this is why i hate numbers
i had my obgyn appointment friday. everything is fine. i’m fine. the baby is fine. the appointment was quite uneventful.
pee in the cup. smiley face the cup. weigh in. don’t register the number on the scale in your mind because all that’s on your mind is the ice cream that’s in your freezer (ps- i gained 2 lbs this month). meet with doctor. ask questions. measure belly. listen to heartbeat on doppler. listen to pickle kick the shit out of doppler. laugh. schedule next visit. peace out.
i came home from the appointment questioning everything about life. when you’re 24+ weeks pregnant with a husband who is 7 weeks away from deploying, the LAST thing you want to do is be questioning life and all of its components.
“so we’re still waiting on your surgical notes from your first c-section…”
“oh. sorry. is there anything i can do to get them to you faster?”
“no, we’ll resubmit the fax. but seeing that had me wondering… HOW LARGE OF A FAMILY DO YOU INTEND ON HAVING?”
“…………………..uh, i’m not sure. i’m just coming to grips with the fact that i will be a mother of 2 in a couple of months. why do you ask?”
“well, risks are higher with each subsequent c-section and with this baby being a girl, chances are she may be smaller than you first child was and we should consider a VBAC.”
(i’ll pause right there just to let you know that this in no way is a c-section vs. VBAC kind of post and if you’re looking to pick a fight about that topic, go elsewhere. there are plenty of parenting blogs and posts created to stir controversy and piss people off with regards to HOW your child enters the world. this is not one of those.)
moving on… i told my doctor that i had been researching VBACs and was aware of the risks on both sides, having a repeat c-section and having a VBAC. (hello, childbirth in itself poses risks, what else ya got?) then, i told her that my husband will be deployed when miss pickle enters the world, and that “i selfishly may not want to experience a different kind of birth, knowing he will not be a part of it, ya know? that will suck.”
and cue STINK EYE.
(it should be noted that this appointment was with the last of the 4 doctors who rotate within this practice. from my next visit on through delivery, who i see is my choice.)
the doctor rattled off a shit ton of stats and facts and VBACs to me that are all kind of fuzzy now that i think back on it. i was just stuck on the look of death she had given me, which made it difficult to grasp the words that were coming out of her mouth. something about subsequent c-sections and higher risk of stuff and “IF YOU WANT MORE PREGNANCIES BEYOND THIS ONE, THIS BABY SHOULD BE A VBAC BABY.”
::record screech::
hold the iphone. so, not only do i get to think about my husband being gone for the birth of this child, but now you want me to think about how large of a family i want to have and how that number of children will determine the way in which i should deliver this baby?
apparently that’s what she wanted. dr. dead eyes wanted me to put a number to it.
i don’t know how many children i want to have. i don’t know the amount of chaos this second child will bring to our already chaotic lives. i don’t know where we will be financially years from now and whether or not we’ll be able to support 5 hypothetical children, or 3 hypothetical children… even the 2 children we will shortly be responsible for. i don’t know if i’ll get the baby bug immediately after delivering this child.
I DON’T KNOW WHAT DAY IT IS OR IF I BRUSHED MY TEETH THIS MORNING.
what i do know is that my husband will be gone for the birth of this child. that is the only thing i know. i do not know how i am delivering miss pickle in to this world, nor do i know how many children i will one day end up with. all i know is that my husband, who so desperately wants to be here when his first daughter cries for the first time, will be on the other side of the world. and yes, i need to consider what is best for my health and the health of the baby… but i’d be a straight up asshole not to consider my partner and the current situation we are in with him being deployed.
i may be an idiot when it comes to numbers, people… but i am no asshole.
i left my appointment friday morning having felt bullied into making a decision that i am not ready or equipped to make yet. i felt judged for thinking of doing a repeat c-section. and i felt sad.
there’s a lot on our plate right now. and yeah, i’m taking things in stride as much as one crazy pregnant person possibly can. but don’t ask me questions about LIFE that cause me to doubt myself. don’t look at me with dead eyes.
and don’t ever ask me anything about numbers. i was an english major for shit’s sake. numbers upset me more than katy perry and russell brand’s divorce.
