The one where I curse. A lot.

If bad language offends you, you should probably not read anymore. I'm having an emotional breakdown, so I figured I should record it on my blog and post it for the world to see.

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I've been pregnant twice before. I've made it to 39 weeks, 2 days with both kids. But I have never.... EVER... had this many contractions before they were born.

I've had so many "this is it" moments I can't even count anymore.

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Yesterday I sat through an hour long meeting timing contractions (and probably frightening co-workers). That's when I decided I think I'm done with work.

However, since I'm not independently wealthy, it's probably very irresponsible to take time off without pay. But at this point it's so hard I don't care.

Of course, I stayed home today because I woke up all through the night with a headache and feeling like I was going to throw up IN ADDITION to the contractions. But then at about noon, they all stopped. But you see- if I had gone to work, I would have had contractions all day. And probably thrown up AND had diarrhea.

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I do remember a point in every pregnancy where I completely give up and have a crying fit that lasts for a day and decide I absolutely can't do it anymore. With my son, it happened just before my water broke. Seriously. I was watching fitness infomercials and crying, and then I started watching "The Devil Wears Prada", and crying because they threw the steak away, and I was SO HUNGRY. I stood up, and my water broke.

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With my daughter, my dad was in the hospital in another state, and we all thought he was going to die. My family had told me the doctor said I could call him and ask him questions, but when I tried to call him, the receptionist said, "He said anything you need to know your family can ask him. He's not going to talk to you on the phone."

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Today was that moment with this pregnancy. This is the best way to describe me right now:

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So, I apologize if I've alienated everyone. But I just needed to let it all out. I do have it in perspective, deep down, and I'm looking forward to meeting my daughter. It's just at this point, I'm a) convinced it will never happen and b) concerned that by the time she gets here I will have lost my job, been evicted, and be living in the car I can't pay for.

At least then I won't have to pay $1300 a month for childcare...

Eff this ish..

Today I got fed up with the contractions. They got really bad, I called the doctor's office, they said if they continued to go to the ER.

I went to the ER.  They admitted me. They checked me.

After having contractions every day since my last doctor's appointment- on Tuesday- I had progressed ABSOLUTELY EFFING ZERO. Nothing. 2 centimeters, 50% effaced.

I hate everything.

EFF THAT.

Even though they hooked me up to the monitors and we were able to physically SEE the contractions happening, the nurse explained to me that what really matters is the effect the contractions are having... not the contractions themselves.

EFF YOU CONTRACTIONS.

So, at 5:15 they told me they would have me walk to see if we could get things going. She said, "You can have a cup of ice and go walk. Don't come back until 7:00- unless your water breaks, you can't walk because the contractions are so bad, or you're bleeding." (Well, she said it nicer than that... but still.)

So I walked.

I really got to know not only the Labor and Delivery unit, but the Post-Partum unit.

I made friends with nurses.

I did walking lunges. (Wow. That's a whole new kind of pain- doing a walking lunge with a baby in your pelvis. Holy crap.)

I walked by the nurses stations repeatedly. By the end of my walk, they all knew I had a 5 year old boy, a 2 year old girl, and was doing my best to get the baby girl out of my body.

I squatted through some contractions, until a nurse saw me and came running and asked if I was okay. So, after that I tried to do it when no one was around. Didn't want to alarm anyone.

I thought about Captain Mal, and applied his wisdom to my childbirth experiences:

"It never goes smooth! How come it never goes smooth?"

I returned to my room at 7, convinced that something had happened, because I was incredibly sore and tired.

Guess what:

NOTHING. 2 cm. 50%.

MOTHERF****ER JONES

So they sent me home.

That felt like a special kind of failure. I cried. A lot.

So I get to do this again until May 7. Because I'm pretty sure I can't handle another false alarm, so I'm not going in again unless my water breaks all over everything. I mean, those people on "I didn't know I was pregnant" have stomach aches, and then end up having a baby on the toilet or in the bathtub, right before the act break. But seriously, I'm not going to go through this again.

Oh Tobias. You blowhard.

The plan (as of right now) is as follows:
- Pretend I'm not pregnant.
- Ignore contractions
- Try working out again
- Do housework tomorrow
- Go to the hospital on May 7 and coerce her out.

So don't expect me to be nice. Or patient. Or friendly. And if you ask me "What's the hold up?" (like a co-worker did on Friday) I will probably punch you. And kick you. Hard.

As my son said as we drove to the hospital today: "I know you really want the baby to come out. I mean, that's why you cry a lot and pee all the time, right?"

And just to make me feel better, here's this:

"I'm a leaf on the wind..." Yes I know Captain Mal didn't say that. You want to argue with me?

Week 17: Dear Santa...

