Angela Cochran’s Blog

1.  Ever since having a baby, when calling people and pets by their names, your accuracy has been way off.  Honestly, you don’t even realize you are calling people by the wrong name until it is pointed out to you. Even then, you argue that the persons’ name really should be whatever you called them just to save your own behind.

2. You start out just talking to the baby about changing diapers while doing so, but before you know it, you have begun creating and singing a song about poo cleaners with a three part hamony all the while using a rattle as a music directors’ batton.

3. While getting out of the car at work, you realize that you are wearing your ragged old slippers. This isn’t the bad part. You actually intended to wear your slippers while getting ready and dropping off the baby at the sitters. What you did not intend to do however, is leave your work high heels, which you intended to change in to,  in the diaper bag at the sitters.  Then you yell out(in the middle of a busy parking lot) in anger and frustration at your mommy brain, ” This is going to be a GREAT day!!”

4.  You start to make up your own words. You even really go for trying to sell it when told that your word is not really a word. Unfortunately, the ability to  pull up a dictionary on any internet connected computer has hampered your scheme. Words like disorganized really don’t mean to have your organs taken out and skeetershoes is not a endearing term and you should really stay away from being filered. You are  still not sure what it means, but gosh dern, it really makes people mad!

5.You leave the house and you are only carrying your purse and you have put your makeup on before leaving the house.  *If this happened to you this morning, please turn off your computer, drive home, and GET YOUR BABY! You might also need 4 tons of baby luggage and a good spanking!*

6. When you are at work, you often catch yourself  stopping what you are doing and wondering why you haven’t heard the baby cry in awhile.

7. You’ve decided that you can sing the alphabet in any order that you want, and often do! Sometimes you even add in numbers. Let people think whatever they want, the baby likes it.  And you will have plenty of time to teach him the right way before Pre-School. Or maybe this really is the right way…

8. You come out of a restaurant in the middle of the day and see your driver side door standing wide open. You immediately yell out that there has been a robbery in the parking lot. After examining the car, which is in the spot right in front of the door, in the middle of the day, and finding that nothing has been taken from your car, you begin to think that there is a good chance that you might have just left the door open because you had your hands full and the door just happened to take last priority. But of course, you will never admit it to the group of friends who were there and saw your accusation filled outburst.

9. You walk out of a busy clothing store with your purse, baby stroller, and merchandise that you did not pay for. You turn around because you realize that the person you were shopping with is not following you to the car. When you look back, an expression of sheer confusion and disbelief is spread across your fellow shoppers’ face. You really don’t have a clue that you are about to be classified as a shoplifter so you yell back at  that person,”Come on, lets go!”  They continue to stare at you until you finally come to the realization that you are in fact attempting to steal your babies first Easter outfit. You promptly return to the scene of the crime.

*Sign #10 actually happened to me last night and became the motivation behind this entire post. I used to become so annoyed when I saw other people doing this and wondered what would drive someone to act in that manner. I now realize it is the pure desire to see your baby smile and the lack of giving a crap about what anyone other than your baby thinks. *

10. Whenever you go shopping, you constantly run into aisle fixtures, clothing racks, and old people because you are busy trying to make the baby smile. You would rather talk to the baby than watch where you are going in hopes that a silly face will bring about one giggle. You even ask for the baby’s opinion when trying on sunglasses and when leaving the store you tell the baby to say goodbye.

I will leave you with this picture, and yes, he is milkdrunk.

Filed under: Mr. Baby Man on April 23rd, 2009 | 3 Comments »

As I was still looking out the window at 5:30am, my nurse came in to wake me up and give me time to take a shower. I asked her to wake me up the night before because I was sure that the Ambien would knock me out and I would sleep until it was time for them to start inducing. Wrong-O Angi! She helped me get up and get all of my cords off.  I got in the shower but I have a severe shower problem.  I was born as, what some might say, an incompetent showerer.  I have the inability to shower without getting the floor and sometimes the walls  outside of the shower completely flooded.  I don’t know where I am going wrong and have exhausted the list of possible causes. If anyone is able to give me a lesson on the correct showering procedure, I would be a willing student. My husband is astounded by my ineptness and as so often asks me, “What is your problem?” , to which there is an infinite list of possible answers. I then woke him up to get in the shower because I was sure that if I had not, some point in the day he would have scolded me for not telling him that his hair looked ridiculous. Plus, I know he feels as crappy as I do when he doesn’t get to take a shower in the morning. He eventually got up to shower and before the door even closed I could tell that he was curious as to why I had attempted to take a bath outside of the shower rather than inside the normal confines of the shower walls.

My next two nurses came in, with whom I was absolutely delighted. Anna and Jamie were kinda of like Tweedledee  and Tweedledum  in the cute little way that they bee bopped around but they were not dumb at all. I actually felt very comfortable for the first time while they were my nurses. Becky came in very early to see me before work. It felt rather early but who could really tell at that point. After Anna and Jamie introduced themselves to me they started explaining what would be happening that day as far as the induction. They checked me and to my surprise there was no change. But that was OK because we hadn’t technically started the induction yet.  They started the Pitocin in my IV.  Now, not only did the contractions start and begin to get pretty intense, but every time I had to pee (every 30-45minutes) I had to get a nurse to help me manage my IV pole and all of the cords. My mom came in at about 9am. She brought with her some socks because although I had packed plenty, I had already gone through them because every time I went in the bathroom I was left with sopping wet socks from the still residing water from my earlier apparent water games.

The nurses continued to check my progress throughout the morning but not only did I become more disappointed that although I was having contractions and nothing was changing, I also had to endure going through two rounds of “checking” every time they did so because there were two nurses and they both insisted on examining the “situation”.  Now Ladies and Gentlemen, these examinations are not pleasant by any means. First, you have your junk all out where everyone in the world can see. Second, it kind of feels like someone is trying to drive a tree stump up where only a bamboo shoot could and should fit.  So I endure this pain each time hoping they will have good news, but no. I am basically told that I am failing miserably.

