Friday, August 31, 2012

"I'm so sorry"

I have no idea how to properly respond to this sentiment, as I learned quickly over the past couple of days. Do you say 'I know?' 'thank you?' Do you give a weird nod? Look away? I happened to use all of the above and more probably inappropriate responses. Luckily, I haven't had much experience in this p until this point in my life.

Wednesday I went in for my dating ultrasound. I was pretty excited to see the little dot on the screen and hear that crazy heartbeat. I knew something might not be right when I leaned up to get a peek at the screen and the tech immediately turned it away and told me to lie back down, that she would show me the screen eventually. After a while, she recommended the endovaginal ultrasound. For those unfamiliar, as I was, it's that dildo camera that they use "to get a better look," as the tech put it. I asked her if she could see anything. "That's not for me to say."

Strike two.

After she violated me with that stupid wand, she left the room and said the doctor (not my doctor) would be back to talk to me. She came back to the room and told me I needed to go to my doctor's office immediately. I asked her if something was wrong. "Just go there, now."

I walked out to my car trying to stay positive. It must be a mistake. I bet this lady doesn't know what the hell she's doing. What do you mean she couldn't see anything? She poked around in there for a half hour. Couldn't see anything? Bullshit. So I called my doctor's office and told them what happened. The woman on the other end of the phone agreed with me that it all seemed weird and that she hadn't received anything from the ultrasound place. She said she'd call me back.

When she did, her tone was different. Just like the ultrasound lady, she told me to come to the office in a monotone voice. I asked her if we could do this over the phone. I was stupidly concerned with a meeting I had to go to at work. She said, "I suggest you blow off your meeting. And call someone at your job and tell them you won't be in for the rest of the day."

Strike three.

So where does that leave me? Still in the parking lot, not knowing if there's a baby in my body, if it's alive, how long I have left to live... Basically the definition of being left hanging. I drove off to my doctor's office, where I had to again sit in a waiting room wondering what the fuck was going on.

After what felt like a week, I was called into an exam room. One of the doctors came in and explained to me that I had what was called a molar pregnancy. Quick background, something goes wrong at conception, and the fertilized egg never turns into a baby. It turns into a cluster of cells that keeps multiplying at an alarming rate, that could turn into cancer. A "mole." I had a "mole" in my body that could potentially turn into cancer, which is pretty fucking disturbing if you ask me. Add that to trying to process the fact that I would not actually become a mother again in about seven months. And then add in the fact that the doctor immediately started to schedule me for surgery. The granola bar I dug out of the bottom of my purse in the waiting room bought me another day for that one though.

So that's what happened to me yesterday. I had surgery. Like, real surgery. It went fine, and I'm not in any pain today. Yesterday I felt lucky. A lot of people have to go through this, and they don't have the world's most awesome little boy waiting at home for them afterwards. It's kind of impossible to be sad around my kid. A lot more people still have to deal with awful diseases. As I sat in the recovery room, I thought about that and about how lucky I was to be able to just get up and walk out.

Today I don't feel so lucky. I feel angry, which I guess is a normal stage of grief. I'm pissed that this happened to me. I even kind of went through a bit of denial this morning as I was waking up. I had the fleeting though that maybe there was also a real baby in there, and they missed it wen they did the D&C. I know how ridiculous that is. And I also know it's probably very normal to think things like that.

Now I have to get tested every month for a year to make sure they got all of the mole cells out and that it doesn't come back. This whole thing has been interesting to say the least. Not good, at all. And after all that, I still don't know how to react when someone tells me they're sorry.

Monday, August 27, 2012

How was your weekend?

I'm just trying to squeeze out every last bit of summer at this point. I know we have plenty of nice weather left, but this week marks the last of summer Fridays for me at work (*tear) so I have to take advantage! This past Friday I decided to take Kid A to the Land of Make Believe. I didn't get many pictures because it was just the two of us and he was hell bent on me carrying him around the whole time. I made the excellent decision not to bring his stroller in thinking he would want to run all over the place. But no. He wanted a ride everywhere.

