Silly Mom Thoughts

I don’t know how I had the willpower to not find out Bean’s gender when I was pregnant with her. It must have been an act of God, some kind of supernatural power that possessed my body and allowed me to tell the ultrasound technician (not once, but twice), “Please don’t tell me what I’m having.”

This time, all of the willpower I once possessed has left me completely and utterly impatient.

At my last appointment, my doctor said we’d wait to schedule and ultrasound depending upon the results of my Quad Screen. I waited. And waited. Aaaand waited. Finally, I called the office and the nurse casually responded, “Oh, no worries, it was all negative!”

Well, of course, that was good news, but, as I explained to her, I was also supposed to be getting a date for my ultrasound. My doctor had mentioned that he wanted me to have one between 18 and 22 weeks. She said she would call me back with a date, and I hoped it would be within the next week.

To my disappointment, she told me it wouldn’t be until May 1st.  That was almost three weeks! Bah.

But now, finally, May 1st is in reach. (You’d think I was a three-year-old with how long the past few weeks have felt!) Yet, each day goes by crawling like a sleepy slug. And, with each second that ticks by, I find myself worrying about the appointment.

Why am I such a worrier? Seriously, I need to get over this.

I have had silly worries, like the technician refusing to tell me the sex of the babies or the babies not cooperating.

Then, I have had more serious worries, like something being physically wrong with them, or worse, one of them not living anymore. I have worried that one of the babies is significantly larger than its twin, and the other one is struggling to survive.

So many worries wrapped up around these two tiny little buggers.

Fortunately, I’m feeling them move more than ever before. The interesting thing is that Lefty, who was my crazy wiggler before, is suddenly not as kick-happy, where as Righty is a little wiggle worm. I don’t know if they’re taking turns on who is the more active one, but it has me a little concerned that Lefty is okay. I’m trying to tell myself that maybe he/she has just moved to a different position that I can’t feel as easily, or maybe he/she is going through a growth spurt or something that has her sleeping more.

I dunno.

But, I do know I’ll feel much better on Friday when I can see them wiggling around and healthy. Would you consider sending good thoughts and prayers our way?

I had the most devastating, yet hilarious pregnancy dream last night. My dreams are normally pretty vivid, but wow, this one takes the cake. In this dream, I learned the true identity of the twins. Interested to know what they were? Let me tell you: it wasn’t human.

In my dream, I was in a room with several pregnant women all crouching over paper plates and grunting. I was excited because I was going to be able to deliver my babies vaginally, something I have never experienced. They were coming a little early, so I knew they’d be small, but I was shocked at how small they were. The woman next to me groaned and pushed. I stole a glance at her paper plate and there was her beautiful, tiny…

Chicken egg.

Yes, that’s right, we were all birthing chicken eggs. I suddenly felt the urge to push, and push I did. (I’m actually surprised I didn’t crap my pants in the middle of the night because I’m fairly certain I was pushing in real life too.). Out popped my first “baby.” I didn’t have time to get a good look before the second one popped out. Then, to my surprise, a third.

Finally, my body was done birthing and I got a chance to examine my little ones. It was apparent right away that the third had died much earlier in the pregnancy, it wasn’t developed at all. I was sad, but I was really only expecting two, so it wasn’t as devastating as what I found out next.

All around me, women were caring for their newly birthed eggs, some of the eggs had hatched into cute little fuzzy chicks. I thought, “Wow, I was really hoping for babies, but I suppose a healthy chick is better than nothing.” But then I got a good look at my little ones. My babies were not eggs or fuzzy birds like the others. They were miniature cooked chickens, skinned, probably boiled since they were so pale, and headless. They were, by my pregnancy dream standards, dead.

I carried their lifeless little cooked bodies in my hands and with enormous emotional effort, threw them in the garbage.

This was where my dream went from amusing to downright devastating.

I left the hospital with nothing but a saggy belly pooch. I kept thinking, “But I saw those babies on ultrasound and they were babies, not birds!” and then, “I was just feeling them kick last night!” No matter how much I tried to convince myself that this must be a mistake, the belly pooch and lack of movement said it all.

I fell to the ground screaming and crying in agony and grief.

“I can’t do this again! I can’t go through all of the morning sickness, vomiting, everything again! I should have my babies here now!”

Eventually, I picked myself up. A couple days later, I put on makeup and nice clothes and faced the world. A friend of mine said, “Oh, I knew you’d get over it quickly.” I burst into tears.

