Pregnancy-Free Babies

I love being a Mom.

But I hate being pregnant.

I love giving birh. (Sue me.)

But I hate being pregnant.

My cousin has two little boys. One is a little younger than Kali, and the other is a little older than Jack. She’s expecting another baby this Summer.

Yesterday, I’m sure I weirded her out because I just kept staring at her belly. We both gave birth last year. And she’s going to do it again this year. I’m equal parts amazed and jealous.

I asked her yesterday, “Do you like being pregnant?” She just kinda shrugged.

Then I realized something.

She’s good at it! She’s good at being pregnant. If I were good at being pregnant, I’d be more inclined to do it again. But I’m not good at being pregnant. In fact, I fail miserably at it.

She is one of those pregnant women where everything on their body stays the same except the belly. Everything on me spreads like Miracle Whip. She gives birth and leaves the hospital in the jeans she wore in high school. I give birth and leave the hospital looking like I’m about to go into labor again. Ive never heard her complain while pregnant. I,on the other hand, complain loudly and often. Then I write blogs about it so hundreds can feel my pain. She also goes into labor, hops on the table, pops out the baby sans drugs, and then puts her feet up to watch a movie. I go into labor and I’m asking that they meet me in the parking lot with an epidural and tequila chaser.

I want another baby, I just don’t want to get pregnant to have it. I wouldn’t even mind having a baby soon. I just don’t want to get pregnant to have it.

I wish there was some way to convince my cousin to have a baby for me.

BIOBaby: What Did This Titty Ever Do To You?

Yesterday, Jack would not nurse from the left tit. He would either take a few sucks, and spit it out crying or he would just throw a fit when he realized I was positioning him for it. It got to the point where I’d be sitting there with my left tit’s nipple resting on his bottom lip as he howled crying, milk dripping helplessly from the nipple into his mouth where it just pooled there because he refused to stop screaming long enough to swallow it. He would only stop crying and eat when I switched him to the right booby.

In frustration I actually cried out loud, “What did this titty ever do to you!?”

At 10:30pm, after he’d been bathed and lotioned down I prepared to give him his final feeding of the night. I said a silent prayer that he would nurse from the left breast because it was full and ready to explode. When I presented it to him, he eyed it warily, yawned, and began to eat. It seemed this was due to boredom and sleepiness more than anything else.

Other Jack news… his man sized (and I mean old man sized) eyebrows have settled down. They’re still full, but a lot less bushy. And right around the same time he finally grew eyelashes! They are full and long and definitely passed down from his Daddy because whereas mine are long, they are not nearly this full.

He’s talking and laughing all the time. He shows definite recognition when Kali or Donny walks into the room. He doesn’t like blankets on him and will kick them off every time I try to cover him with them. He only remains covered when he’s sleeping and can do nothing about it.

Donny is trying to learn to hold him and do other things. He was holding Jack this morning and tried to call his mother, but gave up.

“I can’t hold you and use the phone at the same time, Jack.”

“Are you kidding me? I can hold him and write a blog, nurse him and IM my friends, I even breastfeed him while playing Halo!”

Amateur.

BIOBaby: There’s A Very Good Chance That…

… that Jack will be here on Monday!

Let me start from the beginning. When last we spoke I was going to have a late luncy/early dinner at a restaurant that claims their eggplant parmesan has sent hundreds (maybe thousands) of women into labor within 48 hours of consumption. So, we invited my Dad to meet us there and off we went.

I’m not crazy about eggplant parmesan, but the whole way to the restaurant (they thankfully have a location five minutes from my house) I was psyching myself up to eat the whole serving. I always get annoyed when the people on Fear Factor act like little bitches when trying to eat pig snout or horse testicles. Then again, I’d eat a monkey liver for $50,000 so I’m kind of a harsh critic. Anyway, I told myself that no matter what I’d eat the whole thing. It wasn’t bad. I suppose it was even good. I wouldn’t order it again, but desperate times and all that…

We spent the remainder of the evening playing Halo 3 with Mike, Bette, and Lew and farting and pooping. I think that’s the secret behind the eggplant parm. phenomenon. They probably cook it in castor oil to make your body expel everything in it including unborn babies.

Today was a rough day. Every day the pain gets worse. Walking is unbearable. I have to brace myself with deep breaths and by holding onto the sink just rise off the toilet. And I don’t like what it’s doing to my mood. Earlier today it got so bad I had to put my family out. That’s right. I kicked Kali and Donny out the house. I did it as nicely as possible though.  “Why don’t you and Daddy go do something fun?!”

