Warning: excessive gooeyness ahead.

I officially do not deserve to call myself a blogger!

This is so pathetic.  How long has it been?!  I am afraid to even check the date of my last post.

Liliana... my sweet Lily.... is perfect.  Absolutely.  Her tiny tuft of blond hair is finally growing in a little fluffier and a little kinkier by the day (she's gonna be a curly-headed babe!).  She is rolling over like a champ, and without ceasing.  She's still bre.astfe.eding (also in a champ-like manner).  This is a personal triumph I'd like to brag about, considering how insanely hard it's been at times to find a time, a place, and overall privacy to pump twice a day in a high school, full of nearly 1000 other people... most of which are hormonal and experiencing all the other joys that go along with being a teenager.

But I TOTALLY digress....

Lily is an absolute joy.  I am completely and totally in love.  We've started trying out a few veggies and some rice cereal in the evenings, and it's been hilarious and fun to see her facial expressions contort as she experiences each new taste and texture.

She actually fake gagged on squash, and grabbed the spoon from my hand and threw it down when I gave her her first mouthful of peas.  Apparently she was not a fan.  Carrots are a favorite so far.  I bought a few books on baby purees, etc.,  and am excited to started making my own as soon as school is over and I have time to steam, blend, and freeze.

She has been cutting the same tooth for almost two months now:  it will begin shredding at her gum, she'll become fussy, drooly, and sleep-screwy for about two days, and then it's like the sun breaking through the clouds after a thunderstorm, and I swear to God it grows back over and heals, and then a week or so later we repeat the process.  Poor baby.  Maybe she'll be toothless forever.

She is sitting up unassisted for about a minute at a time, unless sleepy or super distracted.  Go Lily!  She cackles and belly laughs and shrieks.  She hums when you sing to her and smiles with her entire body.

 She had her 6-month appointment yesterday, and everything was of course awesome - 15 lbs, 10.5 oz, 26 inches.  Rolls everywhere.  Finally able to stop Zantac (poor refluxy baby).  Last round of shots for awhile (thank goodness on my part, haha!).

I am going to TRY to update more often, as a log of her milestones.  One can hope!

...And her poop.... the smell.... now that she has started solids.... Oh. My. LORD.  Epic nast.

I am the mother of a little piggy!!!!

We had our two-week appointment for Lily yesterday, which makes me unspeakably proud and slightly bewildered that we have successfully taken care of a tiny helpless life for that long. It also makes me sad, however: I cannot believe how quickly time is racing by already. Soon I will have to trudge back to work and right after that she will be in college with as fast as she is growing. Sigh.

Speaking of growing.....

As most who have had a child/will have one soon know, babies often lose up to 10% of their birth weight in their first few days of life, and doctors generally want to see it return to their birth weight by the time they are two weeks old. That means Lily, who was 7 lbs, 8 oz, when she was born and then 7 lbs, 1 oz, four days later, should have gained back those seven ounces by yesterday. Now I was totally freaking out about this, because honestly, Lily is a wonderful baby. She rarely cries more than a minute or so, and is very easy to calm down.

What does this have to do with her weight? She often sleeps 2.5- to 3-hour stretches through the day and wakes when she's hungry; often at night it's more like 3.5 hours. Since I'm feeding on demand, I try to let her tell me when she's hungry - which does mean she eats once an hour every once in awhile - though I do wake her if it's more than 3 hours in the day or 3.5-4 at night to feed her. Unfortunately, that doesn't sync with the recommended 8-12 feedings breastfed babies need.... she almost always gets 7 feedings a day (never less, though). If I feed her more often, she gets overfull and tends to spit up more. I have been stressing that she wouldn't regain her weight and I'd be accused of child neglect or something.

...Turns out, I was stressed for nothing. My chunky monkey weighed 8 lbs, 2 oz yesterday. That's right: she's gained over a full pound in a week and a half. Crazy!!!!!! The pediatrician was not in the least concerned with the amount of feedings she was getting since she has been gaining so well. Whew!!!!

