Author Archives: Crystal

Of Things to Come

Baby Shower

Baby Shower (Photo credit: GraceFamily)

Now that I have established the much-needed prenatal care that I so deserve (in your FACE, universe!), I have stopped worrying so much about that part of pregnancy. This, as I stated before, is quite a relief. Now, however, I am starting to panic about other things. Because, you know, what else what I be doing if I weren’t completely freaking out?

MB and I are having a couples shower this weekend, thrown by my mom and sister (who, by the way, have been super awesome through all of this and are super excited to meet Baby L). I wanted a couples shower for a couple of reasons:

1. I hate baby showers. It is no secret. I will go to them and I will “ooh” and “awwww” at baby outfits and the like, but I am typically bored and counting the minutes until I can leave and have a cocktail. Spending all of that time and energy watching a bunch of women get starry-eyed over tiny outfits has never been a favorite activity of mine. I hate baby shower games. I don’t want to guess which melty candy bar is in that diaper, people. That’s gross.  Not only that, but why would we waste perfectly good chocolate for the sake of fake poo? Why?! Somehow, the idea of having men at the shower calms me. It makes me feel that some of that “oohing” and “awwwing” will be counteracted with…like…belching…or something. And that makes me feel normal. At least somewhat.

2. I really can’t imagine doing anything baby-related without including MB. He did help me make this little nugget, after all. Besides that, he actually WANTS to be included. And that, my friends, is totally the best thing ever. Because he restores the sanity in me, even when I think I am a lost cause. I feel that MB will also make it easier to take some of the attention off of me. Yes, I am the one with the belly and I am sure that people will want to touch it (God, help me) but at least he can intercept when I appear to be about to lose it.

3. One of my best friends is a dude. And, even though he is not a baby person, I feel that if he wasn’t there, it wouldn’t be right.

There is a fair amount of stress about the shower just because no one ever throws parties for me and I don’t quite know how to act. Aside from the fact that I am all huge and irritable. I mean, come on. Don’t get me wrong, I am SUPER GRATEFUL that my friends and family care so much about the start of my new family to throw and/or attend this party, it just makes things so much more…REAL!

What’s more than that is what comes after the shower. MB and I will have to bring a bunch of baby stuff into our already cramped apartment and then find places for it. And, as I have mentioned before, we are not really fashioning a nursery for the time-being because we don’t plan on staying in this apartment for much longer than 2-3 months after Baby L is born. During that time, I am planning to make do with the space that we have and I fully intend to have the baby sleeping in our room for that first few months anyway.  What will we do with all of this stuff?!

Then there’s after she is born. Oh. My. God. You guys, since I have stopped worrying about healthcare, I have started to think about all the stuff that comes with actually HAVING A BABY. Like…IN MY HOUSE. The diaper thing? I think I got it.  I am going to use a combo of cloth and disposable (at least at first) to save money and, at the same time, maintain some of my sanity and time. But now I am worried about SIDS and breastfeeding and birth defects and premature labor and lack of sleep and the possibility of postpartum depression. Does it ever end, internet?

My question to you, internet, is:

What books would you mommies recommend to walk me through the first months or year of baby’s life? I have been looking into a few but I am just totally clueless as to which ones are the ones to buy. You guys are the authority. Give it to me straight!

Better Late Than Never

Today, at nearly 30 weeks, I had the anatomy scan which should have (and would have, if the system hadn’t tried to kill my baby) been done about 9-10 weeks ago. This being able to go to see doctors thing is pretty rad, I must say. Everything looks good so far, but of course, Baby L is stubborn and, just like last time, wouldn’t roll over so we could get a decent look at her face. The tech did manage to get a few decent shots, though, and I will go back in four weeks for another scan, just to check up. It feels good just to know I haven’t been abandoned.

20120307-135011.jpgThe last three months have really worn me down (and OUT). I think that this has been the most trying period of my life. I have stayed awake at night, my mind racing about what I would do if I never got some assistance. How I would pay. Where I would go. I have forgotten how to relate to people at times. I have been so consumed with worry that nothing has mattered. And the attempts at easing my mind by MB have been appreciated but have mostly failed. I had forgotten how to breathe. How to sleep. How to interact. Since my appointment last Thursday, I have gotten some of my normalcy back. I have laughed outloud. I have remembered to breathe. And mostly, I can sleep again. I can actually rest without the panic that loomed over me for so long. And I am telling you, all of that pent-up panic sure does wear a person out, I could likely sleep until the end of this pregnancy at this point. (Relief is the new Ambien, people.)

