.... Don't wanna be.... ALL BY MYSELF- ANYMORE!
I really miss being pregnant! Despite all the bitching and moaning I did on this blog, I had a pretty great pregnancy. Plus, it made me feel special. I wasn't just me- I was pregnant me. A psychology professor once told my class that there should be 3 sexes: Male, Female, and Pregnant. According to him, body chemistry is so different when you are pregnant, that you don't fit the normal parameters of "female." I still felt like a woman, but I felt different as well- it the best way.
I loved knowing I was making a baby. I loved feeling his kicks and movements. He's 2 weeks today, and I've stopped rubbing my belly (it was a habit I started early on). But I miss him being in there. Besides the fact that he was WAY quieter back then, I was never, ever really alone. Someone told me the other day that I'll never be alone again.... that's not true. I went through that phase already. Now I'm at the point where he's growing in a way that he eventually won't need me!
Even with my super-traumatic delivery, and the pretty crappy way I'm feeling now.... I'd still like to be pregnant again!
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
What I did on My Labor Day
I'm going to go ahead and skip to the moral of the story: Pregnant women should NOT be left alone! We don't know what the hell is going on! For our own safety & mental stability we need to be assigned a nurse at 36 weeks that just follows us around answering questions and telling us what to do.
So I wake up at 2 AM with really bad cramps. Now, this should have been a sign that something was happening. I mean, I don't wake up- ever. I sleep. Not only did this wake me up, but I couldn't go back to sleep. Well, no water had broken. Plus my cramps (or should I say CONTRACTIONS!?!?!) were lasting longer than a minute. I was told they started out short. I did start timing them. I suppose there was something in my head that told me this was weird, but I in no way believed it. I had a schedule. I was going to work until at least March 2nd. I had things to do. Stuff to return to stores. I hadn't even finished my maternity plans.
So I got up and watched The Cutting Edge 2. I also sent myself an email with some additions to my plans, and info to people who were going to be taking things over for me at school. Once again- it seems I DID know something was happening, but I was in complete denial.
When Art got up I started a load of laundry, changed the sheets, and vacuumed. (Can we say Nesting? On a side note, I don't think Nesting is hormonal. I think it's your brain saying "Crap! I have a ton of shit to do, and no time left!") Art kept asking if everything was OK. I told him I was hurting, but I didn't think it meant anything. I was using my awesome phone app to time them- and they were all over the place. I'd have one, then the next 20 minutes later, then 9 minutes, then 16 minutes, then 32 minutes, and so on. Plus some would last just 30 seconds and some would last over 2 minutes. This was NOT how I was led to believe labor would begin. I thought it would be slow and regular. You know, first 30 minutes apart, then 25, winding me down to go time.
So I got the massage I had scheduled, I went to the dermatologist (where the receptionist told me I didn't look big enough to only have 2 weeks left. Oh yeah lady, I didn't even have a day left- so suck it!), and stopped by Wal-greens for make-up and jellybeans. Here I should have taken note at how when I was having a contraction- I would need to stop walking and wait it out.
I would like to take a moment to mention that I am not a TOTAL moron. I called my Doctor's off and asked how I could tell the difference between Braxton Hicks contractions and real ones. The nurse told me BH ARE real contractions, they are just pre-labor contractions. They are supposed to hurt. The difference it that real contractions don't stop. So, I made myself think these were just BH (because surely when I went 45 minutes between one, that was them stopping, right?)
At about 7 o'clock it all hit the fan. They started to HURT. I didn't want to sit when they happened, and I'd breathe really weird (not the calm, collected breathing you go over in birth class- but the Shit, I'm in pain breathing.) I am going to point out here that Art thought I was being a baby. I was also having back labor, because I felt it in my back, and it hurt to be touched during a contraction. Plus I felt like I had to pee every time. We go on this way for quite a while (still with irregular contractions). And THIS is where I get my moral. I ask Art what I should do. He doesn't know, and want to know what I think we should do. I don't know! I've never done this before! I don't know what it should feel like. Plus, it's 2 weeks early, on Friday my Doctor said I wasn't likely to go anytime soon, and I don't want to be one of those hysterical people who drive all the way to the hospital for a false alarm!
We go regulate out to 5 minutes apart, plus I spot some blood on one of my infinite trips to the bathroom. I call my doctor (after Art reminds me that even though it's 11 PM, they have a call service.) My actual doctor is actually at the hospital, and she tells me to come on in.