In other news, things are going well; my husband went back to work Monday and I've managed to keep my daughter alive and well for the past two days... so far so good, haha! Bre.ast.fee.ding is going better than before, but still a little rocky: my little monster has a crazy suction and she tends to shift her latch midway through a feeding, so I have been fighting some nasty, painful cracking... the LC I talked to said it may take several weeks for them to totally heal; they are better, but it's a slow process.

I really want to write my birth story here soon before I forget it, but I feel a nap is in order for now while Liliana is doing the same thing.

Whew.

After last week's pessimistic entry, it's good to report some good news:

1) My father is out of the hospital and resting not-so-comfortably, which, for him, is a good thing: the fact that he is now bored and itching to get back to work, and overall pissing off my mom with the muttering about wanting to get back into the office shows he is definitely on his way back to normal. Granted, his intense desire to be at work is probably part of the reason all this happened in the first place, so I applaud his boss and my mother's joint efforts to keep him at home resting for a few more days. He seems to be recovering nicely and hasn't had any complications or anything, which is an enormous relief. He's even planning to continue with their visit to see us over the 4th of July, a trip I told them they definitely should not complete if he shows any signs of wear and tear between now and then.

Deep, relief-filled, teary sigh.

2) I spent an evening last week in L&D in our hospital, which actually ended up being a cool thing. I had sporadic Braxton Hicks for a day or two, which eventually progressed into more intense, then rhythmic, cramping every 15 minutes. The office was already closed, so they sent me to the Maternity Ward, where one of my midwives was on-call in the midst of a slow-moving labor process for another woman anyway. I was terrified, and words like "incompetent cervix," "pre-tem labor," "bedrest," and "fetal demise" kept swimming through my brain.

Thankfully, all is well - we got to hear the baby's heartbeat again - a loud and clear 160! - and my m/w checked me in all the ways possible and said my cervix was tightly closed and the baby was in no way in distress. I was a little bummed they didn't do an ultrasound, purely for selfish reasons of course - I wanted to get another peek at her gorgeous face. My m/w didn't seem to feel it was necessary, though, so she didn't do one. Lame!.... Though I guess I should be thankful she didn't deem it necessary, because that would have surely meant things didn't look good.

As for diagnosis, the bloodwork and urine tests all came back clear and neg - no UTI, no anything out of the ordinary. (By the way, she had to do a clean catch urine sample using a catheter - something I have never experienced and was none too excited about, I assure you!) She said it was probably the combination of my extreme stress from family issues, plus my sudden urge to do about 10 loads of laundry (even rewashing some clean stuff) and run up and down the stairs 500 times with baskets of clothing, and not drinking enough... so I guess they really aren't lying when they tell you to drink an ungodly amount of water and relax. *Grin.*

The best part of the evening, after knowing everything was alright, was 1) getting to know this particular m/w better, as I've only seen her a handful of times and there is a strong likelihood she will deliver our baby... and she's wonderful!; and 2) seeing the Maternity Ward in a much more positive light - previously the only connection I've had with it was for my recovery from my D&C, and some rather insensitive nurses "helping" me that day... so it's a relief to see that there are some great people there and to get some more specific info on the inner workings of the ward.

****************

In other news, I went into my school yesterday to pick up the FMLA paperwork so it can be Board-approved before the school year starts, and it just made me extremely depressed. The typical leave time is 6 weeks, though they do not pay ANYTHING anyway unless you use up your sick days. I will only have 12 sick days at the beginning of the year - a pathetic number that is due to the fact that so much of my time last year was spent off recovering from my loss/D&C in October and from all my dr's appts I had in the middle of the school day (one thing that annoys me about my ob office: they have a very rigid appt schedule with very little ability to schedule later/earlier appointments). Anyway, looking at the calendar, it seems that IF I deliver on my due date, and only take, say, 7 weeks off, I'll be back in school by December 14. I cannot blieve how little time I will have with our baby before going back to work. Granted, I'll have some flexibility regular 9-to-5ers won't, like a longish lunchbreak where I can run the literal 30 seconds down the hill from school to my MIL's to feed her, and lots of time off on vacations... but it just seems so unfair. Oh, to have Canada's FMLA procedures.....

