It’s not a secret, whether you know me IRL or via the internet, that I am not an especially happy pregnant person. The lack of happy pills and alcohol, plus weight gain and the general “OH-DEAR-GOD-WHAT-HAVE-WE-DONE” feeling, recently collided and made me quite the miserable person to be around. (I mean, normally I am Susie-Fucking-Sunshine…haha!)
I recently posted this, and got the appropriate responses of either fear, support, or simply people agreeing with me. I loved all the responses, mainly because it seemed as though people were listening to me. I hoped that I could just leave be left alone. I wanted to curl up in a ball and hide from the world. I hurt all day, every day, awful body aches that made it feel as though I had the flu. I wasn’t sleeping well, and decided that my due date just had to be wrong, there was no way that I had 8 weeks of this left. I had nothing to give to my daughter, husband…hell, I couldn’t even bring myself to pet the Fonz. I decided the other day that this just could not be normal, and called my doctor.
I had gone back to work on Monday after an exhausting three day weekend. It didn’t feel exhausting at the time; until the drive home Sunday night and I fought back tears most of the way. I felt like such shit on Monday I left work early, convinced that I just had a bad cold and needed a nap. By Monday night, I was still all achy and tired and whiny and bitchy and moany, and it occurred to me to take my temperature. And it was 100.8. OK, nothing to start a fire over or anything, but HOLY CRAP…I REALLY AM SICK!! I couldn’t believe the thought had not occurred to me before. The reason why I had nothing to give and wanted to go to the hospital for a C-section RIGHT NOW was because I probably had the flu. Or, as my doctor’s nurse said, “A bug.”
This “bug” has been “bugging” me for a couple of weeks. It is the reason why, when my daughter gets those big belly laughs from Workaholic tickling her, I can barely manage a smile. It is the reason why I can’t even respond anymore when someone who I see every single day asks me at least three times a week when I am due and then doesn’t believe me because I am so huge.
Now, don’t get me wrong. I am still going to talk to my doc about the possibility of depression creeping into this pregnancy. I will take his little 10 question quiz to see if I am certifiable. Because I don’t like it when people laugh out loud at me when someone suggests that I cook. And I don’t like the fact that my MIL gently says, “Well, you really aren’t a high energy person to begin with, you are so laid back.” (translation: LAZY) And I don’t like the fact that my Tupperware cabinet is in such disarray, but I just keep the door closed and try no to think about it. I don’t want to be a lazy, disorganized, non-cooking person…I just don’t seem to have the energy or motivation to fix those teensy-tiny, little areas of my life.
As with most of my posts, I am not quite sure where I am going with this. I guess just an update that while I am still pregnant, (32 weeks today!) and generally freaking out over things that need to be done (Hello…Tupperware? Or the much larger job of moving the office with its internet connections and blue walls so it can become Sam’s new bedroom.) I am generally surviving and getting better. I’ve been more tolerant of questions and observations about my pregnancy, and I’ve only had to take 2 Tylenol so far today for aches. I even fought the urge to shake my fist at the three cops who were taking up three, very very valuable parking spaces at Chipotle today during the lunch rush. (Yeah, I had to circle the building 5 times!) So thanks for sticking with me through the times where I was no fun and wanted to kill. I promise to try to be better.
Thursday, June 24, 2010
Monday, June 21, 2010
Roughin' It
Before I was born, my parents took my three sisters camping. And it rained. All weekend. And my mom swore right then and there that she would never go camping again. Hence, why the closest thing to camping I have ever done was sleep, one time, in a tent in my backyard. And I am not completely convinced that I even made it all the way through the night. In fact, I am pretty sure I didn’t, because I didn’t get it. What was so great about this?
When Workaholic was about three years old, his parents bought a trailer home on a piece of land his uncle owned on a beautiful little lake in Michigan. They started going there every weekend, and eventually spent their entire summers up there. They had cable TV, and their own beds, and running water. For obvious reasons, they never really got into camping either. The joke in his family is that camping for them is the Holiday Inn.
Flash forward 30 years to Friday night. I had taken the day off of work so I could get to the cottage in Michigan while it was still nice out. Workaholic called and told us to “batten down the hatches”, because a storm was on the way. No biggie…we had a terrible storm the weekend before and we all lived. Even if we thought we were going to die. But that’s a story for another time.
