Best Laid Plans…

Best Laid Plans...

I’m not going to lie, I thought I’d have a baby by now. Apparently, she’s quite stubborn and has no intentions of coming before she’s ready! Everyone else I knew who was pregnant with me, both those due before and after me, have all given birth already. Of course, they all had boys. Boys have little issue coming early it seems. My doctor’s appointment is tomorrow and they’re going to check me and see if I’ve made any progress. I’ll be 39 weeks.

I had these amazing plans of making my own little wooden placards with her name on them. Buying one would cost nearly $300 due to the length of her name. Of course, I got all the stuff… but I’m not terribly crafty. Unfortunately, we’re having issues with the stencils involving her name. Husband was going to cut them out… but they’re not coming out as smoothly as we’d like.


It doesn’t help that I bought some cheap acrylic paint for the lettering and it turns out it is way too runny to use! I’m not sure what we’re going to do now. I feel so defeated. I wish I were crafty. I really wanted her nursery to look nice and not just a room. Sigh.

I’ve been doing my best, but I’m still not happy with it. I’m a perfectionist, so none of this is… it just feels extremely “bland” to me. I feel like everyone else pulls out all of the stops for their first child’s nursery and it took us forever to even get the walls finished. We’re working on organizing her closet now. I’ve got everything mostly washed, just a few odds and ends left.

We’ve been leaving the the nursery room open to air it out and get Loki used to it. It used to be this mysterious room we kept a bunch of crap in, but now it’s got furniture and more importantly, stuffed animals, so he’s interested. He didn’t bother it much at first, but adding those seemed to pique his interest. The husband was in there measuring when Loki jumped up into the crib and tried to abscond one of her stuffed animals!


He really likes the little husky I just got at Carter’s over the weekend. We went out shopping a bit with the mother-in-law since the father-in-law was off hunting and she was lonely. I got some sweaters and hoodies because they were having a sale. The husband pointed out the husky dog and I grabbed it. I love huskies! Apparently, so does Loki… well, he loves anything that’s fuzzy.


After I shooed him away from the husky, he started nosing into all the other soft things. There’s a bunch of stuff piled on her crib because I’m still sorting and organizing. Loki decided that he liked the comforter and flopped down. It’s like Loki heaven–surrounded by stuffed animals and soft, cushy blanket to enjoy. Sigh. When I went to remove him, he tried snapping at me. Naughty kitty!

I don’t encourage him to go into the crib because I don’t want him doing that when she’s actually asleep in it! He’s not malicious to children by any means, he likes to cuddle with them… which is the worry. I don’t want him smothering her on accident.

As we approach the due date, I’m suffering from a lot of insomnia and just major discomfort. I haven’t had any “nesting’ vibes yet, but I’m still forcing myself to organize and clean as much as I’m able to. I fell down the steps over the weekend and while I didn’t hurt my belly, I did take the entirety of the fall on my left knee. Since then, I’ve been swelling like crazy in my legs. It’s horrifying! I’m a little worried my doctor is going to write me off work, so I’ve planned my leave out for my last day being the third. We’ll see what happens…

I’m really ambivalent about my family lately. My mother isn’t respecting my “no contact” request and my grandparents are being overly pushy about the whole situation. No one on that side is being understanding in the least. As I told the husband, as per usual, no one cares or thinks about me, they’re only worried about themselves. Thinking about it just agitates me. I don’t even know if I want to tell them when she comes, because I don’t want to deal with the stress of them coming down and wanting to bring my mother. She’s taken to calling my mother-in-law, which is just completely inappropriate!

At least my dad and that side of the family is being good. It’s like a seesaw. Annoying.

Grandparents Visit

Grandparents Visit

My grandparents from Pennsylvania (maternal side) visited this past weekend. It was kind of a shock. I had hoped they would be here for the baby shower, but my grandmother’s doctor appointment interfered. Honestly, I didn’t think she’d be well enough to visit, but she trooped on down. They drove down in their motor home, which they parked in our parking pad (which fits around 4 cars, so it’s plenty big!)


The husband kept saying he felt like he was in Christmas Vacation and cousin Eddie was camped outside. We had an electrical cord running under our garage door for them and pap kept using the hose to fill their water tank! It was all very hilarious, but also incredibly convenient.

They arrived late Friday evening and went to be before 10pm, so we had a little bit of time to rest up for the busy weekend. On Saturday, we took them out and about. We showed them the mall we used to work at and looked at some baby stuff (my grandma was always a mover and a shaker; she loved going out and doing things), had a nice lunch at a local place, and then headed home and grilled out for dinner.