Dear Santa:
Since I can't control what my body does or looks like, and I can't control my skin and it's regression to age 13, I would like the opportunity to at least have good hair. Please set me up with a GOOD haircut and color. My roots are horrible and I can see little gray hairs that help to remind me of my "Advanced Maternal Age."

The roots are pushing 40 with the skin of a 13 year old.

I did much better working out last week, but I had a terrible time with food. I downloaded an app to track points, which is awesome (like Weight Watchers for poor people), and here's how every day went:

1. I start off the day determined to stay within my range.
2. I eat something I shouldn't.
3. I try to make room for it within my daily points.
4. I use my bonus weekly points to try to feel better about it.
5. Eventually I just give up, eat a bunch of crap, and reset my weekly points for the next day.

FAIL!

But, I'm happy to announce that today, Monday, I did MUCH better. Of course I weighed at the gym and gained 4 pounds in a week. I bet that was from the binging. This brings me back up to a total weight gain of 20 pounds at 17 weeks. GRRRRR.

Here are the workouts I did today:

In the morning, I dragged myself out of bed (with the promise of a non-fat, no-whip Salted Caramel Mocha) at 4:15 am, and did Body Beast: Build Chest and Triceps. I had to do every single pushup on my knees, and the tricep pushups were almost impossible. My butt was way in the air and I kept having to take breaks. So humbling.

Remember when I had muscles? (source)

 Then, at lunch I "ran". I am doing a "0 to 5K" with the 5K Runner app (I really should find links to these apps. Y'all look them up in the Itunes store.). Today I did Week 3, Day 1. I'm not sure if I will make it to the complete "Run 5K" workout... I may stay with one of the earlier weeks, since as I work up to running more, my belly will be growing. But anyway, I like it right now.

In other news:

1. I have caught up on "Once Upon a Time", "Revolution" and "American Horror Story: Asylum." All but "Asylum" (the hardest to watch for me) are on "hiatus". What am I going to do with myself? I may have to finally try watching "The Walking Dead." I know Cely raves about it, and I trust her judgement, and today my Facebook feed is BLOWING UP because last night was the "mid-season finale" (btw, when did they start having those? SOOOOOO lame). So, should I invest the time and watch it? Is it really like "Lost", or are those just empty promises?

2. In case you have been living under a rock, you may not yet know that Kate Middleton is PREGNANT! I'm so glad I could inspire her in that way. Although, I bet she looks fabulous EVERY DAY, never has roots, and gains about 5 pounds the whole time. In all honesty, I feel bad for her because the whole reason they had to announce before the magical 12 week mark was that she was admitted to the hospital with Hyperemesis Gravidarium, a very severe form of morning sickness. I have been really lucky in all 3 pregnancies that, even when I was nauseous, I never had to deal with that. So I hope she feels better soon. But darn it, I bet she can take a nap whenever she wants, and that makes me a little jelly.

3. I've set a date for the start of my new leaning out/working out/contest prep-like program, and it's July 1. I figure it's about 6 weeks after the baby comes, and it's a Monday (I just like starting new programs on Mondays). I would love to compete in bikini or figure, but that ****'s expensive... and I'll have 3 kids to support and the student loans of a doctor without the ph.d., so I think I'll just pretend I'm prepping for a contest, and get someone to take my picture in a bikini.

4. My baby is due in 161 days. #Tydb

Week 16: I had fun running once...

Who would have thought that, 16 weeks pregnant, I would rediscover a love affair with my ex, Running. Well, to be honest, I think removing some of the high expectations I put on myself when I was running regularly has helped. I'm doing a 0-5K plan and allowing myself to repeat as many weeks as I feel like... but I'm enjoying it, and really think I can keep doing it until the end (although I'm sure it makes people uncomfortable to see a pregnant woman running. Too bad.)

Yesterday when I dropped my son off at school, I picked him up. His teacher was horrified and said, "You need to be careful in your condition." I tried to explain that I am hardly a delicate flower, but I just gave up and laughed about it later when I squatted 65 pounds (which is lower than I used to. I mean, I'm cutting back. I'm a delicate flower, remember?)

I did pretty well with eating and I even lost a few pounds according to the scale at the gym, putting my total weight gain so far at 16 pounds (Yay! A pound a week!) But last night, I had a complete out of control stress induced binge. It was awful. My kids were stressing me out. I knew they were stressing me out. I just went with it and stuffed food in my face. Then, I kept waking up during the night feeling guilty. Yuck. So today, I'm working on doing better.

Tard the Grumpy Cat is my soul mate these days. I am the grumpiest pregnant woman ever, so I just can't get enough.

Anyway, I'm running, I'm tracking WW (like) points ("Poor Girl's Weight Watchers"). I'm lifting weights. I'm parenting. I have headaches. Surely the time between now and the birth of 3.0 will just fly by, right? And hopefully by then I will have figured out how to fit 3 carseats in my P.T. Cruiser.

