All I'm Saying there's a joke in here somewhere

I was stuck in training all day today, and it so totally did not conform to the agenda. I absolutely hate it when that happens, and my brain usually just shuts down one minute after the meeting/training is supposed to be over. This one went 45 minutes long! More of that fun tomorrow.

I feel like being bitchy. It really makes me wish I had someone completely reprehensible that I could tell you all about, but I'm bitchy without a target. That does not bode well for my husband and the dogs.

Fourth of July weekend is coming up, and let's see here...this will be the first one of those I haven't worked in ten years. Wow. Sadly, Matt still has to work. I'll prolly be solo unless I track my family down.

That's about it, kids. I'm not terribly interesting. Today's pregnancy symptom is the lingering headache. It lasts all day, every day. I think the books say it's actually because of increased blood flow, maybe building pressure?

Wow, the first baby/pregnancy gift has arrived! Sherri sent me Belly Laughs: The Naked Truth About Pregnancy and Childbirth by Jenny McCarthy.

I've been eyeing this one seriously in Barnes & Noble and on Amazon. So I was tickled pink when it showed up in the mail today. Thanks, Sherri!!!

I'd also like to mention another notable pregnancy book that Jessica steered me towards, called The Girlfriends' Guide to Pregnancy by Vicki Iovine. It's another more light-hearted (though brutally honest) look at what pregnancy is going to both look and feel like, and it has made me feel a lot less crazy with my own symptoms. After all, I'm not exactly the first person to have them!

Yeah, so my last post contained the word "constipation." That was evidently all it took, because things sort of broke loose later that night. My doctor suspects it may have been food poisoning (and every time I say or write that, I think of Ralphie on "A Christmas Story" saying, "It was...it was...SOAP POISONING!"), and I'm now on a liquids-only diet until things get back to normal.

I've lost another day and a half of work. I feel horrible being in my fourth week of this job and I've already had two and a half days of sick leave. They keep telling me, "Don't try to be a hero. If something really goes wrong, we can call you on the cell phone." Oddly, I was called this morning for a job interview for a position I applied to at least six weeks ago. And my blessed husband, who has been so good up until that point said, "Maybe you should schedule an interview." Me: "Why?" Him: "Well, your current bosses are probably getting pretty concerned about hiring you."

Ow. That hurt. I ran into the bedroom and cried. He came in and apologized, yadda yadda. This is hard on him too, I know. He doesn't know what happened to his healthy, cheerful wife. Now he's got this horrible, smelly creature who is either puking or pooping, and who sometimes seriously contemplates how best to do both at the same time.

I'm. Still. Waiting. For. The. Beautiful. Moments. Of. Pregnancy.

Apologies to those of you who aren't tuning in just to hear about my fascinating pregnancy symptoms. I know it can't be all that interesting. There's just not that much going on otherwise right now.

--Boise is hotter than a two-dollar pistol right now.

--Work is enh, but when isn't it?

--We're going on vacation, but it's not for another three weeks.

--One of my former co-workers is going around telling people in Cascade that we're "having twins for sure, but probably more than that." WTF is that all about?

That's about it. And on the pregnancy front, I really wish I could have a nice poop. I'm not fiber-deficient. I've been eating cherries like they were going out of style. But all I'm doing in the bathroom is grunting and farting. It's very frustrating.

This is the family I'm bringing a baby into. Stephen M. is my nephew, and I'm sure a lot of the creative force behind the signs. I'm also suspicous of the part about ex-girlfriend's clothes being for sale. Gotta be him and that little Goth girl he brought to family Christmas a few years running.

Officially, my little embryo will now be known to you all as Roscoe! Congratulations to Donna for coming up with the name! Sadly, no prize will be forthcoming, so you'll have to settle for all this glory heaped upon your head. *heap*

Roscoe has been pretty okay to me this weekend. I've only had one of my Zofran pills, and actually ate a whole meal yesterday afternoon. I'm feeling good about that. However, I think I'm starting to get the Baby Blues. (Pre-natal version, which I am hoping doesn't necessarily have a link to a post-partum depression episode.) I woke up this morning knowing that Matt was going to be working today, but still just about cried when he left. I wanted him to spend the day taking care of me, dammit! Plus the bathrooms need cleaning... Anyone else out there get sad for no good reason during pregnancy?

All right, well I hope you're all having lovely Father's Days. I haven't mustered the energy to go see my Dear Ol'Dad today, but I called him yesterday and he's already received a present, and he told me to stay close to home if I wasn't feeling well. Why am I justifying this to you all?

Wow, I have a whole two days (plus this evening) to just sit around and veg out. It's hard to describe how good that feels. I think the most ambitious thing I've got planned for the weekend is to go buy Matt a tie for Father's Day. I figured I might as well get him used to lame Father's Day presents early. Or maybe I'll get some clay and make him a hand-made ashtray. Neither of us smokes, but that's another good FD gift, right?

