Babymoon

So this is it. In a few short hours Derrick and I will embark on our last alone trip before we become parents. I don’t know quite how to explain the surreal feeling that I have. I mean ok, technically we’re already parents. TECHNICALLY! Yes Lexie is in there moving and grooving and growing by leaps and bounds every day but she’s still in there. Safe and sound and relatively low maintenance. I’m sure that part is going to last for a whole…two seconds after she is born.
Never again will it be this easy for us to travel. One quick call to my mom and Fozzy had a babysitter for the long weekend. He’ll be in Dayton spending some quality time with my parents and brother and also his BFF, Mina. He’ll chase rabbits in the backyard and get lots of belly rubs and treats. He is set. Actually I’m kind of jealous. I would love to spend a long weekend at my parent’s house being babied. Yummy food, little responsibility, possible head rubs until I fall asleep. Sign me up!
However, Florida Is calling my name. We are leaving tonight and will come home late Monday night. We’re staying with my friend Kelli who was recently transferred there for work. She lives in Jacksonville and has an extra bedroom for us to crash in. I forsee good food, laughs and some time by the pool and at the beach in our future. Sunday we’re going to Tallahassee to meet up with Joe and Robbin. They also recently moved to Florida. I am excited to see them as well.
And we need this vacation. NEED IT! We have spent the last few months standing on the brink of chaos. We need it for our sanity and our marriage. Derrick’s job is hell. It’s honestly the hardest and most horrible thing about our lives at this point. It is the 100% only thing causing me stress right now and I don’t even have to go. I hate everything about it and I can’t understand why he won’t look for something else. I want so badly to be happy and enjoy these last few childless months with my husband but there is always something happening at that place that stops us in our tracks. Derrick is ALWAYS stressed out. ALWAYS!
We have so many things to be thankful for. We are healthy, we have a lovely home and wonderful family. We have our Fozzy dog who has the biggest personality of any animal I have ever met and a jungle cat who is always good for snuggles. We have a healthy and lovely baby girl. We have been blessed with so many good things and we work so hard to overcome any obstacle in our way. I want to enjoy this time and not be stressed out.
But today we’re leaving on a jet plane in hopes that we will be relaxed and refreshed when we return. In hopes that we will be ready to face the days ahead with strength and grace. We will be meeting our little girl in 17 weeks or less. I am so excited about life right now and that also terrifies me. I have to keep believing that everything is going to continue to go well. It doesn’t work like that for most people but I have faith that we will all be just fine.

My dear Ninja

Tonight is the last night that I don't know you 100%. I know your heartbeat and I know your movements. I'm doing everything I can to provide you with the best kind of life possible while inside now and out soon. Tomorrow, I will know so much more about you. I find out if I am a mother to a daughter or to a son. I will allow myself to dream of a more gender specific future for you. Maybe you'll be a boy who loves dancing or a girl who loves sports. It matters not to me. I can't wait to see you bouncing around on the screen. It's been such a long time since I saw you and when I did you were not even formed. Just a little blinking heart. I can't wait to see you.
Most of all, I'm excited to hear that you're healthy. I have to believe that everything will be ok and you'll be healthy. Your daddy and I opted out of the Downs and CF screenings and while I've second guessed myself I have to remember that you're in God's hands. I can only do what I can do to keep you safe and healthy and the rest is up to him.
My dear ninja, I love you so much. I became the happiest person on the planet the moment I heard the news that you were on the way. I am honored to be your mommy and I can't wait to see you tomorrow.

Always,
Mommy

My dreams are betraying me. I woke myself up early this morning yelling. Yelling at someone I care about deeply about something that upset me more than I originally realized. I know that my problem isn't actually with this person but with the actions of someone else that just so happen to involve this person. In my dream, I blew up. I lost my temper and I yelled and screamed and cried. I woke myself up to the harsh words and tears in my eyes. I'm a mess.

