February 19, 2009

Sick as a Dog

This is the cold that doesn’t end.  It just goes on and on, my friends.  Some people started passing it, not knowing what it was, and I’ll continue suffering forever just because…

Seriously, I’m sick as a dog.  (I’ve never understood that phrase, but whatever.)  The croupy thing that Dawson passed to me, the thing that I’ve had for eight days, and counting… I hate it.  I am miserable.  MISERABLE.  Le sigh.

My dear husband keeps telling me it has to run its course, that I should be feeling better shortly, to hang in there…and all I want to do is kick him in the shins.  Hang in there. Easy for him to say; he’s not the one who hasn’t slept much in the last five days.  He isn’t waking up at midnight to cough up a lung.  He isn’t crawling out of bed at 3 a.m. to pee.  He isn’t the one with the sore, scratchy, itchy throat (it hurts so badly to swallow), the itchy eyes, the achy back and chest congestion.

I called my doctor’s office and they told me they couldn’t see me because I’m pregnant, but the nice triage nurse offered suggestions for relief, none of which are doing anything but tick me off.  I smell like Vick’s Vapo Rub, my humidifier is constantly steaming, I’ve endured several tablespoons of Robitussin DM (which smells like gasoline and probably tastes like it, too.  Ack!), I’ve gone through one box of Puff’s Plus and two rolls of toilet paper (maybe we are kind of rednecky; please go visit Tanis and tell her congratulations!), and I’m ready to cry.  None of these “remedies” are working.  I really would cry if it didn’t hurt so darn much.

Since I’ve been ill and at home for a few days, I’ve had lots of time to ponder the mysteries of early pregnancy.  It’s been five years since I’ve done this, and I can’t believe how much I’ve forgotten about being pregnant.

Like this whole peeing-in-the-middle-of-the-night thing.  Every night I wake up with this urgency — MUST RUN TO BATHROOM NOW! — and then it’s impossible to fall asleep again.  And what about the sore boobs?  When I was pregnant with Dawson I didn’t have tender breasts until I was 8 or 9 weeks along.  This time my poor girls were swollen and tender before I got the positive HPT, and they still hurt as I type this.  Ouch!

Don’t get me started on being tired all the time.  Doesn’t matter what time of day or night, I’m either yawning, half-sleeping or wishing I could just get a few hours of uninterrupted sleep.  If I’m not coughing so hard that I wake myself up, then Dawson is bothering me with requests for things that his father is perfectly able to get for him.  Ugh!

During these moments I think about what pregnancy will be like this time around.  I don’t have time to worry about every ailment or twinge, simply because I’ve got Dawson to take care of.  Having a cold and being Dawson’s mommy AND being pregnant is wearing on me.  I’m running out of patience.  And I swear Dawson is testing me.  He’s been misbehaving more the last few days, and I don’t know how to deal with it. I don’t have a voice, so it’s very hard to discipline him.  Saying “No!  Don’t do that!” in a whisper bears no weight, and Dawson doesn’t realize that I’m being serious.  Really farking serious, dang it!

I’ve been doing my best to stay calm and to rest as much as possible.  Not only do I need to shake this virus, but I have a baby growing inside of me.  I hope my little Poppy Seed is doing okay in there.  I can’t help but worry just a little, but I trust that everything is okay.

One thing that is different this time around, is that I don’t have the urge to read the What to Expect book like I did the first time.  I’ve been skimming the pages of The Working Woman’s Pregnancy Guide and a book called From the Hips.  Both are less intimidating, and after reading these books I don’t have nightmares about every thing that could go wrong during the first trimester.

I have faith that the Big Guy is watching over me and The Poppy Seed.  Not only that, but I’ve been praying, and saying rosaries.  (Yes, I’m Catholic.)  It makes me feel better.  And maybe it will help me kick this nasty cold to the curb.

Send me good luck, will ya?