What kind of a pregnancy dream was that?! So silly, yet so heartbreaking at the same time. It was truly reassuring to feel both babies kicking this morning. Let’s just hope they’re babies and not chickens.

On my birth board many women are discovering if their uterus residents are sporting cheeseburgers or hot dogs. It’s such an exciting time, seeing posts that joyfully announce, “It’s a boy!” or “It’s a girl!” and the following congratulatory messages from fellow board members.

Then, there are the occasional few who, instead of excitedly announcing the sex of their baby, mention that they’re upset they didn’t get the flavor they wanted.

That pisses me off.

Okay, back up, before you get mad at me. I’m not saying that it isn’t okay to be a little disappointed if you were really hoping for one or the other. A little disappointment is one thing. Many people want a boy and a girl, and are a little bummed when they end up with all boys or vice-versa. A little bummed is not what I’m talking about. A few moments of, “Dang, I was hoping for a girl” is not a big deal.

What is a big deal, is when people go into full-blown fits of grief over the fact that their family isn’t going to be exactly the way they always pictured it.

Do you know how many people on this earth would kill to be in your shoes right now? How many people would be more than happy to have a family of all girls, just so they could have their very own family?

It is so immature and so selfish, in my opinion, to be disappointed by the gender of your child. When you got pregnant, you weren’t guaranteed a certain sex (no, not even if you did the deed at a certain point in your cycle, stood on your head afterward, and then danced a jig). You went into pregnancy knowing full well that was is a 50/50 chance that you would get the sex you “wanted.”

From what I have seen on the birth boards, many of these moms “suffering” from gender disappointment are first timers. This makes me giggle in an evil little way. In my mind I’m thinking, “Well, get used to things not going the way you planned them, honey. You’re a mom now, that’s how it works.” If you can’t even deal with the fact that your child isn’t the “right” sex, you are going to have some serious problems adjusting to motherhood.

Lesson number one in parenting: You don’t have control over everything anymore.

Yep, sure you’re the parent and what you say goes… but that doesn’t work for things like determining your baby’s gender, deciding on when you’re going to go into labor, or even how your labor will go (no matter how much you hash out your birth plan). And those are all things that happen before the baby gets here. When they’re here, there’s even less you have control over. Like how much spit up your little cherub decides to decorate your shirt with merely moments before you were supposed to walk out the door. See what I’m talking about?

So, some advice for those of you severely disappointed in the gender of your baby: Get used to not being in control of everything now. It’ll save you a whole lot of grief later.

I had a huge awakening yesterday and I’m starting to freak out. Below, is a picture I took  of my twin-filled belly at 18 weeks 5 days:

That’s big. No, I’m not saying I look fat or anything silly like that. It’s just, I don’t usually look that big until around seven months. Around seven or eight months is when I start getting uncomfortable and useless because bending over, standing, lifting, all becomes a massive chore. Usually, that’s fine and normal, because I have had time to prepare for the arrival of my baby and am, for the most part, set and ready to bring them home.

Right now, I’m nowhere near ready to bring these babies home. According to my doctor, there is a good chance that I deliver around 36 weeks, full term for twins. That is only 17 weeks from tomorrow. That would mean I’m more than halfway through this pregnancy.

Now, I know my babies, and I know they really love to cook as long as possible, so I’m fairly convinced they won’t be making an appearance until 38 or 39 weeks. However, no matter when they come home, I have a feeling my enormous belly will keep me from getting things ready much sooner than it did with my singleton pregnancies.

So, my belly picture started getting me all freaked out. Suddenly, I feel this major urgency to get our teeny house organized and ready to double our kid load. I look around everywhere and see things that need to be organized, given away, or thrown away. I see our huge, bulky dressers that are going to have to be replaced with pricey closet organizers simply because we need every inch of this house free as possible.

It’s overwhelming, to say the least.

Today, I am making it my task to clean out the hall closets and organize things there. I figure that’s an okay start. This weekend, Turk and I are planning on tackling what will be the twins’ room but is now our office/catch-all room. We have so much stuff we need to get rid of, and even more that we need to buy. A smaller desk, closet organizers, shelves…

I want, more than anything, to have this place as organized as possible before I’m anywhere near delivering the twins. I want to come home to a place where I know exactly where the diapers are, and which drawers hold which child’s clothes. I want to be able to walk through rooms without bumping into furniture.

So, yep, I’m freaking out a bit and my mind is, once again, zooming in a million directions as I try and figure out how we are going to successfully fit a family of six in our less than 1100 sqft house.