I also learned they've screwed with my teaching schedule for next year, which is really not too surprising, as it happens every summer. However, I am feeling the nesting/organization urge already, with an intense desire to lesson plan a much as possible through the first semester... and I can't do that if they keep f.ng changing my classes!!! Argh.

Speaking of which, I'm off to my classroom for a couple hours to file some things I unceremoniously shoved into a cabinet at the end of the school year....

Real fear.

My father is in the hospital.

My barely 51-year-old, golf-obsessed, invincible father passed out in the middle of a huge presentation he was giving at work yesterday. Something about his heart.

How very "TV Movie of the Week" of him.

I joke at the apparent stageyness of the situation, but I am a wreck. I live five hours away and both he and my mother are refusing to let me drive down there yet "until we know what's going on." He's been in the hospital since lunchtime yesterday. What the fu** do they need to figure out?! They've done echoes, MRIs, and who knows what else. [By the way, I am in NO way affiliated with the medical field, so please excuse my complete ignorance of procedure names.] Today they are going to to a heart catheter, and may possibly put in a stint.

Apparently, this is all relatively minor, and fairly routine, and he could possibly be home this afternoon. However, this is my father. He's Superman. And all that keep running through my mind are thoughts of my grandfather.

I never knew my maternal grandfather, as he died less than year before I was born. I heard he was a great man, and my mother is still mourning his death. One of my greatest regrets is not meeting him, spending time with him, or truly knowing the beloved, amazing man I was cheated out of having a relationship with. I know what is going on with my father is routine, and I feel so grateful and blessed that it does not appear as serious as it could be. Lord knows too many of my friends have suffered real, terrible tragedies in their immediate families, and I feel selfish and awful putting myself in their league. But I am terrified this is a precursor to larger, more serious things.

And all I keep thinking is I want my child to know her grandfather.

Psychotic immature whining about to ensue....

My sister is pregnant.

My little, bitty, baby.... okay, 22-year-old.... sister. Granted, she is 22. But she is still in college, and has over a year left. She JUST got married in December... and they started dating in October. Seriously. I love her husband (they used to date years ago), and I highly doubt they will ever separate or anything, but what the heck are they doing?! They planned this, apparently as soon as they found out I was pregnant. She stopped taking BCP, thinking it would take a year (seriously... she thought there was zero chance she could get pregnant right now), literally within weeks of her husband getting laid off of work. Oh, and they have zero savings, and tons of debt, and are chronic animal lovers (DEFINITELY not a fault.... when you have the adequate means to take care of them) and have adopted five dogs, four cats, two goats, two guinea pigs, a chinchilla, three rats, some kind of parrot, rabbits, a chicken, a squirrel.... I know I am forgetting a few things, and am in NO way exaggerating.... literally all since December. By the way, he is on unemployment, and she is taking a semester off school and is working at a vet full-time making about $10/hr. She has no idea how far along she is, possibly six weeks, and she is already telling everyone.

Now I have several major, legitimate problems with this, and several majorly irrational, selfish problems with this.

Logical/legitimate:
1) They are in serious debt, and have very little income right now
2) She has stated numerous times in the past year how she wanted to finish her college education before starting a family, and now it looks like she's at least complicated that
3) They've only been married five months, and only together for seven - is there some major reason they are rushing into this like one of them only have two years to live or something?!
4) They are already caring for five houses'-worth of animals, and have zero intention of giving them up
5) She hasn't even been to a doctor yet and they are already shouting it from the fucking rooftops... this is stupid because a) she should realize by now, given my history of miscarriage... as well as her best friend's... and our older sister's... that being cautious in the first trimester is not for the paranoid or hyperchondriatic, b) she has prior conditions stemming from a botched appendectomy that complicate things for her in that area, including tons of scarring, etc., and c) she is a red bull/monster drink addict, literally consuming 4-5 a day up until yesterday.