Sunday morning, we took them to a West Virginia place that’s great for breakfast and then we hung out around the house a bit before heading down towards the in-laws. Husband showed them the city he went to college in (and lived by since he was around eight or so) and then we went out to the in-laws. We hung out there and then went to Cracker Barrel for dinner.

All in all, it was a good visit. I’m glad they came down. I hope it didn’t tire my grandma out too much. She’s definitely wearing down. She went from oxygen, to not using oxygen, to back to needing it all the time and being even weaker than she was before. It’s definitely hard to see her struggle so much to get around. I told her she needs to at least get a wheelchair so she can go places! We rented one for her over the weekend to facilitate us going out and about.

We’re both exhausted, though, and quite done with visits for awhile. We have way too much to get done to lose another weekend! The baby’s room is still nowhere near complete… sigh.

Having my family down here was a bit of a wake-up call, though. It was really weird. I wasn’t entirely comfortable with it. Husband says it’s because I’m a different person now and they don’t see that. I’m inclined to agree. It’s so nice to be free of the chains my family weighs me down with–who they expect me to be or ‘see’ me as, when I am none of those things. I’m a completely different person here, a much better person. My life is so much better, too. Like I told the husband, it’s a case of “never the two shall meet”; it’s fine to go back and visit, but I’d prefer if my ‘old life’ just sort of stayed where it belonged…

The small town mindset, bigotry, and judgmental ways just doesn’t suit me or my life anymore. It makes me sad. I feel like I’ve outgrown the people I love. It’s a natural process and it definitely needed to happen… but that doesn’t make it any less sobering to think about.

Well, That’s Nice…

We have a pediatrician and that’s just awesome. Unfortunately, this all comes on the edge of some disheartening news on the family front. My mum was life-flighted (AGAIN) to the hospital last week with the same issues as before; she was hemorrhaging blood from her throat and had an ulcer the size of an apple in her stomach. This time, however, the prognosis is understandably more dire–they’ve given her 3-5 years to live, if that. Her liver is on its last legs (I tried to explain to her before that she has cirrhosis of the liver but she denied, denied, denied) and barely functioning. They had to run a shunt of some kind through her liver to relieve the pressure on the blood vessels in her body, but that introduces toxins in the blood and can cause blood poisoning. They have medications if she reacts badly.

Honestly, my reaction was more anger than anything. Anger at everyone and everything. My grandparents are suddenly rallying, saying all the things we need to do and this and that. I’m just here going, “had you all done what I’d asked and helped me years before, this would have never happened” or “where were you before?” They were too busy putting their head in the sand and now that I’m spent and beyond the point of being able to assist, they’re angry at me for not clustering to their banner. Excuse me?

I’ve tried for years. I’ve done everything humanly possible, including taking time I didn’t have off work, having her call me–night and day, dealing with stress beyond my years, and I lived through the physical and emotional torment of watching my mother not only abuse me but dissolve before my very eyes. Telling me what I should and should not be doing or giving me looks of disapproval are certainly not welcome.

If she decides this is enough to “get better” and stop sticking her head up her ass, then great. Fantastic. Throw a parade. I’m kind of over it, honestly. I’ve given up on my parents being any semblance of that. I’m beyond it, I’m over it. Being pregnant brought me the clarity I needed to cut absolutely everything toxic out of my life. My husband commented that he’s never seen me happier. It’s sad and depressing, in a way, that to achieve that I had to basically just stop talking to me family…

I just cannot get what she said to me the last time we spoke, truly spoke, out of my head: “I’m an adult and I’ll do what I want, when I want.” This came on the cusp of her sending me bizarre texts while I was at my second job and then me phoning her. I knew immediately she was drinking, felt it to my core, but still I hoped. Then I heard her voice and it was all over. I said what I always did and she fired back with the most immature, disgusting display of absolute narcissism and selfishness I’ve ever bore witness to. A diatribe about how it was her life and she could do as she liked–she could drink if she wanted to! In fact, she was done doing what everyone else told her to. She was going to LIVE! Because, yes, living is defined by drowning oneself in a bottle. Sigh.

After that conversation, I was done. I had told her before, warned her of the implications of her repeated actions, of the consequences that awaited her if she chose to continue down this destructive path. In a way, I wanted her to choose, finally… me or alcohol. She chose alcohol and I was done. I haven’t talked to her since my grandfather forced the phone’s receiver into my hands back in May when we last visited. I had warned him not to, that I didn’t want to talk to her. Even my grandmother told him no but he didn’t listen. The last words I said to my mum were psycho bitch. Strangely enough, I’m okay with that.

