Crazy, pregnant, psycho

I have a tendency at times to be a pretty emotional gal. Like on a scale where 1 is Mrs. Cool, Calm, and Collected and 10 is absolutely bipolar, I’m operating between a 6 and 7 on any given day. Well pregnancy has expanded my range to anywhere from a 2 to a 12. This sudden mood shift can happen in a matter of seconds. I feel like I have absolutely no control over it most of the time. Sometimes, I scare myself with the things I do and say when I’m at a 12. You know if I’m scared, everyone else around me must be pretty nervous too.

 

I’m not much of a crier. The root of this stems from my childhood. I was never allowed to cry when I was little. I would get in trouble and my mother would pinch the inside of my arm until I was certain blood was coming out. I would begin to wimper and cry and she would lean down into my ear and say, “Keep it up and I’ll do it again” or “I’m about to give you something to really cry about.” I quickly learned that tears would get me no where so I reserve them for the most distressing of situations. Pregnant Sinamon cries all the time. I watched “The Polar Express” for the first time this December with Karl. I hated it! Let’s be real, those kids were bad. As a child, I strongly believed in following the rules. If those kids on the Polar Express would have just minded their own business and stayed in their seats everything would have been fine. Even though I hated the movie, at the end when the little boy got the bell, I cried. Karl looked at me and said, “Why are you crying, this is not a sad move.” I blamed it on my hormones. Somewhere around this same time we went and saw “Catching Fire.” I cried most of the movie and it wasn’t a few tears out of the corner of my eye. I was crying like this was a real life documentary about something that happened to people in my own family.  I’ve had a strict rule against watching ANYTHING sad since I’ve been in Nursing School. This ban has extended and now includes anything that can be described as wholesome, heartwarming, romantic, etc. I have pretty much banned everything except comedies. My life currently revolves around watching old episodes of “The Office” and “30 Rock”. 

I love my husband, and I enjoy when he’s home but sometimes I feel like he stays up at night thinking of stuff to do that will piss me off. It’s always the same things too. I think that’s what makes it so frustrating. My husband is convinced that something bad will happen to your clothes if you take them off and place them directly into the hamper. You have to let them set for a minimum of 36 hours on the bathroom floor before they are moved. This is the only explanation as to why I’m constantly picking up his underwear.  One day, I was giving it to him good for this underwear issue; I believe it went something like this:

“Karl, if you don’t start picking up your dirty, nasty, sweaty ball underwear off the bathroom floor I’m going to start putting them in your pillow case…. I’m going to start putting both of our underwear in your pillow case. Then you can dream about nasty crouch smell ALL NIGHT!!!!  And after I let them marinate together in your pillow for a couple of days I’m going to use them like a tea bag to make dirty, crouch water that I will use to cook your dinner.”

Karl responded with something like, “Okay, I got it.”

Then I said to him, “Come here and cuddle me, I feel needy.”

Karl: “Babe, honestly I’m so scared of you right now I don’t want to come that close. I’m worried you’re going to choke me.”

Me: “That is a valid fear. I understand from my previous statement how you got there. But I promise that I will not hurt you.”

I have about 10 more instances of me going from a 2 to a 12 in seconds. One day, Karl looked at me and said, “Babe, you are so emotional. You’ve got to calm it down.” This is probably one of the most dangerous sentences he has ever uttered to me. My response was, “OH, I’M SORRY THAT I’M PREGNANT AND MY EMOTIONS ARE OUT OF MY OWN CONTROL. How about next time I get YOU pregnant and YOU do it perfectly I’ll try to remember to take notes. That way for the third baby I’ll be able to live up to your perfect example.” 

Valentine’s Day

Karl forgot Valentine’s Day this year. I don’t mean forgot as in he forgot to get me a present, I mean he forgot as in he didn’t even call me all day to wish me a Happy Valentine’s Day.  Karl is horrible at giving gifts. When he picks something out for me I wonder if he’s even met me before. He’s trying to do better. When we go shopping somewhere he’ll pick up a shirt or something he thinks I would like then he asks if he is right or wrong. So far he’s been right about 25% of the time. It’s a work in progress. Gift giving is my love language, not his. His love language is acts of service. So I let him off the hook when it comes to gifts and instead I appreciate when he deals with car stuff, washes the dishes, and especially when he cleans the bathroom. I didn’t expect much for Valentine’s Day since he was on the boat but I expected him to call and say something sweet to me. He’s usually pretty good about that. I waited ALL DAY! All I got were a couple of text messages with the generic, “I miss you,” “Hope you’re having a good day,” etc.  As the day went on I got more and more pissed. I could have let it go but because I’m a crazy, pregnant, psycho, I didn’t. I forced myself to stay up until 11:59pm and I wished him a happy valentine's day in a pretty hateful text. I then turned off my phone and went to bed. The next day we were texting about it (because he didn’t have good service) and he was trying to apologize. He sent me 5 texts back to back that said happy bday.  Don’t believe me here’s proof:

I was so pissed about this I couldn’t let it go for about a week. However, I have a plan. When Karl comes home he promised to buy me flowers and take me to dinner. In my opinion, that’s just a normal Saturday night. I want something more. So here’s what’s going to go down. Karl is going to get dressed up and then leave the house and go buy me something special (probably starburst and flowers – I’ll let him decide). Then he has to come home and ring the door bell and ask me on a date. Then he has to wait for me to get ready. We will go out to eat then we will go to the Redbox where I will pick out the movie (because I never get to pick). Then we will come home. In an effort not confuse Karl as to where the nights events will be headed, I will immediately but on my pregnancy uniform. I went to Walgreens after Valentine’s Day and bought a gigantic Russell Stover’s box of chocolate that’s probably the size of my torso.  I will proceed to eat the entire box BY MYSELF! If I throw up I will come back and finish the box when I’m done. Karl will then rub my feet while we watch the movie and I’ll probably fall asleep.  I plan on sleeping in the middle of the bed (just like Karl always does) and letting him fight to stay on the edge. In the morning, since I’ll still have my pregnancy uniform on for safety, we will finish the rest of the movie.  I think this sounds like a pretty solid plan. I’ll let y’all know how it goes.

Invasion of the Body Snatcher

Pregnancy is weird. I guess in my mind I had always imagined my pregnancy like someone on TV or in a magazine. My growing stomach would be the perfect accessory, like a Louis Vutton purse, that people would admire as soon as I walked into a room. I was going to feel fine, give off a radiating glow like a pregnant model, and act like the best version of myself. The reality is that I’m not a pregnant model or the best version of myself by any means. Most of the time, I’m more like a pregnant hobo with a crappy attitude.

This blog will focus on the physical transformation I have made thus far. 

Heartburn: I swear, I took my second pregnancy test on a Friday at 6pm and when I laid down for bed that night I had heartburn. I haven’t suffered much heartburn prior to being pregnant but we are definitely making up for lost time. It’s so bad that I can feel it radiating up my esophagus. It wakes me up in the middle of the night. Lately, my nightmares are of running out of Tums and not being able to get to the store because of bad weather. I’ve heard that heartburn is a sign that your baby will have lots of hair when they are born. Well this little girl better come out looking like Rapunzel. Seriously, I fully expect to deliver the baby and for my midwife to still be pulling out hair after she is in my arms. 

Boobs: The second thing I noticed was my chestal region. I didn’t need any help in this area but this is where my pregnancy transformation happened during my first trimester. I was already at a point where finding bras in my size was limited to one store in town. During my preceptorship, I remember going to the bathroom and looking in the mirror. My cup literally runneth over and my uniform was getting tighter. I was forced to wear my lab coat everyday in an effort to not look like a hussie. From the time I found out I was pregnant (4 weeks, 3 days) to my first OB appointment (8 weeks) I had went up 3 sizes. At my 8 week appointment, I asked my midwife if there was anything I could do…. bind them down, wear a regular bra then three sports bras over it, cut an onion on the night of a full moon and throw it in the woods while keeping the other part under my pillow… I was up for anything. She simply replied, “Prepare to invest in lots of bras.”  This is not what I wanted to hear. Meanwhile, it’s the coldest weather we’ve had in 20 years and my boobs are so big my coat no longer buttons. My mother convinced me to buy a fleece cape thing from the Cracker Barrel which I have worn one time. What’s the problem you ask… first of all never buy your clothes at a restaurant, second all I’m missing is a monocle and a pipe and I’d be Sherlock Holmes. Not exactly the pregnancy model look I was going for. I also get shooting pains in my boobs, mainly the right one. It’s like a Charlie horse but more stabbing and less of a dull ache. Well what do you do when you get a Charlie horse? Like any normal person my first response is to rub it out. This gets me lots of awkward glances at Target. Karl has asked me to please stop doing this or at least go to the bathroom. I’m working on it. At my 12 week appointment, (the only one Karl has been home for) I asked my midwife what the stabbing was all about. She said, “It’s just your breast growing.” Karl, sitting quietly up until this point in a chair in the corner, lets out a loud, 7^th grade boy “YES!” while throwing his arm in the air and bringing his elbow to his waist (you know the move I’m talking about). I looked at him with cold, dead eyes in front of God and our midwife and said, “I’ll kill you for doing this to me.”