The contractions really started to hurt and for some reason I had not asked for any pain medication yet. (Silly mommy!) My mind went back to earlier that morning. Becky was sitting there and as Anna started talking about the pain medicine she could give me which would basically be a cocktail of several different pain meds, we gave each other a look, much like we had many times before,but not anytime recently of course, that meant this is going to be some fancy stuff. But as you might guess, by the time that I needed to ask for the  highfalutin medicine, my preggo brain could not remember what it was called.  But I remembered that it had something to do with alcohol(She called it a cocktail) and so I asked my sweet little nurse for a margarita STAT. She began to laugh because she thought that I was joking and I began to worry because for one, I thought that what I was saying was the correct terminology, and for two my mom and my nurse were laughing at me. I just want to give you all a piece of advice. Don’t ever laugh at a pregnant woman when she is confused. And absolutely don’t ever laugh at a pregnant woman when she is confused, in labor, in pain, and has access to plenty of needles and dum dum suckers. Something terrible might happen, just use your imagination.  I’m not going to say what it is, but it might also include a throat punch. I’m just saying…

Finally, my doctor came in to talk to me and check me herself .  She told me that they had the Pitocin up as high as they could go and there was still no progress. It was now about noon and  something should have happened by then. We talked about the different options and the details of a C Section since in my mind, it had never been a reality,but  now I had tons of questions.  I consider myself fairly intelligent but extremely stubborn. So my doctor said we could do another round of the cervidil for twelve hours and then  induce again. I decided to give it one more try before giving up.  But before she would agree to it, she wanted me to have a break from all of the medicine and also give me a chance to really eat for the first time in twenty-four hours and relax for a couple of hours. At two o’clock they would give me some more cervidil.

Jimmy and I were both exhausted and knew that we weren’t even nearly out of the woods yet. My mother-in-law had just came up, so after they started the cervidil again, we decided that she would stay with me until the evening time. Meanwhile Jimmy would go get the dog and go home to rest and my mom would  go home as well and come back later with my dad.  I turned  my I POD on low and tried to nap as much as I could. I think my mother-in-law just sat there and read a book while I slept. It was actually quite peaceful for awhile.  My contractions started to get more and more painful even though I was no longer on the pitocin which I thought was a good sign. I started getting extremely uncomfortable not only from the contractions but from the terrible labor and delivery bed. Trust me they may look soft and cushy but I imagine it is much like laying on a row of steel pipes covered by a bed sheet. As I was waking up, my parents came back and soon after that Jim came up to see me as well. By that time, I could not function while having a contraction but everyone was having lots of fun watching the monitors as the mountains of red marks made their way across the monitor screen. It was the same kind of sounds that they made when  they realized that I had a whole box of dum dum suckers in my room. “oh wow, look at that one! That is so cool, it was a lot bigger this time.” Folks, those kind of remarks are not helpful. Focus people, focus! There is a big old baby trying to make its way out of here and you all are acting like you are on a roller coaster ride with all of those oohs and ahhs. I ordered more food but was unable to eat anything because of the pain.

The snow had already begun to fall. They had predicted snow accumulation on the news but come on Hoosiers, how many times have they said that in the past two years and how many times has it actually happened?  My mom started to think about how she would get back to the hospital when things started to happen early the next morning(Wishful thinking) She ended up getting the last room in the hotel rooms on top of the hospital.  I was soo releaved that she was going to be close by. For one, she is a nurse, for two, she is a postpartum nurse, for three, she is my mommy.  Because of the snow, Jason was not going to be able to come down and dog sit for us that night(nice Jason, real nice) so Jimmy brought Jenkins up to the hospital at about nine and my dad took him home so that Kevin(and the rest of the fam) could watch him.

I asked the nurse if I could sit in the chair by the monitors because the pain from laying in the death trap of a bed was more than the pain from my contractions and she agreed. Why I had not asked her before this is still a mystery.  My mom hung out with us for a little while before she went up to her room but before we knew it, is was 10:30pm and they were supposed to start the pitocin again at 2am. We needed to try and get some sleep.

Of course, neither of us could really sleep. I couldn’t believe how much pain I was in. I was to the point where I could not talk during my contractions. If you haven’t been through this, they measure your contractions and give you milestones according to the activity you can do during them. Up until then the milestones were helpful because you knew what sort of level of intensity to expect next. If only they had truthfully told me about the next level. I guess the only way that they could have described it would be to say,”You will begin to ask your labor coach to knock you the **** out, then you will say, seriously pick up that chair and break it over my head. I don’t care if you permanently paralyze me, I do not want to be conscious anymore. The level after that will begin with a dragon of the fiery nose type  sitting atop your body and stealing the very life breath from your soul. You will no longer be able to breathe. You will begin to be cross eyed with blurry vision and then you will be blind… maybe forever.

* I have heard my friends’ story where at this point in her labor, one of the only anesthesiologists in the hospital, accidentally squirted medical soap into her own eyes and had to be rushed out for emergency care. Thus leaving my friend in this state for a very long time and just because this anesthesiologist may or may not have worked there for a long time, and everyone was friends with her, and everyone just happened to be caring people that cared about their friend who was probably going to be blind for the rest of her life my pregnant friend was not getting the attention that she so rightly deserved. Even her husband turned on her and began to care more about the obviously incompetent doctor than his own wife. She may or may not have been exaggerating. But there are very few sane and lucid thoughts during this stage. I’m just saying… *

We went to sleep or rather tossed and turned for three hours and thus concludes Day Two. Stay tuned for the next installment which I will refer to as “My Story- The worst three hours of my life”

Filed under: I'm growing an alien, Mr. Baby Man, Uncategorized on April 21st, 2009 | 1 Comment »

SO… we recently bought a very expensive camera in anticipation of taking tons of pictures of the most beautiful (and intelligent) baby in all the world. When thinking about JT’s first Easter and how we would commemorate it, I really didn’t want to do the old mall Easter bunny pics that may or may not turn out too well, where JT may or may not be too thrilled about the furry beast, and where we may or may not spend a ton of money on the pictures. So I set out to do something that I have never tried before, taking and editing my own pictures.  Please enjoy and take it easy on me …. I am just a beginner(noob). Hopefully the mere beauty of this baby will overcome my own inability.