The storm came and went, lots and lots of wind, and some rain, and lightening. Nothing crazy, just a really good summer storm, in my personal opinion. It didn’t even last very long. So we’re just sitting around, watching TV and chatting, and then the power went out. Hmmm…
We were soon to find out that a tree branch had fallen on a power line a few houses down and started a fire. And then a transformer blew somewhere else down the street. We are in Michigan, so this might take a while to fix. Things seem to flow on different time there. Looks like we’ll be roughin’ it. I start to seriously contemplate going home…I mean, no TV, no toilet, can’t open the refrigerator, why stay?? I could go home to a perfectly cool house, with OnDemand and internet access. Here…we just have a lake. With sewer water flowing into it because of an idiot neighbor.
Before I know it, a generator has been produced. (turns out marrying into a construction family comes in handy for multiple reasons) The first thing to get hooked up is the fridge. The next thing? The TV. And finally, the pump for water. Yes, we know how to prioritize.
We were out of power for about 30 hours. It was the longest 30 hours of my life. I don’t understand camping, or why you would do it. Where do you pee? How do you take a hot shower? Don’t you realize how difficult it is cooking everything on the grill? (not that I personally did any of the cooking) Do you really sleep on the ground?? I just don’t get it. Just like when I was 8 years old and attempting to “camp” in my backyard.
So yeah…we were roughing it this weekend. Cable TV and all.
When Workaholic was about three years old, his parents bought a trailer home on a piece of land his uncle owned on a beautiful little lake in Michigan. They started going there every weekend, and eventually spent their entire summers up there. They had cable TV, and their own beds, and running water. For obvious reasons, they never really got into camping either. The joke in his family is that camping for them is the Holiday Inn.
Flash forward 30 years to Friday night. I had taken the day off of work so I could get to the cottage in Michigan while it was still nice out. Workaholic called and told us to “batten down the hatches”, because a storm was on the way. No biggie…we had a terrible storm the weekend before and we all lived. Even if we thought we were going to die. But that’s a story for another time.
The storm came and went, lots and lots of wind, and some rain, and lightening. Nothing crazy, just a really good summer storm, in my personal opinion. It didn’t even last very long. So we’re just sitting around, watching TV and chatting, and then the power went out. Hmmm…
We were soon to find out that a tree branch had fallen on a power line a few houses down and started a fire. And then a transformer blew somewhere else down the street. We are in Michigan, so this might take a while to fix. Things seem to flow on different time there. Looks like we’ll be roughin’ it. I start to seriously contemplate going home…I mean, no TV, no toilet, can’t open the refrigerator, why stay?? I could go home to a perfectly cool house, with OnDemand and internet access. Here…we just have a lake. With sewer water flowing into it because of an idiot neighbor.
Before I know it, a generator has been produced. (turns out marrying into a construction family comes in handy for multiple reasons) The first thing to get hooked up is the fridge. The next thing? The TV. And finally, the pump for water. Yes, we know how to prioritize.
We were out of power for about 30 hours. It was the longest 30 hours of my life. I don’t understand camping, or why you would do it. Where do you pee? How do you take a hot shower? Don’t you realize how difficult it is cooking everything on the grill? (not that I personally did any of the cooking) Do you really sleep on the ground?? I just don’t get it. Just like when I was 8 years old and attempting to “camp” in my backyard.
So yeah…we were roughing it this weekend. Cable TV and all.
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
A Reason (or Two) to Celebrate...With Wine!
Yesterday was a pretty rough day for me, there was lots of whining and complaining and general crabbiness. I didn’t get enough sleep the night before, and apparently my body’s reaction to that is an all-out ache. It almost feels like you have the flu, but there is no getting comfortable. And so everyone I know gets to hear about how miserable I am and how I just do not remember my last pregnancy being so awful.
After a drug-induced sleep and a decent morning, (except of course dealing with pink-eyed little screaming girl who wanted nothing to do with anything and I am surprised even woke up), I was driving to work. Late, due to aforementioned screaming child.
And that was when Mark Suppelsa told me something that makes me very, very happy. And makes other people I know happy too. He said a study recently came out that showed if a woman had a glass of wine every day during her pregnancy, then that led to more well-behaved children. And there are no other adverse effects. Hallelujah!! I can have wine! Red wine!! Yay!!! (And you can totally trust Mark. He’s the anchor on the WGN News at 5 & 9, but more importantly, he does the news on the Eric & Kathy show on the radio in the morning. So if he says it, it MUST be true.)