***On a serious note, if you are reading this and you know where I can get some freakishly large nursing bras, PLEASE LET ME KNOW!!! I read somewhere that the first bra was made out of two handkerchiefs and a ribbon. I’m thinking pretty soon I’m going to have to fashion something out of two tarps and some duct tape. ***

Stomach: I honestly went from looking like a fat girl who was pretending she was pregnant to being pregnant with twins in four days. Thankfully, Karl was here to witness this transformation and to validate that I wasn’t losing my mind. On Sunday night as we laid in bed Karl said, “I was hoping there would be some kind of a baby bump when I got home this time (I was at the end of week 17).” I said, “well you know my sister didn’t really show until she was about 7 months, it might take me a while since I’m a meaty gal.” He said, “Don’t you ever talk crap about my wife being a ‘meaty gal’ (his usual response when I say something self deprecating).” Then we went to bed.  Apparently, the baby heard this conversation and she wanted her presence to be known. For the next four nights I would lay in bed with a miserably full feeling in my stomach, I couldn’t get comfortable and things just felt different. Friday morning when we woke up the proof was in the pudding. Four thin purple lines were on my stomach. I was devastated. My bikini modeling career was officially over before it had even begun. Not that I was in any shape to be a bikini model (I haven’t even worn a bikini since I was 4) but all my hopes and dreams of going on the Biggest Loser and getting that bikini body were dashed. Karl blew it off like it wasn’t a big deal. He said, “Babe, what do you think they have Photoshop for? I can’t even see anything. You look fine.”  Another thing no one told me about pregnancy was when I started showing in my stomach it wasn’t a cute round ball. It was more like I was suffering from a severe case of Dunlap Disease. Even now at 21 weeks I can feel people looking at me thinking, “Is she pregnant or has she been to the all you can eat buffet about 10 times too many?” I’m thinking of buying a shirt that says “This is a baby, not a burrito.” 

Hair: The next thing I noticed was hair growth. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve heard about women getting a majestic mane of hair when they are pregnant. It’s kind of like God making up for all the other bad stuff. Well I have a pretty thick rat nest on top of my head anyway so if it’s gotten any thicker I haven’t noticed. But do you know where I have noticed an increase in hair… everywhere else. I’ve always had peach fuzz on my face. Well that peach fuzz has turned into a full grown man beard. What the heck!!! I’ve even noticed peach fuzz growing on my stomach. This is gross. Between the big ole belly and white beard I’ve pretty much turned into Santa Claus. You want proof? Here’s a recent picture:

Clothing: Because of this weird body morphing that’s been going on I have adopted what I like to call my “Pregnancy Uniform”. Like I mentioned before, it’s as cold as Antarctic here in the Deep South and my coat doesn’t fit. Pants make me feel nauseous. I’m in this weird place between finishing school, taking my boards, and starting my new job. Being dressed on a daily bases is not a necessity.  My uniform consists of Karl’s royal blue Old Navy fleece pull over and an old pair of white and black leopard print Old Navy fleece pajama pants. I wear it every day. I wash it every few days at night when I have on my night gown. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve slipped out of the house with it on… to run to the Redbox, Walgreen’s, Sonic, Tiffani’s house, Dominos, etc.  I wanted to mention this because if you see me at the store in my uniform PLEASE PRETEND LIKE YOU DON’T KNOW ME! It’s not that I don’t want to say “Hi” it’s just that I don’t want to have to feel guilty for choosing comfort over style. 

I feel like I’ve rambled on enough about all this for now. Next time, I’m going to talk about the emotional stuff like the time I was practically in tear on the phone with Karl putting out an Amber Alert on a box of Sour Patch Kids.

Daddy had to take one for the team.

This story is 100% real. Names have not been changes to protect the innocent. As a matter of fact, a picture has been posted at the bottom of the perpetrator. 

I don’t usually describe my passing of gas as a “fart.” A “fart” is what your husband does in the middle of the night which causes you to wake up in full panic mode because you think shots are being fired outside your house. I prefer to describe what I do in a much more lady like term such as “toot.” But lets be real, sometimes you have to call a spade a spade. 

