I'm getting tons of visitors to my contest but not that many people are entering. Not even the people I know who I know are reading this blog because I can see you on my site meter so why don't you just fricken try to win the free candy already? Do people not like M&Ms anymore? Or is nobody proud of anyone? I don't know what one of those possiblities makes me sadder.
Friday, August 31, 2007
"After I die I will become this mama, this mama right now, crossing the good end of the River Styx with one foot up on the bow, empty mai-tai wrap around my waist, looking off to the horizon and on my way to be with Liam, to feed and burp and pat his rump and coo in his ear, to fulfill my purpose. I am not afraid anymore because I will have a job to do, breasts decades younger and ready for him, heavy with milk."
After this, I'm all out of words.
Thursday, August 30, 2007
A few days ago I was talking with a friend about how no matter how good and fulfilling you childhood is, you always grow up to crave something. (That's our theory anyway.) It might be love or attention or security or any other number of things. When my friend asked me what I crave I responded "I crave knowing that my parents are proud of me ...... and chocolate."
So in honor of those two cravings of mine that never go away I'm going to have my very first blog contest! Check it out!
1. Leave a comment on this post by 11:59 PM, September 4th.
2. Tell me in your comment who you are proud of and why.
3. Be sure to include a way for me to get in touch with you in case you are the winner. It's ok if you don't have a blog, just leave your email address.
4. If you do have a blog, mention this contest on it so that more people can get in on the fun!
5. Winner will be chosen at random from all qualifying entries. I will contact you if you are the winner.
Chocolate! In M&M form! One lucky winner will receive one tube of Mini M&Ms and one bag each of Dark Chocolate M&Ms, Milk Chocolate M&Ms, Peanut M&Ms, Peanut Butter M&Ms, Almond M&Ms and Dark Chocolate Peanut M&Ms. And to make the deal even a little sweeter I'm going to throw in a super secret suprise. Can you even stand the excitment? If I am able to track down any more varieties of M&Ms I will add them to the prize.
Have fun and good luck!
Wednesday, August 29, 2007
Elle had her first haircut on Monday. Since I am terrible about remembering to bring my camera to even the most important of events my mom came along to take pictures. She also made the appointment for the haircut, paid for the haircut and make a scrapbook page documenting the event. Without my mom my kids would spend their whole life looking like ragamuffins and having no pitures to remember it all with.
This woman cuts my mom's hair, she cuts my hair (on the rare occasion I drag my rear in to see her) and now she's cutting Elle's hair. She even did my hair on my wedding day. She's like our own little family tradition.
As you can see, the cape didn't last too long. I don't think Elle liked not being able to see her hands. I'm looking pretty raggedy and intense here. I'm not sure what that's all about. Joseph was so cute when we first got back to the chair. He said things like "It's ok Elle, you don't have to be scared! You've seen me get myhaircut. It will all be ok!" Such a good brother.
She's looking a little worried right here. I think she's upset that this picture shows the bruise she has on her chin and thebug bites on her forehead. That's my dainty little princess.
Here she is admiring the results. She seemed very pleased with the final look. I have to admit, it is pretty cute now that all the stray scraggly strands are gone. She's a cute girl.
And now, some love for mama. Awwwww! That's my girl!
Apparently one of my comments about who's reading my blog was taken by someone in a totally different manner than what it was meant. Just to be clear, I didn't mean that I wanted anyone who was currently reading my blog to stop reading it. I just meant that sometimes I think about who's reading this blog and it makes me censor myself.
So to that person who didn't understand what I meant: Chill out you spastic cow. You don't figure nearly as importantly in my life as you seem to think you do.
Tuesday, August 28, 2007
When I started this blog I used it as a way to keep family updated about Elle and Joseph. I still use it to talk about my kids most of the time but sometimes I use it to vent my frustrations, to (try to be) funny, to get out into words whatever is on my mind. So now I've run into a bit of a situation.
