Butterball's Birth Story.

Why yes. We're still here. And I guess it's time I tell you how Butterball came to be. No, I'm not going to tell you how she was conceived. I'm pretty sure you already know that.

My pregnancy with Butterball was pretty uncomfortable. Way uncomfortable, in fact. I'd even go as far as to say I was miserable. I was happy to be miserable, though. The 20 weeks of terrible morning sickness was followed by about 3 weeks of glorious honeymoon 2nd trimester. But the third trimester stuff started a lot earlier than with my first pregnancy. I couldn't move, roll over in bed or walk without pain. Eating was hard to do, sleeping nearly impossible, and I spent about half my life in the bathroom trying to go, but only dripping. I spent months at night praying that the baby would come out as SOON as she was healthy enough. I also spent weeks telling Little Monster to tell his baby sister to come out. Every time I asked him his answer was "Mommy, Butterball say No!"

I'd been having regular braxton hicks contractions at night for several days, a couple of weeks perhaps. Once it was even enough to call the people who were going to watch Little Monster to forewarn them that they may be getting a middle of the night call. For nights I would get excited, go to bed to get some sleep, and wake up pregnant without contractions.

Thursday I woke up feeling pretty crummy. Everything made me want to either scream, or cry. A couple of times the crying won out. I called Not the Momma at work, hoping he was on his way home several times, but couldn't get a hold of him. I thought I was getting the flu, and hoped that he could come home and take care of Little Monster while I napped and tried to get over whatever was going on. While Not the Momma was swimming for the Navy to ensure that he is fit, I was begging Little Monster to tell his sister to come out. His answer, which has never changed became "Mommy, Butterball say in a little bit." I still didn't think much of it at that point. I figured he was repeating what we'd been telling him for months -- that "in a little bit" he'd be a big brother.

As the day wore on, I felt worse and worse. Not the Momma had a softball game, and wanted to go. I didn't think it was a great idea, because I was worried that this "malaise" was really early labor, but at the same time, I didn't want to keep him home for nothing. So, he went to his softball game I put Little Monster to bed. As I was putting him to bed, I asked him to tell his sister to come out. This time his answer was "Mommy, Butterball say yes." I still didn't think much of it. I wasn't having contractions that were regular or painful.

Fast forward one hour. Contractions seemed pretty real, and they were five to seven minutes apart. Not the Momma came home, and I told him that this could be the real thing. He ran around the house grabbing things as I showered. We told our friends that they could very well be getting a two year old in the middle of the night. Then we went to bed. I very well expected to wake up in the middle of the night needing to time contractions and head to the hospital, but that didn't happen. I woke up twice with contractions, but they weren't regular. I was sure it was going to be another false alarm night. However, I got up in the morning, and the contractions picked up again. By 9:00 we had the kid in the car and were headed in to the hospital.

We got to the hospital around 9:30, we were admitted by 10:00, and at 10:30, they ordered an ultrasound to check the size of the baby. Because I was so uncomfortable, and because Little Monster was so big, they were a bit worried that this baby was going to be very large as well. Shortly after, the ultrasound tech arrived. Let me tell you, dealing with the pain from contractions while laying flat on your back -- not an ideal situation. She estimated that the baby was 10 lb 13 oz. Knowing that the numbers could be off by 20% in either direction, I was NOT prepared to have a natural birth. It was 11:30. The C-Section was scheduled for 12:30, and then the whirlwind began. People came in to do blood work, IV's were connected. Release forms needed to be re-signed since my doctor was out of town. By 12:30, I was being wheeled into the OR.

Anesthesia didn't go like expected. The spinal they wanted to do wouldn't take, I could feel all kinds of craziness in my left leg. It had a lot to do with the way the baby was laying and messing up my spine. So, an epidural it was, which was fine. at 1:28, she was born. 9 lb 7 oz, and two weeks early. Unfortunately, she'd taken a big suck of fluid before they pulled her out, and she couldn't cry enough to get the fluid out. She cried and her color was good, but when she quit, she'd turn blue. So, they put her in the nursery under an Oxygen hood for a few hours. It was awful being separated from her for so long.
It was a bit scary knowing that my baby wasn't breathing room air normally, and I was terrified about the whole C-section experience. Recovery has been easier than I expected, but definitely harder than after a natural birth. Women who opt for a C-Section to avoid labor are nuts. But then, that's just my opinion. There are plenty of reasons to have them, but they are SO much harder to recover from, and WAY more painful.