I don't want to have this conversation. I don't want to get into this because there is no way for me to express my feelings without looking like a complete jerk. That is why I've been avoiding it. It's why I haven't said anything and why I smash the hurt down like a meat tenderizor hoping that if I crush it small enough, I won't notice it is there. I'm still considering keeping it quiet but I know things are just going to double and triple until something does break loose in me and not in the dream world but in reality where the consequences of the discussion will be much more difficult to handle.

* On another note*

I'm heavily considering a large facebook cut or deactivating my account. I love keeping in contact with everyone but I'm starting to wonder if it is worth it to have to explain every status and to defend my word choices to people all the time. I know that people get concerned but sometimes a status is just a status and it's a snap shot of that exact moment. My exhaustion from this pregnancy and taking note of it in that moment isn't a cry for help. It doesn't have to be brought up to my husband. I get questions from him on a weekly basis because people ask him about things in my status. It's just a status and 95% of the time he doesn't know what I've written because he doesn't get on facebook. It doesn't matter. It's not life or death. It's just random thoughts. I'm tired of explaining myself and trying to justify. I might just start using filters and filtering what people can see what. I can't seem to decide.

I'm afraid I've started censoring myself here too. I know only a few select people read this blog but I don't ever want to start any drama and I tend not to think before I write. That's the entire purpose of a blog/journal though isn't it. To write how you feel without worrying about hurting feelings or things coming back at you. Hopefully if I ever write about anything that causes questions people feel free to ask me about things rather than drawing their own conclusions. I'm pretty much an open book if you ask. I just don't tend to volunteer my feelings.

It Happened

5 months of trying. The doctor gave us 6 months before we would start going the testing route. The 6 month my peroid is late. I'm NEVER late. I take 5 HPT's over the course of 7 days after my missed peroid.

NOT PREGNANT

The sticks laugh at me and I wonder what the heck is going on with my body. After speaking with a friend she suggests calling the doctor and scheduling a blood test. What the hell? I think to myself and make the call. I go in and they take my blood and basically make me feel ridiculous for wanting a blood test. I get a call a few hours later.

I am in fact expecting a child.

Did I mention that I am NEVER late? I knew something was going on but no one but Angie believed me.

So I'm having a baby. June 29th, 2011 is my estimated due date.
I am excited and nervous and happy and sad and all over the place 100% of the time. For a control freak, the hormonal mood swings are NOT easy to deal with. I feel like I should be locked up for my own safety.

I'm 12 weeks and 2 days today. My first trimester is almost over and I am very happy about that. Everyone tells me the second trimester is the easiest. We shall see.

None of this is happening how I 'planned'. In our family there is a saying

We plan, God Laughs.

It's very true. I feel like this is going to be very similar to the wedding. Beautiful outcome but stressing me out to the highest extent because it's just not me. I've become more vocal so far this time but people still arn't listening to me. That is an entirely different post all together. I hope that people respect my wishes and help when we need and back off when we don't. I don't want to have any reason for this time not to be special between Derrick and myself and sometimes too many cooks in the kitchen get really really overwhelming.

That girl

I've never been that girl. You know the one. The girl who gets asked to the prom by so many people she has to decline invitations. The girl that spends an hour every morning getting ready for work so that her makeup is perfect and her hair lays just right. I've never been the girl that gets a drink purchased for her at the club. My sisters are good examples of this girl. They are beautiful and boys pratically trip over themselves to get a closer look or to talk to them. I've never been that girl.

This week something weird happened to me. I was approached by someone I considered a friend and told that he was developing feelings for me. I was flabbergasted. Then he asked me if I felt the same. Shock turned into feeling flattered and that quickly turned into a queasiness. This friend is married. I am married. This is inappropriate.

I quickly nipped anything negative in the bud. I love my husband. I vent about things that happen because I occasionally need to get things off my chest. I've learned to shut my mouth. Perhaps I vented a bit too much. I don't know really know what exactly I did to give my friend the wrong impression. I wish I could take it back because now things are weird. I don't want them to be weird. He's a really nice guy.