You see, a lot of people from my real life know about and read this blog. And most of the time that's ok. I have been finding though that more and more often lately I'm feeling inhibited with what I write and share. Sometimes I don't say things that I want to because I'm worried about hurting some one's feelings. Sometimes I don't write what I want to because I don't want people to feel like I don't respect their privacy.
For example: There are some issues from my childhood/teenage years that I would like to explore further but I don't feel like I can do that here. Not because my parents read this blog, but because so many other people in my life do. There's probably nothing that I would want to discuss here that I haven't already talked about with my parents but it doesn't feel right throwing it all out there knowing that my MIL or one of Jesse's friends or my brother's ex might read it all.
A couple of people have suggested that I start a new blog. I don't know if I'm crazy about that idea. For the most part I like this little blog. I like the small readership I've built up. I feel like I have a little community and I don't want to lose that.
I don't know. Maybe knowing that my family and friends are reading this is good for me. Maybe it kind of acts as a self-edit function. Instead of thinking "Ha! What a great story about my vagina! I'm going to go share that with the entire Internet!" I think "Ha! What a great story about my vagina! I'm going to share that with ..... Crap. My dad will probably read that. I guess I better not." Since I have a natural tendency to over share, perhaps it's a good thing that I have this kind of blocker on my blog?
I'm curious what other people think about this. Do people in your real life know about your blog? Why did you tell them about it? Do you ever regret it? Why did you not tell people about it? Do you just post whatever the heck you want without worrying who's going to read it?
Friday, August 24, 2007
This evening I stopped of at the pharmacy to pick up my prescription refill for my anti-nausea meds. Yes, the medication that will likely maim and destroy the child I'm carrying. Since I went through the drive-through I had to use the little box to pass stuff back and forth. For some reason those boxes make mer nervous. I think it's because the first time I ever tried to use one was at the bank and I didn't know that the teller opened them from the inside so I pulled up and tried to pull on the box to open it and the teller yelled at me and he was a really hot guy and I was mortified and I didn't use the drive-through for like 8 months after that.
Aaaaaanyway. So I pull up to the window and the pharmacist opens the little box for me. I go to stick the prescription in and before I have have my hand halfway out he slams the box shut. I yelped a little bit. A moment later he opens the box again and sends out a little slip for me to sign saying I got the meds. I sign it and put it back in the box and again he slams it shut before my hand is all the way out. I make a little joke. "Heh heh, nearly got my finger there." Ok, so it wasn't a "good" joke or a "funny" joke or even really a "joke". Let's see you be light hearted after nearly losing 3 fingers in a tragic box accident.
One minute later he opens the little box again so that I can send my check card through. I put it in as quickly as I can but it makes no difference. He nearly gets my damn fingers again. I'm starting to think this is some kind of game for him.
He opens the box a final time to send out my meds. I swear to god that the bag is jammed as far back in the corner away from me as it can possibly be. I eye the meds. I'm going to have to shove my entire arm in there to reach them. A cold sweat breaks out on my brow. My heart is pounding. I wonder if I'll ever be able to hug my babies with both arms again. I wonder if I should change the name of my blog to Problem Stumpy. I take a deep breath and make a mad grab for the meds. My hand is in! I've got them! Almost as if it's happening in slow motion I see my arm moving back and hear the click of the box as it starts to close. With a mighty effort I yank my arm back as quickly as I can ...... and bonk myself in the nose with my own hand.
As I start to pull away the pharmacist smiles, waves and wishes me a good evening. I have my meds but at what cost? Will I ever be able to trust a pharmacist again knowing that this one is out there waiting to rob me of my fingers and my dignity? Ok, so I robbed myself of my own dignity with the whole nose bonking business. It was still traumatic ok?
Elle is such an easy kid. At least I think she is. Maybe I just think that because I'm so used to how challenging Joseph can be. Comparatively Elle just seems like a breeze. She even scolds herself when she does something wrong. This morning I woke up to:
Bump....thump....thump......rustle...swish......rrrrrriiiiiiiiip. "Oh no no no no no! Da do do do? El Ro! Wha happen? No no no El Ro! No rips books! Here. Fak it. There. Seeallbetter!"