I still worry about unemployment. And I still harbor a good bit of anger about being fired after announcing my pregnancy and knowing what kind of morons and wastes of space are still employed there (but aren’t pregnant, so they get to stay) but I am working through that. And am certain that the parties involved will get what they deserve for what they did to me and my unborn baby. I try not to harp on the absolute absurdity of the whole thing and I try not to harbor any animosity and am certain that karma is a bitch, but, it is hard to take the high road when your child (whom you haven’t even met yet) could suffer from the insensitive and discriminatory actions of another person/entity. Just saying. I still worry things won’t work out. But I am faithful. And I am sure that they’ll get theirs. And I love being witness to karmic bitchslaps.

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Phew…

I had a full day yesterday of hysterical crying, yelling, and pleading with people at the Medicaid office and the County Health Department. I believe that I showed the state of Florida that pregnancy mood swings strongly resemble that of bipolar disorder. True story.

But, after everything (and I can’t even go into all the craziness that I had to endure yesterday), the guy I had spoken to before at the County Health Department came through. I showed up for my 8:15 appointment this morning, checked in and sat down. Just like a patient. At, like, a doctor’s office.  You know, like…where they see patients who are SEVEN MONTHS PREGNANT! Shirley, the mean lady with the bad weave (I will refer to her as Bad Weave Shirley from now on), was nowhere to be seen or heard upon my check-in, which made the experience much more pleasant right at the start. Yes, I had to wait in an office for a long time. And yes, I had to pee in a cup  AGAIN (because it is not at all obvious to them that I am knocked up). And yes, they stuck me with needles but…OH. MY. GOD. Internet, this was the best doctor’s appointment I have ever had.

Some highlights:

1. I have gained one pound since my last visit there on 1/31 (the day of the proof of pregnancy). I thought it would be quite a bit more. This puts my total weight gain at 23 lbs. And no one has told me if that is normal or not. But I don’t give a damn. I feel fantastic about it.

2. Baby L’s heartbeat is perfect.  And hearing this news made me tear up. And this time, not because I wanted to drive my car straight into the ocean. You know, like that first time.

3. I have an appointment for an anatomy sonogram next Wednesday. I am super excited for this appointment, even though it is just a regular sonogram and not one of the 4D ones this time. But I hope to be having a 4D within the next month. (Eeee!)

4. I have a follow-up appointment in two weeks. Can you believe I am actually going to see a medical professional TWICE in TWO WEEKS!? I can hardly contain myself. I seriously feel like I could cry every time I think about it.

5. Currently, my Emergency Medicaid is covering everything and will for the next 45 days. By the time that is gone, I should have ACTUAL Medicaid and the nightmare should be mostly over. Then I get ready to pop this chicklet out!

6. I can deliver at the hospital I had picked back in the good old days when I had insurance! I don’t have to go to a scary hospital that I don’t trust! Hooray!

7. I had a glucose test. Ick. I don’t know the results yet but should by Monday!

I had a good day, internet. I feel like a weight has been lifted. I wish I could just squeeze Baby L for doing such a good job of…you know…like…growing and stuff. 

Now, if you will excuse me, I’ve just had a ginormous breakfast and believe that I need a ginormous nap to match!

Two Steps Back

This morning, I was scheduled to see a doctor (for the first time in nearly four months) at the county health center. This appointment was my initial appointment for my prenatal care (which, if you are keeping track, I already did when I had insurance and, if I hadn’t already done it, should have taken place about six months ago). If you follow here at all, then you know that I have been struggling with the state to start recieving Medicaid now for a few days shy of three months and have yet to have received anything. After being denied Medicaid on my first try (because of some ridiculous paperwork issue that I was assured would NOT be an issue), I was instructed to walk in to the County Health Center and get a proof of pregnancy. I did that the same day. I was also told that I would be able to receive Medicaid for 45 days, as a temporary supplement until my application was processed and all was well. Well? No such luck. I sat at the Health Center and waited for nearly four hours with a six month preggo belly for a nurse to “confirm” my pregnancy (which, I might add, at this point, can be confirmed by anyone with EYES). I got a piece of paper stating that I am, indeed, knocked up, and I left. I faxed this “proof” to the medicaid office and I waited. I finally, last week, was able to have a “phone interview” with the Medicaid office which consists of a really rude woman repeating all of the information that you indicated on your application and then practically hanging up on you. It is totally fun.