For those unfamiliar, the Land of Make Believe is an amusement park that has been largely unchanged since I used to visit there as a child, and as I found out, even since my parents used to visit when they were kids. The difference now is that there's a water park that's pretty legit as far as small amusement parks go. But that's not what I want to talk about. I want to talk about this treasure of a place that looks, feels and SMELLS the same as it does in my memories from 25 years ago. The smell I'm talking about is that musty, dank mothball smell. It stinks and I love it.

There's a hay ride, a train ride, a few carnival-like rides, a barn where you crawl through a chimney, climb a flight of stairs to the non-air conditioned attic and visit poor sweaty Santa who gives you a gift, a haunted house which brings back fond memories of me peeing my 6 year old pants. There's Old MacDonald's farm, with a sheep, a goat, a cow and some bunnies. There's the candy cane forest and Colonel Corn, the talking scarecrow.

But creepiest of all, there is the legend of Jenny Jump Mountain. At the far edge of the property lies a decrepit old house at the bottom of a mountain with a few pieces of old furniture inside that you can barely see through the dirty windows. It was Jenny's house. The loudspeakers from the 1950s that are attached to the house tell the story of Jenny, a young girl who lived in the house with her father. According to legend, Jenny was up the mountain picking berries when a group of Indians starting chasing her. Her father yelled to her, "Jump, Jenny, Jump!" And she did. And she died. And that's part of the amusement park. I dare you to find that shit at Disneyworld.

Here we are about a year ago with the Colonel. In the background is Jenny's house.

Saturday was pretty uneventful in terms of telling a story. Mr. F had his fantasy football draft and I took Kid A to a graduation party.

Sunday morning started out fabulous with some fresh peach pancakes. Just one more thing I'm trying to capitalize on before they go out of season.

Pannies were followed up by a trip to Space Farms, another blast from the past. I don't have many clear memories of this place as a kid, except that I know I milked a cow there. It's a lot bigger than I remember, and it reinforces my general dislike of zoos. I feel horrible for those poor animals trapped in tiny cages like that. I toyed with the notion of breaking them all out, but the notion of a tiger ripping me to shreds quickly followed.

Now that you're all depressed about the animals, let's look at them!
Kid A, normally petrified of these animals, kinda dug this deer

We stayed til last call, which is something I haven't done in years. It was exhilarating. Some dudes came up on a golf cart and kicked us out at five, so we didn't get to see much of the museum stuff. Apparently this Space guy was somewhat of a collector. I think there's a show for people like him. I would have liked to see the collections of old toys and tools and whatnot, but unfortunately we ran out of time.

So that's what we did this weekend! Mr. F and I each dragged Kid A to the beloved places of our youth. Because really, isn't that what being a parent is all about?

Wednesday, August 22, 2012

Whip it out Wednesday

I named this series 'Whip it out 'Wednesday' because I fully intend on, well... whipping it out. I have nothing to show at this point. I can still button my pants, so I'm hanging on to that for as long as I can. And I'm savoring every second of sleeping on my stomach. 

Seven weeks pregnant

Date: 8/22

Weight: +1... Hooray for bloat!

My baby is the size of a: blueberry! Yum!

What I’m craving: I haven't really been hungry for anything. Its like I have the opposite of cravings, but for everything. I try to eat lots of snacks though. 

How I’m feeling: I've been feeling really anxious, but I'm also having some pretty stressful stuff go down at work these days. I just feel extra "unravelly" if that makes sense and if you're into made up words. I'm sure at least a little of it has to do with hormones. 

Symptoms: Yesterday and the day before, I had a tiny bit of spotting. Like hardly noticeable, but there. I guess I'm not really worried. I didn't have this at all last time, but I know every pregnancy is different so I'm not gonna sweat it. I have my first doctor appointment next week so I'll bring it up then. 

Preg Dreams: I had a dream a few nights ago about an old friend who I haven't talked to in a very long time. There's a reason we haven't spoken though so even though I really wanted to call her or at least text, I decided not to. Probably a good idea. 

Thoughts/feelings about the baby: I still don't really feel connected yet. It's so early. I keep Seeing things that freak me out though. On my way home from work I drove past these two boys fighting in their driveway. The mom, in her work clothes and stockings with no shoes on, was jumping in the middle breaking it up. She looked so stressed. And that made me stressed. 