Translation? Elle woke up and reached between the bars of her crib to grab a book out of the box next to her bed. She pulled one in and then looked at it for a minute before ripping it. "Oh no no no no no! What did you do? Elle Rose! What happened? No no no Elle Rose! No ripping books! Here. Fix it. There. See? All better!"
She's actually a lot harder on herself than I would be. Poor thing.
Thursday, August 23, 2007
I've discovered an aspect of surrogacy that I'm less than thrilled with. Having an IF who is a massive worrier is turning out to be more than a little annoying.
J worries about everything. He's so worried about me inhaling paint fumes when we work on our house that he has offered (insisted really) to pay someone to do it for us and to put us up in a hotel while it's being done. Ok, we'll probably take him up on that but please, give me a little credit. I wasn't planning on spending house painting time with my face hovering three inches over an open can of lead based paint.
He's worried about what kind of foods I eat. Again, this could be a valid concern but again, give me a little credit. I'm a halfway smart person, I know how to avoid foods that are not safe for the baby. J's worried about foods that contain bacteria, foods that might contain mercury and (among other things) foods that might be too spicy. (Why? I don't know.) I swear that he's thisclose to hiring a personal chef to come over make sure that I only eat safe, bland foods.
He's worried about my doctor. Every time he talks to me he asks if I like my doctor, if I think he's a good doctor, if I think the doctor knows enough about IVF pregnancies to be my doctor, if I know what medical school the doctor went to, if I can spell the doctors name so that he can do a background check on him.
He's worried about medication. This is the big one. When I had the CVS done the doctor who did it gave me a prescription for antibiotics just in case of infection from the needle being inserted into my abdomen. J didn't want me to take them until I ran them by my regular OBGYN. I don't know why that matters though since he doesn't trust my OB's judgment on medication either. My OB prescribed something to me for morning sickness and I made the mistake of mentioning this to J. J called me back not 15 minutes later wanting to know the name of the medication I was on. When I told him he told me he had been doing some research and that he was worried that the medication was not safe for the baby. Aurgh! I told him as nicely and as gently as I could that while I was pregnant with Elle I lost a lot of weight and was sometimes so dehydrated that I had to have IV fluids administered. The doctor and I both felt that the morning sickness meds were a better alternative this time around. And according to the research I did the meds are considered perfectly safe for the baby. J's still not so sure. Cripes, he doesn't even want me taking Tylenol for a headache without running it by a doctor first.
Augh! Look, if you tell me that the reason you selected me to carry your child was because you trust me enough to do a good job at it, then trust me! Trust me enough to do everything I can to keep this baby safe, short of living in a plastic bubble. Trust me enough to know that I won't spend my days inhaling spray paint, eating potato salad that's been out in the sun for 8 hours and taking hallucinogenics. Just fricken trust me.
I know this all makes me sound like a huge bitch because how can I be annoyed that J just wants to look out for his baby and what kind of a cold hearted person am I anyway? Lay off ok? I'm pregnant and hormonal and not sleeping all that well. You would be annoyed too if you were in my position. And if anyone leaves a comment on this post taking any side but mine I'm deleting it because it will only annoy me more.
Joseph is very, very literal minded. Part of that is his age and part of that is the Aspergers. He doesn't really ger sarcasm and often if something is said as a joke he'll think it's real. (It's a a funny thing though because he has a wicked sense of humor and he often suprises me with how witty and clever he can be.) Jesse or I will often forget that he's like this and we'll make an offhand comment that then requires 5 minutes of explaining to Joseph exactly why we said what we did and what we really meant by it. The other day Joseph saw a public service ad on tv about drinking and driving. It led to this conversation:
Joseph: Oh no! That commercial said you can get arrested if you drink and drive!
Me: That's right.
Joseph: Oh no!