Much less logical/totally immature:
1) It has been nine years since there has been a grandchild on my side of the family, and everyone has been focusing on my pregnancy... something they rarely do since I am the one who "no one has to worry about" because we've tended to do things the traditional, college-then-house-then-pay-off-debt-then-save-then-have-a-kid route.... so I am not exactly fodder for my family's discussions. It's been pretty nice being the focus. Now my insanely irresponsible (by long-standing reputation), erratic little sister has gone and gotten knocked up, and it's much more interesting to talk about....and even care about.
2) I just have this feeling that even though she has in no way taken care of herself, and probably won't, the baby will be 100% fine. I, on the other hand, can't seem to make babies. Granted, my pregnancy is cruising along right now, but my impending ultrasound this Friday has gripped me with the intense feeling of dread that all will not be well.... again. My idiot sister will have children before me. Everyone will have children before me.
3) She is due somewhere in January or February. Probably January. Now, apparently, I am going to have to haul my ass down to my parents' (5-6 hours away) less than a month after giving birth for her baby shower, celebrating bad decisions. Also, that is apparently the only way she'll be able to see our child, as she's already told me there's no way in hell she's going to try to make it up to my home when my kid's born since she may or may not be in the beginning of her third trimester. My first child. She's cried with me for the past year and a half every time I lost a baby, and up until this point has been one of my biggest cheerleaders, but now it doesn't even matter to her. In addition, my parents are no longer planning to have Christmas at their house for the first time in the history of man because she won't be able to travel there. I guess my newborn will have to wait a few months to see its grandparents again, because they will be driving to see her (in the opposite driection of my house), who I am sure will not want them there when she's almost 9 months pregnant anyway, even though they'll be down there again in a matter of weeks for her delivery.

Oh my Lord, I sound like such a whiny, immature bitch. I HATEHATEHATE how family brings out the worst in me, especially since they are the ones I truly do love most in the world. I just need to get this shit out before I scream it in her face - or my mother's face - or some random stranger's face - and look like an idiot.... because I am sure it would be coming. The thing that made me the most pissed, though, is that she was terrified to tell me because she thought I would get upset. Granted, I am. But I would have never made that apparent to her. I will love and support her no matter what.

Yes, I am pissed. My niece (from our older sister) has gotten nine years of uninterrupted grandparent love, and my parents were so psyched to constantly see our kid. Now they are splitting their time between NW Pennsylvania and North Carolina, which doesn't exactly consitute frequent visits. Plus they are splitting their money - which is definitely the LEAST of my complaints, but still frustrating as my mom just told me yesterday they probably won't buy our crib now that they have to pay for two big things (one for each of us).... of course I am seriously not being greedy here but more worried - we hadn't saved for that because we have thought since last fall that was covered, and now who knows how we will do it.... because my retarded sister doesn't research the possible effectiveness of going off birth control.

BUT - back to my previous train of thought - I am just irritated that she is afraid to talk to me about it. I don't think she's competing with me, like she fears. I think she's an irresponsible idiot that has complicated things for me. When I stop thinking selfishly about my own wants and expectations for my family's attention to me, there is still the glaringly obvious fact that, yet again, she didn't think before she did something, and she's not even taking it seriously yet. Hopefully the reality will sink in quickly for her and she'll finally start growing up a bit, for her unborn child's sake at least. I truly do love her and want her, and her family, to be okay. That is the root of all of this.

...And I really am trying to get over the immature reasons I'm mad, too. :)

Seventeen weeks? ME?! You crazy.

Yes, I am the WORST blogger ever... and the next few weeks probably won't get any better. April and May in any school setting is insane, I am sure, and mine is no exception. Ay yay yay!

