advice

Everyone wants to give advice. Not necessarily (although they are among the most vocal advice-givers) moms, either seasoned or brand-new, but all people who have done something before you want to tell you how to do it. For example, my little brother is moving to Chicago and all I want to tell him is how to take the train and where he should go eat. But I don't. I realize how annoying it is, so I bite my tongue and tell him good luck and that he's going to love it. Get pregnant, on the other hand, and you will forever be surrounded by people giving unsolicited advice.

I'm not even a mom yet, and I already gave my first piece of advice. A childhood friend of mine is 13 weeks pregnant, and we were together over the fourth of July. It was a potluck dinner, and I was on round two of side dishes. She said to me, "Kate how many trips is this for you?" Meaning, how many times have you been back for seconds? She was kidding, and I knew it. I also knew that she was on round two or three herself. So I laughed and said, "Oh, you just wait. You'll see..."

I've become what I've always hated!! Not only do I hate the advice and constant talk about my pregnancy, but I hate when someone says "You just wait" to me! Now, in my defense, I meant, "You just wait until you're farther along" and most often when people tell me that phrase they are referencing my soon to be had lack of sleep or how much my life will change (no duh, and no shit). But still! (Ugh, on that note, let me just say, never ever tell a pregnant woman that her life is about to change. You don't think I know that?? Shut UP!)

Perhaps this advice-giving is part of the maternal instinct? I don't know, but from here on out, I promise to only say nice things and words of encouragement to new or soon to be moms. And if you guys knew how grumpy and irritable I am these days, you'll take my advice, too. :)

(Oh, haha, I just did it again. I told you to take my advice when I just told you not to give it. I think that's irony. Also, as a sort of PS, this pregnancy is making me dumber by the day. Can't you tell by this all-over-the-place blog?)

A Rush, A Catch, Then Death: Pregnancy Hormones at Their Finest

Tucker, my dog, is very finicky about going outside these days. No longer is he excited to go outside just to be outside. If he doesn't have to pee, he looks at me standing at the open back door and goes, "Eh." He also has this nasty little habit of running outside if Skip and I leave the house together and then proceeds to run between the fence gate and the front yard, dodging us as we try to grab him to put him back inside. He's a 70 lb. yellow lab/shepard mix, he's fast, and he's strong.

So instead of going out back after I get home from work, sometimes Tucker will join me in the front yard as I get the mail. He pees on the big tree in front, and comes right back inside. He'd rather just hang out with you than walk around by himself out back. Fair enough. Yesterday, same old, I go out to get the mail, and Tucker joins me. He goes out to pee on the tree, and the next thing I know I hear him scrambling fast, like he's chasing something. At first I get scared that he's about to run into the street, but then my worries stop as he's no longer running into the street, but he's caught something, has it in his mouth, and is running to the back fence gate so he can go out back and play with whatever he caught.

I'm almost 6 months pregnant, and I'm standing in the front yard, screaming at my dog, "Tucker, no!!" I run to the backyard to follow him, and see him just as he drops the poor thing he caught. A little grey baby bunny. No bigger than my hand. "Tucker stop!" But too late, he was already chasing after it again and caught it, again. The little thing almost got through the slats in the fence but it was just a little bit too big. Tucker caught the bunny again and was holding it in his mouth. Now I've got him by the collar and the scruff of his neck screaming "Drop it!! Tucker drop it!" He does, and it lays still where it lands. It takes all my might to keep Tucker from grabbing it again, and I drag him into the house and close the door. I go back to check on the little baby bunny. She is breathing really fast, and she's lying still, I tell myself she's just getting her bearings back, by the time I come back, she'll be gone.

I go inside to call Skip who is still at work. At this point, it's still kind of funny to me. My heart is pounding and Tucker is looking very proud of himself. I call Skip and tell him the story, and, while I have him on the phone, I go outside to check on the bunny. She's still there, except now I can see she is trying to get up. She is nudging her head and moving all of her legs, but something won't let her get up. She rolls over onto her side.

Enter pregnant Kate. I start crying. Hard. Poor little thing, she's trying so hard to get up. I don't know what to do, should I kill her and put her out of her misery? No way, I can't kill her. I'm too pregnant and emotional. It was hard enough killing gross little moles that Tucker had half-killed, no way can I kill a sweet little baby bunny. Skip won't be home for a couple hours. Should I call my dad to come do it? What if my neighbor's dog comes outside and gets a hold of her? Where was that bunny's mother? I start crying even harder. I decide to just go back inside and try to stop crying.

I've given myself a huge headache at this point, and I'm not speaking to Tucker. I go out a little bit later, and the baby bunny is dead. I don't know if Tucker broke her back, or punctured something internally, or just gave her a heart attack, but now she's dead and still. Poor baby bunny. I get very sad again, but leave to go run errands. Skip comes home while I am gone and takes care of the poor little baby bunny. I was too sad the rest of the night.

I gave Tucker a very stern talking to about picking on things his own size. I know he's a dog and he was following his instinct, but he needs to learn the lesson about fair fights. That little bunny didn't stand a chance. If Tucker catches a full grown adult bunny, that's one thing, but poor little baby animals aren't fast enough. It would be like me picking on a hamster.