Me: Honey, that's a good thing. People shouldn't drink and drive.
Joseph: But you drink and drive all the time! (He's frantic at this point.)
Me: What? No I don't! What do you mean?
Joseph: I see you drinking pop or water when you drive.
Me: Oh, well sweetie, it's ok to drink stuff like that when you drive. They just mean that people can't drink grown up drinks, things like beer, before they drive.
Me: Because those kinds of drinks make it hard for you to be a safe driver. If you drink those things and drive it's not safe for you and it's not safe for the other people on the road. That's why the police have an ad telling you not to do it.
Joseph: So it's ok to drink water when you're driving?
Joseph: (long, thoughtful pause) And you have to drink your beer while you're stopped at the stoplight?
The best part was that he was really confused about why Jesse and I thought that was so funny. He really thought he had it all figured out.
We love our babysitter. We all love having her here. In just a couple of months I went from being very skeptical about the idea of having a teenage girl in our house (on purpose!) to really enjoying having her around.
See, the thing is, I really don't like teenage girls. I didn't care for them much when I was one myself and if possible I like them even less now. Oh, I'm sure that most teenagers will eventually become perfectly lovely people but chances are, if you're between the ages of 12 and 18 I don't want to be around you. That's why I was so suprised to find myself not just tolerating, but really liking our babysitter.
First off, the kids really, really like her. She's very good with them and they respond very well to her. Whenever she comes over Elle runs over to her and yells "Abook!". (No, that's not her real name, that's just Elle's way of saying it.) If you have children you know how much stuff like that really counts for.
Secondly, she's just a really neat person. She's very artistic, she plays soccer, she goes dear hunting and she likes woodworking. She's really mature for her age and very interesting to talk to. I seriously wonder if half the reason I liked havingher around so much was just because I liked having someone to talk to other than the kids all day.
The sad news is that yesterday was Abook's last day of regular babysitting. She has some family stuff going on now so she won't be able to come over for the rest of the summer. The good news is that now Jesse and I have someone new we can call on if we want to have an evening out. Until now our list of babysitters was very, very short and contained only a few select family members.
So how did I go from being a hater of teenager girls and distruster of nearly everyone when it comes to my kids? It's simple, she's Abook, the WonderTeen.
Tuesday, August 21, 2007
Sunday, August 19, 2007
Fuck you for making a comment about the size of my boobs as you walked past me. And fuck you again for repeating the comment louder when your friend asked what you had said. And fuck your friend for turning around and staring at my chest like he had never seen a pair of breasts before. Fuck me for knowing exactly what the two of you were doing but feeling so crummy and insecure that all I did about it was hunch my shoulders forward and feel dirty.
I'm so sick of these things. I'm sick of the neck and back pain I've had since I was 17. I'm sick of not being able to find cute clothes that fit right (or if I do, wearing it once and then stretching it out so much that I can't wear it again). I'm sick of people thinking it's ok to just openly stare at my chest when they walk past me.
The second I'm done having babies and/nursing these things are getting chopped.
Friday, August 17, 2007
I've flown several times in my life. Often enough that I feel like there's nothing really involved in air travel that can suprise me. I know that you can get stuck sitting in front of a kid who won't stop kicking your seat or a crazy old lady who won't stop talking to you or a rather large man who thinks that just because he's sitting in the middle seat he's entitled to use both armrests. I've been in all these seating situations and none of them were really that big of a deal. In fact, as soon as I got off the plane I forgot about them. I've been very lucky in that for most of my life I have never had a really bad seatmate.
All that changed when I recently flew from LA to Minneapolis. My good flight luck ran out. I was seated next to the most disgusting I have ever had the misfortune to "meet".
It all started out ok. As I sat in the waiting area I couldn't help but notice that there were about 40 or so young, obnoxious Army guys waiting for the same plane as me. I was worried that I was going to end up sitting right in the middle of all of them. Even under the best of circumstances I'm not a big fan of large groups of rowdy 18-22 year old guys. Not to mention, and I'm ashamed to even admit this, that there is still a little bit of Air Force snobbery left in me. I look down on the Army. Look, it's not right but I can't help how I feel. Air Force rules, Army drools!
