Category Archives: Pregnancy

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?

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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.

 

Free Baby Carrier!

Okay, you guys, I know nothing about baby carrying contraptions but I have been wanting one of these because:

1. They are CUTE.

2. They look comfy.

So, I got a promo email this morning and found out that I can get a FREE baby carrier from this website! If you’re interested, head on over here and use the promo code BeMine after selecting your sling. (Also, it says that this promo code is also good for the gift sets!) I just ordered mine! (AND it appears you can use the code MORE THAN ONCE! Woot!)

Insomnia and Putting a Ring On It

One of the things about pregnancy that I hate the most but also find the most useful is the insomnia. I am able to wake up at 4 am and accomplish things around the house before the Today show that I normally wouldn’t accomplish before noon. And while this annoys the bejesus out of me, I look forward to the afternoon naps. Oh, the naps.

I have been waking up at around 4 for about the entirety of my pregnancy. I find that the only way that I can sleep later is if we have a REALLY exhausting day and then I MIGHT make it until 7. And then I do a little jig. I wake up with a million thoughts running through my head. About cribs. And plans for moving. And car seats (because holy JESUS there are so many to choose from!). And my overwhelming desire to learn to knit. And, of course, how and where I am going to end up having this baby and whether or not I will ever get to see a doctor again. (This last one is still, obviously, making me a crazy person, but I am, with the help of the best man in the world, My Beloved, staying positive and angry. I find that anger helps me stay motivated to stick it to the man.) Over the weekend, MB and I went to a nearby outlet mall to spend his income tax return money on things that he has been putting off buying in the wake of all the crazy that has been going on at home like a new pair of glasses and new jeans (he has gained more weight throughout my pregnancy than I have. Anyone else’s significant other eating for him, you and the baby??). While we were there, I had a mini-meltdown about not knowing how we are going to swing this whole thing. And for the 67 millionth time, he reassured me that he will take care of me and the baby, no matter what. And that that’s what he is there for. And that he doesn’t feel obligated, but that he LOVES us. And that’s what you do when you love someone. You look out for them. And, of course, I am a spaz and everything will work out because “it always has”.

He’s right. And I need to learn to calm down and trust him. But I’m not really the trusting type. Even if I KNOW that he is serious and that I would do the same thing if the tables were turned, it is still hard to depend so much on someone else. You know, even if for nothing else than my sanity.

Pregnancy is hard.

But we are making it. And we will make it. And after we had this heart-to-heart over a breakfast for dinner meal at Denny’s (because nothing calms me the way that bacon does), we, totally on a whim and without discussing it at all, walked into a jewelry store and bought an engagement ring. We’ve known for a long time that we would be married some day, but we hadn’t really wanted to rush it. I want to elope somewhere beautiful and not be bothered with family and wedding planning and bridesmaids dresses, so naturally, the only thing really holding us back from “getting hitched” was the lack of funds. And then I got knocked up. And lost my job. So, seeing as we may never have money again, we figured he’d better at least put a ring on it.So, no, it wasn’t this romantic mome20120130-065632.jpg

 

nt where he got down on one knee and made a grand gesture. And it is nothing fancy, but simple and exactly what looks like it belongs on my finger. But I don’t need a grand gesture. Or a fancy-pants showy rock. I need a partner. And I have one. And he is the best thing that has ever happened to me. And every day is a grand gesture when you feel as loved and as cherished as I do.

So, there it is, he will make an honest woman out of me after all.

 

On the Edge

I have been a bad blogger. I know, I know. Don’t hate me.

The truth is, I have been a little stuck inside my head lately. I have, throughout everything that has been going on, held on to the hope that my situation will work itself out and that, at the end of the day, things will be fine. This has been easier said than done. I applied for Medicaid at the start of this whole ordeal, after having losing my job and health insurance and have been not-so-patiently waiting and submitting all sorts of ridiculous paperwork to the powers that be, trying to secure medical care so that I don’t have a baby with 3 arms. At first, I truly was optimistic. Because I have heard that Medicaid can be a life saver, and even though I am proud and a bit too stubborn to readily accept help from people or even admit that I need it, I pressed on. I held my head high knowing that I am doing what is best for me and the baby. The health of my baby is more important than feeling defeated (because sometimes, internet, I do feel defeated and more than that, betrayed by a company that I was loyal to for years for firing me just days after the announcement of my pregnancy. Because, really?! How do they sleep at night?) I let my guard down and admitted I needed help. And you know what? The Medicaid system sucks.

