I love getting presents. It's probably one of the worlds greatest feelings, you know, besides being loved, blah, blah, blah. But no, really. Especially when it's unexpected. So, I know I have yet to post my registry anywhere, only because I thought perhaps it was a bit too soon in the game. However, I did tell Jessi and my Mom, and I would definitely tell people if they asked. Nate asked and so I, of course, told him. You know what he did!!!! HE BOUGHT ME A PRESENT!!!!!!! And a super sweet present at that. I'm going with the whole Classic Pooh theme for Baby Jerinic, and I had on my registry a Classic Pooh stroller. It was probably one of the things I wanted most on my registry, and NATE TOTALLY GOT IT FOR BABY JERINIC!!!!!!!! He/she is going to be riding around in style thanks to his loving Auntie Nate. I'm so excited. WOO HOO!!!!!!!!! I can't wait for it to get to my mom's house, and then I can't wait to see it in December (yeah, that's the next time I'm going to be home).
AND this past weekend while I was home Jessi brought me a pregnancy gift bag, filled with goodies not only for Baby J, but also for me. Let's see if i can remember everything: Nipple Cream (not just for nursing, but for tender nipples anytime of the year), those plastic thingies that you put in light sockets (so in case Little J feels the need to grab a fork and shove it into the closest light socket), those things that hold cabinet doors closed (so that baby doesn't get into our cleaning supplies), those things that you put into the back seat windows of your car that block out the sun, the car sign that says "Baby on board" in a yellow warning triangle, um, and some other stuff that I just can't remember at the moment. I can't wait to use the nipple cream.
My grandma also got me a present. It's a giant pillow that can be manipulated into all sorts of different positions, perfect for sleeping on your side, or nursing, or just sitting up in bed with some back support. Think boppy meets the husband pillows meet the body pillow and you'll know what I'm talking about.
For those of you who are wondering, the only registry I have at the moment is at Target, under Baby Registry.
I know you're all looking forward to hearing about my ultrasound, but tonight I'm just too tired. It's been such a long week, and I still have a ton of work to do tonight and tomorrow. So, I'll pick it up from here.
Tuesday, October 30, 2007
Monday, October 29, 2007
There is nothing like the soft pitter-patter that is your unborn child's heartbeat...
I heard baby Jerinic's heart beat and it was the most beautiful sound in the world. I had a pre-natal visit on Thursday, the 12 week visit, and apparently at 12 weeks you can hear the heartbeat. I was kind of sad though, because I thought this time was just going to be going in and doing the regular check-up sort of deal, and so I didn't have my roomie come with me, so he missed out. But on Wednesday I go in to have my first ULTRASOUND!!!!! I'm so excited. I can't wait to see the little bean shaped fetus that is my offspring. This is just a routine ultrasound where they verify my due-date and how far along I am and what not. I'm hoping we get a sonogram picture as well, but I'm not sure if they do that yet. Darko is definitely going to go with me this time. I want to hear the heart beat again. It's so cool. They put the microphone thingie up against your abdomen and you start hearing lots of weird gross sounds coming from your belly and then you hear a heart beat, but the doctor tells you it's yours, and then all of a sudden, you hear this heart beat, that if it were in a normal person would indicate that they'd just finished running a marathon. A fetus's heart beat is super fast, but apparently that's healthy. It was really cool.
I was in Northern Virginia on Saturday because my sister's fiance's mom's sister was throwing Jessi a bridal shower, and as her maid of honor, I was required to be there. I'm going to go ahead and skip over how the shower was, and just say that the one I'm throwing in January for her, hopefully, will be better. After the shower though, Jessi had mom, grandma and me attend a Mary Kay party with her best friend Sara as the Independent Beauty Consultant. I was pleased with the results, and thus bought some of their products. Now, I know what you all are thinking. Mary Kay? How hoky right? But actually the skin-care products were really nice. Ever since I got pregnant my oil glands have been working over time, resulting in more zits on my pretty little face than I've had since I was around 15, seriously, and I figured what I usually do isn't working, so Mary Kay can't hurt. I bought the cleanser, the moisturizer, and the foundation from Time-wise, which is supposed to cut down on the lines and wrinkles in your face. Not that I have wrinkles at the moment, but isn't it better to start now then to wait until you actually have wrinkles? And also, if I like the Mary Kay line, I have Birthday and Christmas present ideas for the rest of my life. Know what I mean. I'll keep you guys posted on how it all works.
I was a little bit excited to go to Nova this weekend and one reason for that is I haven't seen the inside, well, or outside for that matter, of a Starbucks in roughly three months, and if I had to go one more week without spending some time in Target I was going to go crazy. I had starbucks three times while I was up there, Tropical smoothie once, and we spent two hours in the Target in Charlotesville on the way home yesterday. I've desperately needed sunglasses since I lost mine the first couple weeks we were in Grundy. Isaac Mizrahi makes the best line of sunglasses for Target. For the past, oh, two years or so, that's all I've been wearing. And again, he doesn't fail. I found the cutest, biggest pair of sunglasses that not only blocks my eyes from harmfull UV rays, but also covers half my face on days when I refuse to shower. They are perfect. Since the sun is finally shining after a week of rain, the glasses couldn't have come at a better time.
I know this is a short one, but I have to be in class in 10 minutes. So, I'll sign off for now, and if I think of anything else I'd like to say then I will write later this evening.
Oh, I forgot. When I went to the Dr. they weighed me, of course, and I had only gained 1/2 a pound in the past month, which to me was UNBELIEVABLE considering the imense amount of Hardees Hashbrowns I've consumed in the past few weeks.