It’s funny, when you want something so badly, you feel like it will never happen. I’m feeling a bit that way this week. Any day now, I should be getting a call from my doctor’s office to set up an ultrasound. This isn’t like the ultrasounds I have already had, this is The Big One: The one where they look closely to see if there are any deformities or reasons to be concerned for the babies’ health. The ultrasound where, assuming the babies are cooperating, we get to find out if we’re having a Zander and Madeline, Madeline and Payton, or Zander and Wyatt.

And, if it’s anything like my dreams as of late, where I’ll find out there’s a third baby hiding in there. (I know, there isn’t, but dang those pregnancy dreams are vivid!)

Originally, I had intended to opt out of the Quad Screen, a blood test that determines if I’m a potential carrier of a variety of genetic disorders, like I did with Bug and Bean. My thought being, I’m not going to terminate a baby who has a genetic disorder, such as Down Syndrome. However, my doctor mentioned that if the test comes back with some abnormalities, that he wants to send me to a more high-tech ultrasound office out of our town. He said that the likelihood of getting abnormal results is higher since I’m having twins, though it probably won’t mean anything. I figured, I’d rather be safe than sorry and get the higher-tech ultrasound, if need be.

So, I wait for the call. Any day now.

Another thing I’m anxiously awaiting is the results to the recent short story contest. I know it isn’t going to be this week, but I have a feeling we’ll find out any time when to expect the results by. I’m on pins and needles! I put a lot into the stories I wrote, and I really want to know how the judges are going to receive them.

Waiting, waiting, waiting.

Grrr, I hate having to be patient!

Everyone has heard about how crazy emotional and hormonal pregnant women are… We fume at anything that attempts to drain our patience: Red lights, other children, people who don’t know how to get their damn shopping cart out of the middle of the grocery food aisle. We cry through sappy commercials or, God forbid, if hubby neglects to get the exact kind of candy bar we’re craving (no, honey, Snickers is nothing like a Milky Way *sniffle*).  Don’t even get me started on how testy we can be if we’re ravenously hungry…

So tell me, in the midst of our hormonal upheaval, why in the world would anyone want to make us even more emotional or pissed off? Honestly, people, you need to think twice before  you open your mouth to speak to a pregnant woman. We’re pregnant and punch-y and if you catch us at just the wrong moment, you could be the recipient of a well directed punch to the nose. At the very least, you’ll get a pretty mean stare down. After all, we’re trying to perfect our Mom Glare for when we need to use it on our own offspring.

Don’t mess with us.

To help you out, here are some things you should never ever say to a pregnant woman. Please. I’m only going to ask nicely once. After that, I may have to smack you.

“Haven’t you heard of birth control?” or “Don’t you guys know where babies come from by now?”

Uuuuugh. Are you trying to demean us? Make us feel like the most ignorant people on Earth? This comment, though usually meant as a joke, is not funny. Have you considered the fact that maybe our baby was a bit of a Woopsie? Maybe we’re still coming to terms with the fact that we’re going to be having another child a little sooner than we planned. This comment is soooo awful!

“I never dealt with morning sickness.”

Okay, so if this is said right, it isn’t a big deal. For instance, “I never had morning sickness, and I feel so awful for you that you’re going through this,” is acceptable. But simply mentioning it is not something we want to hear when we’re green faced and near puking with even the slightest scent.

“Holy crap, you’re huge!” or “Dang, are you sure you’re not having twins?”

Folks, this is not a compliment, even if we are, in fact, having twins. While you may mean “Your belly is getting bigger,” to us, it sounds like our entire body, that we’re already insanely self-conscious of, is getting big. Please, also refrain from any comment about “Wow, you’re bigger than the last time I saw you,” because duh, that’s the general idea of pregnancy, and this comment also makes us feel like a beached whale.

Note: Even after she has her baby, do not tell her “Wow, you were so huge.” Just don’t do it. I don’t care if it has been five years, don’t.

“Your face looks… fuller.” or “You definitely have that ‘pregnant look’ to your face.”

Don’t. Just don’t. No face comments. Some of us, no matter how little weight we gain, will have faces that get heavier throughout the pregnancy. We already notice it. Don’t point it out.

 ”You can’t eat/drink that, you’re pregnant.”