So here's an update:

How far along? 17 weeks and 1 day

Total weight gain/loss: Finally up two lbs... but my face looks more like ten. I thought I was carrying this kid in my ute, not my cheeks!
Maternity clothes? Some pants - bought a couple shirts I haven't really worn yet - still managing to rock the Bella bands at work with my regular pants (trying to hold out for the last few weeks)
Stretch marks? Nope
Sleep: Waking up to pee at least once, usually twice - easy to pass out, but wake up quite a bit.

Best moment this week: About 95% sure the baby was kicking me for about ten minutes... on Mother's Day! Also: great, uneventful appt on Tuesday.
Movement: See above - I am almost positive that's what I am feeling every now and then, but totally doubt myself
Food cravings: All I've wanted lately is fruit, of all kinds. Mmmmm.... smoothies....
Gender: Still thinking girl, but a couple times had an overwhelming "boy" sensation - so who knows
Labor Signs: N/A

Belly Button in or out? In...but beginning to widen a bit (clearly seeing the inside of my belly button is cracking me up for some reason)
What I miss: Mt. Dew - though I cracked and had about half a glass the other night; my Lucky jeans (no way my newly large and in charge ass is fitting in those for awhile!)

What I am looking forward to: My ultrasound on May 29 - open leg vibes, everyone!
Weekly Wisdom: Just because you are finally starting to feel better doesn't mean you are superwoman. Chill out or you'll end up crashing in the middle of 7th period.... not that I've done that.... (yet?)

Milestones: POSSIBLY feeling the baby move... verification to come soon, I hope!

I love and hate the end of the school year. There's so much excitement and anticipation, especially from my seniors (their last day of school is TUESDAY!)... that normally makes me sad, as it inevitably takes me back to May/June of 1999, deep in rural Southern PA, and my urgency to just get the year the hell over with already. I remember feeling sad because I had an underclassman boyfriend (I know, how scandalous of me) and was miserable at the fact that I wouldn't even spend the last few months before college with him, as I was literally moving three days after graduation to Ocean City MD for the summer.... which was an exhilarating, action-packed way to spend the months before college.... BUT now that I am ten years older and looking at it from the teacher perspective, and hear my students talking about Senior Week at Ocean City, I can't help but think, "Ohhhhhhh Lord... hopefully their parents never, EVER hear the details."

Don't get me wrong - I was responsible (I worked 7-10 hour shifts 6 days a week), BUT I was also 17 years old. God knows how I never got into any serious trouble down there.

But ANYWAY....

Drew and I are headed to Erie in a bit to do some preliminary registry creation, mostly to appease his mother, but also because I am a ridiculous planner and am trying to get as much done now as I can, while I have the energy to do so. I wish my mom could go along for some advice; plus, I really miss her. I haven't seen my family since Christmas, and it's killing me - we are so close emotionally, and I hate that my parents/older sister/niece are five hours away, and my younger sister is closer to twelve hours from here. Bleh. At least I will see all but YoungerSister over Memorial Day. Can't wait!

A bunch of random stuff.

As stated above, the reason I have been MIA for a week or so: I've had lots going on! (Apparently, so has Dave. ----->)






1) The end of the marking period = last-minute grading scramble + the realization that my 5th year of teaching is swiftly coming to a close. Holy crap!

2) I spent most of the week last week alternating between a mad scramble to get everything done for an out-of-town wedding last Friday (more about that in a sec) and realizing I haven't been cleaning the toilet very well of late. I am guessing the increase in m/s intensity was due to serious nervousness about flying to the wedding sans Dramamine, etc. It has lessened some, thank goodness!

3) One of my best friends from college/grad school got married in Charlotte, and despite the major sickness, I was able to be a bridesmaid (the one and ONLY good thing that came from my pregnancy ending early last fall, as I would have been 34 weeks this week and unable to attend the wedding). Despite the rough rides on the flights (because of my morning sickness-induced airsickness, not turbulence), it was a wonderful whirlwind of 2.5 days.... I miss those girls so much! The closest anyone lives is in Pittsburgh, which is about three hours away from me, and unfortunately life has gotten in the way and we haven't had much opportunity to see each other as much as I'd like.

