Monthly Archives: February 2012

On Diapers…

Diapers and covers

I am really torn on what to do about the diaper situation. A HUGE part of me really wants to do the cloth diaper thing, at least for the first few months, because I have heard that it REALLY isn’t as disgusting as I imagine. At least, when they are newborns. And, let’s face it, internet. We need to save as much money as we can these days, so I am definitely leaning towards the green (and CHEAPER) option. What do you guys think?

Just FYI, the title of this post wins number ONE for “Top Five Post Titles I Never Expected to Show Up on Any Blog of Mine”.

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On a Serious Tip

If you follow this blog at all, then you know that I lost my job of nearly FOUR YEARS just DAYS after announcing my pregnancy on Facebook. I have spoken with a LOT of people regarding pregnancy discrimination over the course of the last few months and today, found this article and thought it was VERY informative. I tried to reblog it for you, fellow preggos but was unsuccessful, but please check it out. Pregnancy discrimination is a real thing. A real, terrible, thing. 

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Share your story or input on pregnancy with the EEOC here: commissionmeetingcomments@eeoc.gov

Your Cake is My Cake

When I found out I was pregnant, I felt a little like I had to let go of my whole life. Like I would have to change anything. Like my friends wouldn’t want to have anything to do with me because no one wants to hang out with “the pregnant girl”. Because God knows, I never wanted to hang out with the pregnant girl! I would have to refrain from smoking and we couldn’t go to the dive bar down the street and listen to really bad live music or karaoke. And she would probably want to go home and go to bed at 7:30. All of these things suddenly became true of me. And I couldn’t bare to drag my free, without-parasite friends down. I did, however, find solace in the glorious dream of food. Before you are pregnant, you hear other preggos say things like, “I wouldn’t normally eat this, but the baby wants it.” or “I could never eat this much food if I weren’t pregnant.” I delighted in the idea of chili dogs and french fries and massive quantities of lasagna for dinner. And mid morning snacks of ice cream and potato chips. But there are things they don’t tell you, internet. Oh yes, there are things.

In the first trimester, I wanted to eat my weight in double cheeseburgers, as you know. The main draw of these McDoubles was that the grease factor was such that they coated my stomach and actually prevented my getting heartburn and/or vomiting my face off for several hours. Well played, McDonalds. But once that severe nausea was gone, McDoubles started to taste like the craptastic pseudofood that they actually are. This made my heart sink. For the emotional attachment I had developed for them and they comfort that they gave me could not easily be replaced.

There were also no chili dogs. Does this mean I didn’t dream of chili dogs all day long? NO. It means that chili dogs or anything containing tomato sauce (including lasagna) caused so much discomfort that I would have sooner gouged my eyes out with spoons than eaten them. I sat daily, eying my now fiance, MB, wishing that I could dip him in chili and cheese and eat him up without experiencing karmic and regular heartburn. (There is a moral here, never fantacize about eating the one you love.) But the hunger that I experienced without constant McDoubles only caused MORE heartburn and MORE nausea.

During the second trimester, I told myself that, because this would be the “honeymoon phase” of pregnancy, I would eat salads and things that were not cooked in a vat of oil. This is easier said than done. Because I don’t want a salad. I want cake. I want cake right now. And I don’t care what kind of cake it is. Or who this cake belongs to. I will eat this cake lightening fast and with little to no remorse. Your cake is my cake.20120213-115958.jpg

I don’t even eat sweets, internet. I am a potato chip girl. I love the delicious, salty crunch of Ruffles. I want to dip them in buffalo cheese dip that I reserve to make for special occasions and put them between the bread of ALL sandwiches alike. But now? I can’t eat potato chips. They are too salty and they are not cake.