I was in Northern Virginia on Saturday because my sister's fiance's mom's sister was throwing Jessi a bridal shower, and as her maid of honor, I was required to be there. I'm going to go ahead and skip over how the shower was, and just say that the one I'm throwing in January for her, hopefully, will be better. After the shower though, Jessi had mom, grandma and me attend a Mary Kay party with her best friend Sara as the Independent Beauty Consultant. I was pleased with the results, and thus bought some of their products. Now, I know what you all are thinking. Mary Kay? How hoky right? But actually the skin-care products were really nice. Ever since I got pregnant my oil glands have been working over time, resulting in more zits on my pretty little face than I've had since I was around 15, seriously, and I figured what I usually do isn't working, so Mary Kay can't hurt. I bought the cleanser, the moisturizer, and the foundation from Time-wise, which is supposed to cut down on the lines and wrinkles in your face. Not that I have wrinkles at the moment, but isn't it better to start now then to wait until you actually have wrinkles? And also, if I like the Mary Kay line, I have Birthday and Christmas present ideas for the rest of my life. Know what I mean. I'll keep you guys posted on how it all works.
I was a little bit excited to go to Nova this weekend and one reason for that is I haven't seen the inside, well, or outside for that matter, of a Starbucks in roughly three months, and if I had to go one more week without spending some time in Target I was going to go crazy. I had starbucks three times while I was up there, Tropical smoothie once, and we spent two hours in the Target in Charlotesville on the way home yesterday. I've desperately needed sunglasses since I lost mine the first couple weeks we were in Grundy. Isaac Mizrahi makes the best line of sunglasses for Target. For the past, oh, two years or so, that's all I've been wearing. And again, he doesn't fail. I found the cutest, biggest pair of sunglasses that not only blocks my eyes from harmfull UV rays, but also covers half my face on days when I refuse to shower. They are perfect. Since the sun is finally shining after a week of rain, the glasses couldn't have come at a better time.
I know this is a short one, but I have to be in class in 10 minutes. So, I'll sign off for now, and if I think of anything else I'd like to say then I will write later this evening.
Oh, I forgot. When I went to the Dr. they weighed me, of course, and I had only gained 1/2 a pound in the past month, which to me was UNBELIEVABLE considering the imense amount of Hardees Hashbrowns I've consumed in the past few weeks.
Wednesday, October 24, 2007
Have I mentioned I hate Law School?
Today has not been a particularly good day. It started out alright. I woke up early, had some breakfast, and made it to class on time. But that's where the good parts of the day started to dwindle. Wednesdays are the worst days for me. I have classes from 8:30-12:15 and then from 1:30-3:30, all in the same classroom. That's right. For roughly five hours every wednesday I get to sit in the second row, first seat, of the appellate courtroom. It's tons of fun. Today was better than most Wednesdays, however, because my 1:30 class was cancelled. I was then able to enjoy a nice lunch of Chinese Food with the roomie, something we haven't done in a while. But again, things went downhill from there.
For the past, oh, month or so, Darko has had the sleeping habits of a vampire. That is, he sleeps during the day and is awake all night. We've done numerous things to try and rid him of this habit. Sleeping pills, trying to stay awake the entire day after staying up all night, but nothing has worked. Yesterday he went to sleep around 2:30 in the afternoon, and I hoped that he would sleep, if not entirely through the night, at least until sometime in the wee hours of the morning. He woke up at 9:00 p.m., and as he walked from our bedroom to the living room, where I was sitting, I thought to myself "Damnit, another sleepless night". But, luckily, I had taken a nap early in the day, so I was able to stay awake for a little while longer than I usually did, so when I went to bed, Darko decided to join me for a while, and subsequently fell asleep for a few hours. I am under the impression that I have a magic essence for giving him everything he needs in life. But maybe I'm just being dramatic. I was so excited waking up today because I figured after sleeping during the night, surely he'd be able to stay awake for the entire day and go to bed at a reasonable time.
Well, no. He asked me to watch basketball with him around 4:00 p.m. I don't really like basketball, so I left him to go do my own thing, and he fell asleep. I tried to wake him up, but he got a bit snippy with me, and so I left him alone. He woke up at 9:30, but claims he'll be able to go to sleep again tonight. I'm interested to see if he really does. But the thing is, I need him awake tomorrow because I have a doctor's visit, and I'd like for him to be there, if you know what I mean. Moral support and all while I'm being probed. Maybe I can slip a Tylenol P.M. into his milk or something, just to help him a little sleep tonight.
Our roof is leaking. It's been raining the past two days non-stop, and I was walking through our kitchen today and walked right through a puddle and thought "Did I spill water while washing the dishes?" But then I looked up and it was definitely coming from the ceiling. So, I grabbed a bucket and threw it under the leak so that it's not spilling on our kitchen floor. It's not a huge leak, only a drop every 2 seconds or so, but it's still a leak, and it's really annoying. And it's not like there's anything that can be done about it at the moment, considering it's still raining, but the thing is, it's supposed to rain for the next three days and we're supposed to be headed to Nova this weekend. What do we do if the bucket overflows? That'll be lovely to come home to. The only silver lining is that we don't own this place, so it's not like we have to pay to get it fixed, unless of course our stuff gets ruined because of it.
While the roomate was sleeping I went to the library to do some work that is due early next week, so I wouldn't be rushing to do it Sunday night when I get home. I'm so serious when I say this, I almost burned down the entire school. I spent probably an hour looking for one case. One case that my professor swears is in this one random digest that I was supposed to be able to get to by looking in the Index, which is an entirely different book, by the way, then the digest itself. I could not find the case. At all. And after looking through the book for roughly the 20th time I said "Fuck this", and left.
That was my justification for driving through Hardees on the way home. The fact that I have had such a bad day, and also, because Baby Jerinic LOVES french fries.
But, even though I had a bad day, I can't complain that much, because there are people out there who have it much worse than me.