A few things I learned: Morphine does nothing for me except make me sleepy. I still felt every stitch of pain. After surgery, get up the first time they offer it -- it gets easier after that. There's no need to be a martyr or a superhero -- take the pain drugs.

The doctor seemed to be a little bit concerned that we opted for the C-Section unnecessarily since she was smaller than Little Monster was. I don't have one ounce of regret about the decision we made. The chance that she was going to be the full 20% smaller was too low for me to be comfortable doing anything else.

A month and 6 days later, we're healthy, happy, and I'm feeling a million times better than I expected I would. And this, this isn't some Anne Geddes baby, this is my baby girl, happy healthy and now 11 lbs 2 oz, and 3 inches longer than she was at birth.



We're blessed to have this new member of our family. I feel even more blessed that this morning, without prompting, Little Monster said: "Mommy, that Butterball? I love her."

Announcing....

The newest member of our family: Shortcake.

There was some worry about how big she was going to be, and after an ultrasound guessed she'd be around 10 lb 13 oz, we were wheeled into the OR within an hour or so. At 1:30 PM yesterday, she was here. She weighed in at 9 lb 7 oz. 3 oz smaller than her brother, but no less cute!

We are in love. I am happy, and have been up and walking around and showered and walking around and feel human again, if a bit tender. And sleepy. Mommy is going to nap while she can.

Happy Birthday (yesterday) Shortcake! More details to come later!

Rambling... Because I can.

Yes. I'm still pregnant. I plan on remaining that way forever. That way I can torture my husband by making him do all of the cleaning and laundry. And because it gives me something to complain about.

My stomach now sticks out as far as my entire forearm. The muscles that support it are starting to flip me off. Daily and nightly. It used to be just nightly but now they've decided to take turns during the day shift as well.

Everyone seems very concerned when they see me. But that's just because if you walk up to me from behind you don't notice, then when I turn to the side, my body suddenly quadruples in size. That, and if my stomach is this big, how big is the child? We have an ultrasound scheduled for Monday to find out. I am praying that because I scheduled that ultrasound I won't need it.

The other day we were walking somewhere, and I didn't realize that my belly was sticking out of my pants and my shirt was riding high. I realized when I got home and looked in the mirror why everyone I met gave me a silly smile. You could see the pants were falling off. That was a great day. Most of my clothing fails to meet standards these days. So, I sit in my house in my husband's undershirts and old pajama bottoms waiting.

Little Monster is growing LEAPS and BOUNDS these days. He is finally expressing some interest in potty training. He'll tell us immediately after he goes #1 that he's done it. Then, he wants to sit on the toilet for the congratulatory chocolate. The problem is, as he puts it:

"Mommy! Pee all gone! There's no pee left."

This, after squinting, grunting and trying to eek out just a dribble. He knows that if there is not tinkle, there is no treat.

He's also decided that driving me crazy isn't good enough.

Me: "You're driving me crazy today!"
LM: "No! I driving you NUTS!"

Not the Momma is amazing. He has taken charge of not only studying for finals and getting the last minute things out of the way for him at work so he can be here when the baby comes, but he's taken care of most of the last minute things around the house as well. And he's been cleaning. And cooking. Real meals. I know. Last night, the man even ate leftovers, which is something he doesn't do.

What can I say? I have a few things left to do before the baby comes. But I'm hoping that by leaving them undone that I'll have to do them while in labor before we leave for the hospital. At this rate, the guest bed will have sheets on it sometime in 2011.

Wow.

It's amazing how when you sit down to check on your budget, you realize how fast time goes. I don't have much more time before the baby comes, although each day seems to get longer and each night lasts about 30 hours with the constant waking to use the bathroom and the annoying need to turn over without the ability to do so easily. Oh well.

Here is a recent photograph:

I feel bad for the people at Church this weekend. They were all asking when I was due, and when I told them June 10th, most of them ran away as if to say "Holy Lord, this woman is huge and she is not even close yet. I've made a huge mistake opening that can of worms." I don't judge them. I am huge.

We had a good, but uneventful weekend. Little Monster got an Easter basket full of candy. He's still sneaking bits and pieces when I turn my back. We visited the beach, went shopping, and spent time together as a family. I didn't make a big Easter Dinner, in fact, we ate candy and Macaroni and Cheese. But don't tell anyone. Because they might judge me.

