And So The Pregnancy Rambling Begins

Welp, yesterday was the first BIG BABY APPOINTMENT at the OB/GYN, and for some reason, I got all excited again like last time. But basically it was filling out a lot of paperwork (Jeremy asked, Ummm, don't they have all the information about your last pregnancy that they need? Yes, they do. Sadly, they need me to sum it up for them). This time it was even less anti-climactic. They were like back again so soon? Hahaha! and I was like Haha ... yup. and they gave me lists and timelines and since I had gotten a ton of tests and exams done while I was in the hospital, all I had to give them was a little pee and a little blood and I was on my way.

I mean, I guess I wasn't expecting them to magically make my overwhelming nausea and cramping go away, and I knew they wouldn't provide me with anything earth-shattering, like a picture of my baby's face or some info on the gender (Come on, science! Shouldn't we be able to tell before 20 weeks? Get on that!), but for some reason I always get all excited about the first appointment and then come away all deflated.

I'm pretty sure it's because I'm still at that point where I keep wondering if I'm REALLY pregnant. I mean, I'm as sick as sick can be, so that is rather telling, but it's not like later in your pregnancy when you can feel the baby move and there's no denying it. It still could all be a big mistake at this point, you know? Okay, you probably don't because that makes no sense, but I felt like this for a long time last time, too.

In other news, I ate a bowl of cereal AND a bowl of soup today. Then I had a piece of string cheese and a pickle when I got home from work at 10:30, so GO ME. I increased my food consumption by about 80% there, so I would call that a major success. This means, of course, that I am still sick as all get-out, and the mere thought of food is torture.

Jeremy keeps saying, "But you NEED to eat," and I get that. I do. But it's like this: imagine there was something incredibly horrible and painful and downright torturous -- say, poking yourself in the eye with an ice pick -- and then let's say you had to do this to yourself many times a day. Do you want to? NO. Of course not! Why would you torture yourself? Now say someone reminds you that you have to do it. Doesn't make it any easier. Eating is really like that (I mean, I guess NOT, but it's pretty damn bad). Drinking a sip of water makes me feel a hundred times worse than I already do. 

So yeah, things are great *crazy laughter*. Just kidding. I didn't dive off the deep end yet. In fact, Jeremy had the last three days off in a row (!) and he told me to REST and RELAX and I DID and it was AMAZING. But now I have to go back to that sassy child of mine. All the time. Every day. (Who knew ya had to rear 'em after ya birthed 'em?) Then teaching night classes. Then staying up all night, because, oh yeah, did I mention that insomnia flared up REAL BAD? It did.

Okay, this is turning into one bummer of a complain-y post, and I apologize for that. I had all these other things in my head that I was going to add to this, and the complain-y part was only going to be like one paragraph. Huh. So, since I never write anymore and this counts as writing, I'm going to go ahead and slap a title on it and call it a day. How about this, though? I will leave you with a picture and a promise that the next post will be an update on all the funny and darling things Josephine has been doing lately. DEAL.

Here's me with my 8 week bump ... pretty much the same size as two women I know who are 13 and 17 weeks along. Precious, right?

What can I say? I should have sucked it in more. Life lessons, people. And you get 'em here for free. Tell you friends. ALSO, you can hold up a picture of yourself next to this one and feel REALLY good about yourself. Geez, who am I these days, the G-D Dalai Lama? Must be the hormones.

Our Game Changer

I've been lying to you. And I'm sorry. I'm SO very sorry. It wasn't a straight-out lie. Like when I tell strangers their children are "lovely." That's code for "killing me." This lie was a lie of omission. But it ends now.

It is why I haven't been posting lately. Because there were SO MANY things I could not share because I would be found out. If I told you what my life has truly felt like for the past few weeks, the jig would have been up. But now I'm free to tell you.

Are you assuming the reason I am stalling with the news is because it is the most earth-shattering news you will hear all week? Maybe that's true. No promises.

Oh, how I wish I could peer into your minds and see what you are imaging! 

I knew she starting hooking! 

She got a book deal AND signed with a record label? I'm so jelly!

She finally got her tail surgically removed!

She had a TAIL?!?!!?

You're truly fans. And friends.

Okay, that was too much build-up, but I can't take it back now (no, I DON'T have a delete button).

Here is your one and only clue:

Got it?

Yup. It wasn't Irish twins, but as close as I could get 'em! Josephine's second birthday will be August 9th, and baby number 2 is due August 27th. If this one is as anxious to enter the world as his/her big sister was, then Josephine might have one HECK of a birthday week.

What else couldn't I tell you? THE SICKNESS!! OH, the nausea, the tireds, the crybaby syndrome. Lifting my head off the couch just recently became a thing of reality, and this was only accomplished by strong medication. Following a trip to the hospital. Yes! I had to go to the hospital and not call my mother in tears or ANYTHING! Here's a little rundown:

December 22nd: 99% sure I am pregnant. Don't want to highjack another Christmas with another pregnancy announcement. Decide to wait until after festivities to take test. Give Jeremy a heads up (he is unconvinced of said pregnancy).

December 23rd - 27th: Longest Christmas ever as I am exhausted, emotionally unstable, prone to crying and stealing food and hiding while I eat my second (and third) helpings in shame. 

December 28th: Am so ill I have to skip out on the last Christmas with dear, dear relatives whom I hardly ever see. Tell Jeremy we are taking a test TONIGHT. Guess what? That pregnant line showed up in about ONE SECOND. I tell Jeremy. He does not believe me. Then he believes me. Then we celebrate. Decide to wait a while to tell people (I have no idea WHY since, I can't keep a secret and will likely start to show ANY DAY. Remember last time?)

