Nervous

*Warning: This post is me freaking out*

I know its probably kind of silly, but I'm nervous about my first doctor's appointment, which is this friday. "Pelvic" exams always give me the heebee-jeebees but this is taking it to a whole new level. I'm the kind of woman that drags herself into family planning the day her birth control Rx runs out and gets an uber quick pap just to get her fix. I alway put it off to the last possible second and get nervous and sweaty even though its the same NP I've seen every year. Granted, I have some weird stuff in my past involving a (male) pediatrician and an "exam" when I was 8 years old (8!) but you'd think I'd be over it by now.

I also find myself feeling really anxious about hearing the baby's heartbeat and doing an ultrasound. What if everything's not ok? What if there is no heartbeat? I know these are terrible thoughts to have but I can't help it. Its like I'm trying to steel myself against bad news. Like if I obsess about it, I won't be so shocked when the Dr. shakes her head and says "I'm sorry." I'm sure I'm not the only woman to have these thoughts but they are nerve racking just the same.

Third, I am also worried about liking this doctor's office. We live in such a small town, that there is ONE place for prenatal care. And that's it. There are no midwives or doulas- just OB GYNs. And just one practice in town that works with the one hospital in town. So I'm worried about feeling comfortable there or feeling trapped. Our only other option would be a town that is an hour away...which might be ok since I will be due in Sept (usually before the snow comes) but I'm not sure we could afford the gas and out of state insurance prices.

Sigh. Maybe, at the end of my pregnancy, I'll look back at this and laugh saying, "how stupid was that?!...I've now had my cooch probed more times than I can count and its a fucking breeze! I love my doctor and everything is peachy!" But right now, it seems real and scary. I hope Friday goes well...

Bastards!

We have new neighbors. I haven't met them but if I were to do so now, I might sock one in the jaw. Let me explain:

At first, it seemed like they might be kind of cool- I caught a glimpse of a blue mohawk disppearing into the front door of their house one day and thought, "oh cool, punks!" But I think I'm realizing that I'm just not as young and crazy as I used to be and am starting to have less tolerance for those that are. First: They have thrown a couple of wild parties. Which, you know, isn't that big a deal. They have been on weekends so...whatever. We live in a college town. Its gonna happen. Second: Someone (Blue Mohawk?) has a drum kit. And they like to practice alot. (And believe me, they need it.) All Sunday afternoon practicing? Annoying, but ok. Its a free country or whatever. Saturday night? Ummmm...ok. We preggo ladies need our beauty rest, but I try to be understanding. MIDNIGHT ON A MONDAY? This is going too far. People have work and shit! Last night we were awakened by some of the worst drumming I have EVER heard. Ever. The hub almost went over there to politely ask them to stop but then realized that he was in bed in his boxers and called the cops instead.

Maybe now we'll get some peace. I never thought I'd be the grumpy cop-calling neighbors but here I am. Maybe I should just change my name to Agnes and start getting my hair done at the beauty parlor because that's about as cool as I feel right now. But at least I'll be able to sleep. I hope.

A Writers Life for Me?

So, my mother has been telling me that I should start a journal to keep track of my thoughts and feelings during pregnancy. As I have been a journaler, off and on, my entire life, this seems like a good idea. Normally, I will go through an intesely introspective stage, where I write and write and write like a mad woman and then there will be a long drought, sometimes a year or so, where nary a word hits the page. I always thought, however, that if I ever did get pregnant, it would be one of those feast times: A time when my thoughts and emotions would be too much to keep in- that I would simply have to get them down on paper or EXPLODE! The reality? Not so much.

I keep telling myself that I really should be writing stuff down, but for some reason, it just seems like a chore. I think part of my problem might be that this was a suprise pregnancy and I am still just trying to get my head around the insanity of it all- and putting shit down on paper might make it even more real and ominous somehow. (Or, I could just be lazy.) I'm kind of hoping that after my first dr's appointment (in one week), things will start to sink in and I'll be better able to start processing it all in writing. If not, I'll just get my feelings out by nagging my husband and scowling at total strangers. It's worked before...

My Oh My, What Fun, What Fun

I puked for the first time (since being pregnant) last night. Oh the joys! It was just a little puke. (I'm sure you're glad I'm sharing). Up until now, I've felt nauseated, yes, but nothing beyond that. I think what did it, was that I decided to forgo my weekly grocery trip on Sunday and go last night (Monday) instead. Something about having just eaten dinner and all the smells at the store and the fact that evening is usually my most queasy time- well, it all added up to one exciting time in the bathroom, lemme tell ya. At least I was able to wait until I got home- at one point, I thought I might spew in the parking lot of Safeway.

Oh well, I suppose I shouldn't complain too much...I know there are lots of Mommas out there that have it worse than I do!

Vomit

This: http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/17222147/from/RS.2/ makes me want to puke. And I think it would even if I wasn't 9 weeks pregnant.

Weekend Warrior

Well, maybe not a warrior persay, but I did decide to get up and get at least some chores done while I had energy. (My reserves seem to deplete in the afternoon and evening- this pregnancy thing is exhausting!)

-Go to get breakfast and cook it for HusbandBrain- Check.
-Clean family room in basement, including the organization of all 300 of HusbandBrain's cds- Check.
-Sweep wood floors in upstairs and "straighten"- Check.

Whew. Now, I think its time for a shower and a little Me time*. The HB, being as sweet as he is, also did some cleaning, so between the two of us, I think we've got a pretty sparkling little house.

*Confession: "Me time" refers to me being a HUGE dork and re-reading all the Harry Potter books in anticipation of the last one coming out this summer. Gah. I know.

Its Snot Funny!

Ah, winter. While I enjoy snow and ice as much as the next person (who would've thunkit- snowshoeing is FUN!), I have to admit that February is dragging on and on and on and on...and I can't seem to get warm. We had a few beautiful, fleeting days of 45 degree weather, but now we are back to having our snot frozen in our noses the second we step outside. And the layer upon layer of snow that was so pretty before the holidays now is just annoying. I miss clear roads and jacket weather. I miss riding my bike to work. *Sigh* The sad part is, that at 7,000 ft, we realistically have in the very least 2 more full months of this and at the worst, 3-4. The year before last, we had a huge snow storm in June that seriously maimed my lilacs. So you can see why I'm skeptical.

Oh well. At least the days are getting longer, no matter the temperature. Its nice to have light at 5pm when I drag my tired, bloated ass home.

V.D.

Valentines Day. Blah. Never been a huge fan, I guess. I don't have anything against celebrating romantic love, or appreciating your partner persay...its just so commercial and manipulative. Case in point, I was at the supermarket last night and a dozen roses was about 2x the price it usually is. And there were these HUGE mylar balloons floating over fresh fruit and canned green bean displays screaming, "BUY ME OR YOU WILL BE IN THE DOGHOUSE FOR A MONTH YOU STUPID F*&CKER!"
So, eh. I got the hub some candy and a non- v.d. card. As far as I know, I'm not getting anything. Which is fine. I'll take a healthy, supportive, kick-ass relationship all year long over roses on one stupid day.

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