Warning.....this is going to get a little gross. Feel free to skip this post if you're a little squeamish. I won't be offended.
My due date was May 14th. Two weeks to go and I was feeling huge. Everyone that saw me said that I looked like I had dropped. I was generally miserable, and absolutely ready to not be pregnant anymore. At around 8:30 pm on Tuesday, April 20th I wanted ice cream. I asked my husband if he wanted ice cream as well, and got in my car and went to the store.
It's only about a 5 minute drive from my house to Stewart's (for those of you not from upstate NY or Vermont...Stewart's is a local staple. It's a convenience store mostly. But the company has it's own brand of everything....milk, soda, chips, coffee, and most importantly ice cream. I'm pretty sure they started as an ice cream company.) and about half way there my phone beeped that I had a text message. As I had been really trying to be good about not looking at my phone while driving, I left it alone until I pulled into the parking lot.
The message had been from my friend that had just had her baby a week before. She had sent me some pictures of herself standing in front of a mirror, showing off how flat her stupid, skinny stomach was only a week after having a baby (you can call her a bitch. I do.)
So I was flipping through the pictures she sent, and responding to her, when I felt more than heard this weird pop. It has come from my lower half. I thought "What the hell was that?" But I think that I knew what it was.
I put the phone down and opened my car door. I cautiously stepped out of the car.....and felt the liquid roll down the inside of my leg.
I live in a small......town I guess. There isn't really a town center or a town government or anything. But everyone knows everyone else. My daughter (not myself) is related to half of the people that live there. (Which is a good thing because that means she can't date anyone there without a reasonable possibility that it would be considered incest.) Stewart's is also the only thing in this little town, so there is an excellent chance that at least 10 people that I knew pretty well and another 10 that knew who I was would have been there. Considering my typical luck....maybe more like 20.
I hopped back in the car...heart beating out of my throat and drove home. I called my friend who had sent me the pictures on the way.
Me: "I have never been so thankful to have to scroll through a bunch of pictures in my life. You just saved my ass."
Her: "Why? What Happened?"
Me: "Dude, my water just broke."
Her: "YAY!!!"
Me: "Yeah, and if you hadn't sent me that text when you did, and if there hadn't been a bunch of pictures attached, and if I hadn't waited until I parked to look at them.....well it would have happened in the store instead of in my car. In MY Stewart's. In a small town. I would've been that girl whose water broke in Stewart's for the rest of my life."
Her: "Holy shit. You're welcome."
So I get home and waddle my soaking wet ass upstairs. I tell my husband that he can't have any ice cream, as I strip off my gooey jeans, because my water broke. I jump in the shower to try to reduce the amount of amniotic fluid that hits the floor.
That was a useless effort. How do women manage this? I had my mom go to the store to get maxi pads. Big ones. I must have changed that thing 8 times before we left for the hospital.
Every time I had a contraction, more goo gushed out. It was fucking everywhere. I was standing on the porch talking to my roommate, waiting for the contractions to get close enough together to merit a trip to the hospital. I coughed......oh my god. A spurt of fluid splatted on the stone of the front porch....through the maxi pad. My roommate was totally grossed out. "Awww, dude, really? Like really? On the porch?" My husband was equally skeeved out by all the mess I was making.
I cleaned up the tiny mess I had made on the seat of my car. It was really only a spot about 2 inches across. He refused to take my car to the hospital. He didn't want to sit in my "filth". At which point I told him to shut his mouth or I would lose the maxi pad and leak all over the seat of his car. It amazing how well a man can listen when you threaten him and his possession with bodily fluids.
The rest of this story will have to wait for another time.
Tuesday, October 15, 2013
Friday, October 11, 2013
Oh, You Mean THIS Unmarked Grave, Officer?
So my planned post for today was going to be about my water breaking....which is a hilarious story. But I find that I'm too pre-occupied with my husband's bullshit to write that post.
So you all get to hear about the special individual that I'm stuck with until death do we part......:::clears throat:::
My husband didn't want any children. He said so on our first date. It was almost a deal breaker. I have the girl child, but I always wanted more children. A chance to have a real family.