I also want to wish everyone a very happy Easter weekend. Today is Good Friday and my thoughts have been on what was sacrificed for me. I have hope because he did rise again and he is no longer in the grave. If your hope and joy for life has been less than stellar lately, get to a church service this weekend and let your life be filled with a hope and peace that surpasses all understanding! Happy Easter! 

Filed under: Uncategorized on April 10th, 2009 | 2 Comments »

It is finally my turn. I now officially have a story! You know the story I’m talking about. The story that all mothers feel obligated to tell every expectant mom when she is nine months pregnant and feeling anxious and overwhelmed from the imminent body splitting torture she is sure to endure. I now realize that these women do not intend to scare anyone or sound like a know-it-all. But the story is like their own “Red Badge of Courage”.  Labor and delivery is part of the initiation into motherhood and the story is brought out like a war trophy  when reminded of the hard fought and most of the time, won battle.  Maybe if I write this all out for the world to read I won’t feel the urge to tell it every time I see a preggo ready to pop. But then again, probably not. For it is  an obligation, nay, an honor to tell the story of the few most precious days of my life!

On January 26th, 2009 I went in for my doctor appointment. I had the non-stress test as well as an ultrasound / biophysical profile and a regular OB appointment. During the non-stress test, the baby was not very active and needed stimulation to wake up. The nurse rubbed the very visible bump on the right side of my belly which must have been the baby’s back or butt. When rubbed, the baby moved dramatically but not much else activity was recorded. This was very unusual for my non-stress tests. After that test, I went in for the ultrasound. At the previous US only three days earlier, the baby weighed 9lbs 15oz and the amniotic fluid was at a lower level of 7.8. This time she did not take measurements but did check the fluid which was at 7.0. During the OB appointment the nurse practitioner, Megan, said that it wasn’t safe for the fluid to get any lower. She checked my hooha, which was not dilated at all and left to talk to the doctor. When she came back she informed me that they were putting me into the hospital that night at 5pm but because my cervix was not induce-able they would be doing a 12 hour round of cervidil and then induce at about 5am. The doctor came in shortly after to explain the process again. She could tell that I was extremely nervous and suggested that I opt for the c-section because there was a good chance that I would need one anyway. She had previously told me this but I pushed it out of my mind. (I should have just trusted my doctor) I told her that I wanted to at least try to have a natural birth and she said that as long as the baby and I were healthy enough to do so she would respect that decision. She sent us on our way.

We went to Chicago’s Pizza to eat lunch since we had been in the doctor’s office for the last four hours and were starving. It was a pizza buffet which is really kind of like a dream to me, but I could barely eat. The reality was setting in that this was the last time that it would be just “us”.  I also had never really thought of the hospital stay and what was all going to happen there. I had never stayed at a hospital and certainly never been poked and prodded as much as what eventually happened. I think because I had no frame of reference and no idea what to expect, I began to freak out a little. Jimmy brought up something about what we would do with our dog for the next few days. I began to cry…in the middle of the restaurant…in the middle of the day. I didn’t want to leave my puppy and I began to think “what have we done to Jenkins!” He was going to be all alone and missing us and then when we come back, all of our attention will be on the baby. I decided at that moment that I was done with this whole baby thing and I was just going to go home and cuddle in bed with my puppy and hubby for the rest of the week.  If Jimmy had not been pushing me along, I think that is what would have happened. I guess I would have had to have the baby sometime but not that day and I was not going to the hospital.  We left the restaurant and went to clean Jimmy’s car out.  We went home and finished packing up. Well really just Jimmy, I had my bags packed like a good mommy-to-be. We called Becky and Nick Lyons to see if they could watch Jenkins that night. They said they would pick him up after they left the gym later on in the evening. This was good because it wasn’t like I was really saying goodbye to him…just see-ya-later. (Yes, I am ate up over my dog!) We left a little late for the hospital but seemed to get there in time.  They seemed all too accommodating to get me there and commence with the needle time torture so even if we had been late it probably wouldn’t have mattered much.