I also realized something that day. I'm married and not dead. Sometimes people are going to notice me, regardless of if I think they will or not. People are going to notice D also. This isn't necessarly a bad thing. If anything I think sharing what happened reminded D that I am a woman and that he's lucky to have me. That part was nice. It was nice to feel wanted. Even for just a moment in highly inappopriate circumstances. Maybe it will lead D to remember to want me in our appopriate marriage. It wasn't bad for the ego either.

Double Standards

DH has really got me thinking lately and it hasn’t been all good thinking. A lot of it has been crazy-person-don’t-share-these-thoughts-with-anyone thinking. Most of it has been that way actually. I don’t know if he MEANS to send me into those tailspins or if he does it out of sheer ignorance. I’m hoping that it’s the latter.


Let me preface this post by saying this. I’m a pretty laid back chick. It takes a lot to get me riled up and once I am, it takes a long time for me to stop being riled up. I try my damndest not to let myself get there. It’s not my idea of fun and I fight dirty. However, for the most part, I just go with the flow. Change plans at the last minute? Ok, Sure. Plan my entire summer without asking my opinion? Ok, I’m annoyed but I don’t want to make waves. I don’t enjoy arguing about little things and I don’t get worked up over things out of my control if I can AT ALL! help it.


That being said, DH made a comment to me yesterday. He said I looked like a housewife. HOLD THE PHONE! Not a housewife IE: Desperate or New Jersey. But a housewife as in: A woman who stays at home and cleans and looks totally frumpy. *Facepalm* Yep. Basically without, or while? Hoping for without, meaning to my husband called me a frumpy hag who doesn’t take care of herself. I took a quick inventory of myself. Tank top, shorts, bare feet and legs, toenails painted, hair washed and brushed and drying so it would curl for tomorrows work day. My nails weren’t done but are pretty long and look more than decent without polish. I had just gotten home from working 8 hours with a 50 minute commute each way. I had made dinner, cleared up dinner and cleaned the kitchen. I changed out of my business attire into some comfortable around the house clothes. And he called me a housewife.


Maybe I shouldn’t be so offended. In other circumstances I probably wouldn’t have been. But this particular day, I got offended. Especially since I had done all of those things already and was ready to FINALLY!!! enjoy the hour and a half a night that I actually get to sit down and relax. Especially since he was sitting on the couch shirtless and in athletic shorts, which is his normal around the house outfit. I realize that he probably didn’t mean it the way that I took it. It was probably an innocuous comment that came out of his mouth without regard to how it would make me feel. He’s a man. This happens. Whatever, but it got me thinking.


Women are the nurturers, the caretakers, the shoppers, the maids, and the secretaries. To top that all off we’re expected to raise the children and still have a job outside of the house and bring home income to help support our families. Apparently, we’re expected to look damn good while juggling all these responsibilities. Make sure we look nice at all times. Take care of us while also attempting to make sure everything and everyone else is taken care of. It’s not surprising that sometimes the things that fall through the cracks involve our well-being and ourselves.


I’ve never been much of a girly girl to begin with. I don’t wear makeup on a regular basis because I enjoy my sleep much more than spending an hour getting ready in the morning to stare at a computer all day. No one sees me and if they do, it’s for mere minutes and they couldn’t care less if I’m fully made up or if I’m dressed like a clown, just as long as there problem gets resolved. When I do try to look nice and get ready for a night out, DH complains that I’m getting dressed up for the people we’re hanging out with and I never get dressed up for him. Truth be told, when I do get dressed up it has less to do with the guys we are hanging out with and more to do with their wives. I’ve never been good with females and feel very inadequate when hanging out with people when I’m not at least wearing mascara. The thing that kills me is, I have ALWAYS been like this. I’m a jeans and t-shirt kinda call. With good shoes (bit of a shoe addict here! I do enjoy dressing up JUST to wear my latest coveted purchase!). DH and I have been together for almost 5 years. Next month we will have been married a year. Nothing about my way of dressing has changed. I lost 20lbs. I feel pretty damn good about how I’m looking. Would I like to lose more? Yes. I would LOVE to. But again, there is the time issue. Working out would mean I don’t make dinner. And when I don’t make dinner, people get VERY crabby VERY quickly.