We get to Halifax at 11:30. I am RUSHED (those ER people do NOT mess around with the pregnant!) up to the maternity floor. I'm check by Dr. Gilmore who tells me I'm 4 cm and my sac has ruptured (must have been in the bathroom, cause I never felt it, and I didn't leak afterward), and that I should be having a baby in the "early morning." THAT was an underestimate.
I sign my name 7,000 times and request my epidural ASAP. I am already semi-shrieking during each contraction. I get checked twice more- and it HURTS. I ask them not to check me anymore, to wait until I get my epidural (hint, hint) and they tell me they have to check because they have to "Make some choices." Choices? I choose to get an epidural. Didn't they hear me talking to Dr. Gilmore!?!?!
I'm rolled into the delivery room- and I start acting like a fool. They want me to move from one bed to another- and I'm telling them I can't move, it hurts, I don't want to lay down, and that I HAVE to go to the bathroom. They say I don't, that it's the baby. But I insist. They insist right back. When I get up to move, there is this gush- and gross blood & bits come gushing out of me. They say that's "normal." Oh yeah? I disagree. This has never happened to me before. Therefore, it is NOT "normal."
It is slightly after midnight, and I'm told it's time to start pushing. (Now that is some FAST turn around time from 4 cm, right?) They say I'm like Superwoman and it shouldn't go this fast my first time. I show them just how UN-superwomanish I am by asking (again!) for my epidural. The nurse shakes her head at me. Then goes on to tell me how he's right there and it won't take long at all. Plus all the pressure I feel won't go away with an epidural. (By you know what- the pain will- and there is PAIN!) Dr. Gilmore says I can get one if I want.... but the nurses veto her, saying I won't lay still for it. (And as much as I hate those bitches, I have to agree. I was NOT handling the pain gracefully, and I was screaming and flopping around during each contraction.)
So I'm pushing, and pushing, and pushing. I feel like I'm going to pass out. It's all a blur. I remember hearing voices & seeing faces. They kept telling me I was "almost there." I do remember asking for them to just take him out.... and if they could give me ANYTHING else for the pain. "No." (bitches!) Art tells me later I drop the f-bomb a few times, and that I tried to bite him. I do not recall these events.
When I actually get to the "almost there" for REAL, my doctors freakin' grabs either side of me and STRETCHES ME! AHHHHHHHHHH! (And that is exactly what I did.) I'm screaming, "Stop it! Stop it!" and trying to crawl backwards off the table. Then I tell them I'm not pushing anymore, that I can't do it. But everyone stonewalls me, and I do. He comes out in a slimy way. They put him on my stomach and he's blue. I can't believe he's here. That it's over. That he's blue. That he's crying. I touch him and I'm saying "Oh my god" over and over. My throat is KILLING me and I can feel the cord between my legs.
So, my birth plan was shot to hell (which mainly involved getting my epidural then calling my parents, then updating my facebook status). But now I can be one of those smug people who say, "Oh, I didn't get an epidural." And being smug is one of my favorite things to do! But back to my moral. If I'd had my nurse, she would have told me this was actual labor and I would have gotten to the hospital MUCH sooner. Then perhaps I wouldn't have acted like a lunatic during the event. Oh well, Jackson better get used to having a psycho mom!
So I wake up at 2 AM with really bad cramps. Now, this should have been a sign that something was happening. I mean, I don't wake up- ever. I sleep. Not only did this wake me up, but I couldn't go back to sleep. Well, no water had broken. Plus my cramps (or should I say CONTRACTIONS!?!?!) were lasting longer than a minute. I was told they started out short. I did start timing them. I suppose there was something in my head that told me this was weird, but I in no way believed it. I had a schedule. I was going to work until at least March 2nd. I had things to do. Stuff to return to stores. I hadn't even finished my maternity plans.
So I got up and watched The Cutting Edge 2. I also sent myself an email with some additions to my plans, and info to people who were going to be taking things over for me at school. Once again- it seems I DID know something was happening, but I was in complete denial.