It took a while, but at some point I became ok with only having my daughter. She was on her way to her wretched teen years, and if I had another child the two of them wouldn't be friends until they were adults. I would have to have two more in order to avoid raising another only child (which sucks....don't do it!!!). My daughter was so independent, I barely had to do anything for her anymore. If she could drive, she would take care of herself completely.
So we decided to get married, and decided not to have any more children. He would be a great step father and leave it at that.
While on our honeymoon, we went deep sea fishing (his thing....I don't really fish). Someone asked me if I was going to get sea sick. I said (and I quote) "Nah, the last time I was sea sick I was pregnant, so I'm not worried"....foreshadowing anyone???
I did get sea sick. Not like yaking over the side or anything...just really queasy. But the waves were high, and most of the people on the boat were feeling yucky. The whole next day I was out of commission. Feeling gross all day. The next day, still not so good. We went out to dinner, because even though I felt awful, I was still hungry. The last day of our honeymoon, I noticed that my boobs were a little sore......oh shit.
The will power involved in not running right to a CVS and grabbing a pregnancy test was of the kind required to kick heroin. I didn't want to ruin my honeymoon though, so I waited. (Prior to this, I was a frequent pregnancy test user. If my period was 5 minutes late I was peeing on a stick. I kept EPT in business.)
Our honeymoon wasn't great anyhow.....but this is already in danger of being a serious post, so I'll leave that alone.
The very next day after we got home I went out and bought a 3 pack of tests....you know...in case there was a dud.
Well, for the first time in my life, the first test was a dud. No control line. I sighed in relief. It was a bad test, and that stupid pink positive line was probably a lie. Waiting until I had to pee again was hard. But I persevered....
The second test was not a dud. Two freaking pink lines. Shit, Shit, Shit.....
After dinner, my husband was playing some video game in our room. I gave him a hug....and said...."I'm pregnant".
His response? "What? What?!?"
I said "I'm pregnant."
Him? "Fantastic."
The next several months were horrible. He went through all of the stages of grief I think.
He asked how I knew I was pregnant....um, two separate pregnancy tests dear. Had I been to a doctor? Well, no....but those testy things are fairly reliable.
He accused me of getting pregnant on purpose. I put an end to that really quickly.
He told me I was ruining his life. That I made this decision without him, and he would be pissed at me forever. Great.
So, not only did I have all sort of pregnancy shit going on, and was already crying at the drop of a hat thanks to my hormones...but I got to listen to this sort of thing at least once a week.
Side Note: How does a person on birth control find themselves accidentally pregnant you ask? Well, when a person is trying not to have her period on her wedding night, and begins her birth control cycle a week late, and then forgets that she has done so......that's how. Well I wouldn't have to worry about that pesky period for quite a while.
He went to one doctor's appointment. The 20 week ultrasound. The one where they can tell you what you're having. I had to guilt him into it.
He didn't care to feel the baby kick. He didn't care about what the midwife had to say. He wouldn't get involved in naming, or nursery planning, or anything else until right before I delivered.
It was seriously the worst pregnancy ever. Of course I tied my tubes the day after I gave birth to my son. I was absolutely not doing any of this again.
I handled all of this with one hope. I was counting on my husband instantly falling in love with the little person I was going to hand him. I was relying on him loving his son instantly, and that it would all be ok.
I was right. That is what happened. He loves his son.
But he is still an asshole. Almost every day I wonder why I married this man.
In his past is a long line of women that have just taken care of him. Women that have spoiled him rotten and given him everything he wanted. He seems to have always gotten his way in everything, and if he didn't, he left.
If time travel were a real thing, I would go back in time and donkey punch my mother-in-law every time she gave in to his tantrums. Every time she spoiled him. Every time she just made his problems go away without him having to deal with them. Donkey punch.
All of these women are the cause of my misery. He married me. I'm not exactly the "yes dear" type. Though I am the "I'll just fucking do it myself because it's easier than arguing with you" type. Much to my downfall. I realized this waaaaaaayyyyy to late to do any good. Now everything is a fight.