DH often will point to a girl that is nicely dressed and say, “why don’t you dress cute like her?” or “That’s a cute outfit, is it something you would wear?” Yes dear. I would love to wear something like that but I’m not 5’2 and less than a hundred pounds and my ass wouldn’t fit in that piece of material she calls a dress. I’m 5’10 and a LOT of woman. I can’t dress like the little bimbo’s at the bar. Nor do I have any desire to if we’re being honest. Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to look like those girls but it’s just not me. In other cases, I would LOVE to wear what he points out but our budget just doesn’t allow it. We don’t have the extra cash flow to shop at those places. Our bills come first and foremost and I spend all my extra funds paying extra bills.


My money for cute clothes is spent on doctors bills for the ear infection that had me in their offices twice last month. The few extra funds I have go to make a small payment on the new flat screen TV we financed. I just can’t afford to look like those girls. I don’t have time to go to the salon and get my nails done or color my hair every 4-6 weeks. I don’t know what it means to see a stylist more than once. I’m too busy paying bills, feeding our animals, doing a million loads of laundry, washing beard trimmings down the sink and putting the scale back where it goes rather than tripping over it.


So maybe I look like a housewife. Maybe I look frumpy and not attractive. I don’t ask him to dress up. I don’t ask him to trade in his trademark polo’s and athletic shorts for a different kind of outfit. I don’t holler when his hair gets long enough he can wear a headband in it. I just let it be. Because I love him. No matter how he looks. And I know he loves me too. The double standard just kills me. I can’t be wonder woman and I don’t have the desire. He’ll just have to accept me. Unpainted fingernails and all.

It's Baby Time!

He gave us the green light. After months of discussion, an engagement, a wedding and a house later, we’re going to have a baby. Not any time soon, mind you. He’s decided that he feels comfortable enough to go forward in the process. I’m excited. What better excuse to lock yourself away with your husband and have massive amounts of sex? I guess most people don’t really need an excuse, but we have very busy lives. In just the next month we have plans every single weekend including two weddings, a family reunion and I’m going zip lining with some girlfriends. I’m excited about all of the plans but my real excitement comes from the impending conception.

I don’t think we will have any issues but DH isn’t so sure. He has had some health issues in the past that he is concerned could affect our fertility. The doctors assured him that he should have no problem and I will happily listen to the words of that wise doctor. I don’t want it to be a process. I don’t want to have to chart and temp and use ovulation sticks. I just want it to happen naturally and when it is supposed to happen.

We talked last night cuddled in bed in the dark. We’re going to be parents one way or another. If we have to adopt, we’ll hop a plane and head to China and get our baby. God has a plan for us. We were meant to be parents. DH has very little experience with children but I’ve seen him around the kids of our friends and he is adorable with them. I’ll never forget the time I first saw him interact with our friend’s daughter, Addy. She was playing in her little kitchen and she and DH had a tea party and later ate mustard sandwiches. I can’t wait for him to eat mustard sandwiches with our daughter or to throw around the football with our son. I can’t wait to see my baby open their eyes for the first time and see their daddy’s eyes looking back at me.

My DH is a man’s man. He does the whole burp, fart, scratch and chest bump thing associated with a man. He handles our finances in a way that I can’t even explain and makes sure we are taken care of. He is an excellent provider, lover and friend. He is my rock and my strength and whenever I need him, I can count on him. ALWAYS. Yet when I see him with a baby or a little one, he softens. His exterior isn’t so harsh and he can melt my heart with the little half smile thing that he does. So while he’s stinking up our house or stocking our savings, I know there is so much more that I am going to learn and discover about him when we embark on this journey together. We’re going to be parents. Someday. Maybe not right this minute, but it’s coming. Someday soon. I can’t wait!