She was drunk, of course. She couldn’t even sober up to see her pregnant daughter. My husband declared that if she tried to come over, come near me, or began to phone… we were leaving. She did not. The conversation started off with her asking me stupid questions she already knew the answers to, her words slurred and sluggish. I answered tightly and then she went off on another ridiculous diatribe explaining away her actions and I lost it. I told her, finally, the real reason I left… her. And then I called her a psycho bitch, hung up the phone, and tossed it towards my grandfather. The look on his face was priceless. I immediately calmed down and went about talking to my grandma and my husband as if nothing had ever happened. We did not discuss it again during that visit.

I have no interest in communicating with my mother. If she wishes to contact me, she can try. I fought for years to save her, I tried to redeem her, I strove desperately to make people understand, to make them give her a chance, and now I am done. If my husband hates my mother, he is justified in doing so. I’m not going to bother trying to change his mind anymore because honestly, I think I’m right there with him. My mother is gone–she’s been gone for a very long time now. All that’s left is a miserable, half-dead husk.

I’ve never been on to grasp at wraiths.


Instead of working on cleaning, I’m sitting here on the laptop while my Pandora randomly plays from my multitude of stations over our very awesome surround sound. We’ve wanted this since we got married. It was the husband’s huge Christmas gift and celebration of finally having a home of our very own. Honestly, I think I get more use out of it than he does.

I got my anniversary present early–my very own 40mm “pancake lens” for my camera. I saw reviews on it and instantly fell in love. As much as I LOVE having a variety of lenses and I’m beyond addicted to the bokeh my 50mm blesses me with, I know that with a baby in our near future, if I want pictures I need something effortless and relatively weightless. Enter in this beauty. I can’t wait to take it for a spin in Arizona. It will make such a good “wandering around Key West” lens, too. My other lenses are “mid-quality”, so they’re heavy because of the metal parts. Still not as heavy as a full-scale quality lens, though. Those are absolute beasts!

The outside cat that roams the neighborhood has adopted the husband as his surrogate owner. That was all well and good until dead birds and other such things started turning up at the foot of the stairs of our back deck. Husband caught him with a live chipmunk hanging out of his mouth, too. He knocked it out and chased the poor thing off. I told the husband, it’s too late; he’s got a serial killing cat on his payroll now. I really don’t want it killing my birds. This is putting a HUGE damper on my ideas of having a bird bath and a lovely yard filled with wonderful birds, sigh. I’m not a fan of “outside cats.” Do NOT throw your cat outside for others to deal with just because you’re a terrible pet owner and “don’t want it inside anymore.” Find someone else to take it in. This poor cat ACTS like an inside cat, is very lovey and vocal–not feral at all. I don’t want to dislike it, but I also don’t want it killing my damn birds.

I’m sixteen weeks now and the “bad” symptoms are starting to taper off. I still can’t dig into my old menu of loves and I’m getting a little worried that my taste buds may be irreparably damaged. As someone with what I’ve designated “food OCD” who is also extremely picky, this is not good news. I panic even thinking about it. I like what I eat, I really do not want to have to go through the hell of “trying new things.” I’m not one of those people. My brain doesn’t work like that. Ugh.

We leave for Arizona at 5:30am. I’ll be on a plane, hopefully not ridiculously tired, and headed towards Chicago where we then head off towards Arizona. Nevermind all the bad weather and wildfires, sigh. I’m really hoping this trip isn’t a bust because the husband is super excited and he needs this. Work has been awful for him lately.

The TastyKake Krimpets I had are wearing off, so I guess it’s time to find some food. Hopefully I get some amazing pictures in Arizona.

Well, shit…

Well, shit...

Buying the house was a big step for us. It was our leap into actual, full-scale adulthood. With it, came other decisions. We’d discussed them at length and came to a hesitant, but mutual conclusion. It led me to stopping my birth control at the end of December. The last time I took a pill was in 2013. We expected it would take awhile, the husband was on an experimental cancer treatment protocol at a very young age and he’s the only surviving member of his group. He does a yearly checkup, because they still don’t understand the side effects of the cancer curing things he was on. Notably, though, chemo causes fertility issues down the line. Then there’s me, with my family history of PCO, endometriosis, and the fact I was on birth control simply to battle my very heavy, horribly painful monthly periods.

Even so, I’ve never missed a period since I hit puberty. It’s always been regular, which is why doctors have always shrugged away my worries. I got horribly sick with a twenty-four hour bug March 5-6. It was awful. I threw up, I couldn’t eat, and I was horribly dehydrated despite drinking water almost constantly to combat the constant throwing up. It hit me the week my period was supposed to. I didn’t get it and my husband said it was probably because I was sick. I was skeptical, because I’d been sick before and gotten it just fine.

