Author Archives: Crystal

On Progress

This morning I had my second (and hopefully final) phone interview for my second (and hopefully final) application for Medicaid. I have to say, it went so much better than the first one. My first experience with a live person at the Medicaid office left a very sour taste in my mouth. I spoke with a seemingly very bitter, very impatient woman who clearly had no compassion or people skills. This time, the lady was calm, helpful and wished me a good pregnancy (what’s left of it) and a good day. This may not seem like much to you, internet, but then, you may not have to deal with the Medicaid office. Trust me. Being wished a good day is almost as good as her handing me a wad of cash at this point.

I feel good. I feel like she explained to me EXACTLY (and not in a roundabout way) what I need to submit to them. (And I plan to submit it daily for the next ten days and then phone stalk and/or in-person stalk them for that same length of time.) I have all the information they need and I am pretty sure that there is little to no room for error at this point. (I am aware, however, of who I am dealing with and have not let out that sigh of relief just yet.)

I have an appointment with the county health department on Monday morning. This resulted when I spent over a week trying to get proof of my pregnancy correctly sent to the Medicaid office by the Health Department and was told by a gentleman from the department itself that his employees at the Health Center were incompetent and that I should not leave that office until the information has been sent directly to him and I have been given an appointment to see a doctor. This worked, but I had to wait two weeks and now really have no idea what kind of an appointment this even is. I know it will last two hours and that I’d better not be late. Or else, says the incompetent lady with the bad weave.

Either way, things APPEAR to be going in the right direction. And I am still optimistic. And I haven’t murdered or mamed anyone yet! Hooray! If you think about it, ladies and gents, send some good juju or prayers (or whatever good vibes you believe in) this way. I gotta get this thing going! My little bean is already a black belt in karate!

Related articles

A Hero

Well, it is official, the shower invitations have been sent out and some RSVPs have even been received. It is pretty crazy to think that, in less than three weeks (THREE WEEKS!) we will be having a baby shower (A BABY SHOWER!).  MB and I have been pretty good at pretending that we are not parents-to-be and that we are just highly boring individuals who can never, ever have any alcohol. It still doesn’t really feel real. But there it is, right around the corner. Imma have a baby, y’all.

Holy crap.

I have had a lot of fun picking out outfits and furniture (even though we are trying to keep things to a minimum until we make the big move which will most likely happen in August) and learning about how other moms’ experiences have been.  I never really thought that I would be reading articles (or blogs) about parenthood or posting about diapers but here we are. 27 weeks along and ready to start a whole new journey. I can’t help but feel a little bit lost about the whole thing though. I guess a lot of women can use this time to bond with their mothers over parenting and all that jazz (which, don’t get me wrong, I guess I am doing, but I have never been all that close with my mom and, well…it is all very new to me). This is exactly the kind of experience I would have wanted to share with my grandmother. She died on my 23rd birthday, so she has been gone a long time, but her absence takes away a lot of the excitememnt for me. I would have loved for her to be here to help me prepare for and to meet her first great-grandchild. I would have loved for my child to experience the same kind of love and…gosh, there are no words for the kind of beauty she brought to be…I won’t even try to explain all of that. I will just say that, holy crap, she would have been so excited. And my baby would have been so lucky to have met her. She just had a way of making me…better…and I try to remember her as often as I can to remind MYSELF to be a good person. And a good friend. And just…overall good. I really hope I can instill this in my child. I have a going list of things that I want to pass down. That I feel I need to pass down.

1. Lefse. My grandparents were both full Norwegian and when I was very young, my grandma taught me how to make lefse and it was my FAVORITE THING EVER. I learned, after my grandfather passed and the family was together for the first time in years, that, not only was I the only grandchild that she ever taught to make it, she never even taught her own kids. (Two of whom are actual chefs!) So, yeah, I was totally her favorite.

2. Humility. My grandparents were poor. They worked as missionaries in New Guinnea when their first three children were small. They were Christians and they were damn good at being Christians. (I’m not gonna lie, internet, the mere mention of Christianity makes me cringe because I…well…am not a fan of religion at all…)  They were the kind of people who were respectful of everyone. And genuinely LOVING to everyone. EVERYONE. My grandmother would have given the shirt off her back. She helped whomever should could, whenever and with whatever resources she had. I definitely was raised, (mostly by my grandparents) in an environment RICH with love. They showed me the true meaning of agape.

3. Sense of worth. My parents weren’t really all that accessible when I was a kid. My dad wasn’t around and my mom worked full-time to support herself, my sister and I. And when she wasn’t working, she was partying. Luckily for us kids, our grandparents moved all the way across the country when our parents decided to move to Florida and became our caretakers when our parents weren’t.  I can’t speak for my sister, but I can say that I never really got any positive reinforcements from my mom. That I was smart. That I was pretty. That I was a worthwhile person. (I was informed, much of the time, that I was getting fat or things of that nature, but…you know…) My grandma, on the other hand, made me feel like a rock star. And not because she was a liar, but because she saw those things in me. She believed in me, like, for real.  I need to make sure, more importantly than all else, that my daughter knows she is SO. FUCKING. SPECIAL. And so loved. And that she can do whatever she wants to do. And it doesn’t matter if her nose is pointy or she has freckles. Or if her ass is a little big (which she would have inherited from her mother), she is amazing. And she is worthwhile. And the world is hers.  I want to make sure she knows I am her biggest fan.

Yesterday was my grandma’s birthday. I’m a little sappy about it. I miss her. She was my hero. I just hope I can make her proud.

Wendy’s: Free Salad w/ Chili/Baked Potato and Free Chicken Sandwich w/ Drink (Text Offers)

1

Free food! Preggos love free food!

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”.

Related articles

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. 

Related articles

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?

20120204-182841.jpg

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.