February 18, 2009

The Worst Is Yet To Come

I’m trying really hard not to like President Obama so damn much.  As a Republican, my views of government are dramatically different, but I’m still concerned about health care, the fact that Social Security is bankrupt, education, environmental issues, abortion (I’m against it) and the economy.

Lately, while reading about our President’s plans and listening to reporters talking about his first month in office, when I hear something I don’t like, I’ve been giving President Obama a pass.  Because I like him. I may not agree with him, but I’m no Rush Limbaugh.  I don’t want the President to fail.

However, when I read news articles like these, my blood boils.

His goal is to prevent millions of American families from losing their houses because they can’t make mortgage payments.

I confess.  I reacted first.  I was angry.  If I don’t make my mortgage payment, does that mean I get a free pass?  A free house?  Wrong.  If I don’t pay my mortgage, the bank will take my house.  No one is going to step in and save my ass.

Then I read this:

“We must stem the spread of foreclosures and falling home values for all Americans, and do everything we can to help responsible homeowners stay in their homes,” Obama said Tuesday as he signed his tax cut and spending package into law.

Okay, that’s better.  The President wants to help the responsible homeowners.  Wait a second.  How will the government determine who is responsible and who is simply looking for a free ride?  The article says that it is unclear who will qualify for relief.

My only concern is the message this new plan is sending to American tax-payers.  Why do some Americans feel entitled to owning things they can’t afford?

If you came to visit me, I’d show you the big and beautiful homes that are being built in a subdivision near my neighborhood.  These homes are appraised in the $250,000 to $400,000 range.  In flippin’ Wisconsin.  Only doctors, lawyers, and bankers make enough money to afford those mortgages.    I live in a small town of less than 30,000 people, most of which hold jobs in the school district or insurance industry.  Not many can afford the houses they live in.

Stevens Point (and surrounding areas) used to be a thriving paper mill city, but with the economy in the tubes, mill workers are being laid off left and right.  They have been for years.

Wisconsin Rapids, a city twenty-two miles away, was once a boom town, with people living high off the hog and building huge houses.  In the last ten years, thousands of millwrights were given the boot and slowly the city has become a ghost town.  Numerous business have closed their doors, hundreds of homes have gone into foreclosure and people have been forced to move to places where they take the first available job they can find, even if it’s minimum wage.

Working in a title company part-time, I cannot count how many foreclosures I’ve seen.  The number one reason for these is medical bills.  The second highest reason?  People buying houses they knew they can’t afford.  What were they thinking?  Were they praying for a miracle or that they’d win the lottery?  Or were they just waiting for a President who would promise to “help” them pay their mortgages?

The worst is yet to come, says Howard Davidowitz.  Sadly, everything this man says is true.

February 17, 2009

Bee Eff Pee

It’s official.  I’m pregnant.  Four weeks and five days pregnant.  I know. It’s very early, but after 19 long and disappointing months, I can’t keep this to myself.  Not only that, but I trust that God has put His plan into action.  He has answered my prayers, and the prayers of everyone who has been praying for me (and to all of you I extend my deepest gratitude, thank you).  I have been given a beautiful gift and I’m so thankful.  So blessed.

This past two weeks have been crazy. Dawson had the croup last Monday.  I came down with the adult version (severe cold, laryngitis) on Thursday, two days before my planned trip to Madison for the Motley Crue concert with my dear friend AJ.

It’s no secret that we’ve been trying to conceive and I had high hopes for this cycle.  I’ve been taking my basal body temperature for months, and this cycle was looking good.  My chart showed ovulation, my temperatures spiked and stayed high, and I was excited.

Then I got sick with that nasty cold (and I’m still battling it) and I was miserable.  I considered calling my friend and begging her to take someone else in my place, but I felt guilty because she had paid for my ticket, and I had paid for the hotel room in advance and it was non-refundable.

I decided to rest as much as possible so that I could rid my body of the virus.  On Valentine’s Day, the day I was to leave for Madison, I was feeling okay, but when I took my temperature that morning it had dropped significantly.  My heart sank.  The temp drop usually indicates that my period is on it’s way.  To be safe, I took a pregnancy test.  I was only 12 dpo on February 14th, but my previous charts indicate the my luteal phase is 12 days long.