Speaking of fathers, my little brother (aka The Twit) is about to drive me over the edge. I do not know when he became the Designated Family Suck-Up, but he's going for the Academy Award. Our dad turns 70 this summer, and The Twit called me, drunk as a skunk (not unusual) a couple weeks ago. He was coherent enough that I could make out, "I just don't want to get Dad a tie for his fucking birthday! He's turning seventy, for fuck's sake!" When I agreed that he was entitled to strong feelings about the matter and that I would not urge him to purchase a tie, he said, "I think we each need to write a story about dad and I'll make a little book and give it to him. He'll really love that."

Suddenly, I liked the tie idea a whole lot better.

Just to get Andy Capp, Junior off the phone, I said that I could probably write something. What I was really thinking was, "Gee, what horrible, scarring episode of anger mis-management of my father's could I scribe in this birthday tome?" Basically, I was buying some time in the hopes that The Twit would not remember any of the conversation the next day. Yes, it's a nice idea, but if you knew my other siblings and I very well at all, you'd know we're not the sentimental, write a personalized Hallmark type of people that would get into this kind of thing. It would be forced, trite, and while it wouldn't be dishonest, it would be generated in such a "Only because I will look like the Queen Shitheel of All Time" frame of mind that I might as well be lying.

Wrong. He left a message the other night (no idea as to his BAC at that point) saying he wanted to see how my story was coming along. Maybe I'd better just buy two packages of clay...

I think the doctor's assistant Tuesday was hesitant to give me any medication for the throwing up, but she changed her mind after my second mad dash to the bathroom during the appointment. I am now on Zofran, which is an anti-emetic used for chemotherapy patients, and it also works great on knocked-up women. I have been able to go to work the last couple of days, and have kept down enough food that my energy levels are back up. Whew! Thanks for all the well wishes and advice that you've all been providing--it helps!

So I had mentioned voting for the baby's internet nickname a while back; what say we give it a go? I've selected the names I liked best, so cast your vote in the comments and I'll select the name in a couple of days! (Nominator's page is attached to the name, where applicable.)

Belly Monster
Roscoe
Paris

This is one of the few chances you all get at a democracy on this page, so vote early and often!

I usually get off work around 4:30 every afternoon. But yesterday was a special day, because that's when I fled work with a hand clasped over my mouth.

I raced home, unfortunately hitting every red light between there and here, flung open the door to the house, and made my final sprint to the bathroom where I proceeded to blow chips.

Then I took a little nap. Then I got up and puked some more. I have been repeating that schedule pretty much ever since, a time-frame that has now consisted of nearly 20 hours. Last night I was able to keep down a cup of yogurt and a few animal crackers. Today it's pretty much 7-Up. My new boss is being very understanding, but how long can that last? I mean, I'm only halfway through the end of the first trimester, and that means that if this is a "normal" pregnancy, I should have about six more weeks before I quit throwing up. I'd pretty much burn up all of my sick leave between now and then.

So please tell me, everyone: what do other people do in this situation? Do you just tough it out at work and go spew every hour or so in the bathroom?

Anyone else out there have a husband who seems to take much longer to get ready than they do? Here's Matt's schedule in the morning:

6:20 a.m. Roll out of bed when wife's alarm clock goes off.

6:21-6:30 Rassle the dogs.

6:30 Let dogs out, pour first cup of coffee. Drink.

6:35 Wife gets out of shower and starts to primp. Walk into shared bathroom and mock wife until she throws husband out of room.

6:36 Rassle the dogs.

6:45 Wander upstairs and look at newspaper from home-town husband hasn't lived in for 22 years.

7:00 Wander downstairs, watch The Today Show.

7:15 Drink more coffee.

7:20 Eat breakfast.

7:30 Rassle the dogs.

7:40 Say, "Oh shit, look at the time!" then race into the bathroom to try to get ready for work as wife heads out the door.

That's what getting ready consists of for my husband. He screws around for most of the morning, then has a mad panic at the last second. Men are weird.

I know I'm not a terrible daughter-in-law, but a normal person, when I say that I REALLY NEED MY IN-LAWS TO GET THE HELL OUT OF MY HOUSE.

They've been pleasant. They've treated me with lots of respect and particular attention to my delicate condition. They've tried to let us continue on with our normally scheduled lives. But. THEY'VE BEEN HERE FOR EIGHT DAYS.

You know that saying about fish and house-guests both starting to stink after three days? Yeah. Pee-yew, if you know what I'm saying. Right now I'm sitting at home on a Saturday afternoon, because they took off to watch Matt do his game warden thing at a Free Fishing Day event, but I know they'll be home before him and they don't have a key to the house. (And they wouldn't get the hint even if I did leave.)