When we got there they already had my paperwork ready to go. Just a few signatures and I was officially a prisoner subject to whatever they wanted to do me.  I think I might be a bad patient. Although I am mostly cooperative, I am unnaturally skeptical of everyone and their intentions. We waited in the empty waiting room for about ten minutes with all of our bags and watched Charlotte’s Web on the TV. It wasn’t the cute cartoon version that makes you think of a long ago childhood innocence. It was the creepy one with that strange little girl and all of the live animals that they want you to believe are really talking. Do they take me for a fool? Those animals aren’t speaking and the pig isn’t really flipping around. Its just weird. Anyway, the nurse finally called us back and led us to room 2018.  She gave me a gown and told us to get comfortable. Uh huh lady, I’ll get right on that as I slip into this paper thin drape which is tied around my neck like a noose and hangs open for the entire world to see whatever they want.  I put the stupid thing on and laid in what was to become known as the slab of agony.  My first nurse made her way into the room with awkward glances and witty yet snide remarks that were socially inappropriate. She was to become know as the hurler of anguish as nothing that they could do to me in the hospital for those six days could come close to the pain that she was about to shower down on me.  She put the fetal monitors around my belly and started getting my IV ready.  Now I don’t hate needles on their own, but I don’t like to see them in action or before they are used on me so I politely turned my head away as every wuss does when faced with a pointy object.  As I heard the unwrapping of what seemed to be the most well packaged needle ever, Jimmy stepped up to my side and took my hand. At that very moment, I knew that this was going to hurt real bad. You see, Jimmy is usually very laid back in the doctor appointments and usually isn’t too concerned about my procedures.  When he stepped up to comfort me, I thought that he had seen what must have been a sword come out of that packaging and someone who was all too thrilled to stab me repeatedly with it. I think it took this nurse ten minutes to get the IV in right. The entire time I was thinking, “OK, you can hold on a few more seconds, she HAS GOT to be done soon.” But she just kept on going.  This marks the second time I cried that day, oh, and a few yelps and howls came out.  Finally, after wrapping my entire wolf man-like hairy arm in heavy medical tape, she released her sadistic hold on my arm. I expected the pain to subside. But it was as if she had cast a spell on me because the pain not only did not subside, it got worse without her even touching me. I even asked her while staring at my arm if she had taken the needle out.  The pain ended up staying for at least two hours. I can tell you honestly besides the contractions, this was the worst pain I experienced the entire time in the hospital.  You might say what about when they sliced open your belly, or when they gave you a catheter. No, inserting the IV(once again other than the contractions) was the worst of it. If I had known that from the beginning, I think I would have been a lot more relaxed since the almost worst of the pain was over within the first hour.

Next, the Nurse Practitioner, Cher came in to do a quick ultrasound and insert the cervidil. She literally placed the wand on my belly for a matter of ten seconds or less and said yep the head is down. She did not tell me at that point that she thought the head was facing front. I found this out the next day from another nurse. I really still don’t think that it was true because earlier in the same day at the doctor’s office the tech said that the baby was still facing the back like it always had been. Cher started to get the cervidil ready but she was supposed to be leaving at 6 for the day so Dr. Bighands came in to relieve her. They debated for a few minutes about if Cher would finish the job or go ahead and go. Because they were both being extremely too polite to each other, in my opinion,  they couldn’t come to a decision. They asked me. I have to explain that I have never had a male OB/GYN and for a good reason. It makes me uncomfortable. Almost as uncomfortable as trying to pretend that what was going on in that Charlotte’s Web movie was real.   So I wanted to holler out,”You are a man. I let a man in there once and look what he did to me! There is no way I am making that mistake again! And have you seen your hands? They are enormous. They aren’t even proportionate to your arms. You can go on with your badself and find another fool down the hall but it ain’t gonna be me!” But instead I gave the typical female response and said, “I don’t care.” Now I know why lieing is a sin. Sin hurts, and this sin hurt more than I can bare to recall. After a few jokes to lighten the mood, Cher left me in the care of these two terror beasts.

Doctor Evil and Nurse Misery began doing seperate medical histories so that I was answering questions from both of them. Please understand, all of this happened so fast that I was still in shock not only from the whole ordeal yet to come, but also from the IV torture.  Doctor Gorilla Paw confirmed with me that this was my second pregnancy to which I said calmly yes at the same time Jimmy hollered, “What? No!” The doctor looked at us as if to say “Do you two need some time alone?” Jimmy was befuddled and started wondering if I had a secret love child somewhere. He did not realize that the miscarriage I suffered five years earlier was still a pregnancy. The next question had me a little befuddled(and folks these aren’t hard questions). I somehow implied that I was on drugs while I was pregnant. Everyone became very concerned and Jimmy was trying to clear my mistaken answer before the cops and CPS were called. I thought she was asking me if I had ever in my 27 years of life taken recreational drugs. She apparently was asking me if I was a deadbeat mom to which my answer was a sheepish yes.

So Doctor Fist put in the cervidil, which is really like a string with medicine on it. He put the medicine part in my cervix and then the string just hangs out like a tampon string. It really hurt(remember sin hurts I should have just told the truth). It seems like every time they checked me or did anything in there, it hurt much worse than at the doctors office.  I thought the thing was just going to come out and then I also had all the monitors on my arms and belly, so it was really hard to move much. Soon after the Twins of Torture left, my father-in-law came in. At this point, my blood pressure was through the roof. Every few minutes the when the machine would take my blood pressure, I would set off the alarms and a nurse would have to come in and shut it off. It eventually got so high that they quit telling me what it was. Everybody kept telling me to calm down. If calm or comfortable came out of one more person’s mouth I think I would have started stabbing people through their eye with a dum-dum sucker.

When I got to the hospital, not before, they informed me that I would only be able to eat those Dum-Dum suckers, jello, popsicles, and juice until midnight and then after that nothing. So after I barely ate all day, I was now looking at not eating until after I had this baby which I was thinking would not be for another 24hours. Visitors would come into my room and get all bright eyed when they saw the Dum-Dums  and say all goofy, “oh look suckers, can I have one, what flavors are there?” as if I was sitting on my front porch on Halloween night handing out candy. People, just because there are suckers in a room doesn’t mean you have to revert back to first grade and get all loopy. Focus please, something is about to be ripped from my insides.