I'm assuming that things are only going to get busier around here and that the blog is going to be even more neglected soon. Doctor appointments are every two weeks for now, but soon will be every week. We still have yet to clean out the nursery/guest room or get much done around the house in preparation, and knowing how fast time is going, it may not get done before the baby arrives.

I pray everyone had a wonderful Easter.

Hormones -- they are a changin'

I don't know what the difference is from one day to the next, but lately my life has been a roller coaster ride. I go from happy to mad to OHMYLORDJUSTSTOPTOUCHINGMELEAVEMEALONE to weeping because I need hugs from my guys and they're both down-right scared of me. I'm pretty sure it has something to do with the pregnancy and the extra 'girl' hormones raging through my body.

The other day I was not having a good day. I felt icky. Icky enough to spend most of the morning in bed while I let Little Monster watch way too much television and paid way to little attention to him. And then, all afternoon he drove me nuts with his clinging. He sat next to me, wrestled me and snuggled me all day. Either in my bed, while I was trying to get work done on the computer, while I was trying to cook dinner. He needed to be touching me ALL DAY LONG. And it got old. Unfortunately for my husband, it usually gets REALLY old right about the time he gets home. Perhaps it has something to do with having to split my affection between two people suddenly. Maybe it's because I feel internal pressure to be the 'perfect' person who has dinner on the table by a certain time. Who knows. I just feel bad that lately I've been blowing up right around dinner time. I'd like to blame it on the clinging of Little Monster and his ability to run around the house like a hyper little monkey, but I really think it's my problem.

Why? Because yesterday was no different. I did feel a little better so we didn't lounge in bed all morning. (By the way, Little Monster's idea of 'lounging in bed' is really climbing in and out, jumping on me, and running around the room for the majority of the morning.) But yesterday, I didn't stress and get upset when I suggested lunch and Little Monster said "No!" I didn't worry about it as much when he wanted to be sitting in my lap while I worked at the computer. When he wanted to sit in the laundry basket playing with empty plastic bottles it was no big deal. I didn't get upset when he got into the pantry and pulled out the pudding, brought it to me and said "Mommy? Cook Pudding?" Instead, I suggested that we make it after we ate lunch. We ate lunch, and I helped him make some pudding. It was fun. He had a blast -- both making and eating it. And while we were waiting for timer to go off to signify that the pudding was done, I got to hear him yell "PUDDING TIME! YAY!" every time something in our house beeped.

I don't know what makes the days so different. Is it because the sun was trying to come out yesterday and it wasn't raining? Is it because despite the horrible day the other day I did manage to get half the house cleaned, and I've at least gotten some of the clutter taken care of? Perhaps it's the looming weekend and plans for fun and relaxation along with the knowledge that if the house is clean for the weekend, I won't spend the entire time stressing about the dog hairs in the carpet and the dishes in the sink?

Whatever the reason, I hope I can have more days like yesterday. And soon. Because these days when I have a little more patience, when the silly Little Monster I love is silly instead of naughty (I don't think there's much of a difference day-to-day here), days when I will be able to greet Not the Momma with a smile when I see him at the end of the day -- they are much nicer than the other days.

Yipee!!

Hooray for double digits!!!!!

I know the second I give birth I will regret not treasuring this pregnancy more. I will miss the little cute squirms that I get about 10% of the time that I can feel baby girl move, and I will forget that last night as I was eating my grilled cheese sandwich (lovingly prepared by my husband who makes a killer one) she tried to reach out and grab it. I will forget that she nearly did touch the sandwich and that she took my breath away, made me wince and almost brought tears to my eyes with one little movement. As soon as my womb is empty I will regret that I didn't enjoy those painful moments more. I did last time.

But who cares. 99 days people... I'm hoping for more like 92, but double digits are official today! HOO-RAY. Now let's pray. Because as we're in the double digits it means the third "uncomfortable" trimester is about to begin. If the second trimester is any starting point for what 'uncomfortable' is going to be, I'm going to try to fall asleep and not wake up until some time in June.

Seriously, though. It's exciting isn't it?

Lazy. But Whatever

I think I'm just going to quit promising to do things on a weekly basis. I mean, face it. I'm pregnant, soon there will be a child where once there was an alien trying to climb out through my belly button.