Only eighteen more hours...I can make it. I can. *cry*

There are some good suggestions in the "It's Official!" post for goofy things to call our embryo. I think I'll still take ideas, but I'd like to point out a couple that are front-runners at this time:

Sherri's suggestion of Paris is a good one, largely because I know how worn out on hearing about Ms. Hilton Sherri is. So I know I could totally annoy her with that.

Carrster came up with a candy theme, but even realizing that didn't make me read "Nib" as anything other than "New In Box," which is a definite symptom of E-bay addiction, and a sign that I need professional help.

Let's have some more suggestions and I'll put it up for a vote!

I spotted a new version of Trivial Pursuit a few days ago at Barnes & Noble that looked pretty good. It's called "The Book Lover's Edition," and since Matt and I read pretty much all the time, I figured it would be a hit.

We went and bought it last night and played our maiden game against Matt's parents, both of whom read near-constantly. There wasn't one of us at that table who wouldn't perform at least reasonably well on Jeopardy, if I do say so myself, so I figured the action would be fast and furious.

That's why I was so surprised when both teams answered, "I don't know," for about 90% of the questions. These things are hard, people.

For example:

1. What novelist coined the term "cold war" in a 1945 article in London's Tribune?

2. What novel by Peter Carey finds an imaginary poet created by Christopher Chubb coming back to haunt him?

3. What former D.C. shoe salesman penned the crime-noir novel Shoedog?

Answers in the extended entry...

Continue reading "Durr..."

The blood test and urinalysis confirmed that we most definitely have a bun in the oven. Huzzah!

Anyone want to come up with a cutesy internet nickname for the fetus? Cletus the Fetus is a good one, but maybe too gender-oriented. I'm feeling like it's a girl.

No clue about the elevated HcG level, so not sure if it indicated a higher likelihood of multiple babies. Matt talked to the doctor (who was skeptical about drawing any conclusions from that particular test anyway) and the doc didn't mention anything.

Want to know what my doctor said today when he told us why we should hope for only two babies in the womb?

Continue reading "When You Put it That Way..."

God, I have zero energy tonight. It's hard to say how much of these symptoms of mine are psychosomatic. After all, I'm the girl who made myself "morning sick" after each of my last three ovulation dates, in the hope that I could somehow talk my body into being pregnant.

Now that I am, I feel like I'm running the full gamut. I haven't had anywhere near the challenges some of my friends have (I mean you, particularly, Kathy!). In fact, it isn't so bad. It just takes some getting used to. I haven't thrown up yet and my super-power sense of smell appears to be working for good instead of evil.

However, I am just flat-out knackered this evening. I had to take a quick trip to CostCo after work to refill my prenatal vitamin prescription, and I brought my mother-in-law and Matt along on the outing. While my MIL had to inventory every type of dessert offered in the whole bloody warehouse store three times, my energy reserves went into full tilt mode. It was all I could do to drag myself through the check-out line.

Tomorrow is our first doctor's appointment as a knocked-up couple, so once that and the requisite blood tests are taken care of, I'll be able to tell the folks at work who are probably finding me listless, wan and more than a little confused at times.

It's the first weekend after starting my new job. Everyone there has been extremely nice, and it's making me feel like telling the new boss about my pregnancy will likely go smoothly. I think. He's pretty family-oriented, and there is even a policy where you can bring your baby to work for the first six months, provided there aren't any "issues" (colicky baby, interferes too much with job performance, etc.), so that's a good thing.

My in-laws arrived for their annual visit last night, and were thrilled with the news. This will make their fifteenth (and sixteenth? seventeenth?) grandchild, so they've got the routine down pat.

I'm continuing with water aerobics, since I can't find anything anywhere that indicates you shouldn't be doing that. It's a lot of fun, and I actually met a nursery nurse from the hospital we hope to deliver at this morning, who also takes the H20 class. I thought that was kind of neat, and she had some good suggestions for obstetricians.

Anyway, you all have a great weekend. I hope you're relaxing!

As per Sherri's request, I'll update you on the technical aspects of my delicate condition. I went and bought a pregnancy book, which has been interesting. For example, did you all know (some of you did) that they start counting your weeks/months at the date of your last period before you even conceived? So I am technically at week 6. We've estimated the due date as January 31, and I'm going to see my doctor next Tuesday.

For those of you in Boise who have had babies, and I think you know who you are, do you recommend any particular obstetrician? My doc is just a gynecologist/fertility specialist. I'm looking for a birther, preferably one who is pro-epidural and delivers at St. Luke's downtown.

So the pregnancy book says a few interesting things about week six: by the end of this week, the baby's heartbeat could possibly be picked up on ultrasound, even though the heart isn't more than the size of a poppy seed. The lungs and brain have started to form, and the baby should be approximately 4 millimeters in length by the end of the week.

I'd just like to know, based on the fertility drugs, how many of them are in there. I told Matt we're selling anything more than three.