My suspicions arose then, but I was still in denial. It was an impossibility. Then, the next week, I willingly went to bed at 10pm. I looked at my husband and said, “I’m really tired, I think I’m just going to go to bed.” I don’t think his jaw ever lifted off the floor. I’m a night owl. I do not go to bed early. I’ve been extremely fatigued and near narcoleptic at times, both at work and at home. My worries grew as I started experiencing odd sensations throughout my body. Given my history of issues, I’m ‘in tune’ with it; I know when something’s off and something was definitely off.

I tried not to panic. I could have stomach cancer, as all my symptoms revolved around my abdomen. That, or I could be–but I refused to acknowledge that. I wasn’t, I couldn’t… not now. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go, after all. We had trips planned throughout the summer and Key West waiting for us in October. I had wine and long island iced teas to drink, damn it!

The husband kept asking me if I was all right and I said I was, I was just tired. I caught a cold shortly after my bout of sickness (that I have still) because the weather has been insane. I blamed that. I’m tired because I have a cold. I’m miserable because I have a cold. My stomach feels sick because I have a cold. I want to eat Chinese food every day, all day because I have a cold. Vanilla ice cream? Hell yes, forget chocolate–all because I have a cold and I can’t smell.

I finally got frightened enough last week to order some tests online through Amazon Prime. I was walking through the halls at work and where I haven’t been able to smell for nearly a year, I’m not used to smelling anything. The cold seems to be clearing out my sinuses, so I’m smelling random things again. I caught a smell in the hallway and my stomach rolled almost instantly. It wasn’t even an unpleasant or unusual smell. I kept myself from freaking out and quietly ordered the tests, which arrived on Friday.

I worked Friday night, having issues with my stomach (mild bloating, slight, awkward cramping, and just general ‘nausea’ that isn’t so much nausea as annoying.) I went to bed and when I woke up at 3am, I took one of the tests. It was one with a week indicator. I had a scare nearly five years ago, so I figured it would come up negative and then I could make a doctor’s appointment and figure out what was going on with my body. I nearly shit myself when THIS popped up:



I would have screamed a scream worthy of a horror movie, but it was 3am and the husband was sleeping. He was planning on going into work because he had a lot of stuff to do. So, I couldn’t really wake him. Instead, I ran the gamut of emotions in a matter of minutes. There was crying, shaking, and mostly a lot of freaking out. Loki became concerned and started pacing with me, winding through my legs.

I knew I needed to sleep, so I laid in bed. All I did was stare at the back of the husband’s head and freak out. My life was over. All my plans, all my dreams, everything was gone. The life I knew was going to disappear into one I wasn’t even sure I wanted. Sure, I’m inherently maternal, but I don’t particularly like babies and I swear, I play video games, I’ve only just recently been able to enjoy myself without the shadow of my parents horrible failings hanging over my head like an awaiting axe.

I took others and they all said the same. I told the husband five seconds after he woke up and got a confused, tired, and stunned look. Followed by a groan of, “what? I’m too tired of to comprehend what you’re saying right now.” The rest of the day was spent frantically cleaning while I tried to figure out what I’m supposed to do. Thankfully, the in-laws came and I confided in the mother-in-law, who had to shove her cellphone case in her mouth while she danced around and freaked out, trying not to scream.

To me, it still isn’t real. It won’t be until I have a blood test staring me in the face and even then, I’ll probably still act like I’m looking at alien writing. I’m beyond tired, I can’t deny that, but it just feels like I’m sick. I’m still not sure how I feel. The husband should be happy, and I think he is, but he’s hesitant because of me. My father-in-law’s reaction was delayed and hilarious. The husband told him as they were pulling out and he kind of did the same thing the husband did with his face, and then said, rather dazedly, “oh. Oh. Congratulations.”

Mother-in-law called us to tell us that a few minutes later, in the car, it hit him fully and he began wandering aloud about being a grandpa and what they would call him. He was completely dead set on them using his name, as the thought of being called “peepaw” was abhorrent. I’m inclined to agree. I call my grandparents “gram” and “pap”, none of this weird southern crap.

Making an appointment ASAP on Monday. I’d like to get in there quickly, because if my tests were right, I’m almost two months along. Which is a little terrifying. I keep reminding everyone not to say ANYTHING to ANYONE, as nothing is completely known right now. It could be smoke and mirrors; it could fail horribly and disappear completely; we don’t know enough to concisely state anything.

Until then, I’ll be freaking out in between naps and constant peeing. Because that’s all I seem to be capable of these days. Playing video games is a downright exhausting process anymore.