American Girl

She waits another week to fall apart...

If there must be trouble, let it be in my day, that my child may have peace. ~ Thomas Paine

Look!  It's a baby: 

 

 

It's a perfect, healthy baby. 

posted by: AmericanGirl at 10:55 | link | comments (29) |

Did I say I was going to be alone next week?  Well that's not entirely true.  The truth is that I'm going to spend the entire week sharpening my knives and pet sitting my neighbor's pit bulls.  And my very tall and mean brother will be here too.  Did I mention that he was a cop?  He's going to be doing some target practice on anything that moves in my back yard. 

 

Just so you know.

posted by: AmericanGirl at 17:22 | link | comments (13) |

Tomorrow is the big day.  I get to see my baby via ultrasound.  I was all excited until this morning when I suddenly started shaking in my shoes.  What if something's wrong?  Ugh, I can't even think about it.  I think all of those "Let me tell you the most horrible childbirth-related story I can think of while you're pregnant" stories that people like to tell for some strange reason are getting to me.  Really, I don't want to hear about your second cousin's neighbor who had a niece who had a baby who was horribly deformed.  I also don't want to hear about how much worse your pregnancy was, and I certainly don't want to hear about how traumatic your labor was.  Just so you know.  Whew.  I could, however, use a few healthy baby vibes.  Please.

 

On to other things, we're going to a wedding this weekend.  I know when you leave the tri-state area, people like to get real gifts when they get married.  This throws my whole system out of whack, because all I know how to do is write a check, and make sure I try to cover the cost of my dinner at the reception.  (My mom taught me that)  These people are cousins of Ryan's.  Well, the groom is.  I'm not so sure about the bride.    (They're southern.)  I got a little note in the invitation that they were registered at Target.  Well, that should make it easy, right?  So I peeked online, and Oh My God!  They registered for lightbulbs.  A 4-pack of G.E. Lighbulbs.  They also registered for a single mixing  bowl, a ladle, measuring cups, etc...  Nothing on the list is over $20.  In fact, there's one thing that is $19.99 and it's a set of sheets.  I have NO idea what to give these people for a gift, and we're leaving in two days.  What do you get the couple who has....nothing?  I mean, they need lightbulbs?   Shall I get them some candles in case it gets dark and they don't get the lightbulbs?  Help!

 

On the way home from the wedding Ryan will be stopping in Baltimore for a week to attend some fire expo thing.  So it just hit me, right alongside that wave of baby paranoia, that I'm going to be alone for a whole week!  I should be able to handle that, I've spent plenty of time living alone, but now I'm just sad.  A week feels like forever.  That's an entire chapter in my "Your pregnancy week by week" book that he's going to miss!

 

Pity party, table for one, please.

posted by: AmericanGirl at 11:16 | link | comments (7) |

I'm offically at my wit's end.  I'm at that point where you feel like your face hurts, then realize that it's because you've been clenching your teeth for the past two hours.  AUURGH!! 

 

Ok, that's better.   Find a happy place....find a happy place...find a happy place....

 

I've been having really weird dreams lately.  I have a reoccuring dream that my baby is born with a mustache.  My girl baby.   I've had dreams like I have the baby, everything's great, I go home, and people come to visit and see the baby, and I can't find it.  Then I go around frantically searching, swearing that I just put the baby down for a nap, I just can't remember where.  I have dreams that my baby comes out talking, and not saying anything nice.

 

Anxiety
Can't get nothing done
Anxiety
Spoils all the fun

 

The odd thing is that I don't feel all that anxious.  At least I don't think I do.  Ok, sometimes I do.  Then there's this new irrational fear.  (Irrational pregnancy fear #986,547,322):

 

I knew this guy, a firefighter, who's wife was pregnant with their first child.  She had scheduled an ultrasound on a Monday.  So her husband, not wanting to miss it, changed his schedule so that he worked on Tuesday instead of Monday, and they went together and saw their perfectly healthy baby.  Then, the next day was 9/11 and {poof} he was gone.   Today that baby is perfect, but fatherless.

 

Now I have an ultrasound scheduled for Wednesday, and Ryan just did the same exact thing.  Switched days.  And I know this is sooooo stupid, but world, please don't end on Thursday.  Terrorists, please take a week off.

 

I haven't had dreams about raising a fatherless baby, but I have had a dream about Ryan raising our baby on his own because I died, and it's just the saddest thing you ever saw.  Not because he's struggling or unable to do it, but just because...just because.

 

Ok, maybe I am a little anxious.  Maybe I should stop sleeping so darn much.

 

Today is the last day of the first half of my pregnancy, you know.  Wohoo!  Halfway there!

 

According to the weekly updates I get via email, my baby is six inches long, fully formed, and growing hair.  Hopefully that doesn't include facial hair.

posted by: AmericanGirl at 15:07 | link | comments (13) |

I'm really trying to keep this blog a happy place, so I'm deleted the crap that I wrote this morning.  Sorry!

posted by: AmericanGirl at 12:21 | link | comments (10) |

I just want to say that I had lunch at The Ivy.  Excuse me...THE Ivy!  Yeah, just call me Fancypants.  I saw a famous person too.  I would brag about that as well, except it was pretty embarrassing.  But he has blue eyes and his intitials are M.G.

 

I'm also never flying again.  Not ever.  At least, not until the next time I really have to and can't get out of it.  Like, if there are oceans involved or something.  And I'm about to have a child, so what do I need to leave the country for?  Nothing.