So, my mother has this disease called Crohn's (sorry mom, if you didn't want the entire world to know that, and by the entire world, I really only mean Maura, Nate, Kelly, and well, Jessi). It's a disease that affects your intestines and can cause severe inflammation in your digestive tract. In a lot of cases it can be a fairly mild problem, however, there are some cases I've heard in which a person has to be fed through an I.V. because their systems cannot digest food correctly at all. When my mom was 30 she had a flare up of the disease and had to have a pretty basic surgery that removed a portion of her intestines and her appendex. According to the internet this is a pretty standard surgery for Crohn's patients. Luckily, everything went well with the surgery and my mom is fairly healthy considering she lives with Crohns on a daily basis. However, I heard something yesterday that sent shivers down my spine, because it hit a bit close to home. There was this girl named Lyndsay who went to VCU. Maura, you already know who I'm talking about, and I'm sure Nate and Kelly would remember her. She was a pretty, skinny, blonde girl who went to the gym on a regular basis. I was never really good friends with her, but she was always nice to me when she came to the gym. Apparently last year she was diagnosed with Crohns, and on August 3rd of this year she underwent a surgery to remove a portion of her intestines, much like my mother. However, unlike in my mother's case, there were complications with her surgery. She came down with a bacterial infection which would eventually lead to the amputation of her arms and legs due to poor circulation caused by the infection. She remains in intensive care. When I heard that it made me really sad, and even though I didn't know this girl very well, I kind of wish I had.
It's stories like this that make me wish I was a better person, you know, one who DOESN'T complain about the fact that she can't find a book in the library, because at least I am healthy enough to go to the library, and so are all the important people in my life, and for that I am lucky.
For the past, oh, month or so, Darko has had the sleeping habits of a vampire. That is, he sleeps during the day and is awake all night. We've done numerous things to try and rid him of this habit. Sleeping pills, trying to stay awake the entire day after staying up all night, but nothing has worked. Yesterday he went to sleep around 2:30 in the afternoon, and I hoped that he would sleep, if not entirely through the night, at least until sometime in the wee hours of the morning. He woke up at 9:00 p.m., and as he walked from our bedroom to the living room, where I was sitting, I thought to myself "Damnit, another sleepless night". But, luckily, I had taken a nap early in the day, so I was able to stay awake for a little while longer than I usually did, so when I went to bed, Darko decided to join me for a while, and subsequently fell asleep for a few hours. I am under the impression that I have a magic essence for giving him everything he needs in life. But maybe I'm just being dramatic. I was so excited waking up today because I figured after sleeping during the night, surely he'd be able to stay awake for the entire day and go to bed at a reasonable time.
Well, no. He asked me to watch basketball with him around 4:00 p.m. I don't really like basketball, so I left him to go do my own thing, and he fell asleep. I tried to wake him up, but he got a bit snippy with me, and so I left him alone. He woke up at 9:30, but claims he'll be able to go to sleep again tonight. I'm interested to see if he really does. But the thing is, I need him awake tomorrow because I have a doctor's visit, and I'd like for him to be there, if you know what I mean. Moral support and all while I'm being probed. Maybe I can slip a Tylenol P.M. into his milk or something, just to help him a little sleep tonight.
Our roof is leaking. It's been raining the past two days non-stop, and I was walking through our kitchen today and walked right through a puddle and thought "Did I spill water while washing the dishes?" But then I looked up and it was definitely coming from the ceiling. So, I grabbed a bucket and threw it under the leak so that it's not spilling on our kitchen floor. It's not a huge leak, only a drop every 2 seconds or so, but it's still a leak, and it's really annoying. And it's not like there's anything that can be done about it at the moment, considering it's still raining, but the thing is, it's supposed to rain for the next three days and we're supposed to be headed to Nova this weekend. What do we do if the bucket overflows? That'll be lovely to come home to. The only silver lining is that we don't own this place, so it's not like we have to pay to get it fixed, unless of course our stuff gets ruined because of it.
While the roomate was sleeping I went to the library to do some work that is due early next week, so I wouldn't be rushing to do it Sunday night when I get home. I'm so serious when I say this, I almost burned down the entire school. I spent probably an hour looking for one case. One case that my professor swears is in this one random digest that I was supposed to be able to get to by looking in the Index, which is an entirely different book, by the way, then the digest itself. I could not find the case. At all. And after looking through the book for roughly the 20th time I said "Fuck this", and left.
That was my justification for driving through Hardees on the way home. The fact that I have had such a bad day, and also, because Baby Jerinic LOVES french fries.
But, even though I had a bad day, I can't complain that much, because there are people out there who have it much worse than me.
So, my mother has this disease called Crohn's (sorry mom, if you didn't want the entire world to know that, and by the entire world, I really only mean Maura, Nate, Kelly, and well, Jessi). It's a disease that affects your intestines and can cause severe inflammation in your digestive tract. In a lot of cases it can be a fairly mild problem, however, there are some cases I've heard in which a person has to be fed through an I.V. because their systems cannot digest food correctly at all. When my mom was 30 she had a flare up of the disease and had to have a pretty basic surgery that removed a portion of her intestines and her appendex. According to the internet this is a pretty standard surgery for Crohn's patients. Luckily, everything went well with the surgery and my mom is fairly healthy considering she lives with Crohns on a daily basis. However, I heard something yesterday that sent shivers down my spine, because it hit a bit close to home. There was this girl named Lyndsay who went to VCU. Maura, you already know who I'm talking about, and I'm sure Nate and Kelly would remember her. She was a pretty, skinny, blonde girl who went to the gym on a regular basis. I was never really good friends with her, but she was always nice to me when she came to the gym. Apparently last year she was diagnosed with Crohns, and on August 3rd of this year she underwent a surgery to remove a portion of her intestines, much like my mother. However, unlike in my mother's case, there were complications with her surgery. She came down with a bacterial infection which would eventually lead to the amputation of her arms and legs due to poor circulation caused by the infection. She remains in intensive care. When I heard that it made me really sad, and even though I didn't know this girl very well, I kind of wish I had.
It's stories like this that make me wish I was a better person, you know, one who DOESN'T complain about the fact that she can't find a book in the library, because at least I am healthy enough to go to the library, and so are all the important people in my life, and for that I am lucky.
Monday, October 22, 2007
Did I Mention I was Hungry?
Today I'm going to discuss a few seemingly un-related topics. However, I promise that they are related in the sense that they are all fairly important to me at the moment.