3a) In the Pittsburgh airport on the way home on Saturday, I met (a.k.a. followed-from-an-inappropriately-close-distance-until-I-was-sure-it-was-him-then-forced-myself-on-him) Demetri Martin (of Comedy Central fame/one of my husband's all-time favorite comedians/see pic) and begged him to meet Drew... and he did! Woo! Don't worry - I wasn't really annoying (I do think celebs probably just want to be left alone when traveling)... only slightly. Ra ha




So I can't tell if my m/s is subsiding or what. It has been a bit inconsistent in the last week or so - well, since I got back home on Saturday evening, anyway - but still definitely there. (I should say the throwing up has lessened - and has been replaced by indigestion! Ay yay yay.) One of the bridesmaids at the wedding just had a baby almost 12 weeks ago, and she keeps telling me her m/s "only" lasted until 16 weeks.

If this lasts 4 1/2 more weeks, I am going to shoot myself.

Off to the in-laws for the weekly American Idol viewing - no, seriously....it's obligatory bonding with reality show stuffed in.... though it really isn't so bad; they are pretty awesome in-laws I must say. AI is pretty damn annoying (sorry!) but I've been half passed out on their couch the past few weeks, so I don't even really know what's up (...or do I?? Danny Gokey anyone?!)


...Anyway.... As Ryan Seacrest would say: Dave out.

All Good Things...

...are surely coming to an end.

My wonderful, long-winded, lazy, nonproductive, hilarious, fulfilling, emotional, devastating, long-anticipated Christmas Break (my tiny school district does not care about such things as being Politically Correct - it's Christmas and Easter breaks all the way, baby!) is over.

Finito.
[Etcetera.]

I did NOT do as much grading as I should have, and I only have myself to blame. Who the crap sets aside piles of grading to complete over a less-than-two-week break?! And the MOTHER of all breaks at that?! (....aside from the TRUE MotherofAllBreaks: Summer vaca. But that does not require grading, nor is it something I will gloat about to the masses of non-teachers.... though I see that 2.5-month hiatus as totally justified.... but that is a rantyrave I will save for another day.)

I did, however, get the following done over the last twelve days:

* Spent some much-needed QT with my family... not as much with Drew's, but as 90% of them live in the same town as us, I am not heartbroken over this fact. In fact.... oh, nevermind. I am sure I will get to that some other day. [Dun dun dunnnnnnn!]

* Bought clothing en masse on an I'mBoredLet'sGetOutofThisTinyTown&SpendSomeMoney binge. The buyer's remorse has not yet set in. I'm hoping that means I am allowing myself to splurge a bit since we didn't spend a lot on each other this Christmas.... More likely, I think I really just don't give a crap. ha!

* Brought home - from TheSistervonYounger's House - an adorable yet feisty homeless-looking terrier mix aptly named Dave by my new brudder-in-law. Any little progress the cats have made in the last week in terms of not doing a throw up jr. as a result of their unmitigated terror has been regularly squelched by his attempts to bum rush them the second he sees them walking across the room. Poor Mr. Pancakes and Lion-O.

* Saved ~$150 in cash toward my beloved Sony Reader... because I'm doing this the pre-job, old-fashioned way reminiscent of one's allowance: not involving my husband in this (other than his eye-rolling at me stuffing bills into my sock drawer and stealing his loose change as savings methods); not using the bank accounts or credit cards. It'll be nice. It's a very "I don't have thousands of dollars I pay out yearly to various utilities and college loan officers [etcetcetc]; I just have pocket change" way of imagining my life. Nice.

* Planned all of my classes for the entire month of January. If you have picked up anything of my sense of procrastination (a-la-blogging instead of finishing that grading I'm whining about not completing), you will understand what an unusual event this is.... I am typically planned a week in advance, max (other than the "Oh yeah, we are reading To Kill a Mockingbird in Occ 9 and starting the research project in Ac 12 next" vague sort of planning). Yes, even I can pleasantly surprise myself from time to time.

