My phone rang at work a few moments ago and the Caller ID showed it was Little B's daycare. My first thought was, "Oh shit, please don't tell me to pick him up!" Turns out it wasn't an emergency (thank goodness), the teacher just had a quick question for me. As I hung up the phone and returned to focusing on my work (aka playing FB scrabble) it occurred to me that possibly a more appropriate reaction upon seeing that Little B's daycare was calling would be "Oh my gosh! I hope he's ok!"
And the best part is, when I called B to tell him that daycare called he asked, "Did you answer the phone?"
Tuesday, May 10, 2011
The Joys of Parenthood..
Ok, Ok! I'll post this morning's adventure!
All I can say is I didn't need coffee to wake up this morning. It wasn't because Little B slept through the night. B was still in the shower when I finished feeding Little B and we were reading Guess How Much I Love You as we do every morning and he was just so precious and snuggly in my arms when.... HE HAD A BLOWOUT ALL OVER ME! I was covered in diarrhea and B, hearing my screams and gags came running out of the shower with shaving cream all over his head. "Thank god this is not me" was written all over his face, but he's apparently learned something in the past 9 years and didn't voice this out loud. He grabbed Little B to start cleaning him off and I jumped up to take off my clothes and soak them (thank you OxyClean!). I dripped shit everywhere. Upon hearing me scream, the dogs came over to make sure I was alright. Then they smelled the shit. And saw the shit. And promptly high-tailed it to the other end of the house where they sat in the doorway with eyebrows furrowed saying,"It wasn't me this time, I swear." B and I were both gagging and cleaning poop from every possible surface and there was Little B just laying on his changing table smiling, cooing and giggling.
When he was dropped off at daycare this morning Miss Julie commented on what a great mood he was in.
All I can say is I didn't need coffee to wake up this morning. It wasn't because Little B slept through the night. B was still in the shower when I finished feeding Little B and we were reading Guess How Much I Love You as we do every morning and he was just so precious and snuggly in my arms when.... HE HAD A BLOWOUT ALL OVER ME! I was covered in diarrhea and B, hearing my screams and gags came running out of the shower with shaving cream all over his head. "Thank god this is not me" was written all over his face, but he's apparently learned something in the past 9 years and didn't voice this out loud. He grabbed Little B to start cleaning him off and I jumped up to take off my clothes and soak them (thank you OxyClean!). I dripped shit everywhere. Upon hearing me scream, the dogs came over to make sure I was alright. Then they smelled the shit. And saw the shit. And promptly high-tailed it to the other end of the house where they sat in the doorway with eyebrows furrowed saying,"It wasn't me this time, I swear." B and I were both gagging and cleaning poop from every possible surface and there was Little B just laying on his changing table smiling, cooing and giggling.
When he was dropped off at daycare this morning Miss Julie commented on what a great mood he was in.
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
Ok, Ok, I am way behind on the blog. At first it was intentional. My hope was that IUI would work and I didn't want to spill the beans before the end of the first trimester. But then I got a little lazy. Or rather, exhausted because... drumroll please.... ROUND 2 WORKED! Hooray! That's right, I'm knocked up!
I had my pregnancy test scheduled for a Monday morning and the Saturday morning before I woke up early with terrible pains in my lower abdomen. I figured it was the start of my period and spent the day terribly depressed and whiney. The pains did not ease up later that night as we headed to our friends' new house for dinner. I cried the whole way there and upon entering their house proceeded to drink. A lot. Part of the problem is that Adam makes superb margaritas and since I've never been one to turn down a delicious drink... Four margaritas later, B pulled me aside and suggested that I ease off the tequila because he wasn't in the mood to hold my hair back all night while I puked. So, being the dutiful wife that I am, I followed his instructions and switched to champagne for the remainder of the evening. I was still feeling the horrible period pains and was so depressed at failing insemination yet again, I figured I at least deserved to get bombed.
Sunday morning I woke up with not only a horrible hangover, but the pains were still there. I shuffled over to the bathroom, grabbed a tampon, pulled down my pants and.. nothing. Where was the blood? Every half hour I repeated this routine until a nagging thought crossed my mind and I decided to take a pregnancy test. 3 minutes later, seeing PREGNANT on the stick rendered me utterly speechless. Those who know me will not believe it, but I swear it's true!