The first of which, is the shout out to my wonderful sister Jessi, who is always supportive of my decisions, well, maybe not ALWAYS, even though she says she is, but you know what I mean. My only sister is getting married on March 15. I, as her Maid of Honor, am blessed with the chance to throw her, not only a bridal shower, but a bachelorette party as well. For those of you who know me, you may think that I am not excited about this. On the contrary, I can't wait. I love throwing parties. Well, maybe not LOVE, but at least like a lot. It helps that I have my mother's input in everything, because, well, Law School sucks ass (if you don't already know), and it's difficult to find time to wash dishes, let alone plan two unforgettable parties (as I sit here writing my blog, when I'm SURE there is a case somewhere that needs briefing, but no, really, I'm busy). However, I plan on throwing the most fantastic party EVER!!!! We're holding it at the school to reduce clean up time for us (plus they cater everything), and it's going to be decorated, of course, in the colors of the wedding. And what bridal shower wouldn't be complete without Games. I'm so gonna rock at the "Who Knows Jessi Best" Questionaire. The last shower I threw, two years ago for the BFF Toni was fun, and would have been a LOT more fun, had we not invited a few specific guests. SO, after the shower, of course is going to be the bachelorette party. Now, I know what you're thinking, isn't it going to be a bit soon for the party? Well, in most cases yes. But those cases do not involve the Maid of Honor, who, not only is in Law School (do I need to reiterate the busyness?), but who is in Law School in BFE, and who does not like driving through the mountains, especially not more than is absolutely necessary. So, it seemed the best idea to do it all in one go. At the moment everything seems to be going smoothly. Now, if we can just figure out how NOT to invite this one specific guest that Jessi insists be on the list.
The last couple of weeks Darko and I have been going through the fantastically fun immigration process. Oh yeah, baby, it just gives me shivers. I had an idea of how time consuming and frustrating this whole process would be, but not to this extent. It involves form, after form, after form, complete with document, after document, after document that has to be filed with the forms. With all the information we have to give the U.S. Government, I'm kind of scared that we're signing away our first born. However, we may have to SELL our first born in able to pay to file the forms. Not only does the Gov. consume hours and hours of your time with this process, but it also screws you up the ass for money. And it's not like we pay this money and then if they deny his application we get it back. Oh no no. That money is gone. So there's a possiblity that he will be kicked out of the country, AND we'll lose the down payment on a house. I'm pretty sure the people at USCIS (Former INS) know us by name now, considering the number of times we've called asking questions along the lines of "Do we REALLY need to pay $350 for a re-entry permit, when he's not even planning on leaving the country for the next three years?" and "Now when you say refugee, is that something that needs to be issued by a specific office?" or "If he decides he doesn't need to eat for the next three years, can I be a sponsor if I don't meet the income requirements?", etc, etc. I'll be happy when this process is over. Wish us luck.
I'm hungry. No, really. I'm hungry ALL THE TIME!!!! And after I eat, I feel sick. There are about two hours a day during which my stomach does not hurt for some reason. I am either so hungry that my stomach feels like it's about to eat the baby for sustanance, or I feel like I'm about to throw up the food that I just ate. It's ridiculous. I can't find a happy medium. Seriously. The worst times are when I'm both, you know, hungry and feeling ill at the same time. Like right now, actually. I'm starving to death, but I'm still feeling a bit sick from the bowl of chicken noodle soup I ate an hour ago. I don't know what to do about it. There are also foods that I loved prior to being pregnant. However, here is a list of things my child refuses to let me enjoy anymore:
Pasta with marinara sauce
Chicken Noodles Soup
Eggs (even when Daddy makes them)
Toast with butter and honey
However, there are a few things the baby absolutely loves and cannot get enough of:
Pickles (Clausen)
Popsicles (preferably orange and purple)
Saltines
Potato Chips
Hardees hash browns
Bananas
I wonder if it's going to get worse than this.
I must end it here. My stomach is on the verge of consuming everything on the inside of my body, including baby Jerinic.
The first of which, is the shout out to my wonderful sister Jessi, who is always supportive of my decisions, well, maybe not ALWAYS, even though she says she is, but you know what I mean. My only sister is getting married on March 15. I, as her Maid of Honor, am blessed with the chance to throw her, not only a bridal shower, but a bachelorette party as well. For those of you who know me, you may think that I am not excited about this. On the contrary, I can't wait. I love throwing parties. Well, maybe not LOVE, but at least like a lot. It helps that I have my mother's input in everything, because, well, Law School sucks ass (if you don't already know), and it's difficult to find time to wash dishes, let alone plan two unforgettable parties (as I sit here writing my blog, when I'm SURE there is a case somewhere that needs briefing, but no, really, I'm busy). However, I plan on throwing the most fantastic party EVER!!!! We're holding it at the school to reduce clean up time for us (plus they cater everything), and it's going to be decorated, of course, in the colors of the wedding. And what bridal shower wouldn't be complete without Games. I'm so gonna rock at the "Who Knows Jessi Best" Questionaire. The last shower I threw, two years ago for the BFF Toni was fun, and would have been a LOT more fun, had we not invited a few specific guests. SO, after the shower, of course is going to be the bachelorette party. Now, I know what you're thinking, isn't it going to be a bit soon for the party? Well, in most cases yes. But those cases do not involve the Maid of Honor, who, not only is in Law School (do I need to reiterate the busyness?), but who is in Law School in BFE, and who does not like driving through the mountains, especially not more than is absolutely necessary. So, it seemed the best idea to do it all in one go. At the moment everything seems to be going smoothly. Now, if we can just figure out how NOT to invite this one specific guest that Jessi insists be on the list.
