and then there were four…

I seriously thought I was going to gouge someone’s eyeballs out today. No…I’m serious. I put the ‘itch’ in bitch (if you get that–I love you!)

I don’t know why, how or when it happened, but I suddenly started feeling irritable with everyone around me. Well–not everyone. Certain people in my work-life make me want to scream. Granted, I would get annoyed with these same people pre-baby, but today I would have actually said something (and did!) if anyone commented.

There is one person I work with in particular that is completely too high-strung and obnoxious. We have a small office. There are times when you have to maneuver around each other and just deal with the fact that someone is in your walkway. Not this crazy lady. She acts like you have done something to tamper with the moral fiber of her very being if you are in her “way”. She huffs and puffs and runs around (which in itself is very dangerous because you run the risk of knocking someone over) and tries to be super-fast, but she just succeeds in royally pissing me off. I’ve never said anything to her. Today however, I decided she needed to know.

“Hey, Ms. Crazy, you really need to slow down.” Her response is classic–she mutters under her breath “I’m sorry ma’m I didn’t mean to offend you”

WTF???? Offend me?

“You didn’t offend me, however, you need to be careful in this room because if you keep running around like that you may run into someone; and now that I’m pregnant, I’m a bit more concerned with being run into and/or knocked down–I’m not saying you would do anything like that on purpose, but a room of this size with 5 people in various stages of work–it could happen.”

“Well–sorry” She huff huff huffs and walks out of the room and does her work in the hallway.

This was definitely not my intent. I tell my supervisor, who just witnessed this whole debacle, that I didn’t mean her to take this suggestion to heart, because it wasn’t an attack on her character (because there is no such thing as constructive criticism around Ms. Crazy) but I am not just concerned with myself anymore…My supervisor agreed but said (and rightfully so) that it shouldn’t matter if someone is pregnant, there is no excuse for running around in the office. I was told we would be having a discussion on Monday. Oh fun.

I should have gotten my degree in childhood development. I feel as if I am working with 4 year olds, except that you can somewhat reason with a 4 year old.
Other than that–I’m so glad it’s Friday. And I have Lasagna in the oven…yum…

So, I haven’t written in awhile, mainly because nothing new has been going on. While I understand that EVERYTHING is new during this phase of my life, I just didn’t feel the need to write a bunch of posts detailing the nausea, gas, heartburn and other bodily functions that have been occurring. In fairness, I didn’t want to gross anyone out too much.

But, things are going well, I went to the doctor yesterday, he changed my due date (again) and said that I’m currently around 8 weeks pregnant. While this doesn’t seem like such a big deal, that extra week made me feel like a million bucks. I’m two months pregnant! That sounds like some sort of accomplishment. Baby’s new due date: October 22. Give or take 2 weeks.

I am however, having these really weird dreams. My latest (and most disturbing) was one where I am trying to nurse the baby, but my breasts have shrunk and they are too tiny to be of much use. However, my plucky little infant finds a way to latch on and nurses anyway, only to spit up some horrible yellow stuff and then my breasts start lactating some weird congealed milk. Disgusting, eh? People tell me this is normal, so I’m trying not to look too much into them.

I asked my doctor yesterday if he ever felt like God–because I know I’m not the only one who asks him questions and thinks to themselves “no matter what I read or what other people tell me, if the doctor says it’s okay, it’s okay”. He laughed and said “yes–sometimes” in that good natured way of his. I really love my doctor and I am so thankful I have found one that I feel comfortable with and doesn’t make me feel like a cow on the way to slaughter (yes, I’ve had a doctor made me feel like this…a few, actually).

Then–yesterday I saw two ladies in the hallway at work that I used to work with and I said hello, they knew of the baby, so they were asking me how I was, etc. etc. So then, as I was walking away, one of them said “yes, you are looking a bit pregnant now” and gave me this sweet smile.

Let me repeat this for anyone who doesn’t understand: NEVER EVER, EVER tell a pregnant woman they are looking pregnant. ESPECIALLY if they are very early in their pregnancy, because 99% of us do not look pregnant. I may be a bit puffy, but it isn’t baby. The baby is as big as a freaking kidney bean, I can’t possibly look pregnant. And, later in pregnancy? A woman knows she is getting bigger. She doesn’t need you to remind her. She sees it every day and is dealing with the joy and pain of the situation. Saying you look great is one thing, saying “you’re getting bigger” is not a compliment, despite how you may mean it.