The words “NOT PREGNANT” appeared on the stick and I didn’t even cry.  Yes, I was disappointed, but I was so congested and my throat was terribly sore.  I didn’t have time to stress over it.

Motley Crue put on an awesome show.  Unfortunately, I was miserable the whole time.  I was happy to spend time with my friend, but I wished I hadn’t gone.  That’s how sick I was.  The bass was so heavy in the coliseum that my chest would vibrate and I’d start coughing.  It was hard to breathe.  Every inhale turned into a hacking mess.

When the concert was over and we went back to the hotel, we ran into Kat Von D (Nikki Sixx’s girlfriend).  I had no idea who she was.  Seriously.  I’d seen LA Ink maybe once or twice but that was ages ago.  Her tattoos are awesome in person, lemme tell ya.

I hit my hotel room and crashed immediately.  The next morning I had what I thought were menstrual cramps.  I figured Aunt Flow would be knocking on my door within 24 hours.

Then on Monday morning I woke up and took my temperature out of habit.  My temperature had spiked back to it’s last high temp.  I went to the bathroom and discovered I didn’t yet have my period so out of curiosity I took a second pregnancy test.

Within minutes I saw the word “PREGNANT” and started to hyperventilate.  I couldn’t believe my eyes.  Two days prior I thought I wasn’t pregnant.

Panic set in because I had a margarita with dinner on Saturday.  I took three advil after the concert.  I took Benadryl on Sunday because my nose wouldn’t stop running.

I called Doug at work and told him what was going on.

“Maybe you peed on it wrong.” he said, which prompted me to imagine just how one can pee on a pregnancy test stick incorrectly.

I called my doctor’s office and scheduled a blood test.  They couldn’t get me in until 1 p.m.  I endured five hours of torture and no sooner than I got back to work the nurse called with the results.

“Congratulations, we got your test results back and you are pregnant!” she said.

Tears began to well up in my eyes.  I was so happy.  So freakin’ excited.  I was also paralyzed with fear about the next nine months.  I know things are going to be fine.  I know it.  God is with me.  Thank you, Lord.

My family is very excited.  Dawson is thrilled and immediately put in his request for a baby brother AND a baby sister.  Yes, he wants both.  In that order.

“I wanna boy baby first, and then the girl baby, Mumma.”

Okay, Doodlebug.  I’ll get right on that.

So that’s where we’re at.

I debated whether or not to post this news today, but I realized that so many of you have been with me on this journey and it feels like sharing this excitement is the right thing to do.

To each and everyone of you who has offered kind words, support and hugs along the way, I thank you kindly, from the bottom of my heart.  I love you all so very much.

I’m still battling this horrible virus, so please continue to pray for a healthy recovery and for the health of my baby.

HOLY CRAP!  I’M PREGNANT!

I finally got my Big Fat Positive…

February 16, 2009

No Time for Titles

Okay, loves.  I’m still sick with this nasty cold, and I don’t even care.  Isn’t that funny?  I’ve been miserable for damn near five days.  But things are looking up.  I can breathe through my nose, the cough is loosening and OH MY GOD do I have news!

Oh, yeah.  Motley Crue concert was awesome, despiste the fact that the bass was so loud it vibrated through my chest and made it impossible to breathe.  With every inhale I began hacking horribly.  I’m surprised I still have lungs.  Vince Neil is looking a little weathered, Nikki Sixx still looks the same (different hair do though), Tommy Lee still looks 12 years old, and poor Mick Mars was limping on stage due to his condition.

So even though I wasn’t feeling well, and I almost fell asleep during the concert (no seriously, I was THAT sick and tired), I don’t care….because HOLY SHIT, things are looking up!

I know, I’m talking in circles this morning.  It’s just that I cannot share my news until a certain event takes place.  So.  Stay tuned.  Updates are sure to follow.