There’s this new bowling alley arcade around the corner from us that we’ve been meaning to check out and I suggested they go there. I told them to take the camera so I’d feel like I was there. While they were gone I managed to make it up the stairs alone and take a shower. When they got back I went upstairs to try and nap in our bed for once. It was 4pm and I asked that Donny not let me sleep past 5. And if food could be ready at that time too, it would be great. I was feeling kinda hungry then, but I felt I needed sleep more and I knew after an hour I’d be downright ravenous.

I awoke at 4:54 with the worst pain on the right side of my back. This had happened once before a few weeks ago. All I could do was cry out in pain and try to move slowly into a sitting position. And to make matters worse, I had to pee. I literally crawled to the bathroom. I called out for Donny and Kali and got no answer. I figured they must be on their way back with dinner and would probably be coming upstairs any minute to wake me up. After about ten minutes I hobbled my way downstairs to find…

Kali and Donny playing Halo 3 with the TV loud as hell. I damn near lost my mind. Despite the pain I stomped back upstairs (nearly killing myself in the process.) When Donny came into the bedroom I told him it would be best for everyone if he just got the phone for me and then left me alone. I called the doctors’ answering service and got a call back from Dr. G2 (not the Dr. G I’ve spoken about before, but a female doc whose last name also starts with G.) I let loose with how bad the pain has gotten and how miserable I am. I told her that I didn’t think I could make it another week. My knees already feel like the knees of an 84 year old arthritic.

She said she was going to call the hospital and see if she could get me on the schedule for an induction on Monday or Tuesday morning and then call me back. She called back within three minutes and told me that I was on the schedule for Monday morning. We have to call labor and delivery at 6:30am and check to make sure there weren’t any emergencies or else they’d push my time back (there better not be!) and then be there by 7:30am if all is well. She said by 8am I’ll be all hooked up to an IV of pitocin.

THANK YOU SWEET JESUS, GOD, THE VIRGIN MARY, and (according to John McCain) BARACK OBAMA!

Tomorrow we’re going to go over all of our lists to make sure we’re ready, get the house in order, pack up the cameras, tripod, and my laptop… yup, they said I can bring my laptop to the hospital.  Kali will be with us until my Dad and Stepmom can pick her up around 5pm. We have no idea how long it will actually take, but hopefully not TOO long. I’m already dilated 2cms (at least as of last Tuesday… could be more by Monday) and my cervix is soft. Kali will sleep at my parents’ house at night and come hang with us in the hospital during the day. Hopefully, Jack will be here by Monday afternoon/night.

Of course, I could also go into labor naturally anytime between now and Monday morning. I mean, the eggplant still has about 24 hours to do it’s thing.

BIOBaby: Labor From Laughter

It’s nights like this that I really appreciate the family that I have, the life that we share, and the extra bonus of being able to share stories with you guys so I never forget them.

Donny and Kali decided awhile ago that they wanted Burger King. (I wrote this around 8:30pm and posted it around 9:30) I was personally looking forward to the homemade ziti Donny was going to prepare, but he cooks all the meals everyday so I figured if the man wanted a Whopper, let him have a Whopper. I also wanted to take a walk to help bring on the labor since I’m past the two weeks away mark.

We hit the park first. As we’re walking along the trail, about a good minute into our walk, I stop and say something that proves Kali’s famous saying, “My mother is sooo not a nature girl.”

“We ain’t gonna run into no mountain lions or anything, are we?”

“No, jackass.”

“Well, I’m just asking ’cause white folk always going hiking and running into animals and shit.”

“But I’m not white,” says Kali.

We continue on. And then after a few minutes I take a really good look at what Kali is wearing. During the school year, when I tell her to go pick out an outfit, she usually wears something she’s seen me put together for her many times before so we don’t have any problems. But at summertime I pay a little less attention. And when it’s summertime and Mommy is ready to pop out a baby… let’s just say the child has been getting away with fashion murder.

I stare at her outfit and start to laugh so hard I can barely walk and get the words out at the same time.

“Kali… you look like… a Puerto Rican.  You got a purple scrunchie in your hair, a lime green shirt, yellow pants, and hot pink flip-flops on.”

Tears are rolling down my face and Donny chimes in laughing, “And purple nail polish.” Quick as a whip Kali responds, “At least my scrunchie matches my nail polish.” Touche.

The walk is going well, but just as soon as I have the thought, “This isn’t so bad. I can walk all night,” my hands start to feel funny. I look at my palms and they’re all blotchy and I notice my fingers are beginning to swell. I show Donny and he says we had better turn around. The doctor warned that when I’m on my feet too much I’ll get the swollen hands and feet.