I wanted B to see, to verify that I wasn't halucinating, but I couldn't find my voice to call out his name. For a year and a half I had been imagining this moment. All of the cute ways I would tell him that he was going to be a dad. I couldn't move. B was yelling something to me from the other room and when I didn't respond he came into the bathroom and said, "Aren't you listening to me?" I couldn't form words. So with my pants still around my ankles and my butt on the pot, I looked up at him and handed him the stick. He looked from the stick to me, back to the stick and again to me. Then he calmly put the stick down and said, "Ew, you peed on that!" And those were the first words out of my future Baby Daddy's mouth. The sentiment was overwhelming. As he washed his hands he instructed me not to say anything about it because it didn't count until the doctor confirmed it the next day.
Umm yeah right. Did he forget who he married? I told 3 people by the time we ordered Chinese for dinner.
The next day while the nurse was taking my blood I confessed that I had been heavily intoxicated two nights before. She told me not to worry about it. Seeing that she didn't understand the amount of tequila I chugged, I began to go into detail about all the drinks I had over the weekend. Nurse Donna looked at me and said, "Honey, 9 out of 10 women who come in for their pregnancy tests have been wasted in the previous 48 hours. Just don't do it anymore." Am I the only one surprised by this completely unscientific stastistic? I wonder if this is regional or pretty standard across the board. Women in the south can not only tailgate all day in heels in 95 degree heat and humidity without sweating off a streak of makeup, they can also hold their liquor better than any frat boy I've ever met.
That afternoon, Nurse Donna called and confirmed that I pregnant. I think the first couple of times I asked, "For real?" she thought it was cute. She quickly got over it. For the next few weeks I went in every 3 days for bloodwork and ultrasounds to make sure the baby was ok. It took 14 weeks of friends telling my that the baby was fine and reassuring me that I wasn't going to miscarry. While I've relaxed a bit, I don't think that fear ever goes away.
Lots of people keep asking me if I will continue blogging and the answer is, "of course!" Pregnancy is a crazy world!
I had my pregnancy test scheduled for a Monday morning and the Saturday morning before I woke up early with terrible pains in my lower abdomen. I figured it was the start of my period and spent the day terribly depressed and whiney. The pains did not ease up later that night as we headed to our friends' new house for dinner. I cried the whole way there and upon entering their house proceeded to drink. A lot. Part of the problem is that Adam makes superb margaritas and since I've never been one to turn down a delicious drink... Four margaritas later, B pulled me aside and suggested that I ease off the tequila because he wasn't in the mood to hold my hair back all night while I puked. So, being the dutiful wife that I am, I followed his instructions and switched to champagne for the remainder of the evening. I was still feeling the horrible period pains and was so depressed at failing insemination yet again, I figured I at least deserved to get bombed.
Sunday morning I woke up with not only a horrible hangover, but the pains were still there. I shuffled over to the bathroom, grabbed a tampon, pulled down my pants and.. nothing. Where was the blood? Every half hour I repeated this routine until a nagging thought crossed my mind and I decided to take a pregnancy test. 3 minutes later, seeing PREGNANT on the stick rendered me utterly speechless. Those who know me will not believe it, but I swear it's true!
I wanted B to see, to verify that I wasn't halucinating, but I couldn't find my voice to call out his name. For a year and a half I had been imagining this moment. All of the cute ways I would tell him that he was going to be a dad. I couldn't move. B was yelling something to me from the other room and when I didn't respond he came into the bathroom and said, "Aren't you listening to me?" I couldn't form words. So with my pants still around my ankles and my butt on the pot, I looked up at him and handed him the stick. He looked from the stick to me, back to the stick and again to me. Then he calmly put the stick down and said, "Ew, you peed on that!" And those were the first words out of my future Baby Daddy's mouth. The sentiment was overwhelming. As he washed his hands he instructed me not to say anything about it because it didn't count until the doctor confirmed it the next day.
Umm yeah right. Did he forget who he married? I told 3 people by the time we ordered Chinese for dinner.
The next day while the nurse was taking my blood I confessed that I had been heavily intoxicated two nights before. She told me not to worry about it. Seeing that she didn't understand the amount of tequila I chugged, I began to go into detail about all the drinks I had over the weekend. Nurse Donna looked at me and said, "Honey, 9 out of 10 women who come in for their pregnancy tests have been wasted in the previous 48 hours. Just don't do it anymore." Am I the only one surprised by this completely unscientific stastistic? I wonder if this is regional or pretty standard across the board. Women in the south can not only tailgate all day in heels in 95 degree heat and humidity without sweating off a streak of makeup, they can also hold their liquor better than any frat boy I've ever met.