December 29th: Start talking baby names. Discuss the pros and cons of Girl-Girl and Girl-Boy birth orders. Sickness gets worse. Eating decreases even more.

December 31st: Jeremy's parents babysit while we have an anniversary date. Cannot believe we are not telling them. Am so nervous. This is the last night I remember eating a meal.

January 1st - 5th (let's get things moving, am I right?): Become more and more ill. Daily food intake is generally three crackers with laughing cow cheese, a cup a tea, a handful of grapes, and a pathetically small serving of whatever I made the other people I live with for dinner. While breastfeeding. Crying increases. Learn to stop bending at the waist, because any time, I do ... bad things happen. The thought of food makes me gag.

January 6th: The thought of water now makes me gag. At 8 AM I have half a glass of water and two ounces of a protein drink. When nothing else is consumed by 3 PM, I call my doctor. I am sent to the Emergency room (maybe I will recount that whole experience, because it was something else). After an hour, Jeremy has to take Josephine home. I turn into the saddest sack ever at the hospital, all alone. After two liters of fluids, I am still showing signs of dehydration. Tests show MINOR complications (not sure how to feel about these yet), but overall healthy pregnancy. Doctor gives me anti-nausea meds. I am skeptical since my foray into this in my last pregnancy was a bust. Still feel pretty miserable when I get home. Friends stop by and our cover is likely blown. They are nice enough to pretend they don't know I'm pregnant.

January 7th: Get my prescription for anti-nausea meds filled, pop one, and a half an hour later, SWEET RELIEF. I ate, I drank, I sat upright. Which is a good thing, because my parents and sister came to visit. We told them, because I REFUSED to sit alone in a hospital again with this pregnancy. I need to have a shoulder to cry on, even if just over the phone. I'm selfish like that. Plus, I'M PREGNANT!!!!!! YAY!!!!! A NEW LITTLE LOVELY BABY WHO WILL LIKELY LOOK EXACTLY LIKE MY HUSBAND BECAUSE APPARENTLY I WAS NOT INVOLVED IN THE SLIGHTEST IN MAKING JOSEPHINE!!! 

See? TWINS.

January 8th: Tell Jeremy's family. Get rave reviews.

January 11th: Finally manage to finish contacting the remaining immediate family members and share the good news.

Today: Jeremy gives me the thumbs up to share with the Internet.

It's been quite the ride, and the craziest bits are still ahead of us, but we are oh-so-excited. :)

Funny Stuff My Husband Says, Vol. XVIII: Green Giant

Jeremy, while riding the stationary bike that he rides EVERY day:


You know, there's got to be a way to hook this bike up to energy-storing batteries; then I could use the energy I create by riding. 


*goes deeper into thought*


Then I would teach Cleo to run on a treadmill and save all THAT energy. Now THAT'S green.

Book Review: Folly Beach

Folly Beach by Dorothea Benton Frank is the story of Cate, who once had it all and through a hailstorm of tragedies, finds herself single, homeless and broke. She makes the trip from New Jersey to South Carolina and is taken in by her aunts who raised her. It is here that she starts over, builds and new life, and is deeply inspired by the playwrights Dorothy and DuBose Heyward (of Porgy and Bess fame). 

Let me break this all down for you. First of all, the story starts off with Cate living in the lap of luxury in Jersey. She is richer than rich -- mansion and private jet rich -- because of her husband's work. She does not work, and instead complains about how unfulfilled her life is. Herumph. As someone living at the other end of the wealth spectrum, I found the complaining less-than-adorable. Then, when she lost it all and had to adapt to a life where -- GASP -- there was no one to cook and clean for her and she couldn't get her hair blown out three times a week in the salon? Yeah, I still wasn't feeling too sorry for the lady.

BUT, at this point, the story was already moving along nicely, and I barely noticed it took more than 70 pages for her to get to the "starting life over" point, which was actually the beginning of the real story. 

My only other complaint is that every chapter of Cate's story is alternated with a scene from a play about Dorothy Heyworth. We later learn that this is the play Cate is inspired to write, and that's lovely, but the play takes you right out of the moment, and is really not necessary to the story at all. There are some interesting tidbits here and there about the lives of the Heywards and their collaboration with George Gershwin, but nothing that couldn't have been included in the context of the novel, as many other details were.

Again, however, I was able to overlook this writing device that I find particularly lame because I quickly became interested in the characters.

And this is why I devoted so much of this review to the parts of the story that really bothered me -- because a book that had two things that frustrated and annoyed me was still able to keep my interest, make me laugh, and make me think. The 350+ pages moved quickly, and neither the plot or dialogue ever seemed forced. I found much to love in Frank's characters and the character of Folly Beach itself. Frank's research into the Charleston Renaissance, the Heywards and Gershwin was also commendable. All in all, Folly Beach  was a fun and interesting read, and one that even inspired me to check out more of Frank's large repertoire of work. 

I am reading this as part of a TLC Book Tour. If you want to see what any of the other tour guides had to say, click HERE to see the full tour schedule and check out other blogs. 

I was given a free copy of Folly Beach but was not compensated for this review. The opinions are my own.

Glass Half Full

Me: Wait, wasn't the world supposed to end in 2012?

Jeremy: Well, not in the first seconds of 2012.

Me: Oh. Is there a specific day?

Jeremy: Yes, the Mayans said December 21st, 2012.

Me: Wow! We have practically a whole year left! What is everybody complaining about?

Happy New Year!