I keep trying to compare the pregnancies, and I realize that God did something cruel in order to ensure that women would do this whole pregnancy thing more than once -- He makes you forget things. Like the searing pain when you roll from side to side as you feel your pelvis split open. And the kicks that take your breath away as you try to find a comfortable position to sit and watch TV. That annoying heartburn from drinking WATER and the whacked out hormones? Yeah. I forgot about all of that. But, I am really excited that soon there will be baby where now there is only some crazy navel that wants to make sure that everyone knows which direction I'm headed.

I'm somewhere between 25 and 27weeks or something now. At my last appointment, the doctor didn't officially change my due date. Because he said that June 10 is "close enough" to June 1. I personally don't agree. You see, June 24 is the latest I can go... and that is a long way off from June 14. Just my opinion though. We'll see. But for the record, I don't like this "due RANGE" thing we have going on here. I get that the due date is plus or minus two weeks-but I don't like the "range" being plus or minus two weeks.

Here are the latest pictures. One from 25 weeks with Little Monster:

I don't know if that face is a smile or a wince. I'm pretty sure it was a smile back then. I was enjoying pregnancy. At least that's the way I remember it.

And one from tonight. I thought it took longer for the belly button to pop out last time. But I was wrong. It didn't.

Notice there is no head in this picture. That is because I'm crabby today. And because I didn't shower. Do you see that the turkey already thinks she's done? I'm thinking about putting a band-aid over it. Because it's really annoying in these thin shirts.

Past Fat.

For a long time, I was in that "maybe she's just gained a few pounds" stage of pregnancy. And for a long time I lamented the fact that unless I was wearing a maternity shirt, I really did look a little overweight rather than pregnant.

Folks, for a few weeks, I've been past the fat part and now, I look PREGNANT. You've seen the pictures from the past few weeks. That's not fat. That's baby. A LOT of baby. Let the comments begin!

I ran into someone today who looked at me, gave me a knowing smile and said "How much longer?" thinking I had a month, maybe a few weeks left until this little parasite (whom I dearly love already and am grateful to have) decides to evacuate my body. It took three people to pick her jaw up off of the floor when I told her I wasn't due until June. I am one of those people who get heavily pregnant. I don't get 'heavy' by gaining weight anywhere else. Just the belly. Last time I was pregnant, at around 7 months I went into the hospital to visit a family member and every person on staff tried to herd me to the Labor & Delivery floor. I am not at all like my dear friend G (congratulations!) who just gave birth to her little boy. She, was cute and tiny in every way. And still wearing normal pants, whereas I gave up normal pants ages ago.

I'm already big enough that scrubbing the bathtub is uncomfortable and I can't bend over from a sitting position to pick things up off of the floor. Okay, I can, but not without feeling like something inside me is going to burst. Take this as your warning for future Foto Fridays of the pregnant lady. If I put up the compare pics, you'll notice that the last time I didn't much worry about covering my belly. This time it will be different. I promise. It's for your own protection.

Everything you can imagine is renal.

At least at our house it is lately.

Tuesday I was feeling a bit "off." And I blew that off, thinking that I'm pregnant. That happens. By 10:00 at night, I was sure I had a full blown bladder infection. I tried to self treat until the morning when I could call the doctor. This required sending my dear, loving, wonderful husband out into the middle of the chilly rainy night to brave the dangers of Walgreen's at night. He said the hoodlums were a bit scary. As I paced, soaked in a warm tub, and drank bottle upon bottle of water, I waited anxiously for him to get home. When he did, I took a couple of cranberry pills, and drank some cranberry juice, waiting, waiting waiting for the pain to ease.

I figured if I wasn't asleep by 1:00 AM, it was probably bad enough to head in to the ER. I really, really didn't want to be that fool in the ER showing up because they had a problem that a normal doctor could fix on normal hours. I really didn't want to be calling my OB in the middle of the night, complaining about a bladder infection. A stupid bladder infection.