That afternoon, Nurse Donna called and confirmed that I pregnant. I think the first couple of times I asked, "For real?" she thought it was cute. She quickly got over it. For the next few weeks I went in every 3 days for bloodwork and ultrasounds to make sure the baby was ok. It took 14 weeks of friends telling my that the baby was fine and reassuring me that I wasn't going to miscarry. While I've relaxed a bit, I don't think that fear ever goes away.
Lots of people keep asking me if I will continue blogging and the answer is, "of course!" Pregnancy is a crazy world!
Friday, September 24, 2010
No Dice
So... round 1 didn't work. Aunt Flow arrived the day before my scheduled pregnancy test. How did this happen? I prayed, I hoped, I didn't drink a drop of alcohol. After moping and crying for awhile I left a message for my nurse at ACRM telling her I wouldn't be coming in the following morning for my test. I had no idea how emotionally draining this would all be. B was disappointed as well, but seeing as he's Captain SuperSperm, he didn't quite grasp the sense of failure I was feeling.
As I downed a very dirty, very cold, very delicious vodka martini I thanked him for being so wonderful. I also threatened to shave his eyebrows in his sleep if he ever uttered the following words to me again, "Everything happens for a reason. You'll be pregnant when the time is right."
Oh, really? Is that why I've been charting my periods for the last year and a half? I guess having doctors regularly doing vaginal ultrasounds was all for the thrill, right? And money? Who needs it? Let's just keep giving it to ACRM - who needs air conditioning anyway?
The next morning my nurse called to schedule my ultrasound for that week and reminded me that in five days I would need to start my next round of Clomid. Wait a second! Can't I get off this ride for a minute and catch my breath? My ultrasound later that day showed that I hadn't developed any cysts from the Clomid so I was given the all-clear to start my next round on day five. I was in autopilot throughout the appointment. I just wasn't sure I had it in me to do all of this over again. I now have a completely different level of appreciation and understanding for couples who do this for years.
And the best part? In the last few days I've found out that every asshole I know is now pregnant. Fanfuckingtastic.
As I downed a very dirty, very cold, very delicious vodka martini I thanked him for being so wonderful. I also threatened to shave his eyebrows in his sleep if he ever uttered the following words to me again, "Everything happens for a reason. You'll be pregnant when the time is right."
Oh, really? Is that why I've been charting my periods for the last year and a half? I guess having doctors regularly doing vaginal ultrasounds was all for the thrill, right? And money? Who needs it? Let's just keep giving it to ACRM - who needs air conditioning anyway?
The next morning my nurse called to schedule my ultrasound for that week and reminded me that in five days I would need to start my next round of Clomid. Wait a second! Can't I get off this ride for a minute and catch my breath? My ultrasound later that day showed that I hadn't developed any cysts from the Clomid so I was given the all-clear to start my next round on day five. I was in autopilot throughout the appointment. I just wasn't sure I had it in me to do all of this over again. I now have a completely different level of appreciation and understanding for couples who do this for years.
And the best part? In the last few days I've found out that every asshole I know is now pregnant. Fanfuckingtastic.
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
The Big Day
I'm ovulating so today is Insemination Day! B left first thing in the morning to go deliver the goods and I'll go in a few hours later. Apparently, it takes a few hours to prepare between drop-off and pick-up. I'm not sure why. Perhaps they greet each individual swimmer? As I got ready for work, I briefly wondered if I should wear something special for the occasion, but who I was I trying to impress? The sperm were going to get an entirely different view and I strongly doubted they were going to comment on my coordinating cardigan and heels on the big swim upstream. The rest of the morning went by as if in a dream. The whole idea that I was actually going to get inseminated was surreal. Until it was happening.
Yet again, I sat in the doctor's office with my little kleenex cover, shivering on the table waiting for the action to start. It was a long road leading up to this point and now that it was actually here..... I was a little afraid. No turning back now, right? The nurse came in first armed with B's mojo and once I verified his Social Security number was the correct number on the package the doctor came in and got down to business. I'm not kidding. He pulled up the rolly chair, unwrapped the catheter, rubbed his hands together and said, "let's do this." No foreplay, not even small talk about the weather. Just spread 'em and "let's do this."
Needless to say, I less than ready for the metal duck lips and the doctor said to the nurse, "look, she's holding back already." What did this guy expect? And while we're at it, why should I be condemned for this? Shouldn't I receive praise for not being so willy-nilly about foreign objects coming my way down there? Who are these women whose bodies apparently scream, "bring it on!" and why aren't they getting the admonishing looks?