I’ve always been one to believe in moderation in all facets of life, but especially during pregnancy. I have a bit of caffeine every day, and chocolate, and sugar, and other not-good-for-you things. (OK, maybe a lot of chocolate and sugar) I’ll even eat lunch meat. But I always stayed away from the alcohol because they scare the shit out of you, with stories of Fetal Alcohol Syndrome and premature babies and generally being a terrible mother. And really…who wants to be a terrible mother? Not me.
So this story makes me happy. And that should make everyone I know happy.
On another happy note, my dad went to see Dr. Witt the Neurosurgeon yesterday. Last week he was released to the world from his occupational therapist. (He celebrated by taking my three nieces to the pool, away from the horrid heat of the garage sale that my mom and sister were having. And there were no travesties.) Dr. Witt told my dad he is now allowed to DRIVE and EXERCISE and GOLF. (OK, to be fair, he can’t swim yet, because he has a couple of little soft spots still in his skull. Like a baby!!) But even better…he can WORK. At a desk, but that is just what my pacing-the-floors-of-his-house father wanted to hear. Of course, he isn’t going back to work until he gets home from his fishing trip to Canada, of which he leaves this week. So that is major excitement in my parent’s world. I am sure that my mom is happy she no longer has to play chauffer, or entertainer, to my father. And I am sure that my father is happy that he can now chauffer and entertain himself.
Just over 3 months after his diagnosis, which was just over 3 months after he fell and whacked his head on the ice, my dad is well on his way to being 100%. What happened is exactly what I had hoped would happen. We found a problem and fixed it. It was fixable. (I’m such a boy in my thinking.) I know that many people have health problems that aren’t fixable, or are ongoing, and don’t get better in roughly 3 months after 2 brain surgeries. I know how lucky we are.
Tonight, I think I’m going to toast to that.
After a drug-induced sleep and a decent morning, (except of course dealing with pink-eyed little screaming girl who wanted nothing to do with anything and I am surprised even woke up), I was driving to work. Late, due to aforementioned screaming child.
And that was when Mark Suppelsa told me something that makes me very, very happy. And makes other people I know happy too. He said a study recently came out that showed if a woman had a glass of wine every day during her pregnancy, then that led to more well-behaved children. And there are no other adverse effects. Hallelujah!! I can have wine! Red wine!! Yay!!! (And you can totally trust Mark. He’s the anchor on the WGN News at 5 & 9, but more importantly, he does the news on the Eric & Kathy show on the radio in the morning. So if he says it, it MUST be true.)
I’ve always been one to believe in moderation in all facets of life, but especially during pregnancy. I have a bit of caffeine every day, and chocolate, and sugar, and other not-good-for-you things. (OK, maybe a lot of chocolate and sugar) I’ll even eat lunch meat. But I always stayed away from the alcohol because they scare the shit out of you, with stories of Fetal Alcohol Syndrome and premature babies and generally being a terrible mother. And really…who wants to be a terrible mother? Not me.
So this story makes me happy. And that should make everyone I know happy.
On another happy note, my dad went to see Dr. Witt the Neurosurgeon yesterday. Last week he was released to the world from his occupational therapist. (He celebrated by taking my three nieces to the pool, away from the horrid heat of the garage sale that my mom and sister were having. And there were no travesties.) Dr. Witt told my dad he is now allowed to DRIVE and EXERCISE and GOLF. (OK, to be fair, he can’t swim yet, because he has a couple of little soft spots still in his skull. Like a baby!!) But even better…he can WORK. At a desk, but that is just what my pacing-the-floors-of-his-house father wanted to hear. Of course, he isn’t going back to work until he gets home from his fishing trip to Canada, of which he leaves this week. So that is major excitement in my parent’s world. I am sure that my mom is happy she no longer has to play chauffer, or entertainer, to my father. And I am sure that my father is happy that he can now chauffer and entertain himself.
Just over 3 months after his diagnosis, which was just over 3 months after he fell and whacked his head on the ice, my dad is well on his way to being 100%. What happened is exactly what I had hoped would happen. We found a problem and fixed it. It was fixable. (I’m such a boy in my thinking.) I know that many people have health problems that aren’t fixable, or are ongoing, and don’t get better in roughly 3 months after 2 brain surgeries. I know how lucky we are.