Anything big happen this week? Not really. We told a couple of our friends over the weekend and they were really excited. I don't know why, but I hate telling people I'm pregnant. I get very weird about it. I can't explain it. I should be all bubbly and excited, and even though that is how I feel about being pregnant, I feel awkward sharing the news. Awkward's kinda my thing, if you haven't figured it out already. 

Tuesday, August 21, 2012

Weekend in Review

I live for the weekend. While I was writing this last night, I  remembered it was only Monday and I felt like punching myself in the face. I've been trying to do lots of stuff with Kid A every weekend, since I feel like we really don't get to spend any quality time together during the week. This weekend was packed with fun stuff!

Saturday we put in some lake time with friends, including Kid's BFF.

These guys are like peas and carrots

KVB teaches Kid A to hail a cab
Then Sunday, we ventured into the city to spend the day with mommy's BFF, KVB. I was nervous about bringing him to the city, only because I wasn't sure how we would get around. I had visions of me sliding down the subway steps on my ass with a folded stroller tumbling down on top of me.
I got this

Apparently it's ok to ride in cabs without a car seat, so thank god for that. And luckily, Kid A adapted to city life pretty quickly. He was hailing cabs for us five minutes into the trip!

We stopped for lunch at Shake Shack, and I might have peed my pants a little bit when I saw the custard flavor of the day was heirloom tomato. I love weird ice cream flavors so much, and this did not disappoint. I will find out how to make this or die trying.

This is what ice cream looks like in heaven

Then, because 18 month old Kid wouldn't stop begging, we went to Eataly. I guess he's always wanted to check this place out because he's heard so much awesome stuff about it. He was all, "Ma! Pleeeeeeease can we go here so I can buy some truffles and some $20 honey or something? Pleeeeeease!" Who am I to say no to that, right? Let's just say it's a good thing this place is nowhere near where I live, because if it was, it's a pretty safe bet that most of my income would be going towards the food here.

For being a good sport, we followed up Eataly with a stop at the Central Park Zoo. What a great place! Kid's excitement was immediately fueled by a spotting of his two favorite monsters at the gates.

C is for Crappy Costume!
 And then... Meltdown!
I don't know what happened here. I guess he got star struck.

Inside the zoo we saw the cutest polar bear, went to the petting zoo, and were lucky enough to catch the sea lion show on the way out. And that was when I decided that I need both a polar bear and a sea lion for pets. They could live in my bathroom, right?

Kid A, not so sure about the goats...
On the way back to KVB's place, after a couple of trips up and down the block in the right, then wrong, then right direction, we stopped in FAO Schwarz. I was only planning on checking out the windows, but I just had to take Kid in. How could I not? I saw a $1200 life-size stuffed pony, and now my life is complete. We hit up the famous giant piano, which can be yours for just $250,000!

I know what you're thinking, and yes, we did play Heart and Soul together...

Picture this, but way more awesome and with less baby corn and no Zoltar
After that we were all pretty much shot. I attempted to get some dinner into Kid, but he wasn't having it. He passed out as soon as I got him strapped into his car seat for the long ride home. We had a great weekend!

Wednesday, August 15, 2012

Whip it out Wednesday

If you’re not me you can skip this section. With my last pregnancy I didn’t really keep track of anything that was going on. At the time I didn’t think I would want to remember, but it’s now all just a blur of fat, hormones and yeast infections to me. This time is gonna be different!!

Six weeks pregnant

Date: 8/15

Weight: 151 pounds

My baby is the size of a: sweet pea

What I’m craving: nothing. I didn’t crave anything last time either. 

How I’m feeling: I can't stand this question, but everyone asks it. Physically, I feel great so far. I worked out yesterday and even though I cheated a little bit on the cardio because I forget how high you’re supposed to let your heart rate get, I had plenty of energy and I wasn’t tired at all afterwards. Emotionally, I’d say I’m doing ok too. I can’t tell if my bitchiness is normal or pregnancy-related. I guess you could say I’ve been a little moody. Mr. F would definitely say that. 