My first trimester was plagued with gas.  I felt bloated all the time and it wasn’t uncommon for me to toot often. Occasionally, a toot would slip out without my consent. 

One night, Karl and I were at Walgreen’s. We are a typical old married couple and when he is home we live for Redbox movies. We slipped in the store to look for something to go along with our movie (I forget what) and somehow I got stuck on the Christmas aisle. It was a few weeks before Christmas and I was looking for some cute gift tags. Karl was a few feet away from me looking at something I’m sure we didn’t need. As I stood there it happened. I FARTED!!!!!!! This fart was so loud it was like I could see it form a cloud that went above my head then went out like a sonic boom. People all over the store, including the pharmacy, went temporarily deaf from the loudness of it. 

You might be thinking well it was Walgreen’s so I’m sure there weren’t that many people there but you are wrong! There were people all over the store to include a group of three women on THE SAME AISLE AS ME!!!! In my panic, I ran over to Karl and grabbed his arm. He was so engrossed in the “Forever Comfy” that he had heard nothing. 

Me: “I just farted over there!!!” (pointing to the scene of the crime)

Karl: “Ooook” (with a “no big deal” look on his face)

Me: “Do something!!!!”

Karl:  (In a loud, deep tone projecting his voice several aisles over) “EXCUSE ME!!! I’m sorry…..it’s my stomach…. it’s really messed up….”

And because when we Schlomers sell something, we really sell it, I responded with…

Me:  (Cutting my eyes in Karl’s direction with a disgusted look on my face) “You are so gross. I can’t take you anywhere. Let’s go.”

We left and got in the car where I tried to explain to Karl that it wasn’t me it was the baby. He didn’t real mind taking the blame. He was actually quite proud of himself for defending my honor. I have to admit I found it to be pretty dang chivalrous too. 

ATTENTION WALGREEN'S EMPLOYEES AND SHOPPER: This is the man who farted in your story. It was not the blond woman with him. She and the child she is carrying are completely innocent. The fart was probably in some way related to all this food he had at the Chinese Buffett.

My husband is by no means a perfect man but is sure is perfect for me. I love you, babe! 

My First Ultrasound/Free Colonoscopy

I hate going to the doctor. I mean HATE IT! The dentist, I love but anytime I have to go somewhere and they have to weigh me I feel anxious. Since Karl didn’t know I was pregnant (and he was out of town anyway) my mom accompanied me to my first ultrasound appointment. 

I was extremely nervous in the waiting room and they were running 30 minutes late which was not helping. Up until this point I wouldn't really let myself think about having a baby. I kept thinking I’m probably crazy and this is a phantom pregnancy. I’m going to go in there and the ultrasound tech will be like “This is a turd. You’re really constipated (which I was) take some milk of magnesia and work this out at home.” (As a nurse, I realize the human body doesn’t work this way but, as one of my instructors pointed out in OB clinicals, when it’s you and your baby all of your nursing knowledge goes out the window.) 

When they called me back I walked into a dim room with two ultrasound technicians. I could already tell the woman who was doing the ultrasound was a pill. In a hateful voice she said, “Get on the table and pull up your dress.” I was appalled. We aren’t even going to exchange pleasantries. No “Hi, my name is ____ and I’ll be showing you your baby today.” no “How is your day?” or “Are you excited?” NOTHING! I mean I wasn’t asking for dinner but come on! At this point I was still modest  (don’t worry that only last another few weeks) at my 16 week appointment, I saw a doctor because my midwife broke her wrist over Christmas and his nurse said would you mind if a student who’s shadowing the doctor comes in since you won’t have to be undressed too much. I said, “Oh sure, he can see this (panning my body up and down with both hands) naked, it’s no big deal.” Back to the original story, I slowly climbed onto the table and lifted my dress slightly over my belly button. She came over and ripped my underwear down to my pubic bone.  

I lied on the table quietly. Ms. Pill, having no social skills didn’t say a word to me; she just moved the ultrasound wand (I don’t know what it’s called) around on my stomach for a while. I know I have some fluff in my stomach region but she was pressing down so hard I knew she wasn’t just checking out my uterus. I concluded that she must also be checking my colon. I must have been the special 100^th patient who got a free colonoscopy with their ultrasound.  I dare not say anything about how hard she was pressing out of fear that she was going to beat me with the end of her wand then choke me out with the cord. 