Tonight, I think I’m going to toast to that.
Monday, June 14, 2010
Cankles
Apparently everyone I know thought I was going to post a blog today, (OK, two people), so I'll tell a little story that both of those people have heard. (Since the uber-cute videos I posted the other day just weren't satisfying enough.)
Workaholic: "Aww...your ankles are a little swollen! You ARE pregnant!!"
Me: "You are so, so observant sweetheart." (as if the bowling ball on my belly wasn't the first indication) "I have to leave the room now to resist the urge to beat you."
But then I couldn't get off of the bed without help, and I just had to lie there and watch another How It's Made. Which is just another reason I am going crazy.
Workaholic: "Aww...your ankles are a little swollen! You ARE pregnant!!"
Me: "You are so, so observant sweetheart." (as if the bowling ball on my belly wasn't the first indication) "I have to leave the room now to resist the urge to beat you."
But then I couldn't get off of the bed without help, and I just had to lie there and watch another How It's Made. Which is just another reason I am going crazy.
Friday, June 11, 2010
Thursday, June 10, 2010
Writer's Workshop-Before I Was a Mom
Before I was a mom…I watched hours of TV every day. I had time for things like Days of Our Lives, Dancing With the Stars, and re-runs of Jon & Kate Plus 8.
Before I was a mom…I drank every weekend. Excessively. I loved going to see my Piano Man and Joe the Karaoke Man.
Before I was a mom…I didn’t shop online nearly as much. Shopping for a toddler is so much more fun than shopping for yourself.
Before I was a mom…I thought nothing of running 12 errands in one day. Now I wonder how I ever had the time to do that.
Before I was a mom…I never understood how my sister could nap at the same time as her kids and be coherent when she woke up.
Before I was a mom…I still hated going to the grocery store.
Before I was a mom…I was still overweight.
Before I was a mom, I had more time on my hands and less patience. I was less tired and more spontaneous.
Other than that…honestly? Not a whole lot has changed. Except the whole, almost-an-alcoholic thing.
I have a whole lot more knowledge about all things va-jay-jay than I did before.
I have encountered a whole mommyblogger world that I never knew existed before.
I have more guilt now than I ever knew or believed existed in this world.
But I wouldn’t change any of it. Not for a second.
Before I was a mom…I drank every weekend. Excessively. I loved going to see my Piano Man and Joe the Karaoke Man.
Before I was a mom…I didn’t shop online nearly as much. Shopping for a toddler is so much more fun than shopping for yourself.
Before I was a mom…I thought nothing of running 12 errands in one day. Now I wonder how I ever had the time to do that.
Before I was a mom…I never understood how my sister could nap at the same time as her kids and be coherent when she woke up.
Before I was a mom…I still hated going to the grocery store.
Before I was a mom…I was still overweight.
Before I was a mom, I had more time on my hands and less patience. I was less tired and more spontaneous.
Other than that…honestly? Not a whole lot has changed. Except the whole, almost-an-alcoholic thing.
I have a whole lot more knowledge about all things va-jay-jay than I did before.
I have encountered a whole mommyblogger world that I never knew existed before.
I have more guilt now than I ever knew or believed existed in this world.
But I wouldn’t change any of it. Not for a second.
Wednesday, June 9, 2010
Wordless Wednesday
Some fun pics...
On the boat, yes...she normally DOES wear a lifejacket!!
That is Sam with 8 week old Max. Yeah, he's going to be huge.
On the boat, yes...she normally DOES wear a lifejacket!!
That is Sam with 8 week old Max. Yeah, he's going to be huge.
Sam this morning with The Fonz. He was more interested in whatever was going on outside.
Friday, June 4, 2010
Pregnancy Sucks
I’m gonna give you a news flash, being pregnant is hard.
I know, I know. Duh, right? But apparently, from my first pregnancy to my second, I forgot a few things. Everyone would ask me about being pregnant, and be like, “Oh well, you have pretty easy pregnancies, right?” And yes, this is true. I have boring doctor’s appointments, I don’t have to give myself shots every day for any reason, and I never got morning sickness. So I totally psyched myself out when we were trying to get pregnant this time that I could handle it.
