~~~
Myself being Irish and Joe being Italian, we can warrant the following to be more official than either gender or due date... :)
Tuesday, July 31, 2007
It's temporarily official... :)
I'm due MARCH 17.
~~~
Myself being Irish and Joe being Italian, we can warrant the following to be more official than either gender or due date... :)
~~~
Myself being Irish and Joe being Italian, we can warrant the following to be more official than either gender or due date... :)
Monday, July 30, 2007
If I had a pen to chew, I'd chew it
That is, since all my nails are already gone.
Everyone has been though this, right? Somebody tell me so! ... you know? When it feels like the entire solar system is crashing down around you, the ground heaving beneath you, your stomach flops all topsy-turvy and you just can't get enough sleep.
Did I mention sleep?
And sleep.
Note - we're not going to even GO near the food topic. Nuh-uh, baby, not today. That just hits too close to home. But stay tuned, eh, 'cuz THAT'S liable to change - by the end of this post, even.
~~~
It was the third week of June. My boobs were killing me. I mean, killing me. Driving me insane, no, clinically mad - I wanted to rip them out! they itched and burned and hurt so badly. DH (Joe) and I were driving somewhere - I can't remember quite where - when I turned to him and said, out of the blue, "I think I'm pregnant."
Now, for reference, I'd thought I was pregnant in February, turned out to be a false alarm, but you can see this memory flashing across my husband's face as the words tripped out of my mouth.
"Oh?" quoth the wise man. The look was quizzical, but he said nothing that would further arm Germany for war.
"My boobs itch. I mean, ITCH." (his sister later told me, Girl, you need some GIRLFRIENDS if you're telling your husband things like that! 'Course, she's his sister. Can you imagine telling your brother something like that?!)
It'd only been three weeks since my last you-know-what, but the next day after I dropped Joe off at work I dug up some pregnancy tests from under the sink, peed in a cup and stuck the stick in it.
And - for once! - forgot about it.
Tooling around in the kitchen, I suddenly realized, oh my gosh, the pregnancy test! Rushing into the bathroom, my heart thumps as I stare at the genie.
Oh. my. gosh.
AND I have to wait six hours until Joe gets off work. SIX HOURS!!! Suddenly I have no idea what I'm going to do with myself for six hours. It seems an eternity. I have never wanted Joe home so badly in all my life. I've never NOT been able to come up with something to do. Like a mad woman, I went from dish rag to art pencil to CD player to bicycle to movie and around again, in about a twenty minute interval. Off to the library next; too afraid to look at pregnancy books (What if it's not true? Can it really be? What will people think of me, looking at pregnancy books? How dare I?), then wandering through the clouds to shop aimlessly at Target (usually a bad thing, though safe this time, I don't think I could have been dexterous, let alone coherent enough, to successfully purchase anything), calling Joe intermittently, champagne in my voice a sure give-away - if you'd been looking for it. But he's at work, and all he thinks is... just another routine day. Just another routine call.
Finally, and I say, FINALLY, the time rolls around to go pick him up. He hops in, commences his ramblings about work that day, what the issue was here, what the solution could have been there, but all I here pounding through my head is - how are you going to tell him? Huh, how? huh?... somehow we get back to the house, and pulling into the garage, Joe comes to some kind of conclusion in his verbal essay about the day, ending it with, "So, HI! I'm Joe!" and a big grin in my direction.
I blurted, "Uh, HI! I'm pregnant!"
You should have seen the look on his face.
~~~
The following days found me running through pregnancy tests like water. Five positive tests later, I began to really believe it.
Headaches, big itchy boobs, overwhelming fatigue and a starving-but-food-sounds-gross mentality.... these all have helped immensely to prove to my feeble mind that I am indeed, truly and assuredly....
pregnant. :)
Everyone has been though this, right? Somebody tell me so! ... you know? When it feels like the entire solar system is crashing down around you, the ground heaving beneath you, your stomach flops all topsy-turvy and you just can't get enough sleep.
Did I mention sleep?
And sleep.
Note - we're not going to even GO near the food topic. Nuh-uh, baby, not today. That just hits too close to home. But stay tuned, eh, 'cuz THAT'S liable to change - by the end of this post, even.
~~~
It was the third week of June. My boobs were killing me. I mean, killing me. Driving me insane, no, clinically mad - I wanted to rip them out! they itched and burned and hurt so badly. DH (Joe) and I were driving somewhere - I can't remember quite where - when I turned to him and said, out of the blue, "I think I'm pregnant."
Now, for reference, I'd thought I was pregnant in February, turned out to be a false alarm, but you can see this memory flashing across my husband's face as the words tripped out of my mouth.
"Oh?" quoth the wise man. The look was quizzical, but he said nothing that would further arm Germany for war.
"My boobs itch. I mean, ITCH." (his sister later told me, Girl, you need some GIRLFRIENDS if you're telling your husband things like that! 'Course, she's his sister. Can you imagine telling your brother something like that?!)
It'd only been three weeks since my last you-know-what, but the next day after I dropped Joe off at work I dug up some pregnancy tests from under the sink, peed in a cup and stuck the stick in it.
And - for once! - forgot about it.
Tooling around in the kitchen, I suddenly realized, oh my gosh, the pregnancy test! Rushing into the bathroom, my heart thumps as I stare at the genie.
Oh. my. gosh.
AND I have to wait six hours until Joe gets off work. SIX HOURS!!! Suddenly I have no idea what I'm going to do with myself for six hours. It seems an eternity. I have never wanted Joe home so badly in all my life. I've never NOT been able to come up with something to do. Like a mad woman, I went from dish rag to art pencil to CD player to bicycle to movie and around again, in about a twenty minute interval. Off to the library next; too afraid to look at pregnancy books (What if it's not true? Can it really be? What will people think of me, looking at pregnancy books? How dare I?), then wandering through the clouds to shop aimlessly at Target (usually a bad thing, though safe this time, I don't think I could have been dexterous, let alone coherent enough, to successfully purchase anything), calling Joe intermittently, champagne in my voice a sure give-away - if you'd been looking for it. But he's at work, and all he thinks is... just another routine day. Just another routine call.
Finally, and I say, FINALLY, the time rolls around to go pick him up. He hops in, commences his ramblings about work that day, what the issue was here, what the solution could have been there, but all I here pounding through my head is - how are you going to tell him? Huh, how? huh?... somehow we get back to the house, and pulling into the garage, Joe comes to some kind of conclusion in his verbal essay about the day, ending it with, "So, HI! I'm Joe!" and a big grin in my direction.
I blurted, "Uh, HI! I'm pregnant!"
You should have seen the look on his face.
~~~
The following days found me running through pregnancy tests like water. Five positive tests later, I began to really believe it.
Headaches, big itchy boobs, overwhelming fatigue and a starving-but-food-sounds-gross mentality.... these all have helped immensely to prove to my feeble mind that I am indeed, truly and assuredly....
pregnant. :)
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