28 Weeks – Long Weekend Away

Last weekend we took a 3 day weekend with Rebecca and went a few hours south.  This trip was originally planned months ago with 4 other families to a water park.  The three of us planned to go on our own to a baseball game while we were down there as well.  Originally, I thought it would be an easy weekend away even though I was pregnant.  Hahahaha, that is fucking hilarious.  I was wrong. I’ve mentioned before that I knew we were just not meant to be babymoon people and this past weekend proved that we were so right.

Friday night we headed out to a baseball game.  The heat index was 115 degrees, the humidity was impossible to walk through and there was zero breeze to help.  Welcome to the Midwest.  We headed into the game, dressed in as little as possible, thinking that surely we wouldn’t have seats in the direct sun.  Wrong again, we did.  We spent a small fortune in bottled water, sucked it up and took our seats.  This is where I will admit, I love that heat and humidity and have handled it really well in this pregnancy.  Baby even took to rocking out every time the music was cranked for a new batter up.  My lovely Rebecca, however, does not handle it well.  She turns into a melting, whiny, child anytime the temps go over 70 degrees so she was a delight throughout the evening.  Somehow we managed to not be one of the people hauled out on a stretcher during the game but did walk back to the truck looking like we had properly pissed ourselves and smelled like hell.

Showers were a welcome sight at the end of the night.

The next day we joined the other families to head to a water park.  Eight kids between the ages of 6 months and 13 years, followed by 7 adults, trekked into this place.  I will spare the details and say water parks may sound like a good idea when you are hot and pregnant but they aren’t. Especially when the walk, with this tribe, was 30 minutes from our parking spot till we found chairs. There was absolutely nothing I could do after that but sit and hold down the fort by watching all the bags, strollers and chairs.  Even getting into the main pool to cool off posed a danger I never thought of,  300 crazy kids, with flailing limbs and my bump.  I was so worried about taking a direct kick or hit that I didn’t manage much more than a few quick dunks.  The slides, adult pool, wave pool and lazy river were all out as well due to the amount of people.  Have I mentioned the amount of people?  I mean, A LOT.  A lot of people means the water feels like piss.  I didn’t see a very long line for the bathrooms when I was there.  Deduce what you want from that.

On more than one occasion I was saddled with a child to watch while one of my adult friends went to the bar or just in general, ran off.  By the end of the day I was tired of babysitting, my feet were swollen (even though I merely sat), tired of having zero fun, tired of people, and really confused on why the general population of people have no idea how to properly dress themselves in a swim suit.  Also, I needed some real food and was hangry.  My Husband and Rebecca completely understood when I asked if they were good to go.  Some of the other adults were not as understanding as they were losing their babysitter and they thought I was being a party pooper.  I am never the party pooper and that caused me to feel like a giant ass as we trekked back to our truck.  I was tired of being pregnant and not myself.  Vacationing was not fun pregnant and that was that.

We rallied our evening with showers, dinner, and watching a baseball game in the hotel bar with a bunch of other fans, while eating desserts the size of our heads, with my feet up.  If you can’t have alcohol you might as well have cheesecake. Hours later the rest of the group came piling into the hotel with over-tired, not fed, burnt and screaming children.  I was not jealous  of them. Late that night, the three of us,  headed to our room and watched the Harry Potter marathon till everyone fell asleep.  It wasn’t perfect but it was a get away and my Husband reminded me that he really owes me a real trip next Spring.  You know, when I’m not pregnant.

27 Weeks – GD Testing

The joy of hitting 27 weeks (or around there for some) in a pregnancy is the lovely gestational diabetes test.  If you don’t know exactly what this is about then I can tell you it is where you drink an orange drink and more of you will nod your head in understanding.  If you still don’t understand, then let me tell you the basics.  They test you to make sure that you do not have gestational diabetes, which can cause major harm to you and your baby if it goes undetected.  Normally this goes away after said baby enters the world but something you want to know about.  They test you by having you drink an orange drink that everyone and their brother will make you dread trying.  From there they do a blood draw and let you know later in the day what the outcome is.