Another news flash…I am not handling it so well. First of all, when you get pregnant, you have to stop taking the fun drugs. The happy pills. And also the pills that make you better when you have a cold. (Aleve Cold & Sinus!! Ironically, you can’t take the particular drug not because of the meth ingredient in it, but because it contains naproxen. Weird.) Also, you get tired. Very, very tired. And when you have a very busy toddler to take care of, there is no napping. Or sitting down. And don’t let people lie and tell you that the second trimester is GREAT!! Bullshit. I have been just as tired throughout my second trimester as I was the first, and now that I am in my third, I am even more tired.
Another thing you forget about is the hormones. Mine have been crazy the past 7 months. Most of the time, I maintain a pretty level of low. I am not that “glowing” happy pregnant person. I am in a constant state of annoyance. I am one breath away from breaking my hand by punching drywall. My usual causes for aggravation are everyday interactions with people. I get exasperated when people who will not normally talk to me feel obligated to start a conversation with me simply because I am pregnant. This is how the conversation goes on my end. Every. Single. Time.
“I’m due in August. No, we don’t know what we’re having. Yes, it’s rare nowadays. Yes, we just think it is more fun that way. My daughter will be 19 months when the new baby is born. No, she doesn’t realize she is going to have a little brother/sister because she is 16 months old.”
Yesterday, someone (who is a very nice person and I really shouldn’t pick on) asked me when I was due. And then he asked me how the baby was. I assumed he meant my daughter, because while she is no infant, she is still my baby. I kind of thought we had covered the fetus part of the conversation. And when I said that she was fine, he was like, “OH! You are having a girl?!” This has happened more times than I can count. Not only did I cease to exist as a person when I became pregnant, and am simply a carrier for the parasite that is my baby in my belly, but now my daughter now ceases to exist as well. Which bothers me even more.
Another thing about being pregnant is that you gain weight. Again, duh. But I honestly think that I am about as big now as I was when I delivered Sam. And I have 10 weeks to go. Since I deal with the bowling ball that is attached to my belly (everyone says basketball…but basketballs are light, bowling balls are not) on a 24 hour a day basis, my patience when people bring it up is starting to wear a bit thin. My typical response is “Yep, I’m fat.” PEOPLE, if you know me in real life, this is NOT me fishing for a compliment. I have recently (as in yesterday) realized that it comes across sounding as though I need a pep talk. Or maybe I am just making people feel really awkward and they don’t know how to respond, so to fill the void, they say things like “Oh, you look great!” or “You are supposed to gain weight, you are pregnant!” or “You have to gain weight so you’ll have a healthy baby!”
I know of all these things. They are not news flashes. And I’ve been telling myself these things for the past few weeks. But when you are lying in bed, and you want to roll over, and you feel as though you have to grab your belly and throw it across the room simply so you can lie on your left side, well…all I am saying is, sometimes it gets old. And when you stand up (because lying down is uncomfortable) and it feels, literally, like you have a bowling ball attached to your stomach, and you can’t take it off, and it’s hanging there hurting your back and your legs and your shoulders, well…it makes you want to cry. I asked Workaholic last night if he could carry the load for a while, and he put out his hand and then laughed at me. Ass.
Then there are the things that you don’t talk about. Things that have to do with bathrooms, and the lack of productive time I’ve been spending in one. I brought it up to my doctor a few weeks ago, and at my last appointment, I had to bring it up again. And, I shit you not, (HAHAHA!!) I am on a regimen. A full on, three over-the-counter medicines, regimen. It took a few days to kick in, and while I am far from perfect, at least I no longer feel as though I am carrying the crap for everyone in the US around inside of me.
Which one would think would make me feel better. But now I am in the part of the pregnancy where you don’t get a straight 8 hours sleep. I wake up every day between 4 and 5 am. I don’t know why, although lately a nature call is usually involved. The other night, we had a terrible storm, and I woke up a few minutes before it started and then wandered around the house during the whole thing. Me + not enough sleep = very crabby Gail. If you had any doubt about that, please read the 8 paragraphs above.
I know things will be better, yet worse, after I have the baby. But at least I will be able to drink. For now, I may just go into hiding.
I know, I know. Duh, right? But apparently, from my first pregnancy to my second, I forgot a few things. Everyone would ask me about being pregnant, and be like, “Oh well, you have pretty easy pregnancies, right?” And yes, this is true. I have boring doctor’s appointments, I don’t have to give myself shots every day for any reason, and I never got morning sickness. So I totally psyched myself out when we were trying to get pregnant this time that I could handle it.
