Monday, January 19, 2009


I looked in the mirror and realized- I've become her.

I only wear mismatched sweats with strategically placed wet spots and spit up on them
My hair is always pulled back in a ponytail
I usually don't get around to showering until late-afternoon
It's a great event if I put on make-up.
The bags under my eyes say I need a good 48 hours of sleep.
I look like I'm still 6 months pregnant.

What I didn't realise is that she also:

Would rather watch her baby yawn than the inaguration of a new president.
Doesn't care if the dow dropped 200 points-the only number she cares about is the number of poopy diapers in a day.
Gets excited and congratulates her baby when she successfully spits up all over her.
Never tires of staring at her baby's face
Gets a peace of heaven each time her child falls asleep on her chest
Enjoys changing diapers and washing bottles
Has never been happier

Wednesday, January 14, 2009

You Were Right...

You're right. You're all right. Every one of you. I thought that there was a massive conspiracy to get women pregnant because misery loves company. I thought the 'it's different when it's your own kid' was a fallacy. I thought that newborns really didn't do much for me, and I wish that kids came out 2 years old.

I was wrong. So very very wrong.

Yesterday we welcomed a new baby into our lives, and it changed everything. I now believe in love at first sight. She is adorable, and such a good baby. Wow. It's completely undescribable, wow.

However, as to all the horror stories about labor- I was prepared for the worst and I was worried about nothing. The easiest part of my entire pregnancy was labor-thanks to the skilled hands at St.Mark's hospital. Seriously, no pain- none, such a fabulous staff and this means a lot coming from a total wuss.

Here's the picture of the beautiful little girl. This blog will not turn into a 'mom blog' (not that there's anything wrong with that)- but mostly I won't be posting any details about this adorable child because there are too many weirdos out there.

Thursday, January 8, 2009

Due date +1

We're now at the due date +1. So how am I?

Besides the fact that my feet are swollen to the point I can only wear my husband's flip flops, I'm hanging in there. That's if I overlook dreading going to bed- because after finally getting into bed, like a pancake continuously flip from side to side to avoid getting bed sores and to allow blood to flow back into which ever arm I happen to be currently trying to sleep on. It takes about 3 minutes to reposition. Once I've finally found a position that is remotely close to comfortable, I have to use the bathroom for the umpteenth time, waddling like a duck every step of the way.

I have two appetites: I can't eat anything because nothing sounds good, even when I'm hungry, or I eat everything in sight times two! Either way, I am bound to down another package of tums to avoid serious heartburn (another reason I get no sleep). I can't tell the difference between a contraction and having to go to the bathroom, and the highlight of my day is a good bowel movement.

I'm currently on maternity leave, which is in the best interest of all involved due to my tendency to cry at the slightest bit of stress.At the same time it's incredibly frustrating to want to accomplish so much but barely have the strength to get myself up off the lovesac. I've learned from watching day time tv commercials that I'm wasting my life and I really should be entering a technical college, my regular job is a total crock because I could be making millions from home, and I'm an idiot for not buying silver coins (because the price of silver WILL go up!) and the snuggie is the best thing since crocs.

My heart rate increases just by walking to the mailbox, and my breathing is so heavy that after climbing a simple flight of stairs I need to sit down and take a break. I can't figure out why doctors keep asking for urine samples when I can't even see down there. One more week of this and I'll be ready to do ANYTHING to get this kid out, including reaching for the first leatherman to cut it out myself BUT excluding sex!

My favorite is when people tell me I'll 'miss' being pregnant. I'll no more miss being pregnant than I miss acne and the 7th grade. I can't blame her for not wanting to come out, all I do is watch an hour of the news and think "no wonder she wants to stay in there!"