I couldn't believe how upset I got. I've been weepy a lot lately. These pregnancy hormones are killing me.

shut UP!

Ugh, I am so irritable. I mean I am really cranky. Maybe it's because I'm not so crazy about my job right now. Maybe it's because I kind of hate my job right now. Maybe it's because I'm so tired. But am I so tired because I'm pregnant? Or is it because I'm not working out as much? Or am I so cranky because I'm pregnant? Ugh. Maybe it's because I've been to my doctor twice in two weeks and no one seems to know what is happening or why I'm there. My doctor actually said, after I told him it was me in the hospital last weekend, "Oh that was you?" Or maybe the two white trash pregnant ladies in the waiting room who reeked of cigarette smoke and kept talking about jail and bail and their cars getting repossessed and quitting their jobs and "bitch" this and "hoe" that and it really depressed me to know that these ladies were about to bring kids into the world and how sad it would be for those little kids growing up and then I saw the ladies in the parking lot afterwards and they already had a van full of kids. I felt very lucky and almost guilty all at the same time for being as "well off" as I am.

I'm probably a little bummed out too.

scary.

I had to go into the hospital late Friday night/early Saturday morning. It's normal to experience some cramping and aches and pains in your abdomen area while you're pregnant because your muscles and ligaments are stretching and growing. It's when those pains don't go away with rest and fluids that you need to worry. 

That's what happened to me. Friday night I went out with friends to say goodbye to another friend who is leaving for Korea. I started feeling crampy then, but I chalked it up to being tired and also the constant shouting to talk above the noise. 

By the time I got home, I couldn't stand up straight. I washed my face and went to bed, knowing that before, this feeling went away with some rest. Although, before it never hurt this bad.

I woke up a couple hours later barely able to yell for Skip. We went to the emergency room and I was sent to the women's center where they monitored my contractions (contractions!!), did a bunch of ultrasounds on the baby and my appendix and gallbladder, drew blood, gave me two shots (one of which is making my leg super sore and tender over 24 hours later), and gave me an I.V. Apparently my potassium was low, which was also causing me to shiver uncontrollably. Eventually, about 5am, I was able to get to sleep without nurses coming in and checking on me. Skip slept in a recliner.

I'm still hazy about what caused what; were my contractions causing my potassium level to drop or vice versa? I have to call my doctor and go in this week for a quick checkup.

I'm extremely grateful that I was able to go home after about 11 hours. I was thinking the worst on the way to the ER: are they going to put me on bed rest? Am I going to lose my baby? It was definitely the first time I realized that not only was I pregnant, but I am a parent with someone to take care of. It also made me see how fragile everything can be and it can all be gone in an instant. 

While I'm still unsure of the exact details, I do know that everyone is ok. Me, the baby, everyone

By the way, we're naming her Story.

It's a girl!

excuses, part 2

I just went to the dentist's office. I'm a teeth grinder, and he asked me how my night guard was holding up since the warranty expires in July. I had to tell him that my dog chewed it up while he was showing off for my mom's dog.

"Oh man!' he says. "I wonder if the warranty covers dog damage. Don't leave before I call them to see that way we won't have to charge you for a new one." I'm grateful, those things can run a couple hundred bucks (yes, I know Walgreens sells $20 generic one size fits all night guards, I've chewed through about 3 of them). The ones my dentist makes fit to your teeth perfectly and are made of a hard material that lasts a couple years.

His hygienist, who is also pregnant and due a month before me, yells after him, "Tell them she's pregnant!"

Everyone takes pity on a pregnant girl who can't sleep because her teeth are grinding too hard, right?

excuses, excuses.

Being pregnant is a love/ hate relationship. For the most part, I hate being pregnant. Well, definitely I hated it at first. My Body for Life body was becoming no more, my skin was breaking out like crazy (crazy!!), I was nauseous, I couldn't run my half marathon, and all I ever wanted to do was go to sleep.

But now, I am slowly looking less like I'm chubbing out and more like I'm pregnant, my skin is a bit more under control, the nausea is almost gone (just please don't make me cook meat), and I'm a little bit more awake. And, as a bonus, I've discovered the pregnancy excuse.

For example, last night we had James over for his birthday. Everyone was having a great time, but I was exhausted after having flown back from Cleveland that evening and rushed around in a short amount of time to straighten the house and pick up Tucker from The Bets' house before people started arriving. About 9pm, I was getting a headache I was so tired. This isn't abnormal, I have always been a tired person. I went upstairs to lie down for just a few seconds before going back and waiting for all the guests to leave, when I remembered that I was pregnant. 

Hooray! "Sorry guys, I think I have to go upstairs and lie down. I'm exhausted." People took this as a great idea, since I was pregnant and all. I really was exhausted, I can tell the difference between regular tired and pregnant tired, and last night I was definitely both, but now that I can pull the pregnancy card, I look like less of a party pooper.

So today, when I locked my keys in my car in a rural Missouri town over an hour from home, and the locksmith said it might take 2.5 hours before he could get there, I wanted to say, "But I'm pregnant!" I knew that wouldn't make a difference, and luckily I found someone else who made me wait only 45 minutes. I guess the ol' pregnancy card isn't always a way out. Or in, in this case.