steps back, 20 steps forward, 8 steps back. . . we are still moving forward. Backwards stepping is still movement. . . . is still healing.
5. We cannot throw out the proverbial baby with the bathwater. While one thing is horribly off kilter, our marriage is not.
We learned that we are doing the things we need to do. We just need practice. We will probably check back in with our counselor as we move along and encounter new waters (or old ones! But, we both came out of there (I love referring to therapy as a hole in the ground) feeling accomplished in our 4 1/2 months of grieving.
And so, we have continued to move forward. We continue to acknowledge that solace isn't gained by sling-shotting ourselves through grief - though we wish it were. Instead, we rock on the water, back and forth. And, we rise and fall on the barf-tastic roller coaster that a wise G-ma talked about on Parenthood (the movie, kids, not the TV show.) And, we are dancing with that flourished give-and-take we have been practicing for six years. . . it keeps getting better.
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