After Jim left, Jimmy went to get something to eat because I didn’t want him eating in front of me.  While he was gone, I ate some jello and watched 24. I finally got a new nurse. Nurse Death-Is-At-My-Fingertips was finally gone. When Jimmy came back, he had his haircut but still had his ’70s porno stache. Both of which I had been begging him to cut / shave off. We started getting ready for bed and I realized I was not going to be able to sleep. The labor and delivery bed was not meant to sleep in. It was meant to assist in bringing on the pain of childbirth. The nurse said that the doctor had ordered me some Ambien. What? Are you serious? Most pregnant ladies don’t take any kind of sleeping aids for the better part of nine months and you want to give me Ambien? Ok…knock me right on out…that would be fantastic! We got ready for bed, me in this terrible bed with bars all through it, and Jimmy in a vinyle covered recliner that wouldn’t stay reclined because it was broken.  I fell right to sleep like I usually did, but then was up an hour later at 1am. I could tell that Jimmy was also having trouble sleeping because I could hear him squeaking in what sounded like a plastic shower curtain covered chair all night. I dozed in and out for the next hour but by 2am I was up the rest of the night. Do you know how hard it is to sleep with every machine in the world strapped to you and something hanging out of your you-know-what? Everytime I moved, the monitors got out of place and the nurses would come back in and try to quietly move them back into place. No need to be quiet sister, I’m not sleeping anyways. I also had to get up to pee every 45 minutes or so even though I hadn’t been drinking anything. I got up so often that the nurse just showed me how to unplug all of my cords and how to plug them back in myself so that I didn’t have to call a nurse everytime I wanted to use the bathroom.  On top of that, you have women all around you screaming out in labor, saying some pretty nasty things and as much as I didn’t want to listen, I had to, as torturous as it was, because when you heard the screaming stop and the baby start crying…sniff,sniff , well lets just say it was an awesome sound.  Then there was all the chair noise from Jimmy trying to hold his chair in place and the tossing and turning. At one point, I looked over at him, and he was face down on the chair trying to hold it open with his body. He is an inventive fellow and he never gave up. I will at least give him that.

I never got back to sleep. I had no idea what this next day would hold for me and was actually quite anxious and scared about the whole thing.  But as I watched the sun rising, I knew one thing that made all of my worries seem meaningless, that every passing minute brought me closer to holding my baby in my arms.

Stay tuned for day two…

Filed under: Mr. Baby Man, Uncategorized on April 9th, 2009 | No Comments »

Filed under: Uncategorized on March 23rd, 2009 | No Comments »

Here are some of my observations. I hope they help in your journey.

Now that your belly has grown so much that the skin around it is stretched to the limit, your body must find other ways in which to look ridiculous. At this point, you already have the stretch marks, the baseball size nipples, the classic pregnant dumpy butt, and a black line running down the middle of your torso. What else is there? Don’t you fret…your body will come up with inventive ways of reminding you that your body is no longer your own. It could be what my mom so delicately referred to mine as sausage feet. If you have never seen these, just imagine a giant sausage with five little sausage wieners on the end. Sounds yummy right…well only if you like the pungent odor they give off at all times. The sausage syndrome also usually affects your hands at some point. Same thing as before just longer sausages. The sausage syndrome usually bans you from wearing any attractive shoes, wedding rings, or jewelry and gives you a case of the clumsies. It also impairs your ability to type, play piano, point, or tickle effectively. Therefore rendering you into a overgrown two year old in ugly shoes! This does not go over so well as you have been trying to convince people for months now that you are just as capable and competent as you were 9 months ago. Unknown to you… it is not working.  Adding more insult to injury, your body cruely decides that your face is just a little too normal looking. Your nose will begin to double in size just about every time you look in the mirror. This comes at a time when you thought you had figured out how to hide all of the other bodily misfortunes. Now you have to figure out how to hide something that is smack dab in the middle of your face. Oh but once you figure that out… your nose will also turn bright red just so you know that you are not in control of how you look anymore.

If you have never felt severe anxiety before, you are in for a treat this month.  There really is nothing like the feeling of not being able to breathe, the can’t calm down feeling of being on speed for no other reason except that you are 9 months pregnant. As soon as you hit 36 weeks, it suddenly dawns on you that you could have this baby at anytime. But nothing is ready. You’ve spent your time writing blogs rather than getting the house ready or learning how to use the car seat. You can’t have this baby right now, but you want it out sooo bad! You can’t wait to hold it in your arms, but you won’t have any clothes to change the baby into because you don’t have all the clothes washed in that fancy baby detergent yet. So your loving husband tells you that the internet says just to not worry about anything when you are feeling anxious. Thanks internet you are a huge help! (Sorry I did not mean to mock you great and powerful internet…I love you) You just try to lay down and sleep because you have been day dreaming about this moment when you could lay in bed since you woke up this morning and your mind and body are so exhausted that you don’t have the strength to do anything on your to-do list. Your eyes get heavy, your body goes limp and you are soundly asleep. Peace…comfort…crazy dreams abound! Your eyes fly open, you are in pain from your torso down from laying in the same position for what must have been at least four hours. You have to pee, bad! You wrangle yourself out of bed. Battling pain in your pelvic bone, hips, sciatic nerve, back, and bladder. You make your way through the dark maze of a room all the while supporting yourself on any stable thing along the way. You finally make it to the bathroom only to realize that your caring husband has left the seat up again. The last thing you want to do is handle a nasty toilet seat and it would be actually impossible for you to bend over at this point to set the seat down gently. So you tip it with your finger so that it falls and smashes into the toilet base. There is a loud slam as well as cussing from the dear husband who caused this in the first place(the pregnancy and the toilet seat up situation). After hearing his whining under his breath, you must whine back under your breath and explain his fault in all of this.  You finally get to pee but it is not like anything substantial happens because your bladder is squeezed to about the size of a Dixie cup under the weight of your gigantic child. You can’t even have a sense of accomplishment by having a really good pee from this feat you have just been through.  You start back to bed. Your body is not as stiff as before, but still sore. Rounding the corner, you see that a 95lb fur ball has just made himself very comfortable in your side of the bed on top of your blankets and pillow fortress. Fighting with him gets you nowhere so you pick up the water bottle and squirt him. But you miss and hit your warm pillow instead. The monster runs away and you wiggle yourself back into bed fixing all of your pillows and blanket the way that you like. Right before you close your eyes you look at the clock and realize that you had only been sleeping for forty-five minutes and at this point you know from experience you will be waking up every hour to pee or just to worry about things. There should be about 6 more trips to bathroom just like this except that one may be interrupted by a trip to the garage where you will stand half naked in order to cool yourself off. There will be no REM cycles tonight. You will be even more tired tomorrow morning when you wake up 15 minutes before the alarm goes off.   Thus anxiety sets in again and you realize that this baby must come out even if your baby bottles have not been sterilized yet.