Anyway, I didn't want to sit by the grunts. So you an imagine my pleasure at finding out I was seated no where near them. Yippee! I was even more pleased to find myself seated on the isle next to a man furiously scribbling out a complicated mathmatical formula on a notepad. He seemed like the perfect person to sit next to. He probably wouldn't try to talk to me as I read my book or did the crossword puzzle in the back of the in-flight magazine. My happiness lasted about as long as it took for me to get my seatbelt buckled.
Then the smell hit me. It was like sour milk combined with moldy fruit. "Please" I thought to myself "Let that be a random odor drifting from somewhere. Please do not let that be the guy next to me."
It was. If the flight hadn't been full I would have jumped up right there and asked to be moved to another seat. But the flight was full and I was stuck. I decided to read my book and suck on a hard candy and concentrate very hard on not paying any attention to the guy next to me.
Here's the thing though. When someone is sitting 2 inches away from you it's hard to ignore the. That's why I couldn't help but notice that the man next to me started to dig in his nose. He had damned near half his hand in there. Every so often he would pull out his finger, inspect it and then flick whatever he found to the floor. And it wasn't like he was being discreet either! He was openly just jamming his finger into his nose over and over and over. And after he finished with one nostril he went to work on the other. At this point I would have happily sat on a grunts lap if it meant getting away from this guy.
Then it got worse. Yes, worse. He started to dig in his ears. Oh god, I tried not to watch. He would pull out large gobs of wax and then wipe it on his notebook paper. He didn't even try to fold up the paper or throw it away or anything! He just left it sitting there like he was proud of it! Like it was part of the mathmatical equation he was working on!
Next he started digging in his teeth. Whatever he found in there ended up on the floor with his nasal trophies. (I wonder how he decided what to flick and what to wipe?) Then he started in on his eyes. All through his picking and wiping and picking and flicking routine I told myself to be calm, it would all be over soon. After all, the man only had so many holes on his face that he could clean out. It couldn't go on forever.
Then the scratching started. He would lift up hsi arm so that his pit was about .4 cenimeters from my face. Then he would start to scratch. And he would scratch and scratch and scratch. Then he would do the other side. (I should mention that as bad as I had it the woman on the other side of him had it worse. I noticed that at one point he had taken his flip flops off and had his feet under the seat in front of her. Why she didn't say something I don't know, I would have.)
There was still more scratching to be done! After all, what's a flight without a solid hour of scratching your balls? After the ball scratching he started in on the face picking again. Oh, it was so horrible. And to top it off, as we were waiting to get off the plane he nearly knocked me unconsious when he hit me in the head with his carry on as he wrestled it out of the overhead compartment. I didn't even care at that point. All I cared about was getting off that plane, finding a bathroom and scrubbing down the entire right side of my body.
It was so terrible. I figure whatever bad flight karma I wracked up out to have been wiped out with that one flight though. Now I can go back to having reasonable pleasant, booger flicking free flights.
Thursday, August 16, 2007
I've been so caught up with this pregnancy and everything involved in it that I've kind of stopped talking about my kids. That just seems wrong since they're the whole reason I started this blog in the first place.
The kids are good. Now let me tell you a little bit about my cervix!
Ok, I really don't have anything to say about my cervix. But the kids really are good.
Joseph did really well with summer school. His writing improved a lot. I would like to think that this was partly due to the rigorous summertime workbook schedule I had him on. I would like to think that but I can't because at some point Workbooks Every Day No Matter What became I Don't Even Remember When We Last Did A Workbook. (This is one of the many reasons I don't homeschool. I have no discipline. After 5 minutes I would be like "This is boring. Let's do Play-doh!") I guess the important thing is that his writing really did improve. Thanks to his soccer program I think he's also had some big improvements in gross motor skills.