The last couple of weeks Darko and I have been going through the fantastically fun immigration process. Oh yeah, baby, it just gives me shivers. I had an idea of how time consuming and frustrating this whole process would be, but not to this extent. It involves form, after form, after form, complete with document, after document, after document that has to be filed with the forms. With all the information we have to give the U.S. Government, I'm kind of scared that we're signing away our first born. However, we may have to SELL our first born in able to pay to file the forms. Not only does the Gov. consume hours and hours of your time with this process, but it also screws you up the ass for money. And it's not like we pay this money and then if they deny his application we get it back. Oh no no. That money is gone. So there's a possiblity that he will be kicked out of the country, AND we'll lose the down payment on a house. I'm pretty sure the people at USCIS (Former INS) know us by name now, considering the number of times we've called asking questions along the lines of "Do we REALLY need to pay $350 for a re-entry permit, when he's not even planning on leaving the country for the next three years?" and "Now when you say refugee, is that something that needs to be issued by a specific office?" or "If he decides he doesn't need to eat for the next three years, can I be a sponsor if I don't meet the income requirements?", etc, etc. I'll be happy when this process is over. Wish us luck.
I'm hungry. No, really. I'm hungry ALL THE TIME!!!! And after I eat, I feel sick. There are about two hours a day during which my stomach does not hurt for some reason. I am either so hungry that my stomach feels like it's about to eat the baby for sustanance, or I feel like I'm about to throw up the food that I just ate. It's ridiculous. I can't find a happy medium. Seriously. The worst times are when I'm both, you know, hungry and feeling ill at the same time. Like right now, actually. I'm starving to death, but I'm still feeling a bit sick from the bowl of chicken noodle soup I ate an hour ago. I don't know what to do about it. There are also foods that I loved prior to being pregnant. However, here is a list of things my child refuses to let me enjoy anymore:
Pasta with marinara sauce
Chicken Noodles Soup
Eggs (even when Daddy makes them)
Toast with butter and honey
However, there are a few things the baby absolutely loves and cannot get enough of:
Pickles (Clausen)
Popsicles (preferably orange and purple)
Saltines
Potato Chips
Hardees hash browns
Bananas
I wonder if it's going to get worse than this.
I must end it here. My stomach is on the verge of consuming everything on the inside of my body, including baby Jerinic.
Sunday, October 21, 2007
And baby makes three...
Sorry this is all scrunched together. This blogger is a POS. But bear with me.
I'd first like to address the issue of when I will begin posting pics of my ever expanding belly. The short answer to that is not anytime soon. The reason for this is simple: I am a big girl, I always have been, and at this point I have very few qualms with that. However, as many big girls do, I have a tummy, and not a flat one at that. In the past year that tummy's gotten relatively smaller; however, it's still there. Now, at this point in my pregnancy I have begun to "show" in the sense that I am gaining weight, which in turn is emphasising that tummy and those rolls that I have worked so hard to get rid of. Now, until I start showing enough that those rolls start to smoothe out, no one is seeing my belly. You can tell a little bit in the picture below that I'm starting to stick out a bit more than I have in a while. If I can keep taking clothed pictures of my belly that make me look relatively cute, then you will continue to see them, however, I can't wait until I actually look pregnant, then I'll be taking pictures galore.
However, I will be glad to share some fun pictures of me and Daddy. We're always only by ourselves so we can't often take pics of the two of us, unless of course they are arms length, as with the following two.
Yes, I know, we're adorable.
I'd first like to address the issue of when I will begin posting pics of my ever expanding belly. The short answer to that is not anytime soon. The reason for this is simple: I am a big girl, I always have been, and at this point I have very few qualms with that. However, as many big girls do, I have a tummy, and not a flat one at that. In the past year that tummy's gotten relatively smaller; however, it's still there. Now, at this point in my pregnancy I have begun to "show" in the sense that I am gaining weight, which in turn is emphasising that tummy and those rolls that I have worked so hard to get rid of. Now, until I start showing enough that those rolls start to smoothe out, no one is seeing my belly. You can tell a little bit in the picture below that I'm starting to stick out a bit more than I have in a while. If I can keep taking clothed pictures of my belly that make me look relatively cute, then you will continue to see them, however, I can't wait until I actually look pregnant, then I'll be taking pictures galore.
However, I will be glad to share some fun pictures of me and Daddy. We're always only by ourselves so we can't often take pics of the two of us, unless of course they are arms length, as with the following two.
Yes, I know, we're adorable.
Next, I'd like to continue with the story of my "condition", and by "condition" I mean pregnancy.
We arrived in Grundy, Virginia on August 12, and I started school. Almost immediately upon his arrival, we reconviened our... um... "relationship"... if you know what I mean. Now, ever since we met practically we've talked about chillins. I honestly had hoped to be pregnant when I came back from the Emerald Isle. But that was not to be. Actually I started thinking that there was something wrong with one of us, considering the quanitity of relations we shared, and the complete lack of caution, and still nothing. So when he got here we didn't really think much of it. We did discuss the pill a time or two, but decided against that. We figured, if it happened we wouldn't be upset by it. And oh did it happen...
We went about our lives like normal people do. In the two weeks that followed his arrival, we had a bit of a rough time adapting and making sure we had done the right thing. We had a run in with a tennis court that led to a major fight, which then led into my questions about the last two weeks he was in Ireland, and his complete disclosure of the events. That was a hard night. At that point I was already pregnant, so had our fight been bad enough for him to leave, I would have been screwed. Thank the Lord baby Jesus, we were able to work through that, and life went on as normal.
Now, let me know if this is TMI for any of you, but I was supposed to be visited by Aunt Flow on August 28. On September 6th, I thought to myself "hmmm, I wonder what that's all about...", so I told my lover and we braced ourselves. I bought two pregnancy tests, and took one on September 6th, which was a Tuesday. I was actually super excited about it. And then it came out negative. And I felt defeated.
I tried not thinking about it, but it still made me wonder why I was late, and so I stopped all the medication I was taking and continued to cut back on Caffeine and all that wonderful stuff, and thought to myself "Ok, if I'm still late by Sunday, I'll take another test". Yeah, try going five days thinking about that. It's a lot of fun. Sunday rolls around, and it's around 5:30 in the morning and I feel the roomate slip out of bed beside me and I think "Well, I'm awake and it's Sunday. Shall we see what the ol' first response has to say?" I climed out of bed and headed for the bathroom. A 20 foot trip that would alter my life forever. I did the whole peeing on the stick thing, set it on the sink, and waited. There was the dark pink line that shows up on all tests, and then right beside it, there was a faint pink line, which made it a double pink line, which meant positive. So I ran into Darko and said "How many lines are here" and he said "I don't know, one... " and I was like "No, no... THERE'S TWO!!!!". And he just looked at me and said "What does that mean", and I just smiled, and he got the picture.