my solution for the dog has people questioning my sanity (no surprise)
red has behaved so horribly since we moved. honestly, he’s been awful and i have even referred to him as “a marley dog” on more than one occasion. and yes, i know he’s a lab and high-energy and needs a lot of attention and and and… but he’s trained. he is five years old and he’s trained.
he knows better. and he’s still being a bastard.
nothing is enough for him. no amount of attention, outside time, treats, walks, play time, none of it is ever enough. and ya know what? it needs to be enough, because while i love animals and think they’re fantastic, the bottom line is, they’re animals. my dog is not going to take priority over the humans in my life.
we treat him well. red is very loved. even on the days when he takes out his anger on us by leaving surprise turds throughout the house because we left him for a few hours, we still love him. he pisses us off, but we love him. he annoys the hell out of us, but we love him.
it dawned on me this weekend, when discussing red’s abundant attention-grabbing antics, that i may have a solution to this problem. i have figured out how to occupy the dog while still being able to live our lives.
we need a second dog.
i’ve mentioned it to a few people and have gotten mixed responses. some people think it’s a great idea and that red having a companion would help out his current shitty behavior. and other people think my pregnant status has caused me to multiply everything in my life, including canines, which is just crazy.
here’s the thing though… i am crazy. i was crazy enough to go along with paul and pick out red to bring home 3 days before paul left for japan for months. i’m crazy enough to add kids to this wack-a-doo world that we live in. pretty sure i’m crazy enough to seriously consider getting a dog for the dog.
red needs a friend. and i may just be crazy enough to find one for him… thereby filling our lives with more shit than i ever thought possible.
*EDITED TO ADD* comments below are awesome and give me a lot to think about… but i should mention that a cat is not an option for us as i am DEATHLY allergic to them. so thanks to those of you who have offered another type of animal as a suggestion, but a cat would literally kill me. kthxbye!
8723023836432994 times a day
but why can’t i watch sponge bob?
but why don’t you eat breffast?
but why i can’t have juice?
but why i have to take a baff?
but why do i go potty in a pull-up?
but why you have big boobs?
but why is red a bad dog?
but why can’t i sit in front?
but why clean up toys?
but why is dad at work?
but why i can have ice cream treats?
but why i can have MORE ice cream treats?
but why you take a shower?
but why moms smell?
but why do the bugs buzz loud?
but why i can’t drive?
but why i haffoo nap?
but why you don’t jump with me?
but why i can’t climb there?
but why dad is sweaty?
but why mickey mouse clubhouse isn’t on?
but why it’s not winter yet?
but why you can’t get me lollipops?
but why moms and dads watch the news?
but why i’m not bigger?
but why i can’t go on diving board?
but why mom has scratchy legs?
but why i can’t get red’s poops?
(ok that last one, i’ll totally let him do as soon as he can maneuver the plastic bag.)
house rules
MONTHS AGO…
Me: “OK, I’ll be better about throwing away my sweet & low packets post morning coffee consumption, if you actually dispose of the food you dump into the sink.”
Paul: “Deal.”
OVER TIME…
Me: “Friendly reminder… food in sink that you DON’T put down the disposal makes me gag. I’ve thrown away my sweet & lows. Jump on it Tonto.”
Paul: “K, sorry.”
TODAY…
Me: calls Paul at work. “OK, so you know those families who have a cussing jar, and each time someone cusses, they put a dollar in the jar?”
Paul: “Yeah.”
Me: “So, I have an idea for a new house rule… each time I find food in the sink that has NOT gone down the disposal, you’ll owe me a bottle of wine.”
Paul: …………
Me: “Cuz I just went in the kitchen to make Jackson’s lunch, and upon going to wash my hands, I found Kashi remnants, 1/2 of a pretzel stick, and a gnarled banana. It nearly made me wretch.”
Paul: “Sorry.”
Me: “So, what say ye of said house rule?”
Paul: “OK.”
Me: “Cool. So, no hard feelings, I’ll just text you each time this happens and hopefully over time you’ll get to the point where you’re buying me bottles of wine NOT because you have left food in the sink without disposing of it, but because you just love me.”
