Today, I am Sad

Yesterday was a terrible day. I had to deal with obnoxious people on so many levels and all I wanted was to come home and just sit (sans cocktail, obviously) and be with my husband and forget about my day. What actually happened was I came home, walked the dog, talked to my sister who had an equally crappy day, and then found out that my husband wasn't coming home because he was having dinner with his family who just happened to be in town. They only live about an hour and a half away, so it's not that big of a deal, but a free meal is a free meal and it was rush hour so there would have been no point in me trying to get to where they were to try to join them.

So I accomplished the coming home part. I did sit. But I did not forget. I watched Marley and Me, which in hindsight was not the best choice, but it was our latest Netflix and had to either be seen or be sent, so I watched. It made me cry. That made me sad.

My husband came home just as the movie was ending. I was crying. He hugged me. I didn't want to talk about my day or explain the tears. He didn't need me to do either. He just held me. He told me everything would work out. He said that we'd get through all of this. I cried some more. Only now I was crying for me. I was crying for the turn my life has taken. I was crying for the baby inside of me who doesn't care about the people I deal with or the job I do or don't have. I was crying because I am bringing a life into my awful reality and sometimes, I wonder if I am doing the right thing.

I woke up this morning hoping to have expelled my thoughts from the day before, but alas, they remained. And then the baby kicked. And again, I wondered - am I doing the right thing? I know this will pass. I know I will love him with all of my being. I know that his sheer existance will make this all go away. I know. But knowing is not feeling. And feeling, at least for today, is reality - my reality. So today, I am sad.

Move over Pele!

In the midst of all of the job crap, I forgot about some amazing milestones in my pregnancy. (I hope this isn't indicative of how I'll parent!) Anyway, last weekend my husband felt the baby kick for the first time. I had felt him move around some, but I wasn't sure if it was feel-able from the outside. Of course, I wanted to share this with my husband though, so I every time I felt something, I'd have him put his hand on my belly. As luck would have it, as soon as he touched me, the baby stopped moving. DH was starting to get frustrated.

After a few days, I began to see a pattern in baby's movement. He moved mostly in the early morning, when I'd just woken up, or in the evening just before bed. Then, last weekend, I awoke to a lot of movement. I quickly woke up my husband and had him put his hand on my belly. It took a few minutes, but then it happened. The baby moved and my husband felt it. You would have thought he won the lottery! His eyes got big, his hand flinched in disbelief, and he gasped. I couldn't help but giggle. Needless to say, my hubby was in a grand ol' mood for the rest of the day. He was telling everyone that he "met" his son that morning.

Since then, I'm pretty sure baby has kicked it up a notch (no pun intended). I feel him moving all the time. And just think, a few short weeks ago I questioned whether he had arms and legs! His movement is still particularly pronounced in the early mornings and late evenings. Which leads me to this morning's big event! I woke up at dawn (stupid chirping birds) and felt him moving right away. I had read in the baby book that he was supposed to be sensitve to light at this point, so I pulled the covers down, lifted my shirt, and let the sun shine on my belly. And then it happened: he kicked and my belly moved! I mean really moved! It was so crazy!! I couldn't help but smile. Of course, my husband is out of town and didn't see it, but I'm sure he will soon enough.

I certainly don't take this as the first sign that my son is the smartest, most talented (and let's face it, best looking) fetus to ever exist, but it was pretty cool!

Priceless

It's been a week since I was laid off. How am I handling it? It's day by day. So far I have cried countless tears, applied to three jobs, and come up with about 30 bagillion (yes, that's an actual number!) reasons as to why I shouldn't have to be going through this at all.

Priceless.

My husband told me he was proud of me the other day. He said that I was handling things really well - that three years ago, I would have crawled into a hole and stayed indefinitely. Three years ago, he would have been right. There were days last week when I did not want to get out of bed. I laid there, waiting for some divine intervention that would prevent me from physically moving, thus having to call out. But in the end, my limbs moved and I went to work. Those moments are so scary. So reminiscent of a worse time in my life. This is what a recovering alcoholic must feel like when presented with a drink. Except, I was never an alcoholic. I was depressed. I thought about going back to therapy - my one saving grace, only second to the support of my husband. I thought about the possibility of going back on medication. I've thought about...going back. But like many who hit rock bottom, I refuse to go back. I refuse to wake up with tears already in my eyes. I refuse to make chores out of daily tasks. I refuse to let them beat me. My enemy last time was me. This time, I have to be on my side.

I have no idea what this week will be like. I have no idea what next week will be like. Or the week after. But I do know that it has to work out. It has to get better. It just...has to.

Not So Pretty In Pink

I used to like the color pink. Until, I got word that a little slip of pink paper would find its way to my inbox in the coming weeks. Yep, I got laid off today. It's not official until I get the paperwork, but it may as well be. The "powers that be" have known for about 2 weeks, and I guess nothing has changed, so the "powers that be pink-slipped" have now been notified.

Life sucks. When I started this blog, it was to be a reflection of all of the crappy things that have happened. Past tense. It was not intended to be a forum for me to complain about how unfair life is currently. But I suppose blogs don't control that.

So there it is. For the past three years, I have worked my butt off. I have put in countless hours on and off the clock for the good of the people I work with and for. I have done this thankless job with the general motivation and satisfaction that I was making a difference and the reality of it is, it's what I was meant to do. (Do you think it's Freudian that I said it's what I "was" meant to do, instead of "am" meant to do?) It just plain sucks.

So today I cried. And cried some more. Tomorrow, who knows. But I'm sure there are more tears in water-soaked, blurry sight.

It's a Boy!

And he moves!

Huh?

Back story - Since my 12th week or so, people have been asking me if I've felt "the flutter" yet. At first, I responded with a very enthusiastic, Not yet! But as the weeks moved on and people kept asking, I started to worry. Of course 12 weeks was rather early to be asking, but according to "the book" (which by the way, I have all but used as toilet paper at this point) movement, and feeling the movement, starts anywhere between 16 and 22 weeks. Well, around week 18, I began to worry. I mean sure the we had heard the heartbeat and everything sounded good, but there was no visual proof that there was actually a healthy baby inside. So I worried more. What if I didn't feel it because it didn't have arms and legs? Wouldn't it head-butt me then? What if it can't head-butt me because it doesn't have a working spine? What if it doesn't have a head? (Ok, I never really thought that, but it was getting close!) The only rational thing to do was wait for my 20 week ultrasound. Not only were we going to find out the sex, but I could finally find out if it had arms and legs. And it does! Excuse me, he does!

Not only does he have arms and legs, but: fingers, toes, a spine, a brain, a four-chamber heart, a bladder, kidneys - left and right!, a diaphragm, a face, and much to my husbands joy - a penis. I know there are other things that he should have, but these are what they look for and thankfully, what they found!

Oh, and the movement mystery: my placenta is anterior, which means that it's in the very front of my belly. So when Baby Boy kicks, he is kicking his placenta, not me. Oddly enough, I have felt some movement since the ultrasound. Maybe it's psychological, maybe it's not. Either way, I have a fully armed and legged baby boy growing inside of me!