Well folks, let me just take off my imaginary bobo and put on this blue sweater and say, "Hi Stranger! Er, I mean, neighbor!"
Firstly things first. If you are interested in keeping tabs on me and the second kid I'm cooking up in there, might I suggest that you can find me, FAR MORE OFTEN, here. Feel free to friend me, just give me a clue that you know me from this here blog because believe it or not, I can be a little discerning about who I befriend on Facebook.
Ahem, now that that is out of the way. Things are progressing fantastically in mah belly. I'm almost 32 weeks along and the repeat c-section has been scheduled for August 7. We'll have to see if this one makes it that far or if s/he will decide to come earlier like her/his sister! I've had such a normal pregnancy that I've even ceased to anticipate the other shoe dropping. It's fucking nuts, yo.
Anyway, I've received a few e-mails asking after me and wanted to update those of you who kindly still care. :-) Things are fan-friggin-tastic. I'm just mostly wiped-out.
I'll be idly sitting on the pot, minding my own business, checking out the view, when, BAM! It'll hit me like a freight train. A happy freight train, mind you, carrying puppies and clowns and oodles of bubbles. Wait, nevermind the clowns. They're scary. Just imagine Amtrak on a deliriously happy acid trip. I have a baby. A real live baby. And she's more wonderful than I could ever imagine. Sometimes when I'm smack in the middle of parenting and tying shoes and picking up strewn crumbs I don't have the headspace to remember. But when I'm doing my business on the throne, well, I really can't thinking of anything else.
And it might just be happening all over again.
All's clear in the baby #2 department. Not near the drama I'd experienced up until now with Zee. It's a little eerie. I'm just knocked up. All normal-style. No bleeding or funkiness. I have to admit I miss the twelve thousand ultrasounds a little bit, but I'll settle for hearing a thumpa-thumping heartbeat now and again if it means I don't have to worry about the welfare of the little frog.
I'm also dealing with the mother of all writing blocks. I'm working on it. In an active way, which feels good. I'm writing my ass off, just not here. I have so much cluttering my brain that I'm just not ready to share with god and everybody. I need to quiet my inner critic before I'm ready for the spotlight again. Sorry 'bout that. Really, I'm sorrier for me 'bout that. I miss it here. But I'll be back.
First things first. I am incubating a masterpiece. Duh, you might be thinking. Of course she is incubating a masterpiece. It's that Zube blood. But I bet you weren't thinking that I was LITERALLY carrying The Scream in my womb. Don't believe me? Check it out...
You might have to click and biggify the picture to see the resemblence. All joking aside, I really don't have a freakin' clue what is what. Not even my imagination is that vivid. What I did find out is that there is a little heartbeat in there flickering away and that's all I need to know. Well, that and the ultrasound tech calmed my fear that my Scream does NOT, in fact, have an arm growing out of her/his head. I'm relieved.
I am eleven weeks now and we have a heartbeat. Just a week shy of the second trimester, I've decided to be happy and maybe a little excited. Pass the O'Douls! It's time to celebrate.
And, just in case you didn't know, if you're a little fucked up in the head? And you have a kid? You're still going to be a little fucked up in the head. Apparently having a kid doesn't de-fuck up you. Who knew? Not me. I kinda thought once I had a kid everything would fall into place and I'd be all perfectly awesome in my headspace. Not so much. Deliriously happy? Most times. Scared and confused and self-conscious? Once in a while.
So, I'm in counseling again. And I feel a little stupid about it, to be honest. How many times am I going to have to go to counseling before I'm, you know, done? Fixed? Just a smidge outside of normal? That's all I'm aiming for. I don't know. I'm coming to realize that I'm one of those people who needs a little guidancenow and again when it comes to keeping my head straight. That seems reasonable. People visit the dentist twice a year, get a physical once a year, a pap smear once a year. I go to counseling once every two years. Keeps me healthily insane. And I feel better for it.
PS - Yesterday was the thirteen year anniversary. THIRTEEN YEARS! Wow. The day actually passed with nary a thought about its significance. I just realized it today.
Ha! Betcha thought I was going to say uterus, eh? Not a chance. Well, yet anyway. Sorry my update was delayed but our wireless internet is sucking it so right now I'm stealing a very distant and very slow connection to let you know...
We have a heartbeat. 120 beats per minute.
Party hats are unwarranted as of yet, but feel free to do a mini-Happy Dance.
Five more weeks and I'll be feeling a little more okay.
Z-Boy: Yeah, and one of you is smaller than a grain of rice.
Zube: Whatever. Sleeping for two. Give me more blanket.
Z-Boy: Are you nagging for two, too?
Zube: *YANK* Good night.
This Friday I have an ultrasound. I'll hopefully be reporting the presence of a heartbeat shortly thereafter. I was telling an old high school friend that I was beginning to feel a bit more confident because all of my miscarriages had happened/started happening by now. She responded that she believed all would be fine because Zee Baby fixed my ute while she took up residence there. I think that's an awesome visual, little Zee hammering away, beautifying my innards. I like the sounds of that.
You know, it really astounds me just how much energy a tiny being, one smaller than a grain of rice, could sap from its host. It's pretty fucking incredible, if you ask me. That my 24 pound toddler doesn't wear me out as much as a 1mm zygote. Interesante.
Anywho, details...Sorry for the delay, but they were delayed in getting to me...
Quick Lesson Uno: Hcg should double every 48 hours.
Last Friday - hcg 175 Sunday - hcg 449
More than doubled. Excellent.
Quick Lesson Dos: Progesterone should be at least above 15, preferably above 20.
My progesterone - 14
I'm on supplements, but I'm not fretting about the low progesterone too much because with Zee Baby it was only 10.
Sometime between Christmas and New Year's, pending nothing catastrophic between now and then, we'll have a little looksee at the bugger. By then s/he should be thumpa-thumpa-thumping away. Wouldn't THAT just be about the best fucking Christmas present EVAH?!
Cross yer fingers and toes, people. Because you all know how I do pregnancy.
I'm hoping with all my heart that somewhere roundabout the middle of August, Zee Baby has a baby sister or brother.
Man, I just don't know if I'm ready for this again. Another kid? Totally ready. Well, about as ready as one could be, I suppose. But drama? And fear of losing a pregnancy again? Not so much ready for that. I hope the worrying is for naught.
Well, I'm Zube Girl. Bermuda born, Jersey bred, and Colorado bound. Not 'bound' in the sense that that's where I'm headed. Bound in the sense that I'm bound here by an undying love for my husband and the mountains. I will always and forever be a Jersey Girl, though. While most importantly, I'm me, I also happen to be Zee Baby's Mom. She somehow managed to stick around my hostile uterus after three miscarriages. For that I am in awe of her. I don't leave much about my life to the imagination. Laying it all down doesn't really scare me. I muse about the good, the bad, and the ugly. I was raped in college and terminated the resulting pregnancy. I try to at least make the experience useful by sharing my story in support of Choice. You've been warned. Oh yeah, if you're not fond of sentences ending in prepositions, the F-Bomb, and random and chaotic use of ellipses, stop here...This blog is not for you.
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