You see, January 1st 2007, I ended up in the hospital with Kidney stones. I was throwing up, miserable, in lots of pain. I thought I was dying. Maybe I had an appendix rupture -- only without the fever. Who knew? So, those several hours in the uncomfortable ER chairs waiting for a room went by really really slowly. All I wanted to do was go home and get in bed and die there. In fact, I told Not the Momma that several times during the wait. But, being the stubborn (and loving and wonderful and caring) husband that he is refused to take me home. He wanted me to die on that cold tile, writhing in pain the day before he left for a year overseas. And that's when the guy who came in before me started complaining. About a toothache. And how he really needed to be seen now. Because he had a toothache. I was throwing up every 4 to 5 minutes (how, I don't know, I'd thrown everything up already), writhing in agony on the floor in such a show that when I sat down, people fled from me like I was Moses and they the Red Sea. They certainly didn't want to catch whatever I had. It really bothered me that the rooms were full of people who had hangovers and toothaches while I was being left to die. So, I made a pact to myself that I would NEVER go to the ER if I didn't have to.

Tuesday night, I was sure I didn't really have to. I could drown the bladder infection to the point where I could sleep -- and hopefully sleep would last long enough that I could wait it out until morning. But the longer I sat in misery, the sweatier I got from the pain, the less I was able to concentrate on anything, the more I thought about going to that ER. And, so, I changed the time to midnight. If I didn't feel sleepy or better by midnight I was driving myself to the ER for a stupid bladder infection.

At 11:57 (okay, so that might not be the exact time, but close enough), I went to the bathroom and passed another kidney stone. Immediate pain relief. I've never thought anyone would be crazy enough to praise the lord for a kidney stone, but I did it right there in my bathroom. Within the hour, I was sleeping soundly upstairs in my bed. Well, sort of. There was the small matter of the 64 oz of water and 32 oz of cranberry juice consumed between 10 and midnight. Compound that with the whole "I'm pregnant" thing, and I was getting to sleep for about an hour at a time with pee breaks. But I wasn't in pain. It was great. Everything is fine for me around here now.

However, there's another little tortured soul in my home. My girl dog started using the house as her bathroom the other day. Not normal behavior, especially when she'd just been out. Last night I noticed that when I let her out, she went about 5 times. Not good. She has an appointment tomorrow to get her poor little bladder infection fixed. The first vet I called suggested we come in on Feb 25Th. Which I said OK to initially. The dogs need their shots anyway. Then I came to my senses. What if I'd called the doctor the next morning and they said they couldn't see me for a few days for my bladder infection -- let alone two weeks? I'd have lost it. I would have died or killed everyone around me. So, she'll be seen first thing in the morning tomorrow. That's better. Much better. In the meantime, I'm eyeing those cranberry pills and all that cranberry juice. And Little Monster's diapers.

Hopefully by the end of tomorrow we'll all be happy and everything around here will be real, and not renal.

*"Everything you can imagine is real." -- Pablo Picasso

23 Weeks

Here I am this week, approaching 23 weeks. If nothing else, taking pictures every Friday requires that I groom and shower once a week.

Not the Momma is loving it.

Getting Ready

Nesting, preparing, going insane, no matter what you call it -- that's what I'm doing. Today, Not the Momma asked me to bring the drill upstairs. I was very prepared to nag for a while about how his project should wait until the stuff I've wanted to do was done.

Basically I was all ready to be whiny, selfish and demanding. Someone he'd want to throw over the side of the ship.

I was very surprised when I went upstairs that I didn't have to nag, whine, demand - or even ask nicely. He was started on the project. He was working on the nursery/guest room. Call me crazy, but with the way I feel this pregnancy, I am hoping to have most of the stuff ready by the time I hit the third trimester. I want to save my third trimester energy for chasing after the two year old monster in our household. It will be better for everyone involved.

We made some real progress. Little Monster's room is now sporting a new "big boy" dresser, and his changing table/dresser/wardrobe is in the nursery/guest room. The bed in the guest room has been moved to accommodate the dresser and the crib. Most of the baby stuff from the storage room has been removed and at least put into the guest room for sorting -- if it hasn't' already been sorted. I did a fair share of sorting today. I went through all of Little Monsters old clothes that were really "boy-ish" out and put them into a "boy" bin. And I sorted all of the non-crazy-boy clothes into size and either put them in the dresser or into another bin. I still have a couple of bins to go through -- and then I need to sort through the clothes I'm giving away. But a majority of it is started.

It's amazing how much space 'baby' stuff takes up when it's in storage. We'll have plenty of room in several places for all of the stuff that was in the storage room once we move it all around and either unpack or sort through it.

But now, after doing all of that, on top of our normal Saturday morning running around and the errands we ran this afternoon -- I'm pooped. It's a good thing, though, because I'm all 'nested' out for the day.

