Yes, that means that I've officially rounded the corner to my third trimester. My flesh keeps wigging out every time I walk past a mirror that shows the belly, and my head freaks out every time the little life inside of me decides to mambo. (I'm convinced that I'm breeding the next So You Think You Can Dance winner...) Plus, I look HUGE!!!
I went to NY last week for a little bit of R+R.. Rest and Rejuvenation. Mentally, physically, spiritually. It was lovely. I honestly did not want to come home- as horrible as it sounds for a mom to write that- I loved not having someone scream at 7am that their brother won't let them into the bathroom, or the screech of "she's annoying meeeee" shortly thereafter.
My trip up to NY had me re-telling the story about how I found out that I was pregnant a gazillion times over, until the listener had tears running down their faces, three people told me I should re-tell this at a comedy club (after I have the baby, of course), and four yelled at me that I didn't post this on here.
So.. I decided what the hey. I'm going to share it with you guys. If I can't share it with you, then.. well, I wouldn't be much of a blogger, would I???
2011 was a hellacious year.
That's one of my favorite words right now. It wraps up so many feelings into one.
So yeah- it was horrible. I was feeling absolutely awful all year long, to the point where I downloaded an app onto my phone (WomanLog), so I could start keeping track of my body better. I've always been one of those ladies that knew their bodies better than they should, especially after my first kiddo. The thing was, before he entered my life, I had horrible problems with cysts and I thought that perhaps it was starting all over again.
My body was not behaving at all, so I kept track of it in my log- every ache, pain, discomfort. I told the hubster and one of my best friends that should I collapse and die unexpectedly, they needed to log onto my app, show it to the doctor doing the autopsy and figure out what the heck I had.
I know, I know.... That sounds morbid, and perhaps a little looney, but I really was feeling awful!
In 2011, I had a breast cancer scare, a cervical cancer scare, a uterine cancer scare (which supposedly ended up being fibroids)- and I thank god they were all scares- but they "scared" me to the point I thought I would die of a brain tumor, or something else outlandish.
Dear Aunt Flo only came to visit me three times- January, May, and July, and there was no real reason why. I even tracked the days the hubster and I were intimate, just to see if there was any correlation between being intimate and the feelings I was experiencing. Nothing made sense.
Right before the holidays always seems stressful, but the week before Thanksgiving, Marissa and I decided to go window shopping. We trekked to the mall, and started feeling and touching through JCPenney, and I find THE.CUTEST.
FLIPPING.MONKEY.BOOTIES.EVER. ---I mean, EVER!!! I squeal, and Marissa looks at me like I need some prescription meds. I tell her how much I love them, and that I should buy them, just so Abbie can put them on her dolly. She again, looks at me like I'm a complete spaz, and tells me I do not NEED these booties, and I can figure something better to drop $6 on if I really wanted to. I pout, because I love these booties.. but totally understand, so we start walking through the rest of the mall. Marissa rolls her eyes.
We head towards the SEARS wing; it's a farther walk, so we got some exercise, but our mall has a play-place there. We get to the middle of the mall, and we hear the distant wail of a kid in the play place. As we get closer, and closer, the noise keeps getting louder and louder. Marissa looks at me and says, "I sure as heck don't miss those days!" To which I giggle and tell her ditto, and we swap war stories of our kids screaming at octaves that are almost inhuman. As we round the play area and the child quiets down, and I look at Marissa and say, "You know, I love where I am in life right now, but every now and then I get that twinge that makes me think it would be nice to have another baby..." To which Marissa spins, glares at me, and says, "Yes, I get that same twinge from time to time, but the other 99.9% of me beats the CRAP out of it, and it goes away!" To which I bust hysterical laughing, and agree whole heartedly.
We decide to leave, but now we're hungry, so we stop at Mickey D's for happy meals. I order mine the same way as always, with extra pickles. As we walk into my house, we start talking about pickles.. Marissa tells me how she doesn't like McDonald's pickles, and how when she was pregnant with her oldest she loved Burger King's pickles, and her favorite pickle was Claussen.
My mouth begins to water as I recall being pregnant with Alex, and how I over-dosed in Burger King Whoppers, with extra pickles, but how my most favorite pickles -hands down- are Boars Head Pickles. And not any particular Boars Head Pickles, but the big, fat, whole pickles that I used to walk around the corner to the Deli to buy when I was a kid. I told her how they kept them in a big, fat glass jar with a big, heavy, glass lid. How they would slice the pickle and wrap it in plastic, and how me and my friends would hang out on the steps and eat our pickles. It brought back memories like no other......
I look at her and tell her now I want a Boars Head Pickle like nobody's business, and she does too, so like two complete morons, we start googling Boars Head pickle locations, and whether or not they deliver to homes, because at this point in time, I would buy a whole vat of pickles, that's how bad I want one. We have no luck, so we decide we will have to settle for a pickle taste off on Friday, her Claussens vs. Publix's Boars Head Kosher Dill spears.
