My OBGYN thinks I’m lazy. Or a whiner. Which I think might be worse.

Yesterday, Husband and I went to my 17-week appointment to listen to our bell pepper’s heartbeat, see how much fatter I’ve become, and verify that I still have a ridiculously healthy blood pressure. I also planned to discuss with her the episodes I’ve been having of stress-related cramping that won’t go away until I lie down in a dark room.

THE VERDICTS:

1. Baby’s heartbeat: 155.

2. Mommy’s weight: FRIGHTENING.

3. Disgustingly great blood pressure as per usual. This makes me feel better about #2.

4. My doctor mistook my concerns to mean that I was asking her for a note to get me out of work.

5. I’m still mad at her about that.

Husband sat in the corner holding my purse as I tried to succinctly explain my concerns. I mean, I know she’s busy and I didn’t force her to listen to a drawn-out speech. I kept it simple. I thought I did a decent job. But her response, and then my responses, must have been comical because by the end my purse-holder was cracking up. He never did explain to me what was so funny. Maybe it was the way I bristled when she cut me off toward the end and said “there is no reason for you to not be able to go to work.” 

WELL … no shit, doc. That’s not what I was asking you. What I was asking, was if I should be concerned that whilst working, and getting screamed at via the telephone, I start to cramp. Or really if I’m in any kind of stressful situation.

Apparently the fact that I have great blood pressure and carried ONE to full term without any problems means that I won’t have any problems with this baby. At least that is what she said. But that information doesn’t mean anything to me, because I miscarried my last baby … a fact she never seems to recall. My doctor, who probably hears women complain every day of the exact symptoms I described, dismissed them. On one hand, it made me feel better. She told me if I can manage the stress on my own then that is best. There is no need to prescribe me preggo prozac at this time. 

I have a very dear friend who is a doctor, and I try to think of her when I’m speaking to other doctors … but honestly, I hate them. All of them, except for my friend, and the nice man who looked like Santa Claus dressed like Dexter The Serial Killer who delivered ONE. I feel like doctors are always in a hurry and intimidating and I ALWAYS feel like an idiot after asking a question. Why? Because I get a generic, canned answer. I could have saved myself the trouble and just looked it up myself in my battered copy of Back To Eden.

We left, I angrily snacked on a cheese stick that I unearthed from my purse and told Husband that from now on, I’ll do what she said: I’ll manage my stress in my own way. I’m going to birth this baby in my own way. I am going to listen to my instincts. I’m annoyed and I’m hormonal … and maybe THAT is why he couldn’t stop laughing at me.

I had a scare this week.

Thursday I started having period-like cramps and ignored them. I figured it was normal, even though it was a pretty constant pain. I worked all day, picked up ONE from daycare, vacuumed the entire house, swept, cooked dinner, folded clothes … the usual. But as the cramps continued all day and into the night, I started to pay attention. And then I started to freak.

Apparently that was my body’s way of telling me HELLO, IT’S TIME TO REST. So I did.

I see other people who are working and pregnant with kids at home who seem to manage fine. I felt on some level like I was a weakling for having to wave my white flag and say I needed a break. That is kind of messed up, when I admit it out loud. I would have no problem telling another mom she was entitled to some rest, but still, I felt guilty.

I took the day off from work and spent it in bed and on the couch. 

Okay … fine. I might have done some laundry.

Do you know how hard it is to do nothing? It’s hard. When I’m all by myself, I start thinking things like how I’d love to go to T.J. Maxx or the mall or Home Goods. Or, I consider how nice it would be to finally organize the junk closet under the stairs. It’s really difficult for me to do nothing.  

Husband finds it rather easy to do nothing. He feels no guilt. I envy that.

This week was a weird one.

On Thursday, I went to Subway. I was minding my own business. I was happy because there was a new guy working there, and the new ones are always more generous with the toppings. 