* Fooled myself into believing I was pregnant again - though there was little reason to believe it in way of timing... I'd say I didn't really care, but I would be, of course, a lying liar. Devastated is more the word. And for some reason I am translating it into a fear of never being able to get pregnant again. I am sure the irrational terror welling inside me every time I think of getting pregnant, staying pregnant, underlying causes for problems, etc., are with me to stay until I have our child laying in my arms. ( - And then a whole NEW set of irrational fears surface, right?!)
Bleh. I know we were supposed to have waited 2-3 cycles anyway, and it would have been foolish economically, as we just took out a short-term disability plan that won't even COUNT if I get pregnant before January 1st.... but.
....So.... in a couple weeks: let the games begin! Hopefully this will all work out okay (taken in whatever context you want).
[Ew. Sorry for that visual, All of You.]

..... Uh.... I'm sure I've done other things, most notably sleeping a hell of a lot. Which just happens to be one of my favorite things to do, so I am in no way complaining!

Hello, 2009 (whom I really do not completely greet until school is back in session)! Let's bring some (in the words of me, about 10 years ago) awesomely bangin' things this way in the next 361 days!

Holy Wind Batman!!

[Whiny.]

So yesterday we returned: for the previous five days, we'd taken a hiatus from reality by cramming ourselves into my parents' house with six of my closest siblings, their spouses, and offspring...ahh yes, and my parents. And five, sometimes seven, rambunctious dogs roaming free. And a moany alien cat. And some good old fashioned guilt served with a side of awkward sibling rivalry! Woo!

No, really: it was a good time. Family is family, imperfect but necessary as water to me. I am too far away from them, yet stressed when in their presence. It is a tricky dance full of complex steps - a jab on someone's weight being not as high as theirs, an overly elaborate apology for snapping at someone who was rude to your spoiled child. The feeling of immense closeness yet of polite distance as guests constantly at odds with one another.

It may be a totally different story if this weren't the third house my parents have lived in since I've left for college.

I should be pregnant. Twenty weeks in one day, as a matter of fact. We told our respective parents. Tears and hugs abounded. We began remodeling the nursery. Carpet pulled up, plaster stripped. I moved into my in-laws' home when we feared lead exposure. Andrew's demented (literally, not used in the manner a twelve-year-old boy might use) grandmother walked in on me showering. We bought crib bedding. Sage green toile. I began exclusively wearing maternity pants or the ever-classy Bella-band/unbuttoned pants combination. Damn were those things comfortable.

I should be pregnant, but I am not. As of October 28, I am no longer part of the club. The Pregnant Ladies' Club. The Swollen Feet, Varicose Vein, Pimple-Ensconced Club. The With Child, Preggo, Expecting Club. You get it.

I am better now than I was before, but by no means best.

At times I feel inadequate. What had I done wrong? Why did I produce an inadequate egg (if it was, in fact, on "my side" of the equation)?

Other times, I feel jealous, angry, and frustrated. I work in an environment where I see immature, irresponsible teenage girls get pregnant at the drop of a hat. Co-workers I knew who got pregnant after me have now surpassed how far along I was. We were ready: emotionally, financially, every-ly. Didn't we deserve that baby?

Christmas was hard - it consisted of my one and only niece displaying her parade of gifts from an array of relatives for two hours while we smiled and nodded, feigning interest in Another Barbie and One More Adorable Pair of Tights. I didn't want anything more than what I received - my gifts were heartfelt and definitely appreciated, and will be loved. I just couldn't help thinking of the fact that it was going to be such a different Christmas this year for me, for all of us.

I would have been halfway done. Halfway through the pregnancy. Visibly showing.

Bleh.


And now we have brought home the World's Most Chilled Out Twelve-Pound Dog, yet my cats are depressed, terrified, and morbidly unhappy. They won't even come upstairs. The dog hasn't even barked at them.

I can't even keep my pets happy. If I am such an inadequate pet owner, how will I ever be an adequate mother?

Double bleh.