After everything I did and all the waiting for results. Still nothing. Not only nothing, but now I find out that they denied my claim because they “did not receive all necessary documentation”. Mind you, their online system shows that everything WAS received over three weeks ago. BOTH TIMES THAT I SENT IT (just to be on the safe side). And I’ll be damned if I can get anyone on the phone who isn’t a total BITCH or who speaks English or who knows how to work the computer. (Seriously. This is not a joke.) So, there are unreturned calls and 45 minute hold times that end in absolutely NOTHING. Meanwhile, our little bean is just kicking it inside my belly. (And by kicking it, I mean kicking the hell out of ME.)

And I am six months along today. And I am starting to panic. Because I have no idea what to do. I have never felt more helpless in my life.

My Beloved has been wonderful. He reassures me that we will do whatever we have to do. And if he has to work 3 jobs, he will. I can be comforted by this for about 3.5 seconds, until I feel a kick or a hiccup and then I want to hurl many glass things at many walls and stab people and all sorts of other violent things. (This could have something to do with hormones…)

I desperately wanted to write a post about the Zaxby’s commercials about the fried pickles that makes me salivate and be all charming and funny, but I can’t. The reality is, this situation is sucking all of the charm and wit out of me and making me a big, panicky psychopath and I really just want some effing fried pickles and a prenatal OB appointment.

A Delicious THANK YOU

Okay, so many of you who stop by here from time to time may have seen my post from a little while back about my insecurity about “the bump”. I wanted to take a moment to tell all of you who commented and were so awesome and reassuring and wonderful that I really appreciate all your words.

It really has been a hard journey for me, as I think it is for a LOT more women than can admit it. I absolutely know that this is all a very beautiful thing and that what is happening to my body is natural and beautiful and purposeful and knowing all that stuff definitely prevents me from hurling myself off of a building, but it is still a struggle when I am just glancing at myself in the mirror or a store window. But all of you readers and commenters who could identify? ROCKED MY FACE OFF.

Thank you!!!

I have really been trying, since writing that post to really FOCUS on all of those positve and miraculous things that my body is working on doing right now and less on how I physically LOOK while my body is doing them. Because even though my body image is improving with every passing day, my body is racing to look MORE DIFFERENT* every day. (Seriously, I am pretty sure my hips are three inches wider than yesterday…) But I am getting there, and I now know, more than ever, that I am not the only neurotic, crazy pregnant lady to ever feel this way. So…seriously…sincerely…Thank you all. If I could, I would buy you each a beautiful bouquet of flowers, all of your individual favorite variety/color and have them sitting at your doorstep, waiting for you the next time you have a kind of neurotic/sad/frustrating/irritating/panic-inducing moment. Or maybe just because you really like flowers. And for those of you who are pregnant, I would also send ornate baskets of bacon. Because…I mean…come ON…who doesn’t like bacon?

Thank you, fellow bloggers…you are my sunshine.

Okay, after further research, I have decided that you pregoos would get BACON ROSES. (Why hasn’t anyone sent me BACON ROSES, you guys?! And why didn’t I know this was a thing?!)

Pregnancy vs. A Tape Worm

So, when we were kids, my sister had this unending appetite. Like, she would eat all the food that was put in front of her and then slyly crawl into some unsuspecting victim’s lap and start to munch on their dinner, either while they weren’t paying attention or because she was so ridiculously adorable that they didn’t mind giving away all of their french fries. It could have gone either way. Everyone always joked that she MUST have a tape worm because no two-year-old could eat like that. Right? Well, internet, I am starting to truly identify with this insatiable desire for all things edible and I have been doing my research. As it turns out, pregnancy symptoms are a lot like having a tapeworm.

1. Nausea. Okay. This one is just too easy. Of course there is nausea.

2. Weakness. Ummm…yes. Sometimes, my poor legs can’t bear to carry my gigantic ass to the kitchen to stuff my face full of Cheez-its.  That has never happened before.

3. Diarrhea. This one I honestly haven’t had any trouble with personally, but I have heard that many preggos do.

4. Hunger or Loss of Appetite. Is that a sandwich you’re eating, internet? I am going to need to confiscate that. Thank you. Also, can you please fetch me a couple of blocks of sharp cheddar cheese, some french fries, and a strawberry banana smoothie? Wait. What was I talking about?

5. Fatigue. Zzzzzz…

Let’s face it, internet, a tape worm is a parasite that drains you of all your necessary nutrients, makes you weak, tired and constantly hungry and a fetus is a parasite that drains you of all your necessary nutrients, makes you weak, tired and constantly hungry.

(Also, this just in: Someone just found my blog by searching for “fetus is a parasite”. In my head, while reading this, I put it to the tune of “Your Body is a Wonderland”. While I hate this song, I really do enjoy the new lyrics.”)