---

Several people have told me how much Little Monster and WECON look alike in their ultrasound photos. If that's the case, we're all in trouble. If WECON gets those blue eyes, and those eyelashes -- heaven help us -- she's going to get anything she wants. For the rest of her life. All based on a look and a bat of the eyes.

Did I mention how awesome my husband is? He did all that work for me. Today. Without being nagged. What a guy, huh?? Sorry. I'll probably keep him after all.

Foto Friday

I'm approaching 22 weeks. So, here's some pictures for your comparison.

Me at 22 weeks with Little Monster (note how warm it was. I was sweating to death. I was also already wearing my wedding ring around my neck. I'm wasn't really sure this was only a 22 week picture, but I double checked. It is.

Me today near 22 weeks with WECON (please don't mind the pregnancy acne and the look that says "TAKE THE DARN PICTURE OR I AM LIABLE TO COME OVER THERE AND KILL YOU!). I realize that I look like I'm due tomorrow in this picture. I'm not. I'm one of those women who balloon out like a whale. I promise.

Oh yeah, and here's a picture of WECON... Perhaps we'll have to start calling her WECON-ette. That's right. According to the ultrasound technician, it's a girl. There were three lines where I expected there to be an appendage. Let the fighting over names BEGIN!

Oh, wait. You want a profile of Little Monster for comparison? Okay. He was only 18 weeks.

Half Way!

I guess it's time for a pregnancy update.

I'm half way through the pregnancy... 20 weeks. And then some. I haven't posted 'belly pictures' anywhere, but I think it's probably time that I do so.

Here is a picture of me at 20 weeks when I was pregnant with Little Monster:

And me today. Funny enough, these pictures were taken the same number of days from conception. Nice, huh?

I was thinking I was bigger this time around. But as it turns out, I'm not. I'm about the same. I just feel bigger and more cumbersome. The aches and pains that I got at around 36-40 weeks with Little Monster are already rearing their ugly heads. That's okay though. I'm trying not to take any of this pregnancy for granted. The indigestion is out of control, so this baby's liable to look like a monkey. I've also noticed having to go to the bathroom EXTREMELY often. I feel like I'm going more than I did last time, but I could be wrong. When I brought it up to my doctor, he jokingly said "Well, you shouldn't have gotten pregnant then!"

In the future, I plan on trying to post a picture each Friday of the "BELLY" as it progressively gets larger. If there was a picture taken at the same time when I was pregnant with Little Monster, then I'll post that for comparison as well.

Stay tuned until next Friday -- (or whenever I feel like it) for more whining about the ailments and problems that I have!

Warning! This post contains graphic material.

No pictures of b.oobies or anything perverted. Just discussion of vomit. Stop reading now, or forever hold your peace.


I don't know what went through my mind last night when I decided to take my prenatal. I haven't been able to take it for a few days. I really don't know what went through my mind when I took the Omega 3 fatty acid gel pill. You know, the one made from FISH OIL. It tastes like vanilla when you swallow it.

I figured out why it tastes like vanilla. The vanilla covers up the fact that it's made from FISH OIL. I took the vitamins because I thought for sure since I haven't been able to keep any food in my stomach, I needed some nutrition... Why I thought the pills would stay when food doesn't, I have no idea. Alas, the pills were rejected. And the fish oil pills -- they don't taste like vanilla the second time. They taste like.....

Well, if you've ever been to Omaha, going to say, a dance club... and you've parked in the Absolutely Fresh parking lot... They taste a lot like that.... Let's just say that if you've never smelled Absolutely Fresh... it's most definitely NOT fresh smelling... It smells more like a bunch of dead fish have been heaped in the alley for a week or so -- in 100 degree weather. I'm sure it wouldn't have been so bad if it hadn't been for the fishy resonance.

Not the Momma is afraid I'll never be able to go to the beach again... I told him no.. The beach on its worst day smells as good as freshly washed laundry in comparison.

Lesson learned: No more fish pills. Ever. Ever. Again.

The end.

I was sitting here on the couch, minding my own business when I felt a breeze. A cold breeze. I thought it was odd.

And then I heard it. The sound of the back door shutting. Little Monster was the only one in his toy room. The dogs were outside. Not the Momma was sitting a few feet away from me on the couch. Surely Little Monster hasn't learned how to open doors with the safety 'toddler-proof' handle covers installed? I must have not completely closed the door when I let the dogs out.