Do not tell us what we can or cannot eat. Unless we’re about to down an entire bottle of Valium and wash it down with some Jack Daniels, you are not allowed to comment on our food choices. Despite everyone thinking otherwise, pregnant women can have caffeine. We can have steak that is not cooked to super well done. We can even *gasp* have a little red wine on occasion, especially in the third trimester. So lay off, buster. Believe us, we have our babies’ best interests at heart, but sometimes getting through the day is damn near impossible without a cup of coffee or two.

“You’re simply glowing.”

What does that even mean? The only other time I have heard the term “glowing” was to refer to the fact that boys sweat and girls “glow.” So, does this mean that you’re telling me I look sticky and hot? I mean, I did just climb up three flights of stairs while lugging 25 lbs of babyweight on my abdomen, so that’s pretty likely, but I don’t need you to tell me I’m glowing.

“Oh, you’ll have a boy and a girl, now you’ll have the perfect family!” or “I’m so sorry you’re going to have two of the same sex.”

So maybe there’s a tiny inkling of disappointment that we didn’t get the gender we were hoping for, but making it sound like something to be sad about is quite insulting. So, if we didn’t have a boy and a girl, does that mean our family is imperfect? Because we think our family is quite nice the way it is, thankyouverymuch.

“Dang, you still haven’t had that baby?”

Trust me, no one is more ready to meet their baby than the pregnant woman herself. Whining to us because you want to see that precious little child and get a chance to hold them is like preaching to the choir. It’s not like we’re not already insanely uncomfortable trying to sleep with the enormous mass bulging from our abdomen, begging God to put us into labor already so we can just get it over with. Don’t ask us, we’ll let you know when the time comes. (And if you keep pestering us, we may decide to wait a little extra time before telling you, simply to get back at you for asking so much. So there.)

Fear not, my friend, there are some wonderful things you can say to a pregnant woman instead!

“You are all belly, girl!”

Ahhh, see this is nice to hear. “All belly” means “All baby” which means our own body doesn’t look puffy and leaden with fat. You may tell us we’re all belly as much as you’d like.

“You gained 20 lbs this month? Wow, it must be all baby because you sure don’t look like it.”

Again, this comment makes us feel good.

“You should have another serving. Hey, you only get to be pregnant a few times!” 

Why thank you, I think I will have another slice of pie since you put it that way.

I hope this lesson in things to never say to a pregnant woman will come in handy for you or someone you love. Goodness knows, you do not want to cross a pregnant woman. We are a unique breed of hormones and emotions, ready to attack or cry at any moment.

You’d think, after all my years of clumsiness, I would remember how much it hurts to fall on concrete. You’d also think, given the fact that I have been walking for at least 25 years now, that I would be able to do so without incident. And yet, I am constantly tripping and occasionally falling on my face.

Today was a particularly frightening fall. I was leaving a friend’s house, after a lovely morning of girl chatting, kids screaming and playing, lots of great fun. My mind was focused on getting the kids home, certain that today both of my kids were going to nap at the same time. (I was incredibly giddy over that thought.) In my hopeful nap time reverie, I missed a concrete step, toppled down into more concrete, and banged up my knee and hand pretty good.

To make matters worse, in my arms was my 23 pounds of beautifulness, Bean. I watched in horrific slow motion while she also fell backward, out of my arms, and smacked her head on the concrete. She took the brunt of the fall, and I feel so awful!

We went back inside, cleaned up, got a gummi bear treat to stop crying (Bean, not me, though I wouldn’t have minded a gummi bear treat), and headed for home. Bean fell asleep on the ride home, since she absolutely refuses to skip a nap time, and I worried a little about her and her recent head injury. At home, I put Bug down for a nap, and thankfully he fell asleep almost immediately. I initially had Bean in the other room, but decided I felt better if I was holding her while she slept.

The left side of my pelvis started aching, and I started getting some cramping along the bottom of my belly. Friends kept asking if I had called the doctor and I thought, “Yeah, that’s probably a good idea, just in case.”

I called my OB and they told me to come in ASAP.

I called Bean’s doctor and they asked me a bunch of questions about how she was doing. (Is she eating? Like a pig. Are her eyes dialated to different sizes? Nope. Did she lose consciousness? No. Is she abnormally irritable? Only when I poke at the bump on her head. (I’m kidding, I wouldn’t do that to her!)) In the end, they told me not to worry about bringing her in unless her symptoms changed.

My wonderful neighbor came over with his son and hung out while I went to my OB’s office. That was, by far, the quickest appointment I have ever had! I was in the waiting room all of two minutes and seen by the doctor maybe four minutes after that. I guess when you’re pregnant and take a nasty spill, you get high-class treatment!