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Thanksgiving 2012: The Day I Do Something (Kind Of) Crafty

When I was pregnant with my son and had fantasies about what parenting would be like, I imagined doing cute crafts and projects with my kids and being the best mother ever. I had no idea how challenging it would be, and I kind of forgot how bad I was at anything artistic or creative.
(I also tried to learn how to knit during this time, which was hilarious).

Anyway, a few days ago my son saw a picture of some Christmas truffles on the cover of All You magazine (which I subscribe to but rarely read... all part of my fantasy about how crafty I'll be one day). He has been begging for days to make "Christmas Cookies". So I got the stuff at the store Wednesday to make "My version" of Christmas cookies (because I forgot to bring the recipe).

Magically, they turned out pretty cute:

See? Kind of crafty..

Look how happy he is!

However, there was extra batter, so I made some mini-muffins and one miniature cake. Then on Thursday, I ate them for breakfast. Then I had several of these cupcakes. So, by the time we got to Thanksgiving dinner, I had exceeded my calories for the week, I think.

I also have had ZERO success working out at home since Wednesday. No workout Wednesday (but my husband and I went to see "Skyfall". Which made me want to work out and be prettier.) No workout Thursday.

So, let's try for Friday. It's going to involve help from my husband in herding the children away from me for about an hour. We'll see how that goes. Also, I figured since we moved into this house on August 13 and today is November 23, maybe it's time to finally finish unpacking. Maybe. I have lofty goals for today.

Week 15: Oh look. Only 175 days to go.

So we've hit week 15. It's finally getting a little less embarrassing when people notice my belly. It's not just fat, bloating, or gas.  It's my humongous uterus. My uterus that has pretty much given up, like a balloon that has already been blown up twice.

I have been in a rut. I've talked about it. I've shared. There are things going on. But, I'm determined to get control over my life. And, I must admit, Fat Betty Francis helped a little.

In the episode "Dark Shadows", we see that Betty has joined Weight Watchers. However, she's still kind of a terrible person. But she seems to be getting a hold of herself. She has a run in with her ex husband's current, young, skinny wife, and then goes home and shoots whipped cream in her mouth. BUT, here's the thing- she spits it out AND rinses out her mouth. I was so proud of her at that moment. I've been there (I don't usually spit it out though. I get caught up in the moment and then feel nauseous regret later. So, good for her!)

Of course, she's still using her children to manipulate and do all kinds of mean things, but the point is: She is struggling with using food as a crutch, and she's winning. Maybe I can too..


I made a decision that I'm going to follow a variation of Weight Watchers. This is not a weight loss plan. This is a "everything in moderation no crazy pregnant candy or cookie binges" plan. When I last did weight watchers, my points were at 22. So, I've set them at 32 (I did some research on this). Now, imagine my shock when I discovered that my current favorite, peanut butter and jelly sandwiches are a whopping 6 points, and a tall salted caramel mocha is 5 points... It was a wake up call. So, I feel good about this decision, logging my food but not being too restrictive.

I will always love you.

Plus, I'm changing my workout goals. I didn't workout again all weekend. It's really hard with my kids around, and I have to admit, I didn't have the motivation to go through the struggle. But I managed to get up this morning and do a 30 minute Turbofire workout. I realize at this point, I'm not going to have abs, or my beautiful toned arms of which I was so proud... but you know what? I'm in a much better mood when I workout. So EVERYONE WINS.

I'm also going to lift Monday, Wednesday and Friday. Hopefully it will be a bit easier since it's a holiday weekend. Even if a normally 45 minute workout takes me 2 hours because SOMEONE wants milk and SOMEONE pooped on the floor... it's better than nothing, right?

I have no idea what you're talking about.

Anyway, here's me at the gym today.

Week 15. Pssh. I got this.

The Test Results....

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So I finally got the call about the test results. Actually, I called them and asked for them to call me back. I was really REALLY tired of waiting. Did I mention I was tired of waiting?

Anyway, the nurse called me back and told me they had not gotten the results yet so she called and they sent them. So I guess it pays to be annoying.

She said the baby tested NEGATIVE for all Trisomies, which is EXCELLENT. That was the part that worried me the most.

I said, "Can you tell me the gender?"

She said, "Okay, you want to know? It's here..."

"Yes, I want to know!"

"Okay... y chromosome.... It's a boy!"

Yay! So I text my husband, and all the family, then post on Facebook....

About 10 minutes later, she calls back:

"Sarah, I read it wrong. It's actually a GIRL!"

After I laughed a lot and asked her to double and triple check, I was satisfied that yes, it's a girl.

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