After letting the dogs in, and locking the deadbolt it happened again. A cold rush of air wrapped around my ankles, followed by the marked slam of the back door. No one in the house had moved. Except, of course Little Monster. He has learned how to open doors -- despite safety covers, despite locked dead-bolts. At least he doesn't know how to unlock the handles yet. When that happens, the world will surely end.

Especially because lately I don't have the patience to deal with that in a humane, friendly, loving, motherly way. It is very difficult to have patience with a child whose main source of entertainment is running his dump truck into the dogs and then letting out a shrill high-pitched scream that I'm certain is setting off car alarms around the county. I can deal with that normally, but when I'm hunched over my favorite porcelain chair trying not to let my eyes fall out of my head, trying not to pee my pants as my stomach hurls its contents out with enough force to stop the rotation of the earth, I lose my patience a little quicker than normal.

We're on the way to the Wal-Marts to get some Zofran. It's a very limited supply, so I'm saving it for those days when I want to leave the house looking like a human being who is more than three seconds from death. And for next week when I am travelling to Dallas for a conference. Let's just pray that my health insurance isn't a jerk today and thinks that I should be allowed to drink and eat... and you know, not visit the hospital for IVs.

Oh yeah. If my dog exhales within three feet of my face again, I'm giving it away to a random commenter. Which dog? Yes. They come with a supply of food, toys, medicines, and a kennel.*

*I'm kidding. -Maybe.

Dwelling on the Good.

Philippians 4:8
Finally, brethren, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is of good repute, if there is any excellence and if anything worthy of praise, dwell on these things. (New American Standard Bible)

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A long time ago, before my mom and I became a Lamaze class drop-outs (that's a story for another day), we had to share what aspect we wanted our child to get from our partners. I gave an aspect of both Little Monster's Daddy (his blue eyes) and my mom (her tidiness). I am a slob. Not the Momma doesn't quite qualify as slob, but he does qualify as a guy most of the time. He's spent too much of his adult life crammed into a tiny tin box or living in his bachelor pads to need "neat and tidy."

Since we moved into this house, I have decided that keeping the place up was part of my job. I have been doing a good job, but this pregnancy has put a damper on my efforts. Lately, cleaning hasn't been part of my daily routine. I have been letting a lot of things go. Yesterday Not the Momma helped (read: did most of the work) to get the house cleaned. He even picked up after the dogs in the backyard and bathed them. I really really appreciated all of the hard work that went into yesterday. Today was very relaxing, and I owe it to Not the Momma. Thanks baby!


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Little Monster often runs around with a straw-type sippy cup of some liquid --water, milk, diluted juice, etc. Recently, the cups have started to spill. I'm not sure if it's his habit of chewing on the straws, or what. This afternoon, I was reading my novel, Not the Momma was upstairs --doing who knows what-- when I heard furniture in the kitchen being moved around. Then it got quiet. I waited a second and snuck up on Little Monster to see what he was doing, expecting nothing good.

I was quite surprised, when I found him wiping the floor with a napkin. He noticed me and said

"Mao. maamin." (which means, Milk, Napkin)

My child moved a chair so that he could get to the napkins easily, took one out, and proceeded to CLEAN UP A SPILL HE HAD MADE.

Next up: Potty training, cooking, and then -- I'm done!

I'm not sure if it was the cleaning we did yesterday, or his nature. But I got my Lamaze school wishes. Little Monster has his Daddy's beautiful blue eyes, and my mom's tidiness. Some of the time.

Conversations in bed.

It's not what you think --really!

We were watching the Colbert Report last night, and this is what happened:

Colbert: Don't worry, the downturn in the economy will only effect you if you own a home or are paid in currency:
NTM: It's a good thing we get Direct Deposit.

HA!

Seriously people, that's what he said. Do you get it? Yeah, I'm guessing that about 30% of the people in the country wouldn't. He was kidding. That's the kind of stuff that gets him in trouble. He says stuff like that, then people think he's an ID10T because he can pull that off with a straight face. That's why I love him.

Oops! PREGNANCY POWER ACTIVATE! in the form of Toilet Bowl Power Wash!