When Art got up I started a load of laundry, changed the sheets, and vacuumed. (Can we say Nesting? On a side note, I don't think Nesting is hormonal. I think it's your brain saying "Crap! I have a ton of shit to do, and no time left!") Art kept asking if everything was OK. I told him I was hurting, but I didn't think it meant anything. I was using my awesome phone app to time them- and they were all over the place. I'd have one, then the next 20 minutes later, then 9 minutes, then 16 minutes, then 32 minutes, and so on. Plus some would last just 30 seconds and some would last over 2 minutes. This was NOT how I was led to believe labor would begin. I thought it would be slow and regular. You know, first 30 minutes apart, then 25, winding me down to go time.
So I got the massage I had scheduled, I went to the dermatologist (where the receptionist told me I didn't look big enough to only have 2 weeks left. Oh yeah lady, I didn't even have a day left- so suck it!), and stopped by Wal-greens for make-up and jellybeans. Here I should have taken note at how when I was having a contraction- I would need to stop walking and wait it out.
I would like to take a moment to mention that I am not a TOTAL moron. I called my Doctor's off and asked how I could tell the difference between Braxton Hicks contractions and real ones. The nurse told me BH ARE real contractions, they are just pre-labor contractions. They are supposed to hurt. The difference it that real contractions don't stop. So, I made myself think these were just BH (because surely when I went 45 minutes between one, that was them stopping, right?)
At about 7 o'clock it all hit the fan. They started to HURT. I didn't want to sit when they happened, and I'd breathe really weird (not the calm, collected breathing you go over in birth class- but the Shit, I'm in pain breathing.) I am going to point out here that Art thought I was being a baby. I was also having back labor, because I felt it in my back, and it hurt to be touched during a contraction. Plus I felt like I had to pee every time. We go on this way for quite a while (still with irregular contractions). And THIS is where I get my moral. I ask Art what I should do. He doesn't know, and want to know what I think we should do. I don't know! I've never done this before! I don't know what it should feel like. Plus, it's 2 weeks early, on Friday my Doctor said I wasn't likely to go anytime soon, and I don't want to be one of those hysterical people who drive all the way to the hospital for a false alarm!
We go regulate out to 5 minutes apart, plus I spot some blood on one of my infinite trips to the bathroom. I call my doctor (after Art reminds me that even though it's 11 PM, they have a call service.) My actual doctor is actually at the hospital, and she tells me to come on in.
We get to Halifax at 11:30. I am RUSHED (those ER people do NOT mess around with the pregnant!) up to the maternity floor. I'm check by Dr. Gilmore who tells me I'm 4 cm and my sac has ruptured (must have been in the bathroom, cause I never felt it, and I didn't leak afterward), and that I should be having a baby in the "early morning." THAT was an underestimate.
I sign my name 7,000 times and request my epidural ASAP. I am already semi-shrieking during each contraction. I get checked twice more- and it HURTS. I ask them not to check me anymore, to wait until I get my epidural (hint, hint) and they tell me they have to check because they have to "Make some choices." Choices? I choose to get an epidural. Didn't they hear me talking to Dr. Gilmore!?!?!
I'm rolled into the delivery room- and I start acting like a fool. They want me to move from one bed to another- and I'm telling them I can't move, it hurts, I don't want to lay down, and that I HAVE to go to the bathroom. They say I don't, that it's the baby. But I insist. They insist right back. When I get up to move, there is this gush- and gross blood & bits come gushing out of me. They say that's "normal." Oh yeah? I disagree. This has never happened to me before. Therefore, it is NOT "normal."
It is slightly after midnight, and I'm told it's time to start pushing. (Now that is some FAST turn around time from 4 cm, right?) They say I'm like Superwoman and it shouldn't go this fast my first time. I show them just how UN-superwomanish I am by asking (again!) for my epidural. The nurse shakes her head at me. Then goes on to tell me how he's right there and it won't take long at all. Plus all the pressure I feel won't go away with an epidural. (By you know what- the pain will- and there is PAIN!) Dr. Gilmore says I can get one if I want.... but the nurses veto her, saying I won't lay still for it. (And as much as I hate those bitches, I have to agree. I was NOT handling the pain gracefully, and I was screaming and flopping around during each contraction.)
So I'm pushing, and pushing, and pushing. I feel like I'm going to pass out. It's all a blur. I remember hearing voices & seeing faces. They kept telling me I was "almost there." I do remember asking for them to just take him out.... and if they could give me ANYTHING else for the pain. "No." (bitches!) Art tells me later I drop the f-bomb a few times, and that I tried to bite him. I do not recall these events.