I'm hopeful that all of the improvements he's made this summer will help Joseph feel like he really fits in with the other kids next year. He's starting to notice that there are things about him that are different from other kids. He asks things like "Why do other people like to eat lots of kinds of foods but it's so hard for me?" and "Why am I so much shorter than all the other kids? Can you put me in a class with only kids who are short like me?" and "Why do I have to go to speech therapy when other kids don't?" Most of the time he's really good natured about these things and they don't really seem to bother him. I hope he can keep his great, upbeat way of looking at things.
Elle is great too. I mean, really, really great. She's at such a fun age, every day she does so many new things. She's a natural little charmer. With her big blue eyes, her pink, round cheeks and her pretty red hair she's a very cute baby. If I'm out in public with her people actually stop me to tell me what a pretty girl she is. What makes her even cuter though is her charming little personality. She's very affectionate and sweet and happy go lucky.
One thing I love about kids Elle's age is how fun it is to watch them learn to talk. I think Elle learns to say something new each day. Just this morning Joseph sneezed and Elle said "Bess you" for the first time ever. She's able to put together some pretty complex sentences like "I go up stairs" and "Where is she?" My favortie things that she says though are both just one word. If you tell Elle "I love you" she's always respond by saying "Too". Get it? Instead of "I love you too" she's babyfied it to "Too". Come on! That's cute! The other thing she says that just kills me every time is what she'll say when she's doing something she really enjoys. If she's sitting with Joseph and playing Little People she'll look up every so often and cry "Fun!" Like she's so overcome with how great it is just to be doing whatever it is that she's doing.
So there, that kind of turned into a big brag session about my babies. I can't help it, I have awesome kids. I kind of forgot what neat little people they are while I was on bedrest. I think I was a little stressed and bummed out and I forgot to take the time to notice what really great kids they are. I need to not do that again because they really are fantastic kids.
Note to self - Focus less on the kid you're growing and more on the one's you're raising.
Tuesday, August 14, 2007
For me being pregnant means a lot of things. It means morning sickness and mood swings and bizarre cravings. It also means strange and vivid dreams nearly every night. Most of the times I enjoy the dreams because they're usually good dreams and they're so realistic that they're kind of fun. It's fun to wake up from a dream that felt so real that you're almost not sure if it really happened or not. The dream I had last night though was so strange and disturbing that I just can't seem to get it out of my head. I've been thinking about it all day long so I just had to share it.
As a side note I would like to point out that I hate hearing about other people's dreams. I just don't think it's that entertaining to hear a 20 minute story about something that only happened in your mind. So I won't be offended if no one reads this. I just want everyone to know that if they do chose to skip this entry they'll be missing out on a description of a living, detachable penis. Oh, and I would also like to apologize in advance to Jesse for telling this story.
Ok. Here goes. In my dream I find myself standing over Jesse who's alseep in bed. Since he's laying there naked and all I decide I'll just, um .... remove his penis. I pull on it and it just pops off, sort of like Barbie's legs do when you pull on them too hard. I walk around with the penis in my hand and I use it for various things like killing a spider and dusting the tv. (That's how you know it's a dream, I never dust.)
At some point I decide to go outside, still holding the penis of course. I'm sitting on the front steps when all of the sudden a bunch of kids go running by yelling for me to look out for the bear. I look over my shoulder and realize that there's a huge brown bear running towards me. I run towards the house and decide to throw the penis at the bear to distract it. I watch from the porch as the bear walks over to sniff the penis. To my suprise the penis comes to life, moving and hissing like a snake. (I won't describe this further because even thinking about it horrifies me now.)
I run inside to find Jesse awake and looking out the window and smiling as the bear rips apart his snakepenis. "Oh Jesse!" I cry "I'm so sorry! Now we won't be able to have any more children! I'm sorry I didn't think about that before I threw it!"
Jesse just smiled and said it was no big deal. The last thing I remember before I woke up was that I felt so relieved that Jesse wasn't mad that I let a bear eat his living, detachable penis.
