We just got back from the ultrasound. I now know for sure what my beautiful baby is. And the baby is beautiful. We saw it’s face, it’s lips and nose so clearly. I cried. It was amazing. You’ll have to wait until tomorrow, so I can upload some pictures and maybe show a little video of the precious little baby moving all around.
But I have to charge the batteries first.
I can’t even describe to you the joy me and my family feel right now after watching our little baby, seeing it’s heartbeat… We’re truly blessed.
I’m halfway done with this pregnancy. The changes that I’ve gone through both emotionally and physically are drastic, but I can honestly say that I’m happier than I’ve been in a long time. Here’s a little photo collection of my growing belly. (I’m sorry, I’m so in love with my pregnant belly, I can’t even stand it.)
Just now, I went into the garage to put some clothes in the dryer. As I turned around to walk out, I didn’t see the basketball on the floor and I tripped over it and fell to the ground. On my stomach. I layed there for a minute, making sure I didn’t break anything, then I slowly got up and started crying again. Now I’m freaking out thinking that I’ve hurt my baby. I’m walking around shaken up, hoping that I don’t start cramping or bleeding. I’m sure I’ll be ok, but I’ve heard horror stories of ladies who have fallen and hurt themselves while pregnant. I’m trying really damn hard to keep my dramatic nature in check, but it’s fucking hard to do on a day like this.
Every morning I try to watch at least one episode of A Baby Story on TLC. I like to watch it to remember how exciting the whole birthing process is. I could watch the home videos of the births of my children, but I always end up cringing in embarassment. Especially the part where I’m pushing and I scream out “I think I just pooped!” and the nurse is all “No, sweetie, you didn’t poop, just keep pushing” as she’s wiping my ass. I’m sure you can understand why I prefer to watch other people pushing out babies instead.
Today, I was reminded of the one thing I truly hate about the entire “pushing out a baby” experience. I hate it more than the pain, more than the IV, more than the hands up my crotch checking if I’m dialated, more than anything…
I decided to start taking down the things on Ethan’s bedroom wall, since that is going to be the baby’s room. Ethan and Andrew will be sharing a room now. I can’t even describe to you how sad this is making me. I don’t understand why I’m finding it so hard, but with each picture I take down, with each nail I pull out of the wall, I find tears flowing down my face.
I was able to leave work early because I had a little overtime, so I just scratched that off of my timecard.
This has not been a good day emotionally or physically at all. But hey, like some people like to say, it’s my fault for getting knocked up, I could have aborted my baby, so I should just deal with it, right?
I’m so sick of reading/listening to mean people. Mean people suck. How anyone can tolerate and even support the way these people are constantly talking about other people, putting them down, being judgmental…constantly is beyond me. Perhaps it makes them feel better about their own lives, perhaps they really are that perfect and have every right to bash people who aren’t perfect like them or perhaps they really are hateful, racist, insensitive, assholes and they can’t help themselves or perhaps I am the one who needs to be more tolerant to those kinds of people. Or not.
It’s been one of those days and I have a feeling it’s going to continue and I’ll end up in urgent care tonight. Thank God both of my boys got great grades on their report card (honor roll!) and awesome reports on their behavior in class, I don’t think I could have taken anymore bad news today.
Thank you to the those of you who email me me and leave comments wishing me well, I truly appreciate your concern.
I feel the baby all of the time now. It’s hard to not sit all day long in silence just to feel her moving.
My precious little baby girl. Growing everyday.
The joy consumes me.
The love I feel for her overwhelms me.
The thought of the happiness that lies ahead makes me cry tears of joy.
The calmness this baby has brought into my life is a miracle to me. When I first saw the line turn purple, the instant I knew I was pregnant, I fell to the floor and cried, and they weren’t happy tears. They were tears of disappointment, of worry, of shock. I called my mom and said I couldn’t have a baby because I was crazy. She told me not to talk like that, she told me this was God’s way of proving to me that I wasn’t crazy, that I was worthy of love and capable of giving it.
She was right. I’ve realised that although I am not perfect, although I am flawed in so many ways, even still, I am a woman deserving of love.
I am worthy of the love another child will bring into my life.
Not because I am a good person. Not because I am perfect.
No, because those things I am not.
But because God loves me, because I try everyday to do what’s right. Because I’ve fought so hard to beat the demons that have tormented me and it’s time that I enjoy life. It’s time I have peace and love in my life again.
And this baby has opened my eyes to all that is good in my life. This baby has taught me that second chances are given, even to those who don’t deserve them. People like me.
I love this baby so much already because she’s taught me to forgive myself, to love myself and to truly be happy again.
Nothing says your getting very pregnant like the ol’ “sneeze and tinkle” routine.
I feel so sexy when that happens, you have noooooo idea.
I officially have developed the Pregnant Lady Waddle. You should see me, I look so cute on my morning walks, at least that’s what I tell myself because I know in reality I look pathetic out there trying to walk up and down the hills, while waddling and holding my tummy at the same time. Then there’s the occasional knee buckle because my Sciatic nerve flares up. And we can’t forget the little stops off the trail so I can heave for 5 minutes.
But I waddle… how precious is that?
I am beginning to wonder why I even bother going to sleep anymore. It’s more hassle than what it’s worth.
It takes me 5 minutes to crawl into the bed, another 8 minutes deciding which side I’m more comfortable on (since I no longer can sleep on my stomach or on my back), another 10 minutes getting 29 pillows I use for support all in place. By the time I get all settled and comfortable, I have to take a leak. I get up, go pee, come back and repeat the process all over again, only to have to take another leak. It’s an endless cycle. By the time I finally am able to fall asleep, the man is getting up for work and I have to pee again. I wake up purely exhausted and ready for a nap.
Then there’s the whole “my hands go numb and swell to triple the size” thing that goes on all night. I have to wake up and shake the hell out of them to get the circulation back, then I have to pee.
It’s frustrating, to say the least. AND I HAVE FIVE MORE MONTHS TO GO! My stomach is only going to get bigger, the pains and discomfort are going to get worse and it’s only a matter of time before the baby starts kicking my organs. Not to mention when she starts taking up all of the space in there, making it hard to breathe.
I won’t even talk about the hemorroids flaring up, because that would be offensive.
I’m thinking the only solution to this problem is to ask Tony to whack me with a bat in the head every night so as to knock me out cold for a few hours, at least then I’d get some sleep. Ok, maybe not, but if I get desperate enough. Maybe.