At this realization, you practically beg your doctor every week to check you. This entails doing something that is uncomfortable to say it mildly. For the past four months you have banned all checking in any form in the bedroom and you are now begging to know if anything has changed or progressed. When the doctor looks at you and sadly shakes her head you know what you must do. You must have sex every night(or morning they all kind of blend together now) until this baby arrives! You must walk 4 miles a day. You must get a pedicure, drink Castor oil, eat spicy food, and clean behind your refrigerator. If someone told you to sing the PeeWee Herman theme song everyday at 3:15 and 7:29 on the dot, you would do it. From week 36 on you will be on an important mission. Get it out!

Whistlers! Who do they think they are!?! I have not had to stare down any gum chewers lately but I have had to put some whistlers in their overly annoying place! At nine months pregnant, I just plain don’t feel good. Walking is a challenge, concentrating and remembering(lets not even mention comprehending) is like an Olympic sport, and not peeing my pants everytime I stand up is an acheivement I can be proud of at this point. I’m accomplishing all of these things at once when along comes a whistler. I can hear them a block away. They are practicing all of their fancy runs, and jovial flips and twists in the melody. They are changing up the tempo here and there for a little excitement. All the while they are getting closer and closer, blowing that hot breath down my neck just to let me know that I am not moving fast enough.  Why do they whistle so loud? And then there are those whistlers who whistle through their teeth. Are you kidding me? Is this like a different league? Come on people whistling is not a skill, it was not a team or club in high school and it is not fun to listen to. Do not assume that I don’t whistle at all.  I just have the common decency to do it in the privacy of my own home where only my husband and dog will be annoyed.  I have come across many whistlers during the Christmas season. One came upon me last week out of surprise. I was succeeding at so many things.  I had remembered where my car was. I was not crying. I was not peeing my pants. All of a sudden the guy who was walking closely behind me broke out whistling. I jumped, the baby jumped, and I immediately asked myself, as I often do, “did my water just break?” No it didn’t. It was just some jerky whistler thinking that he sounded so smooth while whistling that it was worth combating my peace in order for me to hear him. I now have a defense against such rude people. I whistle my own song. Usually it is one that I am making up on the spot and it is usually just as loud or louder than the original whistling. It is just as fancy and annoying and can be quite irritating if I do say so myself. The outcome of this whistling warfare has almost always ended with the other person abandoning their gay old song and coming to realize just how annoying it can be when someone who was not asked to perform does so anyway. I said almost always because it has always worked on strangers. My husband is another story. Although I have never told him my defense, he has figured it out on his own. When deployed, he brings down my defense by getting louder and more annoying than I can possibly be. I usually give up but sometimes I win too. The dog gets very confused.

I guess in all, my philosphy for this pregnancy and advice for the 9th month is the same as my philosophy for going down the stairs. Because I can no longer see my foot nor the step it is trying to walk down, instead of never going down the stairs, I repeat to myself with every step something to keep me from freaking out (yes I do now have to  verbally encourage myself to do ordinary tasks.)  So I say out loud, “Just step out and hope for the best.”

And now for some good old fashioned funnies. I can relate to these guys so much right now. This is what happens when I try to follow simple instructions as well.

Filed under: I'm growing an alien on January 6th, 2009 | 7 Comments »

I have to start out by saying I heart my BFF! She is the one human who I can honestly talk to about things deep within my heart without feeling judgment or having to sugarcoat those scary thoughts in your mind. It has been that way since we were very young. Neither of us has a blood sister, but she is my sister by choice(and without all the sibling rivalry). Needless to say, she is very inspirational to me. Today when I got to work, I had a message in my in-box waiting for me from her with a video attached.(Of course I didn’t watch it on company time nor did I check my personal email from my work computer. Who do you think I am?) It started my day off on a perfect note. I feel energized and ready to live December 12th, 2008 in recognition that I will never again see another December 12th, 2008.  Here is the link.

The interview

I’m not going to write a bunch of grandiose comments about what I thought but I will add a few statements and I would love to hear what you took away from this. This video inspired me to live in the present. I don’t want to rush into the next phase of life like I have before. There is no point in comparing myself to others because I am unique and unlike anyone else no matter how hard I try to fit into civilization. To me, living life to it’s fullest doesn’t mean having a million experiences. You will never see all that could be seen, or know all there is to know so the idea leaves you defeated at the end of your life. For me, to live life to it’s fullest is to take what I have and make it beautiful. I want to have rich relationships with old and new friends and  treasure and enrich the traditions and culture that I already live in. I want to produce great things out the callings that God has placed on my life.  When I look at my life in the present, there is so much that could be built upon and made more full.  I don’t need to go out and search for more, wasting time on things that will only go so far.

A popular song by 33 Miles right now says “You only get just one time around, You only get one shot at this, One chance to find out the one thing that you don’t wanna miss.”

What is that one thing you don’t want to miss? What is one thing, when it is all said and done is going to matter more than money, more than reputation, more than your lives resume?

Sorry, I didn’t mean to get so deep on a Friday morning! Have a great weekend!

Filed under: Uncategorized on December 12th, 2008 | 1 Comment »

Because it is the next logical step in your ever so boring planned out life. Don’t worry, a baby will bring you tons of excitement oh and ruin all of your plans.