So. Uh. That's it then.
Monday, August 13, 2007
Hooray! No more bedrest!
That's right, I'm back in good old Minnesota (it's hotter here than it was in LA!) and I'm off of bedrest. I still have to take it easy for the nest week or so but I don't have to do it while laying in bed. After this week everything should be back to normal.
The trip itself went pretty well. Highlights included realizing I was the fattest woman in all of LA (more on that later), the cabbie from India who cheerfully insulted every aspect of my life (more on that later too and seriously, it was hilarious) and having the following phone conversation with Joseph:
Me: Have you had anything to eat yet today sweetie?
Joseph: You mean other than cookies and tootsie rolls? No.
Jesse: Ack! Give me that phone back!
The only crappy part of the trip, aside from the guy next to me on the way home who was maybe the grossest person I've ever been next to (and yes, more on that later) was the CVS test. The doctor reassured me that she had numbed my skin so that I wouldn't even feel the needle going in. And that was true. I didn't feel the needle at all as it entered the first layer of skin. After that though I could feel it piercing through each layer of fat and flesh on my tummy. When the time came for the needle to pierce through my uterine wall the doctor told me I would feel "a little bit of pressure" and I felt something like what it must feel to have a slightly sharpened steel beam shoved through your abdomen. Also, I felt and hear a series of pops as each layer was punctured. It was fairly horrifying. But at least that first layer of skin was numb!
But it's all over now and I'm home and when I got off the plane both kids plastered themselves to me for a good five minutes. I had missed tham so much and I was so happy to be home that I just cried right there in the middle of the airport. It's good to be home and sleeping in my own bed next to my own snoring, farting husband and being kicked in the head all night long by my own feisty, busy son and being woken up ever 30 minutes by my own shreiky, demanding daughter. No, seriously, I'm so happy to be home. I really missed my favorite throw up bowl.
Thursday, August 09, 2007
I'll be heading back to LA today. If nothing else the change of scenery (even if it is only for a couple of days) might help to get me out of this funk I've been in. Amazingly, staying in bed 90% of the day isn't a real mood elevator. Maybe laying in a new bed for two days will help. We'll see.
Anyway I'll be back on Saturday. Hopefully by the time I get back I'll have some kind of estimate on how long this bed rest is supposed to last. Think "short" thoughts for me. I'm starting to really miss doing stuff with my kids. Today Elle came up to me with her arms up and said "I carry you?" and it just broke my heart. I couldn't even lift her up like she wanted me to. (And yes, she wanted me to carry her but she's pretty new to this whole sentance thing and she still gets mixed up sometimes.)
So. In conclusion. My kids are awesome and cute. Bedrest sucks the big one. The trip to LA should be short and sweet and uncomplicated. I'll catch you all on the flip side.
Monday, August 06, 2007
Nothing much going on here. I had another visit to the ER last night because I was concerned about how much I was bleeding. They pretty much told me to go home and go back to bed. Other than that I've pretty much just been staying in bed.
I most likely will not be going to LA later this week because the IFs and I are really nervous about me flying. I can't even walk across the hall without bleeding, we don't feel real comfortable with me going all the way to LA. I should find out for sure later today though.
So. Yeah. Good times all around.
Thursday, August 02, 2007
Oh my god. I hate bedrest so much. It's only the first day and I hate it. I hate it. Oh well, I have to buck and and deal with it. But I hate it. Thank goodness I have my bacon salt to keep me company!
Joseph's surgery went really well today. He was so brave going into the room. A really nice nurse had him giggling like a maniac by the time we actually got into the operating room. He did awesome breathing in the gas that put him out. That was the part he had been the most worried about so I was so proud of him for handling it so well. When he was wheeled back into the recovery room after surgery he was already half way awake and asking to go home and play video games. The nurse told him he had to have a whole cup of apple juice and a whole piece of toast before he could go home but Joseph, being Joseph managed to wheel and deal and bargined it down to three sips of juice and one bite of toast.
