Dang you, Eve! And other such blasphemies.

Why do I say this? If I recall my biblical stories, because Eve ate the fruit, there is now multiplied sorrow in conception of children. That's right people, I'm pregnant. And sorrowful. And by sorrowful, I mean sick. All. The. Time.

As of today, I am 11 weeks (+ two days) pregnant. I keep hoping for the day when I wake up and feel better. The day that everyone tells me is just around the corner. I hope this corner is shorter rather than longer.

Anyhow, here's the scoop:

We had been trying for about five/six months, and to be honest, we were really surprised when it happened during August. Chris was working in the Trauma ICU, a month of very long hours. But he had a "Golden Weekend," meaning he had Saturday and Sunday off in a row, which happen to be conducive to baby-making. And for those of you that we have lied to about whether we were trying to get pregnant, I'm not really sorry. It's an odd question really. Aren't you really just asking us how much unprotected sex we have?

I found out the night before the new school year started. Oddly though, I was really annoyed with my husband when I took the pregnancy test. In fact, I didn't even tell him that's what I was doing. I just went upstairs and took it. I stared at that test for several minutes trying to decide if what I saw was really a + sign. So I took it downstairs to the medical professional to ask his opinion, at which point he commented about me getting some pee on the outside of the stick, yuck. Like he doesn't come home some days with stranger's bodily fluids on his socks!

We both stared at the test. We stared at the examples on the test instructions. We determined that I "might" be pregnant. We hugged and kissed. We took awkward pictures with the stick. We went to bed.

The next day was the first day of school for me, and to be honest, I didn't think about it a whole lot. I was very busy. But every once in a while, I would stop, remember that I was pregnant, and smile.

The first week or so felt great, aside from a little heartburn. But when Week 6 came, so did the morning/noon/night sickness. With a bang. I even came home early from work one day because it was virtually impossible for me to stand up. That was the day I called the nurse to inquire about a prescription. She, of course, asked me if I had tried any over-the-counter remedies. I hadn't, which I explained, but I also explained that I was going on family vacation that would require me being on a houseboat for five days. She phoned in a prescription. A miracle drug.

We spent Week 7 at Lake Powell with my family, which is where we decided to tell them since we were all together. We called Chris's family as soon as we returned, and then started telling friends/coworkers over the next week or two. If you are just now finding out, it's only because I pretty much spend all of my time on the couch. I apologize. I honestly haven't told anybody that I don't come across face-to-face because that is about all I can handle. I'm tired.


I am now half way through Week 9, really looking forward to the day when the food that I crave doesn't make me want to puke when I think about it. I always knew that the stomach flu was the best way to lose a few pounds, but I definitely didn't expect pregnancy to be the same way.

Also? Chris told me the only reason he decided to get me pregnant was because he wants a Father's Day gift--a grill, in fact.

I'm assimilating

Tonight was Open House at the school and I caught myself saying something I never, ever, ever thought I would say. It was kind of like word vomit. But I'm not sure.

Many of the teachers, students, and parents at my school are from the South (and yes, I do think it needs to be capitalized), and as such have a wide array of accents. I hear very refined drawls to very severe twangs.

I guess talking to so many different Southerners all at once got me going.

As I was discussing with a parent where the best place to seat her child would be, I said:

"I might could put him over there."

Really? I don't even now how to might-could something!!!

While I was out...

Last week I decided that I needed something productive to do while I was watching TV, so I got out a puzzle that Chris and I had started, but never finished. I even went to Walmart to get a folding table for the event (was charged three times, voided twice, refunded twice, then actually purchased the next day...very complicated business).

I had been working for several days and only had two small sections to complete.

Yesterday morning I went to the gym for an hour and a half. Chris had gotten home from work about and hour before I left, so I left the dog out. She usually crawls under the bed while he is asleep.

This is what I found when I got home.


Both animals greeted me with excitement as if to say, "Look what we did! Isn't it great?"

I lost a good pair of shoes, several puzzle pieces, and the will to go on.

College degrees get you no where!

North Carolina has been enjoying a rather warm and dry summer thus far, and what that means is that our grass is starting to die. Chris has been meaning to water the lawn for a while, but his schedule has made it difficult--you need to do it either early morning or late at night, and he has been at work for both.

I told him that I could take care of it since I am home all the time. He tried to explain to me the intricacies of the sprinklers while we were in line at lunch today, but I'll admit, I ignored him. How hard can it be to turn on a sprinkler?

Hard.

I'm wet.

The lawn is still dry.

My first trip to the ER (or ED as Chris would say)

Jem, the cat, was neutered on Monday morning. I brought him home that night, put the E-collar (did you know that stands for Elizabethan?) on him, and sequestered him in the spare bedroom for the night. Other than the grogginess and semi-paralysis of his hind legs, he was fine.

Yesterday, I let him out for a little bit in the afternoon while I was reading. He sat on the bed with me, occasionally coming to get attention. He was recovering well, I thought.

I went back in to check on him at about 5:30 (after-hours), and his incision had started to bleed. It looked to me like a lot of blood, but what do I know about cat anatomy or post-surgical occurrences? I also noticed that he was completely lethargic; he just let me hold him in my arms without squirming.

We tried calling the vet, but of course, it was after hours and we were directed to call an animal emergency center. Which we did. I think Chris was really happy about this.

The tech came in to check him, and decided to take him in the back to administer some pain medications, because he was probably hurting quite a bit. We then waited for the vet to see us (about an hour later). There was cable in the room, though. I told Chris that they should do this in the people ER so that patients won't complain when they have to wait. He said they already have them in every room, and that some doctors want to get rid of them because patients get to comfortable in their "hotel suite," and start asking for food delivered to their beds, and wanting to stay longer.

But I digress.

Bottom line: the vet gave us two more doses of pain meds to give him at home, and then told us to watch the bleeding. He explained that male cats don't typically bleed from this incision, and that if we wanted, he could do a complete blood count, etc. We declined.

Not that I don't love my animals, but I am a minimalist when it comes to pet health care. I thought the $90 fee to be seen was enough. More than enough.

He's fine today; the Humane Society (who performed the surgery) said to just watch it.

Lesson learned. Pet ERs not worth it.