Symptoms: Just yesterday, my boobs started to get a little hurty. That’s all though besides a twinge of forgetfulness.

Preg Dreams: God, is there anything more boring than hearing about someone else’s dreams? That’s why I advised you skip this section if you’re not me. I decided to record my pregnancy dreams though, just in case Spielberg is reading this looking for ideas. You know those dreams where you’re running and not getting anywhere? Last night I dreamed that I was shaving my armpits and the hair wasn’t going away. So frustrating! Seriously… Steven Spielberg, if you’re interested in developing this as a screenplay, contact my people.

Thoughts/feelings about the baby: Well, I keep forgetting I’m pregnant at this point in the game. I haven’t really done any deep thinking about baby #2 yet. It’s too early in the game to start letting panic set in. However, we were at a family part this weekend and had not yet told anybody I was pregnant. I was sitting at the table with Kid A and another little girl, about four years old, and she turned to me and said, “You know, having two babies is really hard.” Not really sure what to think about that. Did she know something? How the hell did she know? What if she’s right???

Anything big happen this week? We told our families the news. You know the deal.

That Awkward Moment When...

“Just tell them. What’s the worst thing that could happen?” This is the thought I consistently have when it comes to sharing big news with my parents. It’s usually accompanied by anxiety, sweaty hands, and bargaining. “What if I just don’t tell them? No… I have to. They’re going to find out anyway.” I suppose this might stem from my trouble-making teenage years. Or I could just be Pavlov’s dog. Let’s examine my head:

When my husband, Mr. Fantastic (Mr. F) and I got engaged, I excitedly called my parents to tell them the good news. They love my husband, and they seemed happy for us. Five minutes after we hung up, my phone rang again. It was my mom… “Are you puh-REGNANT?” Then, a couple minutes after that, the phone rang again. My dad. “Wellll, a lot of people I know are going through divorces right now… Do you know how high the divorce rate is these days?” Then my mother took the phone from him. “So what about going to grad school? Are you going to go get your master’s degree or WHAT? I think you should go to law school.”

Bye, mom.

When I got pregnant with Kid A, Mr. F and I were both out of work. I was a giant ball of anxiety. I was putting off telling my parents the news, because I was just not in the mood to be put in the hot seat about how I was planning to get a job in my condition. So I just didn’t tell them for a while. I did tell a bunch of my friends, though, because if there’s one thing that’s absolutely true about me, it’s that I can’t keep my own secrets. I knew I’d have to break the news sooner or later, because you just can’t hide 40 pound weight gain forever. I decided I’d tell them during 4th of July weekend since everyone would be together.

There I was, going about my business one nice, calm, sunny afternoon in late June, when my phone rang. There it was again, as if I had gotten into a time machine an shot five years into the past… “Are you puh-REGNANT?” Apparently, one of my friends told her mother about my pregnancy, and she ran into my dad at Costco and congratulated him on becoming a grandfather. My parents took it really well. If you consider “taking it well” to mean “screaming at me and telling me to call them when the baby was born.” Ah, the perks of small town living. Where everybody knows your name.

So that’s why, when a second line showed up on the pee stick this time, I was excited but a little hesitant because I knew I was facing a potentially disastrous social situation. We decided to tell our families early this time, because, you know… sucking at secrets and stuff… so we told them this past weekend. In a twist nobody saw coming, my mother was really happy and excited. “I’m so happy for you! I’m so happy for ME!!!” She went to tell my dad, and he said, “Yeah. I knew it. You’ve been looking a little [hand motions for ‘fat’] lately. I had a feeling.” Oh yeah. There it is! I knew I could count on you, parents.

That was followed up by Mr. F announcing at a family gathering later that day, “Yeah, you know, she peed on a stick… and then she didn’t get her thing…” This was accompanied by a squatting motion to represent me peeing on a stick, I guess, and also continued pointing to the crotchal region.

So that, my friends, is why I do not like sharing good news with my family. And also why I came up with the name for this blog. Welcome to awkward land, everyone! Population: me. I’m glad you’re here even if it’s only to point and stare.