In the 2.5 weeks between the time when I received the proof of pregnancy and had the phone interview, I tirelessly contacted every agency that could possibly have anything to do with my case and was given the runaround about 36 more times. I went back to the health center. I faxed more information from here to there and there to here and finally, the health center, after receiving an order from a higher-up I had accidently gotten in touch with. (I say “accidently” because if these people were competent at all, they would not have transferred my call to him and then probably wouldn’t have had to deal with me for quite as long. Their bad.) The mean lady with the bad weave scheduled my appointment reluctantly, and said that she would make sure that all of the information I had given her would be forwarded to the appropriate place so that I could get this fabled 45 temporary Medicaid. (Which, I had discovered by this time, is something that no one likes to discuss. I think that it has the same first rule as “Fight Club” and they are afraid for their teeth, but…this is not helpful.) Evidently, nothing was ever forwarded anywhere and I have not been given this 45 day whateverthefuck. So, I think to myself, “At least I have an appointment scheduled. And by that time, my medicaid should be situated anyway, so I should be fine.” But I was still sort of under the impression that my situation was understood and that I didn’t need to have everything all set in stone in order to have this appointment.

Fast forward to this morning, the day of my appointment. I was scheduled to be seen at 8:15. I got a call at 7:55 from the mean lady with the bad weave stating that there were no nurses available today and that the doctor had been “injured” and that my appointment had been rescheduled to Thursday. And I say, “Okay. That’s fine.” I mean, what can I do? I am at their mercy. And it isn’t like it will get in the way of my grueling work schedule, so it will do. So, I am disappointed, but I am still glad to have the appointment and, nothing will get me down. You know, short of going into labor. Or the zombie apocolypse. Or, god forbid, BOTH.

Three hours later, mean, bad weave lady called again. She said that she has to cancel my appointment altogether because my medicaid has not get “gone through”. I finally convinced her to keep my appointment on the books because the Medicaid office has all the information that they had requested and my application should be processed by then (fat chance of that) and she reluctantly agreed, but she did tell me that if all is not sorted by my appointment on Thursday, I will be responsible for paying for the entire visit. $600. 

To that, I say, “No problem, mean bad weave lady! I have only been unemployed for three months and am seven months pregnant. I can totally spare $600! Especially since I have only been begging YOU specifically to explain this process and offer your expertise on this issue for the last month and you have been so unbelievably…bitchy and unsympathetic and did not inform me that this might happen when you scheduled the appointment when I was standing in front of you pouring my soul out. I would LOVE to shell out that kind of money. In fact, I don’t need this baby either. Are you in the market for a white baby girl? She won’t have any hair yet but I am sure you can make her look as ridiculous as you and give her a nice, hideous weave as soon as she starts growing some. And you know, meanness can be taught.”

Translation: Ummm…okay?

So, here I am. Seven months in and making little to no progress. Now, if you will excuse me, I have to resume phone stalking the medicaid office. 

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A Little Crazy, but Mostly Grateful

It has been ridiculously easy for me to find things about pregnancy to bitch about, which I am sure that some of you understand all too well. I have, between the heartburn, the pain of ten hammers banging against my pelvis (sometimes for days straight), the lack of sleep, and many, many other things, been pretty uncomfortable and, a lot of times really stressed and really unhappy. I have dreamed, since the day that I found out I was expecting, of the day that I would get this kid out of me. The reason, at the beginning, that I wanted her out, was because I wanted to feel normal. I wanted to sit on the porch at sunset and drink cocktails and talk to my girlfriends on the phone. I wanted to go to the dive bar down the street with MB and smoke cigarettes and listen to mediocre live music. I wanted a bloody mary with my breakfast on Sundays, for Christ’s  sake. I wanted my life to remain unchanged from the way it had been for the last several years.  And I couldn’t believe that I would have to sacrifice nine whole months of my life to grow this kid. And that I would have to do it with no breaks. NO BREAKS.

I still want this baby out, internet. SO BADLY. And not just because I want a cocktail (but oh.my.god, do I want a cocktail). I want to hold her and nibble on her tiny fingers and toes. And rock her to sleep. And see her expression the first time she eats peas. (Her father hates peas and his expression, while hysterical, isn’t cutting it anymore.)