For some reason I was really getting worked up over this test.  I’m not a big sugar person but this baby is her father’s child and I have eaten candy corn like everyday is Halloween.  That is a lot of sugar to me.  So I was slowly convincing myself that I was going to have GD.  The night before the test I inhaled candy corn assuming the worst case scenario-I wouldn’t be able to have more.

We went in last Friday for a perinatologist appointment, which was another big ultrasound to check baby’s growth.  The timing of downing my orange drink had to be very specific so I was to drink it before starting the ultrasound and then get my blood drawn an hour after.  I’m not going to lie, Rebecca and the Husband both took a tiny sip of the drink out of curiosity.  I had five minutes to down the drink but took 30 seconds while my two assistants there sang me a pirate song.  For those dreading this drink, it seriously is not that bad.  Sugary and flat.  Down it and life goes on.

We spent the next 45 minutes watching our little nugget dance in circles once again as she has no idea how to sit still through one of these.  She made the tech work for every measurement but the doctor came in and confirmed with us that her growth is right on track and everything looks good.  She currently weighs 2lbs 9oz.  We will do one more growth scan in 6 weeks.  This means I can continue on my current heart medication and we don’t need to change it up as it doesn’t seem to be affecting her growth.

We then went down to my doctor’s office for a quick check with her, blood draw and were out the door for a three-day weekend get away.  On the way out-of-town the nurse called to let me know the good news- no GD for us! Candy corn all around! I breathed a huge sigh of relief and had a much better time enjoying our weekend away.

27 Weeks- Concerts

I knew going into this summer that I wouldn’t spend it like I have spent most summers.  That is just reality.  There were a few things that I was seriously looking forward to though and last weeks Kenny Chesney concert was one of them.  Now, if you don’t like him, or live under a rock and don’t know who he is, then you are wrong and I don’t need that kind of negativity in my life.  If the Husband would let me name this little nugget, inhabiting my body, Chesney, I would do it.  He won’t, I tried.  Moving on though, concert.

I’m a member of the fan club (quit judging), which got me floor seats, about 20 rows back, with a few others who joined me.  We also made a lot of new friends of the drunk variety by the end of the night.  I pulled on a new KC t-shirt over bump, got a couple of bottles of water and proceeded to dance, sing and scream at the top of my lungs with my new-found friends.  I smelled like a keg by the end of the night, the bottom of my shoes were sticky with God only knows what, my voice was hoarse and no one was near their seats as we all mixed into one big dance party.

Not only was the concert just pure greatness, as always, it was a few hours that I could lose myself a bit.  I could feel normal and the focus wasn’t on impending baby.  You don’t realize how much your life slowly becomes about that. People want to ask you questions, it is an obvious go-to topic, and you are suddenly labeled the pregnant person in the room whether you want to be or not.  I can’t escape it.  Sure, it is nice every now and then but I just want people to talk to me about something unrelated sometimes and not stare at my bump at the same time.  I don’t want people putting their judging eyes on me, treating me like I’m breakable, and acting like boundary lines don’t exist.  I’m over it quite frankly.  So for one night, it was gone, and I enjoyed every fucking minute of it.

How did baby do?  From the moment the music started pumping, she didn’t stop moving and grooving.  She literally went non-stop until we hit the bed at 2am.  She is truly my kid.  That 6am alarm sucked pretty bad but I was grateful for one thing, the lack of a hangover that I surely would have had if I wasn’t pregnant.  The good news is, the next concert that comes around, I will have all the rum and happily take the following day off of work to nurse my hangover.


25 Weeks Pregnant- I Still Got It

I have heard how some women feel very confident and sexy when they are pregnant.  I was confident in my own body before I was pregnant and thought that feeling wouldn’t change.  Boy was I wrong.  I do not feel sexy, I do not feel womanly, I feel off balanced and not myself.  And with only a 10lb weight gain, thus far, I still feel huge most days.  It also isn’t for lack of support from my Husband who has not been one of those men weirded out by my ever changing body, in fact, he loves it.

Here I was, last night, walking my dog, in town.  I went by a house that had a large field in the front.  Several young boys were out playing a game of football and along the fence line was a few of their girlfriends, cheering them on.  I glanced at the scene and thought to myself, how time flies, I used to be that girl on the fence line but damn I wouldn’t pay to go back.