Okay, Sorry for that. I know this morning sickness is a good thing. I thank the Lord every morning as I'm in the middle of it that I have a sign that things are progressing well. But it still disturbs me when Little Monster finds me and hugs me, pats my back, says things that would be calming if only I could understand LM language, then crawls into my lap and gives me a big snuggle.

Let the crazy stuff begin!

The other night, as we were crawling into bed, I noticed that I could smell the dogs' breath. It was stinky. They were at least 6 feet away from me.

NTM: Pregnancy Power ACTIVATE! In the form of.... SUPER SMELL!!!

I wonder what my next pregnancy super power will be?

This morning I tried to activate pregnancy power in the form of toilet bowl power wash, but that didn't work. Hmm, perhaps it will pregnancy power in the form of "annihilating all things salty from the cupboard."

Did (or do you) have a Pregnancy Power? What is it in the "form of?"

P.S. Don't you miss those old superhero cartoons from the 70's and 80's.

Thank you!

Thank you to the wonderful, most kind, lovely lady with whom I spoke this afternoon. She must have more pull than I, a measly, lowly taxpayer and wife to a service member. She lit some fires.

This morning, when my husband left for work, they claimed I couldn't be pregnant, and therefore, did not get to see an OB for any reason other than infertility. This afternoon (before my husband returned home), they decided that maybe I was pregnant after all.

It's a good thing we don't have a milk man. Not the Momma might suspect foul play.

Just when I had decided I was NOT going to cancel my OB appointment for tomorrow -- I was going to keep it, and fight the insurance company because THEY were the ones who didn't get the work done on time and in the proper fashion -- even if it meant having to pay the bill, I got the call from the wonderful, most kind, lovely lady who works as a benefits counselor at the nearby Army base. I truly, truly appreciate your help.

This is what your socialized healthcare will look like.

You will get a referral for infertility. To the worst doctor in the area. Luckily, you'll end up pregnant before you have the appointment for the infertility.

You find a better OB, schedule an appointment for WELL after the required processing time.

The day before your appointment, you'll wonder why you haven't gotten the paperwork in the mail, so you'll call your insurance company. Turns out your insurance company turned DOWN the pregnancy referral, because they had approved one for infertility. I guess I'm not pregnant after all. Even though several pee tests and a blood draw from my primary doctor beg to differ.

Yes, folks, socialized health care will look a LOT like what I have for insurance-- the system the military people use. You will be using an HMO. You will NOT be able to see just any doctor unless you see your primary care doctor first. And if for some reason you have a change in your situation and have to go BACK to your primary doctor to get a different referral to a different doctor you're at the mercy of some schmuck pushing papers. In their rush to get the paperwork done in time, they'll scan it quickly and NOT SEE that the INFERTILITY referral will NOT work for a PREGNANCY appointment.

Instead, the insurance company wants me to go to the ER. For something that could cost the government SO MUCH LESS if they'd just get off their butts and READ the paperwork properly. That's where all your hard earned tax dollars are going. To junk like that.

Yes, I'm upset. I'm upset because I don't want to go to the hospital to get an ultrasound when I already have an appointment for tomorrow. I don't want to wait another several weeks to be seen, when I already had an appointment. Seems to me, that if I were you guys, I'd want tax breaks to pay for my health care, rather than having the government mandate who you can see and when. That hasn't worked for me.

(I'm not going into the troubles I had when I got pregnant with Little Monster and was being seen at the military hospital. I'm not going to tell you about the time they told me I had breast cancer, when really I have "lumpy breasts." I'm not going to tell you about all of the mistakes that have been made and the way I've been treated by the same health care people you will be dealing with if socialized health care is set up. I'm not. I just want you to think about how much money it will cost. And how many people will go to the ER for a sniffy nose or a toothache. And how much that will cost you.)

I'm praying someone at that office building will have a heart, and get this paperwork put through today. So that I don't have to go see my doctor, have stuff ordered, and have to go to the HOSPITAL --where it costs forty times as much -- to get it taken care of.

Note to family and friends who are reading: Nothing is wrong. I am fine. Teeny Bean is fine so far. Do. Not. Worry. I just need to get some stuff done that my doctors office can't do. And my insurance company -- they're idiots.

Note to insurance company: Please don't 'accidentally' delete my SSN from your files, thereby deleting my insurance and making my life even more difficult because I complained. Just give a gal a hand for once, and help me out. Don't make me wait over a month to get this stuff taken care of! :)