When I actually get to the "almost there" for REAL, my doctors freakin' grabs either side of me and STRETCHES ME! AHHHHHHHHHH! (And that is exactly what I did.) I'm screaming, "Stop it! Stop it!" and trying to crawl backwards off the table. Then I tell them I'm not pushing anymore, that I can't do it. But everyone stonewalls me, and I do. He comes out in a slimy way. They put him on my stomach and he's blue. I can't believe he's here. That it's over. That he's blue. That he's crying. I touch him and I'm saying "Oh my god" over and over. My throat is KILLING me and I can feel the cord between my legs.
So, my birth plan was shot to hell (which mainly involved getting my epidural then calling my parents, then updating my facebook status). But now I can be one of those smug people who say, "Oh, I didn't get an epidural." And being smug is one of my favorite things to do! But back to my moral. If I'd had my nurse, she would have told me this was actual labor and I would have gotten to the hospital MUCH sooner. Then perhaps I wouldn't have acted like a lunatic during the event. Oh well, Jackson better get used to having a psycho mom!
Sunday, February 20, 2011
Labor is Really Going to Suck
I mean, DUH! OF COURSE it's going to suck. But I'm getting a taste of it now- and I realize I was in denial.
I've been having those Braxton Hicks contractions for a few weeks now. They started as nothing. My stomach would just tighten up. I wouldn't have even noticed I was having them if I hadn't rubbed my stomach at just the right time to feel them. About a week ago they progressed. I could feel them. It was like I was doing a sit-up, or holding a crunch. It didn't hurt, didn't feel weird, so everything was good.
Yesterday, they changed. For the worse. For the very, very worse! They have started to hurt! I even woke up 3 times last night. It feels like a superhuman cramp. Like I've got my period & a bad case of Mexican food all at once. Like some huge guy has reached into my stomach and is grabbing my muscles in his fist and squeezing really, really hard. Perhaps it feels like I'm being stabbed.... but I've never been stabbed, so I hesitate to use that analogy. OK, a huge guy has never squeezed my stomach muscles, but that seemed like a good visual description of what I feel.
I've been concerned enough today to google this- and it seems that if you are past 37 weeks (which I am, 38 yesterday), painful Braxton Hicks contractions are not unusual. And since they are irregular and as of Friday I'm still "high & tight," (That's summing up my OB/GYN visit this past Friday. No dilation, cervix still high and in the anterior position.) I'm not concerned that I've reached actual labor.
But damn, if this is FAKE labor....REAL labor is going to be hell! Here I was thinking I would hold off on the epidural for awhile (not to be brave or natural or anything crazy like that- but just because once I got one I'd be stuck in bed with a catheter shoved up my who-ha). Now I may just demand it right away. I may call on the way to the hospital and ask for them to have it ready when I get there. I'd go ahead and get one now if I could!
I've been having those Braxton Hicks contractions for a few weeks now. They started as nothing. My stomach would just tighten up. I wouldn't have even noticed I was having them if I hadn't rubbed my stomach at just the right time to feel them. About a week ago they progressed. I could feel them. It was like I was doing a sit-up, or holding a crunch. It didn't hurt, didn't feel weird, so everything was good.
Yesterday, they changed. For the worse. For the very, very worse! They have started to hurt! I even woke up 3 times last night. It feels like a superhuman cramp. Like I've got my period & a bad case of Mexican food all at once. Like some huge guy has reached into my stomach and is grabbing my muscles in his fist and squeezing really, really hard. Perhaps it feels like I'm being stabbed.... but I've never been stabbed, so I hesitate to use that analogy. OK, a huge guy has never squeezed my stomach muscles, but that seemed like a good visual description of what I feel.
I've been concerned enough today to google this- and it seems that if you are past 37 weeks (which I am, 38 yesterday), painful Braxton Hicks contractions are not unusual. And since they are irregular and as of Friday I'm still "high & tight," (That's summing up my OB/GYN visit this past Friday. No dilation, cervix still high and in the anterior position.) I'm not concerned that I've reached actual labor.
But damn, if this is FAKE labor....REAL labor is going to be hell! Here I was thinking I would hold off on the epidural for awhile (not to be brave or natural or anything crazy like that- but just because once I got one I'd be stuck in bed with a catheter shoved up my who-ha). Now I may just demand it right away. I may call on the way to the hospital and ask for them to have it ready when I get there. I'd go ahead and get one now if I could!
Thursday, February 17, 2011
Tick Tock on the Clock but the Party don't stop.....