Because you have just turned 16 and told that you can no longer play with dolls.

Because you want to be just like your parents.

Because you don’t want to be anything like your parents.

Because you need more money from the government.

Because you think that Justin Timberlake was talking about stretch marks when he declared that he was bringing sexy back. If that is the case, you are going to be bringing a butt-load of sexy back.

Because you are tired of walking the dog and mowing the grass.

Because having a baby will make your spouse/significant other/ partner/ bf/ gf love you more and want to stay with you forever.

Because you have a really cute gynecologist and this is your way of making a move.

Because you never really liked your belly button and this might be cheaper and more effective than plastic surgery.

Because you are going to need someone to change your diapers when you get older and lets face it, nobody likes you that well.

Because you secretly miss watching the Disney channel and need a good excuse to watch cartoons for hours on end.

Because there is a lot of unconditional love out there to be had and you want to get in on some of that.

Because your un-childed friends become ever so supportive as evidenced by mooing into microphones while staring at your belly. (You know who you are)

Because you miss the thrill of sneaking around to make nookie.

Because you really like it when someone asks you “why?” after every thing you say.

Because you miss momma’s home cooking and if you become a momma you will always be able to cook better than anyone else in the world.

Because you are always right, never make mistakes, and should be perceived as so for at least another 15 years at which point you will be wrong about everything and can’t do anything right.

Because you have always seen keys and cellphones as something that should be banged around and put in your mouth and you want to be around others who feel the same way!

All because two people fell in love. (and can’t get out no matter what you try, kinda like quicksand)

Filed under: I'm growing an alien on December 9th, 2008 | No Comments »

You’ve been punched in the bladder

Massaged your own butt while grocery shopping because your sciatic nerve was being pinched and you had to get the shopping done.

Made an art out of building a fortress of pillows around your ever expanding body. Any one who messes with these pillows must be hurt badly in order to be taught a serious lesson!

Rested your hand on your belly only to have something from inside kick you in the exact spot as if to say “You are invading my space lady!”

Yelled back at your belly after the above mentioned wrestling match, “No, you are invading my space baby and I will rest my hand anywhere I feel like it.”

Stood in the 20 degree garage in your t-shirt and underwear in the middle of the night in order to cool off.

Learned how to stop balling on command so as to not freak out the people in Best Buy with your hormonal antics.

Looked at the cute little panties you used to wear and laugh. (Those are what got me into this mess in the first place.)

Been told that at seven months pregnant you look so big as if you could deliver tomorrow and had to grin and bear it because they brought you a present to your shower.

Begged your mother to make chicken and noodles for you even though I could make my own or go to 5 other restaurants to get it just because you had to have mom’s chicken and noodles.

Told someone not to bother buying a gift bag for the shower gift because I had plenty that I could give them.

Thought “all I wanted was a back massage” nearly everyday for 9 months.

Got creeped out with the fact that parts of your body which used to be used for fun are now going to be used as a factory … a strictly business factory.

Started confessing that you have no idea how to be a mother and asking for forgiveness from every mother you have every secretly judged or thought you could do better than. (Seriously leaving your kids in the car while you party might be the way to do it…I have no idea!)

Thought that you could emotionally handle the high risk status since it meant that you could be put on bed rest.

Made final choice on baby names by shouting them out the back door just to see how it sounded.

Started ignoring any advice all together because apparently all problems can be solved by eating crackers.

Thought of sex as home invasion

Tried to rig your razor to the end of your toothbrush so that you could once again reach you entire leg without getting dizzy and falling naked out of the bathtub.

Gagged and or vomited every time you brushed your teeth which then creates a vicious cycle in which you are finally defeated and leave with the nasty mouth and stinky breath you aimed at destroying.

Attempted Pilates type positions for the first time in your life in order to remove what feels like a gigantic pointed foot that has been lodged in you rib and are convinced is just moments away from puncturing a lung with it’s eagle-like talons.

Can anyone add anything pregnancy related to this list? I need some laughs!

Filed under: I'm growing an alien on November 25th, 2008 | 2 Comments »

Well, I know I haven’t blogged in a while and you all are in desperate need of crazy pregnant ramblings so here you go. I know that these blogs are open to the whole wide world (isn’t that what WWW. stands for?) to read, but I like to write this stuff for myself. Since I have acquired the disease of pregnancy insanity, I will lay awake at night thinking crazy thoughts and dreaming about nonsense. I guess it just helps to write it down and be done with it rather than let it drive me crazy for hours each night. Here are some of the more serious things I have been pondering lately.

Just because my pregnancy hasn’t been a time full of rainbows and unicorns doesn’t mean I’m a terrible woman or am going to be a horrible mother. I think a lot of the stress has come from me and the expectations I put on myself. I always thought that there couldn’t be a more happy time than when you are pregnant. But I have found it to be scary, overwhelming, and isolating. In the beginning, I worried non-stop about the health of the baby. I prepared myself for the news that I would lose the baby even when the doctors were telling me the contrary. I was so filled with fear that I didn’t even tell those people that love me and want the best for me that I was pregnant for a long time. I suffered from terrible morning sickness but irrationally thought that I had to hide it from them so that they wouldn’t worry and I wouldn’t hurt them by losing another baby. I feel now that this secrecy among other things isolated me from my friends and family. The overwhelming part came when I realized that this is actually going to happen and I don’t think that I am ready. But who is really ever ready? We wanted this baby, we planned and prayed for this baby, and we have built a loving home and marriage over the past seven years in which to nurture and raise this baby. But are we ready? Of course not! We’ve never had a child before and we really have no idea what we are in for. But I think I have come to the conclusion that I don’t care anymore what pregnancy is supposed to look like, my reality is what it is. Crazy or not, hormonal or not, ridiculous or not, I am going to enjoy this time. I have probably cried more in the past 6 months than I did in my first 6 months of life. But I have also laughed harder and more than any other time in my life. It is the big belly laughs that I can’t control and my face gets red and my stomach muscles start to hurt so I have to try to stop myself from laughing. It is really bad when I am by myself at work and this happens. I going to stop telling myself that I am just being stupid when I get hormonal, I’m going to trust in God more and stop trying to control everything that overwhelms me, I’m going to stop being frustrated with myself when I am too tired to stay up with friends on the weekend, I’m not going to be ashamed of rubbing my belly like an old beer-bellied man in public, I’m not going to be embarrassed about how many times I have to use the restroom during one hour long meeting, and I am going to gain as much weight as I want to!