It was a little early to call my mother so I had to wait a few hours, but the second I could I called mom. I know you're supposed to wait and all, but how can I keep that from my mother. I went to the doctor that week, you know, just to make sure and all, and for those of you who don't know how they determine how far along you are, they count by the first day of your last period, which for me was July 29th. And then they count two weeks from that to determine when you're conception date was. So, by the time you know you're pregnant because of the whole aunt flow thing, you're already a month pregnant. And when you concieve you are already two weeks pregnant. It's weird, I know, but that's how they do it. So my conception date was August 12th. Darko arrived on August 10... yeah, we didn't waste much time, which means those two weeks prior to his arrival when I was close to a nervous breakdown, I was "pregnant". Unbelievable. When I went to the doctors they told me I was 5 weeks along. And now I'm 12 weeks, and happier than ever.
Now, I'm going to rant about American healthcare for a minute. So, on most healthcare plans you have to be on the plan for six months to a year before you can get pregnant. If you get pregnant before that, they refuse to pay for ANYTHING. NOTHING. So, while I was in Ireland I wasn't on any American healthcare plan. I got back at the end of May and immediately got health insurance. You do the math. At the end of August when I found out I was pregnant I had only been on health insurance for four months. That's right. I would not be insured for my pregnancy. That was a stressful period. We're fine now, and all insured and what not, but it was no easy feat. But what bothers me most about the whole situation is that a lot of women don't know about that whole waiting period thing. I mean, my mother didn't even know about it. She had more of an idea about it than I did, but she didn't know all the details. It just doesn't make sense to me. What if you aren't planning on getting pregnant and it just happens. Are you supposed to have an abortion because you're health isurance won't cover it. It really makes me angry. But Darko and Mom were so good about the whole situation. I kept thinking "We're going to have to go to Europe where I can get free healthcare", but my mom kept saying "Honey, we'll just make payments on it if we have to" and Darko kept saying "We'll pay for it somehow". They were both very supportive of the whole thing, and that made the situation much better. But everything is fine now.
After the inital doctor's visit, I went three weeks later, when I was 8 weeks, at which I got to pee in a cup, got probed and prodded, and stuck, and all that other fun stuff that goes along with an OBGYN visit. Yeah, that was nice, and everything was moving along as planned. I have my next visit on Thursday. I can't wait till I'm 20 weeks and we can find out the sex. I'm super excited about that.
So, that's it for now. Next time, the United States Government and Immigration nightmares.
Saturday, October 20, 2007
I'm 12 weeks tomorrow...
But I promise this entire post won't be about all that.
It's been about 6 months, give or take, since I've had this blog up and running. I know some of my very devout readers are wondering what's been going on, and why I've taken such a long hiatus. And by devout readers, I really mean Nate, Kelly, and Maura.
So, let's recap.
I spent a few months in Ireland living and working, as most of you know. Also, as most of you know, I met and fell in love with a beautiful Eastern European named Darko. We were inseperable for the duration of my stay, so when I had to leave I was devasted, as you probably can imagine. As I was walking onto the plane Darko promised, in a very movie like fashion, that we would be together again very soon. Because I'm such a realist, I did not believe him AT ALL.
I arrived back in the states on May 23rd, at 2 in the morning, after a delay out of Dublin made me miss my flight from Chicago to Washington D.C., and then trying to locate my bag after hugging my mother in D.C. Surprisingly, I didn't sleep the whole next day. It wasn't difficult for me to reaclimate myself to the time here in the states. The only problem for me was that I was still living 5 hours ahead of me. Every time I looked at the clock at home, my mind immediately went to what time it was in Dublin, and what my second half would be doing. When my love and I were talking about what was going to happen after I left, and he kept promising that he'd come to the states in September, my initial thoughts were 1) The best case scenario would be that we would talk for the first few weeks, and then realize we had nothing in common and stop talking all together, or 2) we would never talk again.
We kept in constant contact for the most part, and I was incredibly relieved. After the first couple of weeks I was actually able to talk on the phone with him without breaking out into hysterical sobs. That's improvement. The best days were when he would go to the internet cafe and we could talk for hours and hours for absolutely free. My moods during those periods were definitely based on the number of minutes I was able to talk with him. I know. I'm pathetic.
The rest of my summer pretty much went that way. I did everything in my power to keep myself busy, whether it was reading Harry Potter at Borders, or watching a ridiculous amount of television, to keep my mind off the fact that I was separated by an ocean from the man of my dreams. One of the best days of the summer was June 10, when he told me he had booked his flight to Washington D.C. for August 10. I was so excited. Then it hit me that I still had 2 months to go. I know I shouldn't be complainging about 2 months, that many couples have to endure MUCH longer periods of separation, but at that time 2 months felt like an eternity. I continued my daily routine, talking with him as much as possible, reading a lot, watching a lot of television, and preparing myself mentally for the horrible move I was about to make to the depths of hell. Grundy. However, I swore to myself that I would not go to Grundy by myself. If he didn't come, I was going to find a job in D.C. and get some use out of my masters degree.
Everything was going fine up until July 28th, two weeks before his expected arrival. The weekend of our gathering in Richmond. The worst two weeks of my life. He started hanging out with a girl. Yes, that's right, a girl. A girl that was not me, and when he started hanging out with her, and by "hanging out" I mean spending hours and hours with her, he stopped talking to me. In the two weeks up to his arrival we talked, probably two hours the whole time. He was so enamored by this girl that he didn't feel the need to call me and tell me how things were going. *Just a side note, I only had my suspicions that he was spending so much time with this girl, he never came out and told me, and I never came out and asked, because I'm a pussy that way. It wasn't until after he got here that I found out the complete truth. That he loved me and didn't want to lose me, so he didn't tell me what was going on and tried to keep some distance between both of his worlds. We had a pretty bad fight because of the lying. We're past that now, because we're adults, but it was hard. * If I could portray the hurt and sadness of those two weeks to you all, you guys would probably jump off the tallest building you could find. I've never understood the whole "can't eat, can't sleep" thing when it comes to relationships, but for those two weeks I slept on average 3 hours a night, and usually could only finish one bowl of soup the entire day. It was not a good period in my summer.