Paul: “Yup. Sorry.”
Me: “OK. I love you. Bye.”
Paul: “I love you too. Bye.”
And…….. SCENE.
gettin’ pretty wack-a-doo
*WARNING* this it a nonstop stream of consciousness post… it will most likely make no sense to any of you unless you are currently a resident of the maryland/dc area.
i’ve heard of cabin fever before. i think there are a few movies out there about it. i dunno, i’m too lazy to even google it with the exception of the wikipedia definition. regardless, i’m on the brink of madness. like beyond medicinal help madness.
if i take one more picture of snow, snow banks, igloos, snow on branches, my kid discovering mass amounts of snow, or my car that was buried underneath the snow, i’m going to vomit all over the snow until the snow is no longer even recognizable as being snow… just my vomit.
i lived in chicago. twice. once when i was too small to really remember it, and then again when i was in middle school and absolutely awesome listening to green day (before they went all broadway) and wearing my flannel shirts and thinking it was the end of the world when kurt cobain died.
no, the end of the world is now. here. in maryland. and our 6 ft under consists of freezing cold snow with a sheet of ice over it because it went down to 6 degrees last night and we can feel the wind blow through the windows of our cheap ass gov’t base housing apartment.
and whatever to you canadian blogging friends of mine who are sitting there, in your homes, reading this with your mug of coffee and baileys, ready to take on another day of isolation and insanity covered in down coats, scarves, mittens, toboggans, or toques (i think that’s what you call them.)
go ahead, laugh at me. i’m well aware that i’m being a whiny little bitch about this, but dammit it’s my blog and i’ll post what i want to. and if you give me too much shit about complaining, i will throw a snow ball at you that cuts your face because it’s been frozen for the last 4 days and basically only now consists of ice.
IN. YOUR. FACE.
i’m sick of this snow. i just want to know when it will end. instead of knowing when it will end, i know when the next fucking storm is coming… today. this afternoon. and into tomorrow… 16-20 inches, in addition to the 30 + that currently resides on my car.
the sky is ugly. grey. unforgiving. filling to the brim with precipitation that will shortly freeze and then unleash its fury on us once again.
so yeah, i’m losing it. entirely. there are only a certain amount of hiding spaces in this apartment and i have spent time in each of them. i have hidden in the closet in an attempt to escape my family. (i love you guys, but we’ve spent enough time cooped up together.) and i’ve spent too long in the bathroom, hoping that paul and jackson just think i’m taking a dump when in reality i’m taking an extra 10 minutes to gain some composure, finish reading a book, or trying to not claw my eyes out.
i’ve even gone up to the attic. the storage space that is the 4th floor of our building. i went up there to get a book for paul the other night. ha!!! i knew exactly where the book was… with all of my other text books, old anthologies, college and grad school materials that i think to myself “someday i may need that.” yet i spent 25 minutes up in the storage space looking at all that was there… maternity clothes, jackson’s toys that he has outgrown, patio furniture that we obviously have no use for here. and i took my sweet ass time before rejoining my family with my wack-a-doo-ness.
and then there are the rest of the occupants of our apartment building that we have to deal with. and their children who are basically on summer vacation but in winter because they get so many goddamn snow days. and they are home and loud and dragging their sleds, saucers, and snow gear up and down and up and down and up and down the stairwell. and then there’s the one kid… THE ONE KID who is a total dipshit smart and funny and throws his frozen, wet snow boots up two flights in the stairwell, run upstairs to retrieve them, and then throw them back down to the bottom floor. he does this repeatedly.
perhaps that is how he is coping with cabin fever. it’s pretty damn annoying though. he needs another outlet. one that doesn’t disturb my child from napping. because when my child does not nap, it makes these crappy days that much more craptastic.
i like mother nature. truly, i do. jackson is an earth day birthday baby, born on april 22nd, and i am a taurus, earthy and whatnot.
but mother nature is being a bitch. an angry and evil bitch. and i kinda wanna punch her in the vag.
Have a Sip