The OB hooked up the ultrasound machine, though before he put the wand on my belly, he mentioned if there was something wrong, that there wasn’t anything we could do about it.

Okay, love my OB and the fact that he gives me all the facts, but I was not in a fact receiving mood at the moment. Some things are better left unsaid. But, he’s a good guy, so I forgive him.

He checked out both babies, and they were there in all their wiggling, healthy heartbeating glory. Initially, one of the twins was positioned with his butt to the ultrasound wand. I thought that was pretty hilarious. Who knew I would get mooned by my unborn child today?

The only thing he did say that causes me very slight worry, is that I am not out of the woods for a couple of days. He said if they’re still in there, happy and healthy after a couple of days, everything is fine, but until then, there’s still a chance of something happening. But, he did emphasize that because I didn’t fall directly onto my belly, the chances of anything being wrong after seeing the babies today are quite slim. Phew.

When all was said and done, I begged my doctor for a prescription for a wheelchair for the rest of my pregnancy.

“I am not safe walking when I’m not pregnant,” I explained. “I’m a full-blown disaster when I am.”

Can you believe he wouldn’t give me a wheelchair prescription?! The nerve…

Alright, so I suppose I couldn’t hang out in a wheelchair and take care of my 3-year-old and 1-year-old.  Maybe it’s best that he denied my request.

So, what was initially a pretty frightening afternoon turned out okay. Especially after that whole Natasha Richardson thing, I was pretty worried about my little Bean’s noggin. I’m very thankful that everything turned out okay for all three of my babies.

There are so many random things I wonder about on a day-to-day basis. For instance: Why do so many maternity shirts have that blasted tie in the back? This is one very serious thing I wonder about, especially when I’m forced to wear said shirts. Honestly, do pregnant women not sit down? Do we not drive cars? Why must we wear these shirts that tie in the back, leaving this horribly uncomfortable knot that digs squarely into the spine?

As if we’re not already uncomfortable enough, lugging around water weight, baby weight, and a baby or two…

And along the lines of being pregnant, I have often found myself wondering about male OB doctors. Specifically those that are married.

You know how, when you have a job, you find yourself relieved when you go home and don’t have to think about work anymore?

Does that happen to male OBs? I mean, their job is, essentially, vaginas. Pregnant ones, postpartum ones, ones that are trying to prevent pregnancy, others that are too old to get pregnant… but all day long, he’s looking at cooch. So, what I wonder (though maybe I’m a little off my rocker for even remotely wondering this), is does he feel like it’s work still when he goes home to his wife?

“Honey, I’ve been waiting for you to get home all day,” she says, dressed in sexy lingerie. “I have a little surprise for you in the bedroom.”

“Yeah, that’s okay,” he coldly dismisses her. “I’ve been looking at va-jay-jays all day long, I’m good.”

Seriously, think about it!

Though, the part of me that knows some of the mental workings of the male species, also knows that they would probably not turn down sex with their wife, ever.

Then, there are other, less intense thoughts that go through my mind.

Like, why does the Dollar Store put out ads? I mean, really. Everybody knows where the Dollar Store is in their town and knows exactly what they’ll find there. Better yet, they know exactly how much they’re going to pay for anything they get at the Dollar Store. Uhm, a dollar. So, why do they need to put out ads in the mail? Hm.

There’s also the concept of Disney’s “Fast Play” on their DVDs. According to the DVD announcer, “Fast Play” will play a selection of bonus features (yeah, bonus features my ass, they’re all previews), and then roll right into the movie automatically. I’m sorry, but to me, “Fast Play” means that the movie is going to start now, not after ten minutes of previews. They should change the name to “Eventual Play” or “A freebie ten minutes added to your movie without having to mess with the menu screen where your kid is going to whine that he wants every movie played in the trailers.”

Once upon a time, my mind was consumed with work, finishing college, and taking exams. Now, these are the things that consume my mind. What in the world have I become?

Oh, right. A mom.

Today is day two in a row of not spewing my guts out! Dare I hope that my morning sickness is gone for good?

Why, yes. Yes, I do.

Because my brain hasn’t been focused solely on keeping my lunch down, I began letting it think of other things today. That was a dangerous move because suddenly, reality is sinking in.

We’re having twins. In 24 weeks or less. We will be doubling our kid load with one shot. Holy crap.

Though it may sound silly to not stress about this, I’m honestly not worried about the idea of having four kids. I know how to take care of newborns, infants, toddlers, preschoolers… I know two will be slightly more challenging, but I know I can do it.