Luckily, I have a husband who loves me in spite of me and because of me. We’ve always had a relationship with each other where we can look beyond what others can’t. Even with his warts and all, I thank God that he gave me a perfect match in Jimmy. I love him more than the day we were married, more than a year ago, more than a month ago. I want to be around him and miss him when he is not around. I hate girl’s night out and will rarely go somewhere that Jimmy isn’t invited. It might sound clingy and overbearing but I’m pretty sure he feels that same way about me (and the dog). It works for us! We are best friends (I still love you Becky) and that is how I envisioned marriage to be. Now that I am crazy, he has actually been pretty cool with it. I guess men really are attracted to crazy women. We haven’t seen eye to eye every time on the furniture and the baby room but he does his fair share of the cooking and cleaning and supports me in my bout with insanity, so I have very little to complain about right now. Oh, and I don’t think he has said anything that slightly resembles moo in a long time so I haven’t had to plot ways to kill him in awhile.

Now for some examples of craziness:

I have been getting a kick out of watching funny youtube videos lately. I checked this one out and found it fantastic.

I especially like the part when he tells the drunkard “you’ve got to stop doing this” as if he was doing it on purpose. So I sent the link to Jimmy for his viewing pleasure and asked him what he thought about it later that day. Just by bringing up the subject I started to laugh uncontrollably. He apparently did not find the humor in the video and simply told me that it was an old video that he had seen before and it wasn’t that funny. I finished my laughing fit and found something else to talk about but later that night I found myself pondering for the majority of an hour t.v. show how he couldn’t think it was funny. Seriously, it is hilarious. What is wrong with him and what exact part of that video isn’t funny? How could I be married to someone who didn’t think it was funny? For real, 45 minutes, this is what I thought about.

We went to another outstanding Third Day concert a couple of weeks ago and wore our Gomer fan club T-shirts. We even got to go backstage and meet the guys after the concert. When they asked us if we had anything we would like signed, Jimmy rationally pulled out the new Third Day CD and had them sign it. I could not follow along with acting like a normal person in front of these rock stars so I asked them to sign my baby bump. My thinking was that this was the babies 2^nd Third Day concert and I know it is already a fan. They all signed the bump on my shirt of course but out of about 50 fans I think I had the craziest request.

I often wake up in the middle of the night sweating so much that I think sometimes that I may have wet the bed. I get so hot that nothing can soothe me. By the way, Jimmy is usually freezing; it is only me who thinks it is hotter than Fourth of July in my house. So if you come to my house on any given night around 2:30am you may find me standing in the garage in a T-shirt and underwear trying to cool my body off. But you would have to turn the lights on to see me because I stand in the dark as to not wake me up too much!

My paranoia has gotten the best of me. I usually put my makeup on in the car as Jimmy drives us to work every morning and more often than not I just leave my makeup bag in the car. One day last week, I went to get my makeup out of the car and noticed that it was not in the front seat where I had left it. I reached under the seat, looked in the back, and then accused Jimmy of intentionally hiding it from me after he had dropped me off in the morning. I think he heard his name being used in a not so loving way and so came to the garage to find out how he could help (yeah right). After almost convincing me that he did not hide it from me as a not so funny joke I realized that it must have been stolen because everyone wants used makeup out of a stranger’s car. I resigned to the fact that it had been stolen but was pondering how someone got into the car through locked doors and without breaking a window. I muttered something about buying all new makeup when Jimmy finally snapped me out of it by saying “You crazy pregnant lady, no one stole your make-up!” Immediately following, I found my makeup under the seat of the car where I had already looked.

Here are some doctor appointment updates for those of you that I have been too lazy to get a hold of. At the 6 month check-up I gained 8lbs in one month. Dr. lectured me, I cried, she was not phased by tears; I decided to watch what I was eating. My sugar levels in my blood came back too high, they tested me for gestational diabetes, but I passed. Baby’s heart rate was 148. My insurance provider and hospital had a sissy fight and I got to stress out for a month; they resolved their squabble; everything is back on track. At the 7 month check up I was informed that I am starting to go every two weeks. The doctor is concerned that my sugar levels are still high. Although my tests came back negative for gestational diabetes and there has been no sugar in my pee, she is considering me high risk and has requested that at my bi-weekly and then weekly appointments I do the hour long ultrasound bio-physical test. Bad news – she called me high risk, good news- I get to see my baby every week, bad news- I might find out what the sex of the baby is if I am seeing it so often, good news- who cares I get to see my baby every week! I lost two pounds this month. Last month I got a lecture, this month “I see that you lost a couple pounds which is, whatever.” Come on I deserve a pat on the back at least. All I get is a shot in the butt because I am RH-. So now I have gained 10 pounds with this pregnancy, but they only want me to gain 15 altogether. Blood pressure is good, pee test is good, and weight is ok. Baby’s heart rate was 146. My next appointment is a week from tomorrow. I will try to up date more after that.

For now, I will leave you with a few videos that seemed to make me laugh so hard that I cried. At risk of me ending up on strong anti-depressants you better find them funny too!

Filed under: Uncategorized on November 17th, 2008 | 3 Comments »