This post is already long, and not funny, and if I were to gripe about every single aspect of our relationship, and his lack of parenting, and his non-provider attitude.....well it would be a book. Or a diary. Dear Diary.....
No....I'll stop now. I don't want to leave the man. I do love him. It just gets harder every day to remember why I love him. When I come home from picking the baby up from the sitter, after working 7 hours, and make dinner, clean up from dinner, feed the baby, put the baby to bed, take care of the dogs, fold laundry and then hope I still have time to take a shower so I don't smell quite so bad before I go to bed so I can get up at 5am and do it all over again......and meanwhile he has been playing guitar or Playstation for the last 2 hours.....yeah I'm a little homicidal.
Some of my friends said the first year of marriage is the hardest. When I was pregnant, a friend said to me "I hope you like him again after you have the baby". Some said that the first year with a new baby is the hardest. We are down 5 months, with 7 to go. I hope he lives through it. I don't look good in orange, and jump suits don't exactly flatter my waistline.
So you all get to hear about the special individual that I'm stuck with until death do we part......:::clears throat:::
My husband didn't want any children. He said so on our first date. It was almost a deal breaker. I have the girl child, but I always wanted more children. A chance to have a real family.
It took a while, but at some point I became ok with only having my daughter. She was on her way to her wretched teen years, and if I had another child the two of them wouldn't be friends until they were adults. I would have to have two more in order to avoid raising another only child (which sucks....don't do it!!!). My daughter was so independent, I barely had to do anything for her anymore. If she could drive, she would take care of herself completely.
So we decided to get married, and decided not to have any more children. He would be a great step father and leave it at that.
While on our honeymoon, we went deep sea fishing (his thing....I don't really fish). Someone asked me if I was going to get sea sick. I said (and I quote) "Nah, the last time I was sea sick I was pregnant, so I'm not worried"....foreshadowing anyone???
I did get sea sick. Not like yaking over the side or anything...just really queasy. But the waves were high, and most of the people on the boat were feeling yucky. The whole next day I was out of commission. Feeling gross all day. The next day, still not so good. We went out to dinner, because even though I felt awful, I was still hungry. The last day of our honeymoon, I noticed that my boobs were a little sore......oh shit.
The will power involved in not running right to a CVS and grabbing a pregnancy test was of the kind required to kick heroin. I didn't want to ruin my honeymoon though, so I waited. (Prior to this, I was a frequent pregnancy test user. If my period was 5 minutes late I was peeing on a stick. I kept EPT in business.)
Our honeymoon wasn't great anyhow.....but this is already in danger of being a serious post, so I'll leave that alone.
The very next day after we got home I went out and bought a 3 pack of tests....you know...in case there was a dud.
Well, for the first time in my life, the first test was a dud. No control line. I sighed in relief. It was a bad test, and that stupid pink positive line was probably a lie. Waiting until I had to pee again was hard. But I persevered....
The second test was not a dud. Two freaking pink lines. Shit, Shit, Shit.....
After dinner, my husband was playing some video game in our room. I gave him a hug....and said...."I'm pregnant".
His response? "What? What?!?"
I said "I'm pregnant."
Him? "Fantastic."
The next several months were horrible. He went through all of the stages of grief I think.
He asked how I knew I was pregnant....um, two separate pregnancy tests dear. Had I been to a doctor? Well, no....but those testy things are fairly reliable.
He accused me of getting pregnant on purpose. I put an end to that really quickly.
He told me I was ruining his life. That I made this decision without him, and he would be pissed at me forever. Great.
So, not only did I have all sort of pregnancy shit going on, and was already crying at the drop of a hat thanks to my hormones...but I got to listen to this sort of thing at least once a week.
Side Note: How does a person on birth control find themselves accidentally pregnant you ask? Well, when a person is trying not to have her period on her wedding night, and begins her birth control cycle a week late, and then forgets that she has done so......that's how. Well I wouldn't have to worry about that pesky period for quite a while.
He went to one doctor's appointment. The 20 week ultrasound. The one where they can tell you what you're having. I had to guilt him into it.