As we walked by I heard one of the boys yell something about “nice ass!” while other boys agreed in unison.  I couldn’t imagine he was talking to me and didn’t dare turn around to check.   Although another girl then yells “I’m right here and I can see you checking out her ass!”  I glanced over my shoulder to see that indeed they were looking at me.

I held my head a bit higher as I headed back home and may have had more swag in my step.  At dinner I told my sister and Husband.  The Husband gave me a high-five and my sister used it as reason to tell me once again, you can’t tell I’m pregnant in a t-shirt from a ways away.  Pathetic that it took a high school boy (so damn young and wrong, I know) to give me a boost in spirits but every now and then us ladies need it.  If those boys only knew they were hollering at someone much older than them and 25 weeks pregnant. Bam. It is the little things in life.

Pregnancy and July 4th

I love summertime.  Even more so, I love July 4th.  Normally, we celebrate my birthday early, we spend a small fortune on fireworks, roast in the sun, stay up late with bonfires, jump off the side of the boat, float in the water and drink till our hearts are content.

It is amazing how quickly pregnancy can ruin that for a person.  When I first realized the full timeline of my pregnancy I was thrilled that it would not coincide with the actual holiday’s of December but I then wondered how I would handle having to put the brakes on for an entire summer.  While it has been a bit easier than I thought it would, it still sucks, I’m not going to sugar coat that.

This past weekend friends were looking for me on the river, texting, asking if we were boating and where we were partying.  I sadly said this pirate was off the boat, sitting in my mother’s backyard, drinking a big thing of water, not in a swimsuit.  Everyone sent their condolences, knowing this party girl was lacking rum in her life and promised to have a drink for me.  I stood back further than normal when my Husband and brother blew up various large fruits in the fields.  I felt like shit when I got crazy and had more than one dessert.  People that did come party with us complained about how it just wasn’t the same when I was knocked up.  I agreed and my Husband reminded me it would all be better in 15 weeks and a few days.

I’m not saying your life is over when you are pregnant but no matter what you have to slow down.  You can’t just do whatever you want.  You have someone else to think about and have to be mindful of your body.  I can’t be the hostess with the mostess. (I swear that is a word)  I can’t even be the one leading the party at all.  In fact, I stopped to go take a nap once.  A nap.  Me.

Quite honestly, we have been making this summer work.  Our weekends are filled with so much else that I haven’t had time to dwell on what we normally would be doing.  I just knew this past weekend wouldn’t be the same and it wasn’t.  To make it easier we set up our plans for the next fourth of July which includes a large lake, boating, a cabin, babysitters and you guessed it, rum.  The good news is, pregnancy doesn’t last forever and there is always next year.





23 Weeks – Letter to My Baby

Dear baby girl- (AKA, baby nugget),

Don’t worry, we do have your real name picked out for you but as far as the rest of the world knows, you are baby nugget.  A word that we use for most things and it just so happens it has worked for you as well.

The other day I pulled out your baby book and started to fill in the blanks that it provided.  Family names, when we found out about you, and other basics.  But they were just that, basics.  As a blogger it didn’t feel like enough to me.

I feel like one day, perhaps as a teenager, you will think I was a completely cool person for keeping a blog about my life with great details of when I was pregnant with you.  Or by then you will not give a crap and will think how dorky I am.  I’m fine with it either way.  Some days I wish I blogged like most expecting Moms, listing out exact details of weight gain, cravings, and every new body change in detail.  Then maybe one day I would compare your pregnancy to my next pregnancy (God willing) and you can compare it to your own pregnancy way, way down the road when you are all grown up and married.  But unfortunately I’m not that kind of blogger so you get something different.

Here is what I do want you to know.  I may not love being pregnant but you have giving me one thing to look forward to every day, your moving and grooving inside.  Sure, in a few weeks I may hate having your body parts jabbing my essential organs and so forth, but right now it is a nice reminder that you are okay in there.  Because right now, it is just you and I nugget.  You have only let Dad feel you move around once but normally you instantly stop when I call him in to try to feel your kicks.  It makes me feel like we are actually starting to bond a little.