Finally, I saw something on the television screen in front of me. To my shock it wasn’t a turd… but it did look a lot like a gummy bear. I didn’t remember the last time I had gummy bears. Did one get trapped in my uterus? I wasn’t sure. But then Ms. Pill said in a cold voice, “You have one viable fetus with a heartbeat.” She turned the sound on her machine and I was able to hear my angel’s heart beating for the first time. It was seriously the most magical moment of my life. In that very moment, my heart leaped out of my chest and I said to myself, “That’s my girl!”

 

Next time, I'll be talking about the time I farted in the middle of Walgreen's. This is my current go to funny story. Hopefully, that will be able to translate to a good laugh in the blogging world.

"I think you might be pregnant."

One day as I was driving in the car with my best friend from high school, Tiffani,  I said to her, "Can we talk about my vagina for a minute, because it's being all types of weird." I went on to describe what had been happening to me the last week, extremely painful cramping, boobs aching more than normal, a general feeling of grossness, etc. I was convinced that I had angered my uterus and it had decided to pack up it's bags and leave via my vagina. I'm not one to go to the doctor but for the first time in a long time I knew that something wasn't normal. That's when Tiffani looked at me and said, "I think you might be pregnant." 

This was impossible to me for many reasons. First, I have PCOS (polycystic ovarian syndrome) and I'm not even suppose to be ovulating. I've been told since I was 17 that pregnancy was going to be difficult for me. Second, even if by chance I was ovulating my husband is out of town working for 28 days then he's only home for 13 days. By my estimates, he's only home when I'm fertile about 4 times a year. Third, I was in nursing school and ain't nobody got time for no babies in nursing school. (I know that last one wasn't a reason for why I couldn't be pregnant but it helped me stay in denial for a while).

I decided to take a pregnancy test the next day. I'm cheap so I bought the most basic one they had. This is my first time ever taking a pregnancy test and those things are pretty tricky. Let's just say I peed on that first one like a dog on a fire hydrant. I mean I got that thing wet from tip to tip. Needless to say it doesn't work like that and it was trash. I had one more shot but I had just used up all my good pee on the first one. I drank glass after glass of water and waited. The second time, I got wise to the game and peed in a solo cup then put the test in the cup. Worked like a charm! I set it on the counter and went to doing something else for about another 30 minutes. In my mind, I was only taking the test to prove I wasn't pregnant not because I actually thought I was.

When I went back I was shocked to find this: 

I quickly called Tiffani in a panic. "What do I do? It looks like two lines but maybe I'm crazy and it's not." She told me to go get a digital pregnancy test that says "Pregnant of Not". I ran to the Walgreens and in my hysteria bought $70 worth of pregnancy test. One way or another I was going to be sure. The second time around there was no denying it. I was definitely pregnant. 

I told no one but Tiffani and my mom. I didn't want to tell my husband on the phone and just a few days before finding out he told me that he would have to cover for someone who got fired and work 8 weeks straight. I made an appointment with a midwife but I would still have to wait another 3.5 weeks. 

During this time the cramps continued. I found out on a pregnancy forum that this wasn't uncommon and it was just my uterus stretching. I had decided that either I had the world's smallest uterus or I was having octuplets. The typical nausea, vomiting, and fatigue set in. The good news is I lost 10lbs but the bad news was things were getting more difficult because I was going to school and I had just started my preceptorship. Thankful no one asked about my frequent trips to the bathroom. 

Because my cramping was so bad and I couldn't be seen for a few weeks I was told that if anything got worse to go to the emergency room. One day, I almost went to the emergency room for what I later diagnosed was "Too Tight Pants Syndrome". The day started out at home in my pajamas studying for a test. When I got ready I decided to wear my jeans. These jeans weren't tight by any means but they were restrictive in the stomach. I put them on, grabbed something to eat, and got in my car. The entire 20 minute car ride I went from feeling bad to worse. I knew that something was wrong and I was worried I needed to skip my test and go to the hospital. When I got to school I sat in my car to gain my composure. I was in tremendous pain and I was beginning to sweat. I don't know what it was, perhaps an angel of the Lord, but something told me to unbutton my pants. I did and the relief came immediately. I was so embarrassed. I mean how horrible would that have been if I would have went to the hospital and they would have been like, "Hey Chubs, get some new pants." I was determine that would never happen to me again. That day I went home and ordered 9 maternity dresses from Target.com. Best decision I've made thus far. 

I feel like this post is long enough but stay tune for next time when I talk about "My First Ultrasound" or what I sometime refer to it as "My Free Colonoscopy".