He didn't care to feel the baby kick. He didn't care about what the midwife had to say. He wouldn't get involved in naming, or nursery planning, or anything else until right before I delivered.
It was seriously the worst pregnancy ever. Of course I tied my tubes the day after I gave birth to my son. I was absolutely not doing any of this again.
I handled all of this with one hope. I was counting on my husband instantly falling in love with the little person I was going to hand him. I was relying on him loving his son instantly, and that it would all be ok.
I was right. That is what happened. He loves his son.
But he is still an asshole. Almost every day I wonder why I married this man.
In his past is a long line of women that have just taken care of him. Women that have spoiled him rotten and given him everything he wanted. He seems to have always gotten his way in everything, and if he didn't, he left.
If time travel were a real thing, I would go back in time and donkey punch my mother-in-law every time she gave in to his tantrums. Every time she spoiled him. Every time she just made his problems go away without him having to deal with them. Donkey punch.
All of these women are the cause of my misery. He married me. I'm not exactly the "yes dear" type. Though I am the "I'll just fucking do it myself because it's easier than arguing with you" type. Much to my downfall. I realized this waaaaaaayyyyy to late to do any good. Now everything is a fight.
This post is already long, and not funny, and if I were to gripe about every single aspect of our relationship, and his lack of parenting, and his non-provider attitude.....well it would be a book. Or a diary. Dear Diary.....
No....I'll stop now. I don't want to leave the man. I do love him. It just gets harder every day to remember why I love him. When I come home from picking the baby up from the sitter, after working 7 hours, and make dinner, clean up from dinner, feed the baby, put the baby to bed, take care of the dogs, fold laundry and then hope I still have time to take a shower so I don't smell quite so bad before I go to bed so I can get up at 5am and do it all over again......and meanwhile he has been playing guitar or Playstation for the last 2 hours.....yeah I'm a little homicidal.
Some of my friends said the first year of marriage is the hardest. When I was pregnant, a friend said to me "I hope you like him again after you have the baby". Some said that the first year with a new baby is the hardest. We are down 5 months, with 7 to go. I hope he lives through it. I don't look good in orange, and jump suits don't exactly flatter my waistline.
Monday, October 7, 2013
And She's Back
Wow. I just realized I haven't written anything in like 5 months. That's how old my son is now, by the way. Of course, the story of his birth is hilarious (well, parts of it) and horrible, and messy. I'll write that one later on for anyone that really wants to read it.
It's been an interesting 5 months. My husband has almost ended up on a milk carton at least.....weekly. My 11 year old is both a wonderful blessing and a wretched, ragging curse of a pre-teen. My son is the cutest thing that ever screamed his bloody head off at 2am.
The first....month and a half??....was horrible. The baby was super gassy. Screamed all the time. No happy baby. No quiet, peaceful slumber. Screaming. ALL. THE. TIME. My husband almost died. Every day.
Then things got better. Now he's a happy, smiley boy that laughs at everything. And the baby is cute too. =)
I have so much to write about. Breast feeding. Cloth diaper mishaps. Child care. Working from (ha ha ha) home.
All of that will have to be for another time. I just wanted to say "I'm Back" to the 3 people that have read my stuff (who probably don't anymore). I'll be back, hopefully with something funny.
It's been an interesting 5 months. My husband has almost ended up on a milk carton at least.....weekly. My 11 year old is both a wonderful blessing and a wretched, ragging curse of a pre-teen. My son is the cutest thing that ever screamed his bloody head off at 2am.
The first....month and a half??....was horrible. The baby was super gassy. Screamed all the time. No happy baby. No quiet, peaceful slumber. Screaming. ALL. THE. TIME. My husband almost died. Every day.
Then things got better. Now he's a happy, smiley boy that laughs at everything. And the baby is cute too. =)
I have so much to write about. Breast feeding. Cloth diaper mishaps. Child care. Working from (ha ha ha) home.
All of that will have to be for another time. I just wanted to say "I'm Back" to the 3 people that have read my stuff (who probably don't anymore). I'll be back, hopefully with something funny.
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