Pregnancy is a long, long waiting game. Let's take a look back and think about all the things you have to wait for.....
If you are trying to get pregnant, you begin each month by waiting to ovulate. Then you wait to find out if your period will begin. After an unable-to-be-predetermined amount of time you reach SUCCESS! But then the REAL waiting begins.
You wait for your 1st OB/GYN appointment. You wait until it's "safe" to tell your friends and family. You wait to hear the heartbeat each month. You wait for that day you NEED to put on those maternity pants. You wait (impatiently) for your ultrasound so that you can find out the sex of the baby. You wait to decorate the baby's room. You wait to register. You wait for your baby shower. You wait, and you wait, and you wait. Then at the end, you are just waiting..... for the waiting to end.
But I really needed to wait for those events. It made the 9 months bearable. If I had found out I was pregnant on Sunday, learned it was a boy on Monday, and turned into a whale on Tuesday, I wouldn't have made it. Those milestones were little celebrations along the way that kept me excited and happy.
The waiting that remains is the scariest of all. I'm waiting for labor to begin. I'm waiting to see how long my labor lasts. I'm waiting to meet my little boy. And I'm waiting to find out what kind of parents Art & I will be....
If you are trying to get pregnant, you begin each month by waiting to ovulate. Then you wait to find out if your period will begin. After an unable-to-be-predetermined amount of time you reach SUCCESS! But then the REAL waiting begins.
You wait for your 1st OB/GYN appointment. You wait until it's "safe" to tell your friends and family. You wait to hear the heartbeat each month. You wait for that day you NEED to put on those maternity pants. You wait (impatiently) for your ultrasound so that you can find out the sex of the baby. You wait to decorate the baby's room. You wait to register. You wait for your baby shower. You wait, and you wait, and you wait. Then at the end, you are just waiting..... for the waiting to end.
But I really needed to wait for those events. It made the 9 months bearable. If I had found out I was pregnant on Sunday, learned it was a boy on Monday, and turned into a whale on Tuesday, I wouldn't have made it. Those milestones were little celebrations along the way that kept me excited and happy.
The waiting that remains is the scariest of all. I'm waiting for labor to begin. I'm waiting to see how long my labor lasts. I'm waiting to meet my little boy. And I'm waiting to find out what kind of parents Art & I will be....
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
Eating My Words
.... because of my acid reflux, that's about all I'll be eating these days. The end is near, and the time of "misery" has set in. During these past 8 months I've been asked about all manner of ailments; each of which I've been able to shrug off with a smile and say, "No, I'm fine." At the same time I was gloating on the inside about how wonderful and easy my pregnancy was. I must admit that I was also feeling a bit awesome about myself (and about how much better I was than women in general) to be having such a great experience.
Well, I spoke to soon. It all seems to be hitting at once. That's karma for you.
Rowann said I would slow down and not want to walk, I disagreed. OK Rowann- YOU WERE RIGHT!
The birthing class lady asked if anyone has sore groin muscles. I rolled my eyes and thought- WHATEVER. Well, crap- now I wished I'd listen to what she said about soothing that ache.
Gina said she had horrible heartburn and acid reflux. I told her I had an iron stomach. Turns out it's an iron stomach swirling with acid that is getting pushed up my throat.
My feet are swelling (the left more than the right, gross!).
My walk has digressed into a waddle.
It's hard to stand up and sit down.
AND..... When I coughed today, I peed a little.
I'd say that I've hit rock bottom. But I can't! Doing so would only doom me to even more misery. I must suffer in silence.
I've heard more versions of "I couldn't wait to get that baby out" and "I was so sick of it at the end" than I care to recount. I assured the tale teller, and myself, that I was not going to feel that way. Being pregnant was cool! This could go on forever. Well crap.... I swear if those words come out of my mouth.... This is my last fortress of dignity. I will NOT lower myself that far. I still have to have SOME snotty standards you know.
Well, I spoke to soon. It all seems to be hitting at once. That's karma for you.
Rowann said I would slow down and not want to walk, I disagreed. OK Rowann- YOU WERE RIGHT!
The birthing class lady asked if anyone has sore groin muscles. I rolled my eyes and thought- WHATEVER. Well, crap- now I wished I'd listen to what she said about soothing that ache.
Gina said she had horrible heartburn and acid reflux. I told her I had an iron stomach. Turns out it's an iron stomach swirling with acid that is getting pushed up my throat.