So, we get in the car and head to Burger King. The windows are down, we’re chatting and enjoying the scenery… you know, nice subdivisions, strip malls, and the occasional park. Kali is in the backseat glancing longingly at Jack’s carseat already strapped in behind me. She’s clutching her latest Build-a-Bear made last Friday after we saw Batman. We were passing the store when Donny suggested that Kali make a stuffed animal for Jack and of course she had to get something for herself. She settled on a panda she named Phil for Jack and a Siberian Husky named Scruff for her. She and Scruff were chilling in the backseat and Donny was driving with one hand alternately rubbing my leg and belly. Life is good.

We order our food from the drive-thru: a Whooper Jr. with cheese meal for me w/ onion rings, a triple Whooper w/cheese meal for Donny, a mac and cheese kids meal with milk for Kali, and two small chocoloate milk shakes (for me and Kali for later).. oh, and Donny gets a four piece chicken for some reason. We pull up to the next window and as the young black girl behind the counter starts to hand Donny our two sodas he asks, “Can I get a drink carrier?”

“For two drinks?” she asks in return.

At the same time that Donny responds, “Well, we have milkshakes and a milk too,” I completely lose it.

“What does it matter if it’s two drinks or four? Is there some kind of rule that I can’t a drink tray for two drinks?”

She closes the window to get the tray and I keep my head ducked so we can maintain eye contact and I know her ass could hear me through the window. My look told her, “Sistah, don’t make me get out this car and act my color. Your ass will be fired.” But what I said was…

“I’m pregnant and cranky and she best hand over the tray and shut the hell up.”

When she opens the window again to hand us the tray that holds ALL of our beverages she says, “Sorry ’bout that.” What-the-fuck-ever. When she leaves to get the rest of our food I tell Donny, “You better be watching to make sure that heifer don’t spit in my food.”

Donny checks the bag before pulling off and notices that my Whooper Jr. is missing. She comes back with it. We’re driving home when I’m still fuming about the audacity. Donny points out that all the fast food places in our area have a habit of fucking up. We think about it for a moment, naming the places we go to, and realize that it’s true. They’re all a bunch of fuck-ups.

Kali says, “Don’t make fun of the people that work in restaurants. I’m sure they try as hard as they can.”

Sweet Jesus. I’m raising a bleeding heart public defender. Watch.

We’re a few blocks from the house when I go to take a sip of my drink and the lid isn’t on properly so it dribbles down the front of one of two dresses that I wear.

“Son of a bitch! That’s it. I bet she did that on purpose. I’m about to go the fuck off. I’m going to kick her ass. Just wait till this baby gets here. I’m going back for her ass.”

And Kali and Donny laugh so hard it makes me laugh.

We notice that a carnival is still in town and all look at the empty ferris wheel spinning round and round.

“You wouldn’t catch my black ass on a ferris wheel.”

“Black!? How do you know it’s black?,” Kali asks from the backseat.

“‘Cause it’s my ass.”

“OH! I thought you said Jack’s. I was like, how do you know he’s going to be black? And I knew you weren’t talking about me ’cause I’m not black.”

“You’re not white. You’re not black. What are you?”

“Tan…. ish.”

And again, Donny and I are laughing so hard I have to clutch my big ole belly. Then after a moment of silence Kali says, “You know, most of the people I know are white.”

“Welcome to America,” Donny says.

We get home and discover that neither of our burgers have cheese and the chicken Donny ordered is sitting at the bottom of the bag. Not in any kind of container whatsoever. I call the number on the receipt. I inform the girl that I need to speak to a manager and the line is disconnected after I hold for a minute. I call back. I explain what happened and I’m put on hold again. Then…

“Burger King. This is Gretchen, can I help you?”

“I was holding to speak to a manager.”

“Yes?”

“Are you a manager?”

“Yes.”

“And you said your name was Gretchen…”

And then I went on to explain why I was so pissed. I told her that I normally would not have called back about the drink holder remark, but to get home and find that my food is all screwed up and it’s cold was the last straw. She takes down Donny’s name and says that if he comes in with the receipt they’ll redo the whole order.

So, Donny is there now and I’m typing this with Big Brother on pause ’cause I can’t watch it till he gets back. When Donny was leaving I told him, “And I want the whole order too. Just like she said. Drinks, milkshakes, everything.”

“Should I take the food back and give it to them”, he wants to know. I had already taken two bites outta my burger and Kali’s been upstairs watching some Hannah Montana movie with her food since the moment her feet hit the house.

“I don’t care. Kali’s is probably halfway gone and I’m not going to eat this burger.”

We’ll see what happens. I’m more amused than anything else. I finally got to take out my pent up misery on someone else. Lovely.

Now… where are these contractions?

BIOBaby: Hospitable Womb

Apparently that’s what I have because Jack is acting like he doesn’t want to budge.