Another news flash…I am not handling it so well. First of all, when you get pregnant, you have to stop taking the fun drugs. The happy pills. And also the pills that make you better when you have a cold. (Aleve Cold & Sinus!! Ironically, you can’t take the particular drug not because of the meth ingredient in it, but because it contains naproxen. Weird.) Also, you get tired. Very, very tired. And when you have a very busy toddler to take care of, there is no napping. Or sitting down. And don’t let people lie and tell you that the second trimester is GREAT!! Bullshit. I have been just as tired throughout my second trimester as I was the first, and now that I am in my third, I am even more tired.
Another thing you forget about is the hormones. Mine have been crazy the past 7 months. Most of the time, I maintain a pretty level of low. I am not that “glowing” happy pregnant person. I am in a constant state of annoyance. I am one breath away from breaking my hand by punching drywall. My usual causes for aggravation are everyday interactions with people. I get exasperated when people who will not normally talk to me feel obligated to start a conversation with me simply because I am pregnant. This is how the conversation goes on my end. Every. Single. Time.
“I’m due in August. No, we don’t know what we’re having. Yes, it’s rare nowadays. Yes, we just think it is more fun that way. My daughter will be 19 months when the new baby is born. No, she doesn’t realize she is going to have a little brother/sister because she is 16 months old.”
Yesterday, someone (who is a very nice person and I really shouldn’t pick on) asked me when I was due. And then he asked me how the baby was. I assumed he meant my daughter, because while she is no infant, she is still my baby. I kind of thought we had covered the fetus part of the conversation. And when I said that she was fine, he was like, “OH! You are having a girl?!” This has happened more times than I can count. Not only did I cease to exist as a person when I became pregnant, and am simply a carrier for the parasite that is my baby in my belly, but now my daughter now ceases to exist as well. Which bothers me even more.
Another thing about being pregnant is that you gain weight. Again, duh. But I honestly think that I am about as big now as I was when I delivered Sam. And I have 10 weeks to go. Since I deal with the bowling ball that is attached to my belly (everyone says basketball…but basketballs are light, bowling balls are not) on a 24 hour a day basis, my patience when people bring it up is starting to wear a bit thin. My typical response is “Yep, I’m fat.” PEOPLE, if you know me in real life, this is NOT me fishing for a compliment. I have recently (as in yesterday) realized that it comes across sounding as though I need a pep talk. Or maybe I am just making people feel really awkward and they don’t know how to respond, so to fill the void, they say things like “Oh, you look great!” or “You are supposed to gain weight, you are pregnant!” or “You have to gain weight so you’ll have a healthy baby!”
I know of all these things. They are not news flashes. And I’ve been telling myself these things for the past few weeks. But when you are lying in bed, and you want to roll over, and you feel as though you have to grab your belly and throw it across the room simply so you can lie on your left side, well…all I am saying is, sometimes it gets old. And when you stand up (because lying down is uncomfortable) and it feels, literally, like you have a bowling ball attached to your stomach, and you can’t take it off, and it’s hanging there hurting your back and your legs and your shoulders, well…it makes you want to cry. I asked Workaholic last night if he could carry the load for a while, and he put out his hand and then laughed at me. Ass.
Then there are the things that you don’t talk about. Things that have to do with bathrooms, and the lack of productive time I’ve been spending in one. I brought it up to my doctor a few weeks ago, and at my last appointment, I had to bring it up again. And, I shit you not, (HAHAHA!!) I am on a regimen. A full on, three over-the-counter medicines, regimen. It took a few days to kick in, and while I am far from perfect, at least I no longer feel as though I am carrying the crap for everyone in the US around inside of me.
Which one would think would make me feel better. But now I am in the part of the pregnancy where you don’t get a straight 8 hours sleep. I wake up every day between 4 and 5 am. I don’t know why, although lately a nature call is usually involved. The other night, we had a terrible storm, and I woke up a few minutes before it started and then wandered around the house during the whole thing. Me + not enough sleep = very crabby Gail. If you had any doubt about that, please read the 8 paragraphs above.
I know things will be better, yet worse, after I have the baby. But at least I will be able to drink. For now, I may just go into hiding.
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