However, we did still talk enough that I didn't COMPLETELY lose hope. The day before he was supposed to get on the plane he called me and we talked for a few minutes and he said "I'm giving my phone to a friend, so I won't be able to talk to you until I see you" and I said "Are you kidding me, you're not going to be able to call me and tell me you got on the plane?" and he said "I guess not" and I said "So, the next time I talk to you you'll be getting off the plane? You better get off that plane because I'm driving all the way up there to meet you" and he just laughed and said "I'm confused. I'll see you soon". Yeah, let me tell you. THAT was not a good night.
His plane was due to arrive at 5 o'clock at Washington Dulles International Airport. The entire morning I was a complete nutcase. I piddled around town for a while just trying to stay calm and relaxed and not give myself an ulcer. I kept looking at the clock and thinking "O.K. if he didn't get on the plane wouldn't he at least have the decency to call me and tell me he didn't get on?" But I couldn't answer that question. I left my house at around 3 and got to the airport at 3:45. I was still a nervous wreck, and after buying a magazine that I found was too hard for me to read, I sat and I waited. I probably went to the bathroom 28 times the entire time I was at the airport.
His plane was delayed. At around 6 I asked the staff when it would be landing. They said around 6:30. While I was sitting there I met this really nice couple. It was an American girl and an Irish dude who were there to pick up some friends of his flying in from Dublin. We chatted for a while and I said I was there waiting for my man friend, and wasn't entirely sure if he had even gotten on the plane. They were super nice and that passed some time.
Finally, his flight landed, and because I wanted to be able to see when he walked through those double doors, I stood up and waited by the gate. It took him around 30 minutes after the plane landed to get through customs and find his luggage. The entire time I was waiting numerous scenarios were running through my head. I was so nervous, I seriously almost passed out because of all the adrenaline and blood rushing to my head. I almost cried 12 times just waiting for him to come out. My knuckles were white from gripping the hand rail so tightly.
Finally, he walked through. And I have never seen a more beautiful sight. His hair was different, and he had on a new sweatshirt, but that was my Darko and I was so happy and excited. But let me tell you . Our greetings to each other was not what you would see in a movie, you know, when the girl runs into the open arms of her lover and he picks her up and swings her around and they engage in a passionate kiss. No no. Our was more along the lines of smiling and giving each other a high five. We couldn't stand long where we were because there were people coming off the plane and it was a bit of a madhouse, so we just started walking to the car. After we got out into the parking lot I finally had him stop and give me a proper hug. I think both of us were a bit nervous at that point and we needed to get used to the fact that he was here, but by GOD!! HE WAS HERE!!!!
That night we were alone in my house because Pete's wedding was the next day and all the family had already gone down. So we spent the night getting used to each other again. And then the next morning we drove down to Staunton so he could meet my entire extended family and attend his first American wedding. I got plastered. And by plastered I mean falling down, can't remember a thing, plastered. It was probably after about the 10th rum and coke that I stopped remembering my name. Apparently trying to do the Electric slide was NOT a good idea after consuming that much alcohol. It was great. Darko caught the garder, which I don't remember, and had to put it on the sister of the bride, who caught the bouquette, which I don't remember either. Someone broke a glass and apparently I thought it would be a good idea to walk around without my shoes on. I woke up the next morning with my foot slashed open and a very mild hangover. I think the hangover was so mild because we went to bed at 9. Just so you know the duration of my drinking. The wedding wasn't until 7. Which means the reception didn't start until 7:30, I was in bed my 9:30. Gotta love open bars and not eating dinner.
But Darko made an amazing impression on my family. Everyone loved his accent and his Europeaness. He got along splendidly with my cousin Byron, and my mom was just thrilled that he was here in the first place.
I was happy. That feeling has lasted, minus a few fights here and there, and working through an insane issue. But I am glad he's here. We're living here in Grundy and having a blast.
Well, I'll finish for now. The next installment will be explaining how it is that within three days of his arrival, I was knocked up.
It's been about 6 months, give or take, since I've had this blog up and running. I know some of my very devout readers are wondering what's been going on, and why I've taken such a long hiatus. And by devout readers, I really mean Nate, Kelly, and Maura.
So, let's recap.
I spent a few months in Ireland living and working, as most of you know. Also, as most of you know, I met and fell in love with a beautiful Eastern European named Darko. We were inseperable for the duration of my stay, so when I had to leave I was devasted, as you probably can imagine. As I was walking onto the plane Darko promised, in a very movie like fashion, that we would be together again very soon. Because I'm such a realist, I did not believe him AT ALL.
I arrived back in the states on May 23rd, at 2 in the morning, after a delay out of Dublin made me miss my flight from Chicago to Washington D.C., and then trying to locate my bag after hugging my mother in D.C. Surprisingly, I didn't sleep the whole next day. It wasn't difficult for me to reaclimate myself to the time here in the states. The only problem for me was that I was still living 5 hours ahead of me. Every time I looked at the clock at home, my mind immediately went to what time it was in Dublin, and what my second half would be doing. When my love and I were talking about what was going to happen after I left, and he kept promising that he'd come to the states in September, my initial thoughts were 1) The best case scenario would be that we would talk for the first few weeks, and then realize we had nothing in common and stop talking all together, or 2) we would never talk again.
We kept in constant contact for the most part, and I was incredibly relieved. After the first couple of weeks I was actually able to talk on the phone with him without breaking out into hysterical sobs. That's improvement. The best days were when he would go to the internet cafe and we could talk for hours and hours for absolutely free. My moods during those periods were definitely based on the number of minutes I was able to talk with him. I know. I'm pathetic.