The lady in line in front of me took one look at my sandwich and said “you better watch that mayo, it’ll go straight to your hips.”   I smiled and politely informed her that I’m pregnant … and I don’t give a DAMN about my hips.

The next day, I attended a baby shower at work. As I collected my piece of cake and headed out the door, one of my co-workers stopped me in the middle of a large group of women. 

She said to me, “Harmony, you’re going to carry this baby in your BOOTY, aren’t you?”    

So what … had they all been studying my ass to see how much it had expanded? What brought this on? For a split second I felt self-conscious about myself, the cake I was holding in my hand, my pregnant body and most of all, my butt … which I’ve been avoiding looking at in the mirror.

Everyone looked at me expecting an answer, so I said something about how apparently I carry a lot of weight in my backside when I’m pregnant because people can’t seem to stop talking about it. I told a story of how another one of my co-workers loudly exclaimed “OOOOOH HARMONY! Your booty’s getting big!” several years ago when I was pregnant with ONE. Which, I pointed out to them, was extremely rude.

And then, me and my large ass left the party.

Look people. I am a white girl with a big butt. Get OVER it, or go ahead and kiss it.

Husband snuck this shot on my 30th birthday.

Number TWO is the size of a lemon!

Today’s facts:

1. I’m in the market for a doula.

2. That’s a labor coach. Husband thought it was a musical instrument. Do with that what you will.

3. Husband thinks HE can be my labor coach. Through natural childbirth. I question if he has the balls for it.

4. Homebirths are illegal in Alabama. Not that I was planning to birth #2 in a tub in my living room, but it bothers me that I am told I’m not allowed to do this.

5.  My mother in law sent us tulips for Valentines day and looking at them makes me so happy. I have tulips in one room and the flowers from Husband in another room. Something about fresh flowers makes me feel good.

6. I may start buying them for myself.

I’m 1/3 of the way done …

I’ve been having some really weird and vivid dreams lately. I don’t even try to explain them to anyone or discuss them out loud because they are SO odd, and I know it’s due to hormone changes, blah blah blah. Or maybe it’s because I ate chocolate pudding out of a mixing bowl right before I went to bed. I guess we will never know.

Anyway, I woke up at 1:00 a.m. and Husband was parked next to me so I woke him up to have a nice chat about his day. He was kind enough to oblige me but started snoring before I was finished with my questioning. I was lying there drifting back off to sleep when I swear I felt flutters.  

Baby flutters!

Now I’m sitting here wondering, did I dream it up? Did it actually happen? I am pretty sure it actually happened, but I’m afraid no one will believe me as I am just now (like today, right this minute) 12 weeks along.

As a side note, how do people wait this long to announce their pregnancy? I mean really. I don’t get rule-followers. I also do not get:

1. Justin Beiber

2. That show on CNN where the guy screams about the stock market and throws random items around and rings a bell and sweats a lot … what’s it called?

3.Video games

4. French cooking (waaaaaay too complicated)

5. How to “truss” a chicken (see above)

We had a Superbowl party at our house yesterday.

I feel like I have a horrible hangover … except I (obviously) did not drink.

ARE THERE NO PERKS TO SOBRIETY?!?!?!?!?!?

Today the button on my jeans, the same button I just paid the tailor $5 t0 sew back on, popped off. Again.

This means it’s time to fully embrace maternity wear. It seems a bit early, I’m only 9 weeks and some change. I’m wondering if my lack of exercise has anything to do with the speed at which I’m growing. Or maybe it’s just that this is baby #2 and my soon-to-be-the-size-of-a-duffle-bag uterus is expanding speedily.

I keep reading about how I should be exercising. That irritates me. I would LIKE to go walking, I think, but it’s 40 degrees out there. Also, I’m tired. But mostly, it’s just too cold. 

Here’s proof that I need stretchy pants. And no, I’m not sticking my stomach out — I’m just not sucking it in.

This is what we look like on Sundays around the house.