My feet are swelling (the left more than the right, gross!).
My walk has digressed into a waddle.
It's hard to stand up and sit down.
AND..... When I coughed today, I peed a little.
I'd say that I've hit rock bottom. But I can't! Doing so would only doom me to even more misery. I must suffer in silence.
I've heard more versions of "I couldn't wait to get that baby out" and "I was so sick of it at the end" than I care to recount. I assured the tale teller, and myself, that I was not going to feel that way. Being pregnant was cool! This could go on forever. Well crap.... I swear if those words come out of my mouth.... This is my last fortress of dignity. I will NOT lower myself that far. I still have to have SOME snotty standards you know.
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
Why is it so hard to lose a pet? I had the worst experience of my life this weekend, watching T-Bone run out in front of a car. I keep picturing it in my mind over and over. I was supposed to keep in safe and take care of him. He was my responsibility. He relied on me for everything- and I couldn't train him properly. He was in pain. Now he's gone. I failed him.
Pets are your children. Not for everyone, but for many Americans. Definately for myself & Art. We have connected with them on a personal and emotional level. We see human traits in them and imagine even more thoughts and feelings for them. We love them, and feel loved by them. We even refer to each other as "Mommy" and "Daddy." This is a strong statement I'm making as a pregnant woman who has yet to hold my child in my arms, and I realize that many people may disagree with me, but losing a pet is like losing a child.
You know your pet isn't going to live forever. You expect them to go before you do. But knowing it doesn't make it easier. You have a being that is totally dependent on you. You teach them, train them, feed them, love them, discipline them and shape them into what they are. You make excuses for them and stand up for them. In our case, we baby them. We let the 80 lbs Pit Bull sit on our laps. We let him snuggle up to us on the bed. We kissed his cheeks when pushed his nose in our faces. I think that dependency creates a different kind of bond than you have with parents, grandparents, friends and siblings. Not only do you feel the sorrow of loss, the hole in your life, but you feel like you fucked it all up. It's not the dog's fault. He's just a dog for Christ's sake! So where does that leave the blame?
I love all 3 of my dogs. But T-Bone was special to me. I wanted Chloe. I wanted a dog. I hinted and begged and whined and demanded that we get a puppy. I adore Chloe. She's been with us for years, and she is our very best dog. She's the smartest, the best behaved, and the prettiest. T-Bone fell upon us by accident. I wasn't looking for a dog. But I did want a baby. I was starting to hint to Art and was getting knocked down. My biological clock was starting to tick... and I got a cute little puppy instead. He became my baby. And as he grew into the giant lug that he was, he stayed so sweet and lovable. He was the one who had to be by my side at all times. He was the one who wanted to lay beside me with his head on my chest and front leg on my stomach in hug-like fashion.
Sad dosen't even begin to describe how I feel. They call it heartache with good reason. When I think about him there is a pain and tightness in my chest. My heart is broken. I miss his companionship. I miss giving him kisses. I miss his head on mine when I wake up in the morning. I miss him bumping into my legs as he rushes past me. I miss him following me from room to room so that no matter where I turn he's in my way. I miss having him next to me on the sofa when I watch tv. I miss telling stories about silly things he's done. I miss walking into the bedroom and seeing him sprawled out on the pillows.
T-Bone is in my baby book. The "My Family" page seemed empty with just myself and Art listed. So under "My Sisters" I have Chole and "My Brothers" are T-Bone and Little Man. We think T-Bone would have loved our kid.
Pets are your children. Not for everyone, but for many Americans. Definately for myself & Art. We have connected with them on a personal and emotional level. We see human traits in them and imagine even more thoughts and feelings for them. We love them, and feel loved by them. We even refer to each other as "Mommy" and "Daddy." This is a strong statement I'm making as a pregnant woman who has yet to hold my child in my arms, and I realize that many people may disagree with me, but losing a pet is like losing a child.
You know your pet isn't going to live forever. You expect them to go before you do. But knowing it doesn't make it easier. You have a being that is totally dependent on you. You teach them, train them, feed them, love them, discipline them and shape them into what they are. You make excuses for them and stand up for them. In our case, we baby them. We let the 80 lbs Pit Bull sit on our laps. We let him snuggle up to us on the bed. We kissed his cheeks when pushed his nose in our faces. I think that dependency creates a different kind of bond than you have with parents, grandparents, friends and siblings. Not only do you feel the sorrow of loss, the hole in your life, but you feel like you fucked it all up. It's not the dog's fault. He's just a dog for Christ's sake! So where does that leave the blame?