In less than five minutes the whole insemination was over and again I was alone in the room laying on the examination table. Talk about wham, bam, thank you ma'am! I layed there for ten minutes as instructed and thought about all of the plans B and I had made for our kids-to-be over the years. I imagined the look on his face when I would tell him I was pregnant and wondered if when we were old and fighting over jello cubes would we remember all of the craziness that lead us to this day? But most of that time I prayed. I prayed to G-d that we would be blessed with a little boy or girl and promised I would spend every moment as a parent making my mom proud of me. I prayed that our home would be filled with a little child's laughter as Gilby and Ovie licked him or her.
Then before I knew it, ten minutes was over and I was dressed, bill paid and heading back to work. I called B and Lemmon to fill them in, but that was it. I was convinced everyone at work and then later at Publix could tell. Instead of a scarlet letter I felt like I had a big IUI imprinted on my chest.
So the waiting game has officially begun. In about two weeks I'll know if it worked. Cross your fingers!
Yet again, I sat in the doctor's office with my little kleenex cover, shivering on the table waiting for the action to start. It was a long road leading up to this point and now that it was actually here..... I was a little afraid. No turning back now, right? The nurse came in first armed with B's mojo and once I verified his Social Security number was the correct number on the package the doctor came in and got down to business. I'm not kidding. He pulled up the rolly chair, unwrapped the catheter, rubbed his hands together and said, "let's do this." No foreplay, not even small talk about the weather. Just spread 'em and "let's do this."
Needless to say, I less than ready for the metal duck lips and the doctor said to the nurse, "look, she's holding back already." What did this guy expect? And while we're at it, why should I be condemned for this? Shouldn't I receive praise for not being so willy-nilly about foreign objects coming my way down there? Who are these women whose bodies apparently scream, "bring it on!" and why aren't they getting the admonishing looks?
In less than five minutes the whole insemination was over and again I was alone in the room laying on the examination table. Talk about wham, bam, thank you ma'am! I layed there for ten minutes as instructed and thought about all of the plans B and I had made for our kids-to-be over the years. I imagined the look on his face when I would tell him I was pregnant and wondered if when we were old and fighting over jello cubes would we remember all of the craziness that lead us to this day? But most of that time I prayed. I prayed to G-d that we would be blessed with a little boy or girl and promised I would spend every moment as a parent making my mom proud of me. I prayed that our home would be filled with a little child's laughter as Gilby and Ovie licked him or her.
Then before I knew it, ten minutes was over and I was dressed, bill paid and heading back to work. I called B and Lemmon to fill them in, but that was it. I was convinced everyone at work and then later at Publix could tell. Instead of a scarlet letter I felt like I had a big IUI imprinted on my chest.
So the waiting game has officially begun. In about two weeks I'll know if it worked. Cross your fingers!
Thursday, July 15, 2010
Can Somebody Spare a Square?
We waited and waited for the crazy to begin. I don't think anyone questioned that I would be a complete nutjob on the Clomid, so to all my doubters, "HA!" I didn't go crazy! I swear! I even asked around if I was acting nuttier than usual. No hot flashes either, so Clomid and I got along just fine. A few days after I finished with the Clomid I went in for an ultrasound to make sure there was more than one egg growing (but not 8..).
As soon as I walked in the door of ACRM I had to give more blood. My track marks are causing quite a stir at work. I love the whispered speculation about what I'm on. I was really impressed when I overheard heroin being thrown around because a) that's hard-core which would mean I was hard-core and b) that stuff ain't cheap, so they've picked up on my good taste without realizing that my shopping Mecca has Marshalls and TJ Maxx right next to each other with Target up the street.
Armed with my bandaid, I was led into the ultrasound room and told to take everything off from the waist down. Once the nurse left and I started to take off my clothes, I came to the all-familiar underwear dilemma. Take it or leave it? Why isn't medical staff ever clear about this? I've seen many ultrasounds on MTV's Teen Mom so I know they just throw some cold gel on your stomach and rub a stick around it and voila! A picture appears on the screen. Why do I need to take my clothes off for that? I figured maybe they've had problems with the gel staining clothes and wanted to protect my work pants. (Another point for Marshalls and TJ Maxx! People think my pants cost more than $12.99!) I took them off, turned to the examination table and picked up the paper "sheet" to cover myself. This "sheet" turned out to be approximately the size of the paperback book I read in the waiting room. No joke. In the words of Elaine Bennes, "[they] couldn't spare a square?" I'm not one of those cute, petite little women in the waiting room. I need something that will actually cover more than a knee cap! I began to frantically search the cabinets for another little piece of paper sheet so I could attach them together with the little medical code/chart stickers on the counter. (very MacGyver) of me, yes?) There was none to be found. I couldn't afford to run around the exam room any longer because at any moment the Dr would walk in. I heard footsteps approaching and then stop outside the door. I lunged for the exam table and just managed to land on the edge with the sheet covering my crotch when the PA entered. After a few minutes of small talk her eyes drifted down and noticed my underwear. She asked why I hadn't removed it and I told her I didn't see why I would need to and anyway, it's a bit drafty for my cheeks. She looked me right in the eye and asked, "Lauren, you do know that all of our ultrasounds are vaginal here, right?" "Oh.. yeah, duh. I guess I forgot." WTF? This wasn't explained in the folder of graphs and charts! How could I miss this vital piece of information! I don't think I'd remember something as important as VAGINAL ULTRASOUND. A person needs to prepare for this kind of thing.... I shimmied off the exam table and the PA held the kleenex up for me while I took off my underwear and hid it in under my pants. Because she hadn't seen it, right? Why do I keep doing that?