The best news is that the surgeon thought the lump he took out from Joseph's arm just looked like a harmless cyst. We'll find out for sure on Monday but it most likely looks like we won't have anything to worry about.
Yesterday I told Joseph he better watch out if I get pregnant again. Every time I get pregnant I go and have something removed from him. When I was pregnant with Elle I took him in to have a mole removed. Now I've had a lump taken out of his arm. He better start growing some more disposable body parts just in case I get pregnant again. Although we'll see how I feel after 2 weeks of bedrest. I'll probably never want to do this again.
Oh, before I forget. I hope that all my Minnesota buddies and their families are all safe after what happened yesterday. What a scary, scary thing to have happen.
Wednesday, August 01, 2007
Things right now are ...... not terrific. They're not horrible or tragic but they could definitely be better. It turns out that the reason I'm having bleeding is that the baby's placenta has come partially detached from my uterine wall. If it gets worse there is a real danger of losing the baby. However, I am not going to let it get worse. I've been placed on modified bedrest for the next 2 weeks at least. That means I can get up and move around for an hour or so at a time but then I have to lay down afterwards for at least 2 hours. Even when I'm up and about I have to really limit what I do. That means no sex, to heavy lifting, no exercise, no repetitive up and down movements, no jumping, no coughing, no hard laughing, no nothing. Damn, and I really love jumping.
(I had to stop and take a quick throw up break here. That's probably on my list of banned activities too.)
So I certainly don't want to sound dire here. The good news is that we know what's going on and we know what to do and try to fix it. I'm just going to take it super easy and we'll see what the next two weeks bring. I'm doing ok. A little stressed out but otherwise all right. I'll just take it one day at a time and it will be ok.
Tomorow Joseph has his surgery. It's minor and I know it will be ok but if you have some spare good vibes with you I sure would appreciate you sending them my little guy's way. Poor little bugaboo.
I was at the emergency room until 2:30 AM last night and now I am just beat. I went shopping with my mom last night and right before we went back home I went to the bathroom and discovered that I was bleeding. Only this time, instead of the brown blood I had been seeing there was bright red blood. Eek! I went home and called the stupid fracken nurse line and they told me to go to the ER right away.
My mom came back to the house and took me to the ER (and then stayed for a long time because she is wonderful and lovely and I don't mention that often enough) and they brought me into a room right away.
One ultrasound, one bloodtest, one urine test (urine collected via cathater, ugh) one internal exam, two bags of IV fluids, two pain killers, two containters of cranberry juice and several hours later they gave me my diagnosis. The doctor says I have a subhemochromialsomethingorother hemmorage on my uterine lining. It's not as bad as it sounds. There's just a small spot on my uterine lining that's bleeding. The good news is that this is something fairly common and that in my case the spot is very small. I have to stay off my feet today and follow up with a regular OBGYN (getting an appointment has proved to be a real pain in the ass so far) to see what the have to say. Hopefully this bleed is so small that just a day or two off my feet will allow it to heal.
I was really scared when I saw that bright red blood but I'm feeling a lot better now. It helps just knowing what's going on. And all things considered this is a really minor bump in the road. I tried to get ahold of the guys last night but they didn't answer their phones and I didn't want to leave them cryptic, scary sounding messages. I'll call them again today now that I know more.
Funniest thing about the whole ER visit was that I ended up talking for a long time to one of the nurses. She told me she had always wanted to do a surrogacy but that she had never known where to get started. I told her all about my agency and about how the transfer itself works and about a bunch of other stuff. She asked me for my agencys name and phone number and then for my name and number too. I was thrilled to give it to her. I hope she calls my agency. They just stated a referal program and I could get $500 if she ends up working with them! Even if she doesn't though, it was still really neat to talk to someone who was so interested in the whole process.
Anyway, I'm going to go now and continue to try to make a flippin' appointment with an OBGYN. Then I'm going back to bed to rest and relax and take it very easy.