I love all 3 of my dogs. But T-Bone was special to me. I wanted Chloe. I wanted a dog. I hinted and begged and whined and demanded that we get a puppy. I adore Chloe. She's been with us for years, and she is our very best dog. She's the smartest, the best behaved, and the prettiest. T-Bone fell upon us by accident. I wasn't looking for a dog. But I did want a baby. I was starting to hint to Art and was getting knocked down. My biological clock was starting to tick... and I got a cute little puppy instead. He became my baby. And as he grew into the giant lug that he was, he stayed so sweet and lovable. He was the one who had to be by my side at all times. He was the one who wanted to lay beside me with his head on my chest and front leg on my stomach in hug-like fashion.
Sad dosen't even begin to describe how I feel. They call it heartache with good reason. When I think about him there is a pain and tightness in my chest. My heart is broken. I miss his companionship. I miss giving him kisses. I miss his head on mine when I wake up in the morning. I miss him bumping into my legs as he rushes past me. I miss him following me from room to room so that no matter where I turn he's in my way. I miss having him next to me on the sofa when I watch tv. I miss telling stories about silly things he's done. I miss walking into the bedroom and seeing him sprawled out on the pillows.
T-Bone is in my baby book. The "My Family" page seemed empty with just myself and Art listed. So under "My Sisters" I have Chole and "My Brothers" are T-Bone and Little Man. We think T-Bone would have loved our kid.
Thursday, January 13, 2011
NOBODY ASKED YOU!
WTF? Today THREE different people told me, at THREE separate times, that I wasn't "big" enough to be as pregnant as I am. Read the title: NOBODY ASKED YOU!
Here's how it went down- The first person (who has had kids of her own), asked when I was due.
"March 5th." I reply.
"Oh? How far along are you?"
"32 Weeks."
"You don't look big enough to be that far along."
Awkward pause.
I finally say, "Well, I am."
So this gets me a bit miffed. I've been thinking that I look pretty big. My doctor even said I measured a week big! But then it gets me thinking. What if some thing's wrong? I haven't felt him move as much lately. And I am feeling very weird. Well, I go to the doctor Friday, so I'll ask.
Fast forward a few hours. This time I hear: "I didn't even know you were pregnant!"
I am all astonishment. "Did you just think I was getting fat?"
"No, you didn't seem any different."
Gee, thanks. Either 1) You are an unobservant twat. 2) I've been totally exaggerating my size in my mind. 3) Something is wrong! So I'm back to worry mode. Scratch that: I'm in SUPER worry mode. He's not moving, he's totally not moving. Why am I feeling all this pressure? Shouldn't he be moving like crazy this far along? I had weird cramps the other day....
Then even later- "You don't look all that pregnant."
Now I'm just in a pissy mood. "Well I am." Bitch.
Hey World- feel free to keep your fucking thoughts to yourself. You are NOT an ob-gyn. You don't know what the hell you are talking about. How dare you spread your vile thoughts, getting me all worked up by insensitively throwing out these judgements? Screw you!
Thursday, January 6, 2011
Better Late Than Never (no, really)
I'm going to turn 32 before I pop this bad boy out. And even thought I KNOW that more people are having kids later in life (read: celebrities plastered all over the magazines), I still feel kinda old to be having my first. This is especially true when I think about how old I will be vs. how old Jackson will be. Eck. Like when he's 18, I'll be 50! WHAT? And I thought my parents were old.
But here is the upside: the big, big, big upside: everyone else has had kids already, and they have TONS of shit to give us! Whoo hoo! I've got an entire dresser bursting with clothes size birth-12 months. I've got 2 swings, toys, a diaper genie, wipes warmer, high chair and a freakin' pack n' play! Even though we still have to fork out the dough for diapers, the crib, changing table, and other sundries, we are making out like bandits!
But here is the upside: the big, big, big upside: everyone else has had kids already, and they have TONS of shit to give us! Whoo hoo! I've got an entire dresser bursting with clothes size birth-12 months. I've got 2 swings, toys, a diaper genie, wipes warmer, high chair and a freakin' pack n' play! Even though we still have to fork out the dough for diapers, the crib, changing table, and other sundries, we are making out like bandits!
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