The rest of the exam went fine. There was a big, juicy egg and a few smaller ones so insemination is a GO! Now I just call when I surge (like my lingo?) and the next day is Turkey Baster Day!
As soon as I walked in the door of ACRM I had to give more blood. My track marks are causing quite a stir at work. I love the whispered speculation about what I'm on. I was really impressed when I overheard heroin being thrown around because a) that's hard-core which would mean I was hard-core and b) that stuff ain't cheap, so they've picked up on my good taste without realizing that my shopping Mecca has Marshalls and TJ Maxx right next to each other with Target up the street.
Armed with my bandaid, I was led into the ultrasound room and told to take everything off from the waist down. Once the nurse left and I started to take off my clothes, I came to the all-familiar underwear dilemma. Take it or leave it? Why isn't medical staff ever clear about this? I've seen many ultrasounds on MTV's Teen Mom so I know they just throw some cold gel on your stomach and rub a stick around it and voila! A picture appears on the screen. Why do I need to take my clothes off for that? I figured maybe they've had problems with the gel staining clothes and wanted to protect my work pants. (Another point for Marshalls and TJ Maxx! People think my pants cost more than $12.99!) I took them off, turned to the examination table and picked up the paper "sheet" to cover myself. This "sheet" turned out to be approximately the size of the paperback book I read in the waiting room. No joke. In the words of Elaine Bennes, "[they] couldn't spare a square?" I'm not one of those cute, petite little women in the waiting room. I need something that will actually cover more than a knee cap! I began to frantically search the cabinets for another little piece of paper sheet so I could attach them together with the little medical code/chart stickers on the counter. (very MacGyver) of me, yes?) There was none to be found. I couldn't afford to run around the exam room any longer because at any moment the Dr would walk in. I heard footsteps approaching and then stop outside the door. I lunged for the exam table and just managed to land on the edge with the sheet covering my crotch when the PA entered. After a few minutes of small talk her eyes drifted down and noticed my underwear. She asked why I hadn't removed it and I told her I didn't see why I would need to and anyway, it's a bit drafty for my cheeks. She looked me right in the eye and asked, "Lauren, you do know that all of our ultrasounds are vaginal here, right?" "Oh.. yeah, duh. I guess I forgot." WTF? This wasn't explained in the folder of graphs and charts! How could I miss this vital piece of information! I don't think I'd remember something as important as VAGINAL ULTRASOUND. A person needs to prepare for this kind of thing.... I shimmied off the exam table and the PA held the kleenex up for me while I took off my underwear and hid it in under my pants. Because she hadn't seen it, right? Why do I keep doing that?
The rest of the exam went fine. There was a big, juicy egg and a few smaller ones so insemination is a GO! Now I just call when I surge (like my lingo?) and the next day is Turkey Baster Day!
Thursday, July 8, 2010
She Came! She Came!
Flow finally made an appearance! I haven't been happy to see her in well over a year, so it was a nice change to dance a little instead of lining up shots in her honor. So now it all begins. On days 5-9 of my cycle I take a drug called Clomid which is supposed to stimulate some tubes or something to shoot out a few more eggs. It's all very technical, as you can see. The thing about the Clomid is.... everyone says it makes you crazy. B was very concerned about my signing the release for this medication which I found touching because there are some pretty scary side effects I can potentially develop from it. Of course, this is not the cause for B's concern. B is scared shitless that a) I'm going to turn into a Raving Nutt (shout out to a former student, and YES that was her real name!) and b) that the Clomid is going to turn me into the next Octomom. Which won't be too bad if I get to sit next to Matt Lauer when he interviews me for the Today show!
Let the Crazy Countdown begin!
Let the Crazy Countdown begin!
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