The rest of my summer pretty much went that way. I did everything in my power to keep myself busy, whether it was reading Harry Potter at Borders, or watching a ridiculous amount of television, to keep my mind off the fact that I was separated by an ocean from the man of my dreams. One of the best days of the summer was June 10, when he told me he had booked his flight to Washington D.C. for August 10. I was so excited. Then it hit me that I still had 2 months to go. I know I shouldn't be complainging about 2 months, that many couples have to endure MUCH longer periods of separation, but at that time 2 months felt like an eternity. I continued my daily routine, talking with him as much as possible, reading a lot, watching a lot of television, and preparing myself mentally for the horrible move I was about to make to the depths of hell. Grundy. However, I swore to myself that I would not go to Grundy by myself. If he didn't come, I was going to find a job in D.C. and get some use out of my masters degree.
Everything was going fine up until July 28th, two weeks before his expected arrival. The weekend of our gathering in Richmond. The worst two weeks of my life. He started hanging out with a girl. Yes, that's right, a girl. A girl that was not me, and when he started hanging out with her, and by "hanging out" I mean spending hours and hours with her, he stopped talking to me. In the two weeks up to his arrival we talked, probably two hours the whole time. He was so enamored by this girl that he didn't feel the need to call me and tell me how things were going. *Just a side note, I only had my suspicions that he was spending so much time with this girl, he never came out and told me, and I never came out and asked, because I'm a pussy that way. It wasn't until after he got here that I found out the complete truth. That he loved me and didn't want to lose me, so he didn't tell me what was going on and tried to keep some distance between both of his worlds. We had a pretty bad fight because of the lying. We're past that now, because we're adults, but it was hard. * If I could portray the hurt and sadness of those two weeks to you all, you guys would probably jump off the tallest building you could find. I've never understood the whole "can't eat, can't sleep" thing when it comes to relationships, but for those two weeks I slept on average 3 hours a night, and usually could only finish one bowl of soup the entire day. It was not a good period in my summer.
However, we did still talk enough that I didn't COMPLETELY lose hope. The day before he was supposed to get on the plane he called me and we talked for a few minutes and he said "I'm giving my phone to a friend, so I won't be able to talk to you until I see you" and I said "Are you kidding me, you're not going to be able to call me and tell me you got on the plane?" and he said "I guess not" and I said "So, the next time I talk to you you'll be getting off the plane? You better get off that plane because I'm driving all the way up there to meet you" and he just laughed and said "I'm confused. I'll see you soon". Yeah, let me tell you. THAT was not a good night.
His plane was due to arrive at 5 o'clock at Washington Dulles International Airport. The entire morning I was a complete nutcase. I piddled around town for a while just trying to stay calm and relaxed and not give myself an ulcer. I kept looking at the clock and thinking "O.K. if he didn't get on the plane wouldn't he at least have the decency to call me and tell me he didn't get on?" But I couldn't answer that question. I left my house at around 3 and got to the airport at 3:45. I was still a nervous wreck, and after buying a magazine that I found was too hard for me to read, I sat and I waited. I probably went to the bathroom 28 times the entire time I was at the airport.
His plane was delayed. At around 6 I asked the staff when it would be landing. They said around 6:30. While I was sitting there I met this really nice couple. It was an American girl and an Irish dude who were there to pick up some friends of his flying in from Dublin. We chatted for a while and I said I was there waiting for my man friend, and wasn't entirely sure if he had even gotten on the plane. They were super nice and that passed some time.
Finally, his flight landed, and because I wanted to be able to see when he walked through those double doors, I stood up and waited by the gate. It took him around 30 minutes after the plane landed to get through customs and find his luggage. The entire time I was waiting numerous scenarios were running through my head. I was so nervous, I seriously almost passed out because of all the adrenaline and blood rushing to my head. I almost cried 12 times just waiting for him to come out. My knuckles were white from gripping the hand rail so tightly.
Finally, he walked through. And I have never seen a more beautiful sight. His hair was different, and he had on a new sweatshirt, but that was my Darko and I was so happy and excited. But let me tell you . Our greetings to each other was not what you would see in a movie, you know, when the girl runs into the open arms of her lover and he picks her up and swings her around and they engage in a passionate kiss. No no. Our was more along the lines of smiling and giving each other a high five. We couldn't stand long where we were because there were people coming off the plane and it was a bit of a madhouse, so we just started walking to the car. After we got out into the parking lot I finally had him stop and give me a proper hug. I think both of us were a bit nervous at that point and we needed to get used to the fact that he was here, but by GOD!! HE WAS HERE!!!!
That night we were alone in my house because Pete's wedding was the next day and all the family had already gone down. So we spent the night getting used to each other again. And then the next morning we drove down to Staunton so he could meet my entire extended family and attend his first American wedding. I got plastered. And by plastered I mean falling down, can't remember a thing, plastered. It was probably after about the 10th rum and coke that I stopped remembering my name. Apparently trying to do the Electric slide was NOT a good idea after consuming that much alcohol. It was great. Darko caught the garder, which I don't remember, and had to put it on the sister of the bride, who caught the bouquette, which I don't remember either. Someone broke a glass and apparently I thought it would be a good idea to walk around without my shoes on. I woke up the next morning with my foot slashed open and a very mild hangover. I think the hangover was so mild because we went to bed at 9. Just so you know the duration of my drinking. The wedding wasn't until 7. Which means the reception didn't start until 7:30, I was in bed my 9:30. Gotta love open bars and not eating dinner.
But Darko made an amazing impression on my family. Everyone loved his accent and his Europeaness. He got along splendidly with my cousin Byron, and my mom was just thrilled that he was here in the first place.
I was happy. That feeling has lasted, minus a few fights here and there, and working through an insane issue. But I am glad he's here. We're living here in Grundy and having a blast.
Well, I'll finish for now. The next installment will be explaining how it is that within three days of his arrival, I was knocked up.
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