Archive for March, 2010

Check it Out!

Google this phrase: sick and pregnant with other kids

My blog is the 4th one down on the list!!! How funny…


Skinny Girl

So I was totally called a skinny girl at the ultrasound yesterday by the nurse, who was quite thin herself.

I still have warm fuzzies.


What I Want

Not that my mother ever stops to ask me what I want, but if she did, she would likely get an answer she doesn’t like right now.

Is it strange that ever since my mother has been so openly proclaiming that she believes this child will be a boy I can’t stop myself from wanting a girl?

I mean, I’m pretty sure I’ve stated on a few occasions (to you at least) that I’m hoping for a boy. I didn’t even realize until today that my switch over to wanting a girl happened in direct correlation to when my mom started telling me it was definitely going to be a boy.

Seriously. I HAVE to get over my retaliatory habits. It only hurts me in the long run!!!

I’m trying. I’m trying to let her in and not totally keep her in the dark like I desperately wanted to in the beginning. I’m trying to be nice and remember that just because she tried to own my pain, and I resent that, doesn’t mean that she isn’t entitled to ANY pain. I’m trying to be sensitive to the fact that she often has no clue how to be a mom to an adult – she lost her own mom at the age of 20, there’s no example for her to follow here. I’m trying to remember that when it comes down to it, I appreciate her being here at the time of the birth for cleaning the house, not judging when I’m sitting around in pj’s all day sipping milk shakes and running to the store for random unhealthy food things while my ankles swell up like balloons, and for not being the least bit uncomfortable to have around when I whip out a boob and start trying to nurse a newborn before we’re at the stage where we can be all covered up with a blankie the whole time.

But still… there was a part of me that had to bite my lip to keep from giggling when I told her on the phone that I wanted her to stay at home and watch the kids for me while I went to the hospital…

You see, I’m also trying to remember I have a right to attempt to do things the way I want to do them, too.


I have filled this day with as much getting-junk-done as I possibly can. Rearranged furniture, cleaned under chairs, scrubbed, cooked, folded, washed, etc. etc. etc. I even have a movie for tonight so there is NO down time.

Tomorrow my life changes.

There are three ways it could go. Healthy baby girl. Healthy baby boy. Either sex with CHD or any other host of things wrong that haunt my dreams.

Just like any other day, I know tomorrow will come and go. Excitement or no excitement. Surprises or no surprises, kinda like Christmas. Except there really hasn’t been all that much excitement surrounding holidays or birthdays as an adult. Not once you leave the nest and Mom isn’t around any more to bake a cake and do SOMETHING (anything) to make you feel like the most special person in the world.

Holidays are a predictable mix of anticipation, work, and dread. And the day comes. And the day goes, taking with it the joy of looking forward and the relief that it’s over.

But this is different because this actually changes my life, and while I know the day will come and go just as swiftly as all the other days, I can’t predict exactly how my life will look 24 hours from now. I will hold new information, and it’s an interesting feeling.

There is a girl on GF whose life changed completely today. Turned inside out and upside down with no hope of finding out which way is up.

Last week she found out she was expecting a little boy. But he wasn’t developing quite right.

Today she got back the results of the genetic screening that they did as a result of the ultrasound and found out her baby has Trisomy 13.

Her baby may or may not live to term, but they will not bring him home. He is incompatible with life outside the womb.

She is due 5 days before me, and we’ve talked of our pregnancies often because she is so close to my due date and because this is also her 4th child.

My heart aches for her, her family, her empty arms.

It makes me feel guilty for worrying so much over a repairable heart defect, and yet at the very same time it makes all of these worries that much more real.