Now, I didn’t take offense, because I know in this situation that this person probably didn’t know what to say and thought that it was a sweet thing to tell someone. It actually made me laugh as I walked away. But–it might make someone else bite your head off, so be careful out there.

Well–the past four days have been a living hell, but since I was able to “see” my baby today, it made it all worthwhile (I’ll get to that part in a minute–first the hell).

Saturday: oh the promises that day held–I was going to hit the thrift shops in search of some clothes I could wear while I wasn’t really showing, but gaining a bit of weight (I’m not gaining anything substantial, but everything is shifting and some of my pants are a bit tight) And let’s face it: who wants to spend a fortune on clothes you’re only going to wear for a month or two at the most? I bend over to pull my pants up, a totally innocuous feat we all do at least once or twice a day. After I’m down, I realize I have just done something horribly wrong to the pants-putter-upper gods. They hate me, and my back is their proof. I cannot move I am in such misery. I hobble to my bed and lay down–I’m thinking, I’ll give it a moment, maybe it just twitched a little, all is still well. Oh, how I wish that were true.

I am in such agony, I have never felt pain like this before–I can’t move without the tension seizing all of my back muscles up into one big ball-o-pain. I can’t sit up, I can’t roll over, I can’t even walk to the bathroom. It is very humbling to have to crawl to the bathroom. Yes, crawl…My wonderful husband tried his best to help me hobble, but every step I would scream in pain–at points it was so bad I thought I would puke or pass out, so he would hold me with one hand and have a trash can in the other as we would attempt to hobble from the bathroom back to bed (Oddly enough I could get the leverage needed to pull myself into a semi-erect state of being from the bathtub).

After threatening to call the ambulance for me, I agreed to go to the emergency room on Sunday morning–maybe I would be better able to walk to the car then–I fell asleep for a few hours and woke at 1 a.m. only to have to pee–which was frustrating, because the attempt to get out of bed to crawl on all fours to the bathroom took at least 30 agonizing minutes each time. So, I decide (after getting the bathroom and pulling myself into that semi-erect state) that we will go to the emergency room now–in the middle of the night. I hobble from the bathroom to the front door, and then promptly get dizzy and the room spins. I momentarily pass out from the pain, falling onto the nearby couch. I tell my amazingly patient husband that I’m not moving, we will go to the hospital in the morning.

Sunday: 7 a.m. I am still in pain, although, after crawling to the bathroom and pulling myself to standing, I am able to make it out the door, down two flights of steps and into the car. That, my friends, was quite an accomplishment. I was so proud of myself. We drive to the emergency room and I’m shaking with pain. We go into the admitting room and as soon as I tell them I hurt my back and I’m pregnant, they go into full alert–asking me if I am bleeding, putting me at the top of the list to get in–(man–pregnancy rocks!) After I explain that I don’t believe it is baby-related, I just tweaked my back, they relax a bit, but still keep me in the top of the line. Longer story short–The doctor examines me and two and a half hours of excruciating pain later tells me I have sprained my back: while not directly related to the pregnancy, sometimes things shift around and that one totally innocuous movement could have caused more damage then it would had I not been pregnant. He assures me that the two pills he is giving me will cause no harm to my baby–I ask every nurse who comes around me if this is true, I would much rather be in pain than cause any harm to my baby (I won’t take Tylenol for heaven’s sake–and I’m totally off caffeine beverages except for an occasional ice tea in a restaurant) I still am unsure, so I call my OB/GYN and leave a message to double-check. He reassures me, so I take these wonderful pills that don’t really stop the pain, but ease it–and knock me out an hour or so after taking them.

Although I had four days of bed-rest (Saturday-Tuesday), sitting at my desk at work was pure agony today, and I walk like a penguin (lovely) but, it could be worse.

I went to my doctor today and he placed his nice little camera up my baby-maker (yep–no jelly on my belly yet) and I was able to see this tiny little flicker that he said was my baby’s STRONG heartbeat!! I’ll be honest–I had a Rachel from Friends moment “I can’t see my baby!” but, I did see this tiny little flicker and the doctor said that was the heartbeat. It was amazing. I didn’t get weepy, but I think it was because I was trying so hard to see something I didn’t have time to really digest the situation. The doctor also said he thinks I am a little earlier along than we initially thought. Closer to six weeks then seven, so it pushed my due date to October 27–which is okay, it just means one extra week of full pay to go towards paying off that college debt.