I’m more worried about other, more trivial things. Like space. And money.

See, we live in a 1080 sqft house with three bedrooms. No biggie, two kids to a room will work fine, but we need to get seriously creative with closet organization. I have my eye on a sweet closet organizer thingie at Home Depot and it ain’t cheap.

Bug and Bean need a bunk bed. I have been told that a bunch of friends and family are going in on part of a payment for one, and I’m so grateful, but to get the kind we need (with a ladder that doesn’t go straight up, but rather at an incline), we still have to fork out a few hundred of our own dollars.

Cha-ching!

There are some things that we will need, that I hope I can find cheap. Like baby swings, an extra high chair and Boppy pillow, clothes (especially if they’re preemies), and all of the other stuff I need one more of. Baby crap adds up so fast!

Then there are other things that I wouldn’t necessarily think about, except the fact that we’ll soon be a family of six. Like the fact that we have only a three person couch and no love seat. We’re going to have to get at least a love seat soon or no one is going to have a seat (especially if/when we have visitors).

Of course, we still have an incomplete house project from last summer that has left us with no molding on the floors and around the doors, new doors that need to be cut and put in, and paint that needs to be touched up. And, I really want to paint the babies’ room before they come too. And install new carpet. Our carpet is so disgusting, I just want nice, new, durable carpet in our rooms.

Then, there’s a selfish part of me that wants our master bedroom to become our cozy refuge. Our mattress is still on the floor, since I have been waiting patiently for us to be able to afford a nice bed frame. I want to paint our walls a romantic but soothing color. I want bedside tables with reading lamps instead of a broken dresser from IKEA.

Granted, I realize most of these things aren’t necessary for us to bring our babies home. But, my pregnant mind is nesting, and I really want a fresh start when they arrive, and for things to be as organized and comfortable as possible. I want my house to feel more like a home, because I have a feeling that I’m going to be spending a whole lot of time here until the twins get older.

I think maybe I need to start making more money.

I have had a different OB for each of my pregnancies (and, for Bug’s, two different OBs). Now, in my third and final pregnancy, I have found the most amazing OB ever. Why couldn’t I have found him first?

My first appointment, he explained things to me about my previous pregnancies that no other doctor had cared to tell me about. When I ask questions, he gives me all the information I need, and then some. He never ever makes me feel silly for coming in, and actually has a “better safe than sorry” outlook on it all. I never feel rushed in my appointment, like I have with previous doctors, he makes me feel like I am the only patient he will have all day long. It’s amazing.

Today, I went in to figure out what’s going on with my insane morning sickness. When I asked if it was normal for morning sickness to get more severe over time, he said nothing is necessarily “normal” from one pregnancy to the next. He explained that our bodies can react to external stressors, and asked if I had experienced anything out of the ordinary lately. Oddly enough, things have been a bit emotionally topsy turvy the past few weeks since my parents announced their divorce. He sympathized with me, made me feel like it was perfectly normal to have been upset over that, and said that could have most definitely played a role in my super awesome spewing the past week.

He went on to explain different ways the mind can benefit or impair the body, based on our thoughts and emotions, and the things happening around us. He said that at one time, pregnant women were very much coddled and protected, and that may be why now, when we’re out in the world like everyone else, some people react more to stress though physical reactions. Boy, did that make sense!

In the end, he gave me a higher dosage vitamin and something to help with the awful acid reflux I’ve been experiencing to see if those things are enough to keep the pukeys away. Of course today, because this always happens to me the day I go into the doctor, I am feeling a million times better than I did yesterday and the past week. Not that I’m complaining, I’d much rather feel good, but I kind of lost my gusto for begging for anti-nausea meds when I wasn’t feeling super sick.

So, things are looking up. I have my appetite back slightly, haven’t knelt to the porcelain gods for a day now, and am so glad I went in to the doctor today. Lets just hope this lasts!

(And a big shout out to my friend for watching the kids. I would be so screwed if I didn’t have such wonderful support!)

Oh! And just before I headed out to my appointment, another friend of mine showed up with a little gift for me: Morning Wellness Tea from Earth Mama Angel Baby Organics. It has a whole booty load of ginger, spearmint, chamomile, and other tummy soothing stuff. She owns this super cool company, Once Upon A Bum, you should go check out her site! Seriously, could I get any more love? I said it before, and I’ll say it again: Dang, I’m one lucky girl.