I want to give you kudos for making this an easy pregnancy.  I needed that after our journey to get here.  Thanks for not plaguing me with morning sickness, horrible sleep, major weight gain or anything else too major.  While I have had a few aches and pains along the way, I know it could be worse.

I will say you are all your father’s child at times.  I may not be much for sugar items but you demand cookies, cupcakes, and candy corn from time to time.  I give in and shove one in my mouth and tell you that is all your get for a while.  You happily spend the next hour kicking back on some sort of whacked out sugar high.  Your Dad finds this hilarious and is quite proud of himself, asking where his own cookie is.  I can see the amount of times you two will be hiding these items behind my back in the future.

With this pregnancy half over, we are very excited to meet you and I swear I will start on your nursery at some point.  I’m not worried about the late nights, the crying or the poopy diapers after you arrive.  I’ve done it before, so I don’t have a lot of anxiety to go back to that phase.  It is short lived anyways and you will quickly grow.  That is just how it happens.  So I’m looking forward to all of it.  Because here is the thing, kiddo, pregnancy is only a small part of this parenting thing and then the real life part kicks in.  The part where our family forever grows by one more.  So lets finish out these last 16ish weeks in style and with ease so we can get to the good stuff, like sniffing your newborn head.


Mom (The one playing the music too loud, poking you back when you kick, feeding you sugar and talking to your Dad late at night.)



An Alzheimer’s Truth

My Dad stood in the room when I told my Mom I was pregnant.  With tears in her eyes, she showed him the ultrasound pictures and asked me a million questions.  He nodded and thought it was cool but I could see the disconnect in his eyes.  Once they made it to their own home that night, he asked my Mom when they were going to the hospital to see the baby, he didn’t want to be late.  The next day, when my brother came over, my Dad asked him where the baby was.  Why couldn’t my brother go home and get the baby?  Dad had a baby stuck in his brain, he just didn’t know the who, what or when behind it.

Since then he will have obsessive days when he constantly wants to know where the baby is or asks to go see it.  Mom shows him ultrasound pictures and explains but you can tell it only sinks in so far and then he gets distracted by something else.

At 55, Alzheimer’s is slowly eating away at him.  A disease that my family knows all to well.  This is where I should write about how sad it is that my Dad, who hardly recognizes me, will not know my child, his grandchild.  This is where I should mention that I pray every night that he just holds in there a bit longer to see my child.  But if I wrote all that it would be a lie.

I didn’t grow up with this fairy tale Daddy/daughter story in my life.  My Dad continued to drink more as I got older and it killed our relationship.  It also brought on the Alzheimer’s sooner than necessary.  He requires care 24 hours a day at home which requires a nurse to be with him when my Mom is not and requires my Mom to have no other life unless she can find a babysitter.  That is what it is.  A babysitter, for her husband, so she can come with my sister and I to pick out furniture or else he would probably burn down the house.

A few weeks ago my Grandmother presented the question that more and more people continue to ask.  Don’t you just pray your Dad holds on till the baby is born?  I don’t sugar coat my quick “no.”  My Dad is gone.  The man who raised us, taught me to fish, fought with me after he drank too much, argued politics, fixed everything around the house, shared memories of his old racing days, he is gone.  What is left is a shell of his body and the occasional thought that pops into his head.  He might even start forming a sentence on that thought but then it turns into babble because his brain can’t handle it.  And here is the kicker, nothing will change any of that, there is no cure and there won’t be anytime soon to save him.

As with any disease, that has no cure or relief, it wears on a family.  The constant battles, the ups and downs, him destroying the house, the financial burden, and so on.  If my Dad knew how he truly was now he would be not only mortified but would rather be dead than alive.  I would feel the same way.  I think most would.  The quality of life is gone.  That is Alzheimer’s though.  You start grieving the loss of the person long before their body follows.

I honestly never pictured taking my child back to my parents home and having my Dad be there.  Some think he would be fascinated by a baby but that fascination would merely last minutes before he was cussing at her or dropping something on her.  There are a million things that could honestly go wrong and the stress of it wouldn’t be worth it.  It would be safer to keep my baby away from him than near him.

There is truth in life and sometimes it hurts.  I know some people can’t imagine their parents dying anytime soon, let alone not having them around to meet their grand kids, but my truth is different.