It took me a long time to get excited about this pregnancy. And then it took even longer to admit that I had started to get excited about it. I guess because no one expects any of this from me. I got all mommy-fied, seemingly overnight and surprised even me.  I still find myself awake in the middle of the night, terrified and on the verge of breakdown. But then I remember how much I have overcome in my life and how strong I am. And then I remember how lucky I am to be doing this with MB, and with the help of my amazingly supportive family and friends. And I know I, with their help, can do it.  I feel confident that the people in my life right now are the right people. I feel that I am finally at a point where every relationship I have is healthy and reciprocal and I feel…damn fortunate.  And now, to top everything off, I am gonna have a little person all for myself. That I MADE.  And that still blows my mind.

With my due date less than three months away, I am starting to feel, though ill-prepared, that this is all coming together. I have cut people out of my life who were self-absorbed and self-involved and have started to focus on me. And my little family-to-be. And I might be an emotional wreck sometimes, and I might go completely insane because I can’t wear pants that don’t come up to my eyebrows, and I might even start crying because my DVR didn’t record the newest Law and Order: SVU episode. But at the end of the day, it’s all good. I have a lot of things to be grateful for right now.

And who am I kidding? Law and Order: SVU reruns are on all day, every day.

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A Little Bigger, No?

Here I am today at 28 weeks. I hate this picture and really can’t stand to look at it at all, but I do still want to document this whole pregnancy thing and figured, what the hell. I can’t really hide this anymore, right? Yeah. And I waddle too. I am a sexy bitch.

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Third Trimester, You’re a Bastard

Today, I am 28 weeks pregnant. 

This is really awesome because this means that SOON MB and I will be welcoming Baby L into the world and we could not be more excited. (I am probably more excited than he is because I just can’t wait to have my body back! OMG.) But I can’t say there isn’t a fair amount of panic welling up inside me. You know, because I went from being a carefree, fun-loving employed and generally happy person, to essentially being two people. Complete with psychotic mood swings, ridiculous food cravings and a rapidly expanding waistline.

I feel seriously unprepared right now. Is this where the nesting thing is supposed to kick in? Because I have an intense desire to reorganize the entire house. But I scarcely have the energy to bend over and pick up the shoes that have been sitting in front of the door for two days.  I gather that this is normal? It’s really hard to have this intense drive to do something that my body doesn’t let me do.  Screw you, third trimester, you are a bastard.

Some notes:

1. The heartburn has returned. I am tempted to say that it is worse than it was in the first trimester. It never really went completely away but had gone from the every other day routine to once or twice a week in the Second Trimester to a bottle of Tums per day for over a week now.  My fiery esophagus is going to drive me insane.

2. Bending over has ceased to be an option.  When I look down at my belly, I don’t see this massive bump (and no, I am not delusional, I guess I am just getting used to it), I see my body, just grown enough to accommodate my little Baby L and I am more and more okay with that. But Jeebus forbid, I drop something on the floor and have no one near me to pick it up. I feel, sometimes, that it will be simpler to get down on all fours to pick items up from the floor than to attempt to bend down to pick things up. No good.

3. I am a narcoleptic insomniac. Explain that one. I cannot sleep when sleeping is appropriate because my belly has grown to be the single most uncomfortable sleeping partner IN. THE. UNIVERSE. I have a body pillow but cannot find a way to maneuver my belly and/or the pillow into a position where I don’t feel as though I am crushing my child’s head.  I don’t want to crush my child’s head, I just want to be comfortable, for Christ’s sake! On top of not sleeping when sleeping is appropriate, I could fall asleep in the middle of a rock concert. This is not a joke. I have adjusted my sleep schedule, due to necessity, and now allow myself to sleep when tired (meaning naps are now permitted) but I find that, it takes me hours to fall asleep, I remain asleep for 4 hours, wake up for 3, and then go back to sleep for 2 and then, around three o’clock, I am DONE. It doesn’t matter where I am or what I am doing, I might have just fallen asleep. And caffeine is a no-no (or at least the amount of caffeine I would require at this point). Feel free to shake me.

Generally, I am uncomfortable. I knew that it was only going to get worse so I can’t say that I have been caught off guard or anything, but Holy GOD people, why is pregnancy so LONG?!

 

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