A misconception about the glory of eating during pregnancy was that you will have a crazy, huge appetite and can eat constantly. I was looking forward to this. Not because I have been a restricter or anything in the fast, but mostly because I really just effing love food. My Norwegian grandparents taught us to eat like we would never eat again, but along with that Norwegian tendency, I also inherited the ability to gain weight by THINKING about food. So, I was excited to be pregnant and to have an excuse. They don’t tell you, though Internet, that you will salivate over food all day long, but when you begin to eat it, ravenously hungry and close to inhaling the person who is kind and brave enough to dine with you, you will not be nearly as hungry as you think. In fact, you will take exactly three bites of that beautiful me

 

al and then realize that the baby inside you has shifted to sit on the exact place that simultaneously makes you have to pee and vomit. You are full. After dreaming of this giant plate of pasta deliciousness all day. (And you don’t even like pasta.) You will have to-go boxes from every establishment you have passed by over the course of the last three months because, let’s face it, internet. You are full now, but this will not stop you from stopping at 13 more restaurants on the way home and trying again.

 

Registry Smegistry…

So, even though there is still a fair amount of frustration surrounding this Medicaid issue and the time it takes those morons to process anything or return a phone call or…you know…ANYTHING, I have been trying to focus on the positive aspects of “the home stretch” as it has been called. I wouldn’t necessarily say that I am nesting just yet, but I am definitely daydreaming about the day to come when I accidently drop a napkin on the floor at a restaurant and can effortlessly bend to retrieve it. Its the simple things, internet, that keep me truckin’ along. The main thing that I am trying to manage is my baby registry. With my shower being exactly a month from tomorrow, I am starting to feel ill-prepared and a little panicky about what I will need that I may not have thought of. (Some of this panic has also stemmed from a text message from my lovely, fellow preggo, Jess which read, “You don’t have enough stuff on your registry!!!”

My question to you, internet mommies and mommies-to-be?

What one item could you not live without? What is the best invention ever?

HELP! PLEASE!

Awesomeness!

Well, ladies, I got my first sling from Seven Slings today! Super cute! Obviously, I don’t yet have a baby so I can only comment about aesthetics for the time being, but as soon as my cat cooperates, I will report its efficiency when dealing with a very squirmy, four-legged creature. Close enough, right?

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The Whole Debacle

Well, ladies and gents, I have news.

I am pregnant! I know this comes as a shock to all of you, but I thought that you guys should be the first to know.

Okay, okay. So the Medicaid thing? Total crap. As it turns out, what I did not send sufficient evidence of was…you know…everything. I was told by the heinous bitch that I first spoke to at the Medicaid office, that I would need to submit proof of pregnancy. (I thought about sending the pee-soaked test, but then thought better of it.) I obtained actual copies of my records from the OB/GYN and sent them via fax (about 47 times) to the medicaid office. Where they were received and then promptly ignored for 22 days until I made my 17th call to the office and finally reached, you guessed it, A HUMAN BEING. This phone call also proved to be less than fruitful and I was told that my case worker (what? I have a case worker?!) would call me back and discuss my case since absolutely NO ACTION had been taken…Like…AT ALL.

Days pass. I get antsy. I check the website 432 times until one fateful day, it reads “Medicaid – Denied”.

DENIED?!

You guys know about this and have given me a ton of very useful advice.

After another many, many painful phone calls and hold-times with the Medicaid office, I was able to talk to someone who was not a heinous bitch but who was almost as helpful as a log, and who told me that the reason for the denial was due to several reasons.

1. MB was added to the application (at the direction and BY the heinous bitch who did my original phone interview) and should not have been.

2. The ENTIRE MEDICAL RECORD that I sent to the office was not sufficient proof that I am pregnant.

Okay. Fine. What do I have to do now, you ask?

I have to go to a health center, where they will not let me make an appointment, and I have to sit there for 3.5 hours only to pee in a cup (AGAIN), be asked several times why I am there and if I know for sure I am pregnant and how I know for sure (HELLO, SIX MONTH BELLY!) and then speak with a nurse for 4 minutes. (And mostly, not about my pregnancy but my previous job. From which I was FIRED. Because I am pregnant. And now very obviously so. But I digress.) The nurse signed a slip of paper stating that I am indeed pregnant and directed me to send it to the Medicaid office.

And yes. The whole system is a total joke. But steps have been taken and hopefully within the next two weeks, I can see an actual doctor and make sure that this little bean is healthy! Holy Jeebus, this is ridiculous. But I am not giving up, guys and gals. Imma have this baby, all proper-like.

Dammit.