That night I keep my googling story to myself, because it does sound certifiable, but I head to sleep early again. I'm usually a midnight-1am bedtime kind of gal. I climbed into bed about 9pm and fell into the deepest sleep of my life. I have the weirdest dream EVER- and wake up to Bri staring at me with a sheer look of confusion and horror on his face. I ask him what's the matter, and he asks me what the HECK I was dreaming about.... So like an ass, I tell him....
I was back in my hometown, with my friends Jessica and Jeremy. We were 12 again, and we had decided to go on an adventure. We ended up on a Goonies-style adventure after we climbed under the house of this older, abandoned house (which fwiw, is NOT abandoned, and I think my friends parents still live there). We went through all of these tunnels and caverns, got ourselves totally dirty, covered in old leaves, spiderwebs and dirt, and then we came to a door. A big wooden, arched door- it was locked, but there was a teeny window to the left, very close to the ceiling. Jeremy thought that one of us might fit through it, but none of us could.
We climbed out of the house, and tried to brainstorm who we might be able to bring back with us that would fit. I remember being very upset, because my friend Jessica was really short, and very thin, and in all honesty, really should have fit. All of a sudden, while we were pondering who we could trust to come back with us the next day, (while picking cobwebs from our hair and shirts), Michael Jackson appeared. "I think I might be able to fit," he says, "if you'll let me try".
The three of us look the King of Pop up and down and give him the go-ahead. We tie a rope around his waist, and tell him good luck. While we're dusting off our pants, and still contemplating who we could bring back, should Michael Jackson NOT fit, we hear this loud rumble. We look towards the house. It rumbles again, this time louder- and then it begins to shake, and collapse, and the ground swallows the house!!!
The three of us look at each other and scream in perfect unison, "OH MY GOD- I KILLED MICHAEL JACKSON!!!!!" and we run as fast as we can back to my house. I woke up right after that. It felt so real! The texture of the leaves, the smell of the dirt..
I giggle after telling this to Brian, knowing full well that I sound like a complete moron, and see that he's looking at me like one-flew-over-the-cuckoo's-nest, and he pats me and tells me that he thinks I need to get more rest. I agree, roll over, and say, "The last time I had crazy dreams like this, I was pregnant with Alex."
I pause a millisecond, think if it could be possible, draw an almost immediate, "Nah", and roll over and head back to sleep.
That day was pretty uneventful, but the next morning was the kicker. So I wake up, the kids are home from school for teacher prep day, the hubster has an interview or some class for unemployment. I'm laying in bed, because I honestly feel like death. As I'm laying there, my popcorn ceiling starts to connect dots cartoon style- sound effects and all- fuller breasts *ping*------------Monkey baby booties *ping*----------Boars Head Pickles *PING*----------- CRAZY dreams *PING!*
Oh. My. God.
I jet out of bed, dig through my bathroom cabinet, find a test- cause everyone should have one under their sink somewhere- and take the plunge. It's going to say no. It has to say no. I barely ovulated this year. Dear Aunt Flo only came three times. I thought I had cancer. I have no energy. The two I have are tons of work.. Within seconds the two VERY dark lines come up like exclamation points.
......I swear if you look at what time high tide was on that Friday, it was the exact moment I looked at that test. I gasped the biggest gasp of my life... twenty three minutes later I was still sitting on the side of my tub waiting to wake up from this dream. I did not.
I told the kids that there was a very big chance that I might be having a baby. They have been asking for one since Abbie was born- so I made sure to tell them I still had to go to the doctor to make sure that my test wasn't wrong. I packed the kids into the car, went back to JCPenney and bought the monkey baby booties. (I HAD to!) They picked this super cute giraffe snuggle blankey, and we got a box. I decided I would surprise Brian and have them give him a gift when he came home.
As we were leaving JCPenney, Marissa called. I asked her if I could still swing by to print out a paper I needed, and I told her that I needed some tissue paper, because the kids bought Brian a gift. She wasn't sure if she had any, but she'd look.
When I got there, I gave her the box, and asked if she had enough paper to cover what was inside. She lifted the lid only about an inch, and almost fell over! No.......Yes.....No......Yes. Are you sure? Yes.
And what does my darling friend do?!
After she settled down, she invited me to stay. I think I was there most of the day.. basically numb. She laughed at me the whole day, until Bri called and said he was going to be heading back.
I left, she wished me luck, and I got home seconds before my husband. I placed the test in a baggie, and put it in the box, so there was no misinterpretation of what the items meant.
The kids gave him the box, and he was confused... his confusion switched immediately when he realized what it was and he was absolutely elated. He would have a dozen kids or more, if I agreed to it. I knew he would be happy, but I've been waiting 12 weeks or so to wake up from this dream, not quite sure what I thought..think..
I know that babies are the biggest blessing life has to offer, and I am starting to get excited about this baby, but I swear when I die, my first question to God is definitely going to be, "DUDE- What were you thinking?!?!?!"
And it's even funnier when the baby looks like it's asking the same thing... No??