 

Here's why: 

 

I mentioned I was sick before I left for California, right?  Well, coming home I was still sick.  We got to the airport to find that our flight was delayed three hours.  I understand that stuff happens, I can deal with a delay.  So my two coworkers and I had a quick breakfast and did some shopping in the shopping mall of an airport that is LAX.  We waited and waited and waited, had lunch, waited some more, and finally we were able to board. 

 

We got on the plane, and there was no air.  (Conditioning or otherwise.)  It was about a kabillion degrees on board, and some bitch up front was eating tuna fish.  You can imagine, right?  The whole cabin smelled like hot tuna.  Remember that craving I had at one time for mayo?  Well it's not ever coming back.  Never. 

 

So we're in our seats and we're waiting and waiting, and apparently they're still working on the plane, fixing some part.  This doesn't give me a warm fuzzy feeling, but I'm generally not afraid of flying, so I can deal.  Except that it's a kabillion degrees and it smells like rotting fish and I have a really horrible cough.  (Did I mention the cough?)  Yeah, nobody wanted me around either.  Oh, and I'm pregnant too - so add all of the usual complaints that come with that. 

 

Finally finally finally we start rolling and the air comes on.  Whew.  Then the captain comes on and says we're fifteenth in line for takeoff.  Gah!  That took FOR-ever.  After about 40 days and 40 nights, the flight attendants get in their seats and it's time to take off.  And, we go....really fast...really fast....a little faster....and just when you expect the wheels to leave the ground,  the plane stopped and the top halves of our bodies kept going, and everything that wasn't nailed down went flying. 

 

This is about the time I started using the Lord's name in vain.

 

Apparently, some...thing - the equivilant of a check engine light, came on, and needed to be checked out.  So we parked (Do airplanes park?) and the engine went off, so the air went off, and we festered.  Except by this time I had had enough.  American Girl was saying "No!".  Every cell in my body was telling me that this flight was doomed, and I needed to get my feet back on the ground.  So I waved down a flight attendant and told her that I wanted to get off the plane.  She smiled this big crazy jack o' lantern of a smile and said "No."

 

I said that perhaps she was misunderstanding me.  I didn't want to fly anymore.  I'll rent a car and drive myself home, I said.  She said that no one was getting off this plane.

 

Welcome to the Hotel California.

 

Withing revealing myself as the ill tempered potty mouth that I can be when pressed, let's just say I pushed the issue some more.  She came back with "FDA Regulations, Blah...blah....blah...."

 

I'm not really one to mess with FDA Regulations, really.  So, I was stuck.  But let me just say that we did eventually take off, and that it was a relatively smooth flight, but I wouldn't have known, because I spent 75% of it on the bathroom floor.  I don't want to overshare, so I'll just leave it at that.

 

Now, before I left, Ryan and I had had a "disagreement" about this very trip, because he thought I was to sick to go, but I said I had responsibilities, yadda yadda and it escalated to the point where he said he wasn't going to take me to the airport.  I eventually got him to come around by casually mentioning how badly he would feel if my plane crashed.  (I know...I know)  So of course, he did take me to the airport, but of course, I played those words over and over in my head and felt like a total cad.  I mean, God forbid...THAT would have sucked, you know?  Lesson learned.

 

We finally landed at 3:00 in the morning, and really, there was no better feeling in this world than walking through baggage claim and seeing my husband leaning against the wall, waiting for me.  He actually glowed - in the way that people do when you're really really glad to see them.

 

So anyway, that's why my flying days are done.

 

The end.

posted by: AmericanGirl at 12:07 | link | comments (8) |

I'm not really feeling especially talkative, but here's a picture of my nephew's swim coach to hold you over until I am:

 

Sorry, male readers.  

 

To be a kid again, huh?

 

Edit:  To add one more for my buddy One:

 

 

posted by: AmericanGirl at 19:01 | link | comments (7) |

I'm out of here!  Be good everyone!   Thanks for all the medical advice.  I was even desperate enough to try the hot water and baking soda, which was horrid!  I went to the doctor today and I'm now the proud owner of prescription drugs.  Love that man.

 

Here's a Thursday poem:

 

posted by: AmericanGirl at 18:11 | link | comments (2) |

I'm sick. 

 

Actually, I'm sick to the point where I'm ready to throw in the towel.  It's just a cold.  No, it's an unmedicated cold.  No wait, it's an unmedicated cold in the summer, which is just a life sentence for an already grouchy and overtired pregnant person.

 

It's left my head and now I just have this horrible cough, and every time I cough, my uterus hurts.  I don't know whether to cover my mouth or hold on to my uterus all day long.

 

I'm actually not just here to whine - I have a point.  I'm flying to California in two days for this huge presentation, and it would be nice if I was able to get three words out in succession without losing a lung.  My doctor is NO HELP.  "My advice is that you stay home" she says.  Well, that's just not an option.

 

Sooo, I need a pregnant friendly cure for a cough.  Even if it just buys me an hour.  Even if it's something really gross, like swallowing a goldfish or something.  I'm that desperate.  (But if you just make something up to try to get me to do something gross, I will find out, and I just might have to kill you.)  (Yes, I'm that grouchy.)

 

Someone out there HAS to know something that will work, right?

posted by: AmericanGirl at 10:48 | link | comments (5) |

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