I am trying to remain happy and positive, but it’s hard. This is probably tougher than the misery of the first trimester simply because we’re soooo close.

Also, I get these random contractions, but they never form any kind of pattern and never occur less than 30 minutes apart.

Kali was due on April 12th and that’s when she was born. I guess Jack is like, “Look, I’m paid up till August 9th and that’s how long I’m staying. In fact, you keep actin’ up and I just may extend my stay.”

The doctor was like, “Don’t worry. We won’t let you go more than a few days past your due date.”

Sheeeit. That’s what she thinks. My ass will be in the hospital on August 9th at 12:01am with a bomb strapped to my waist demanding an induction.

I went a good four days without incident. As much as it annoyed me, the doctor’s appointment on Tuesday seemed to have a calming effect on me. Then yesterday I lost it. It is so painful just to stand and go to the bathroom. After a rant Donny decided that what I needed was a hot bath. I said no. He went upstairs and ran it anyway.

I was typing a blog that was, surprisingly, putting me in a good mood when he came back down to inform me the bath was ready. But I wasn’t ready to stop typing so I got more annoyed. Not wanting to waste water I made a big stink about going upstairs. He offered to help, but I just swatted him away. I purposely stomped and slammed my way to the bathroom.

“And I better not have to call you more than once to help me out the tub!,” I yelled.

I stomped again for good measure completely testing the resolve of the wall mount of the new flat screen below.

Once in the tub, I hate to admit it, I did feel much better. The TV was on in the bedroom and I found myself laughing over the sounds of a Dateline “To Catch a Predator” marathon.

Chris Hansen: You expect us to believe you came over to the home of a 12 year old girl just to watch movies and “hang out?”

Chester Chester Child Molester: Yes.

CH: Then why did you bring condoms and lubrication?

CCCM: I always carry that with me. I swear, sir.

CH: Let me read an excerpt from your IM with this 12 year old girl. “I want to beep you in your beep while you lick my beep all night long.”

CCCM: I was just playing.

Then all of a sudden I hear the baseball game.

“DONNY”

“What?!” He calls from the bedroom.

“I was listening to that!”

“Well, I wanted to be able to hear you if you needed me.”

Grrrr.

He opened the bedroom door, put the TV back on MSNBC, and relaxed on the bed. After a few minutes he asks, “Do you want me to shave your legs?” Sheepishly I respond, “Yes, please.”

I’ve had many people say that they can’t believe he does such things like lotion my feet, paint my toenails, or shave my lower legs. Listen, it was nice the first few times, now it’s downright humiliating. He swears he doesn’t mind and understands that I simply cannot do these things for myself and I suspect his real motivation is  to avoid his own embarrassment should I go into labor with ashy Chewbacca legs and snaggled toenails.

And you know what’s funny? He has been so good with coming up to me between meals with some fruit, yogurt, or bottled water and saying, “Here, you need to eat something.” But he also knows the exact moment, usually mid-meltdown, to toss me a Snickers bar from the hidden stash he surely has around here somewhere. And like a trained seal I bark, clap, and gobble it up in two bites.

I really need to go into labor soon. Maybe we’ll take a walk after dinner. A long, labor inducing, walk. Until then? Back to Halo 3. The one thing keeping me sane.

BIOBaby: Labor?

I’ve been having contractions since 5:30 this morning. It’s now 12:30pm. The closest they’ve been? About 30 minutes apart.

They don’t really hurt. Just a lot of pressure. Kinda like really intense menstrual cramps. Donny’s been keeping track and marveling at how cool I am in between each one. I’m playing on the laptop, eating donuts, and just chilling. They don’t hurt. And I’m not even getting my hopes up that it’s the real thing.

He’s so cute. I get up to go to the bathroom.

“Where are you going?”

“To pee. Is that okay with you?”

He sucks his teeth and says reluctantly, “I guess.”

Like I’m going to go in the bathroom and have his son without him.

Speaking of which.. last night Mike, Bette, Donny, Lew, and I were playing Halo 3. Mike offered up his sure fire way to go into labor.

“Go to the prom.”

What followed was about five minutes of each of us chiming in how it does seem that teenage pregnant girls always manage to give birth in the bathroom at the prom.

“What’s up with that?”, Lew asked.

“It’s an anamoly,” Mike replied.

“I would just show up and chaperones would be all, ‘Can we help you, Ms.?’, and I’d be all, ‘No, just her to use the bathroom.’”

“And then you’d go to the bathroom and there’d be a line of teenage girls waiting to give birth,” Mike said.

“Yeah, there will be a sign over a bucket that says, ‘Drop your baby here.’”, offers Bette.

“It would also remind you to wash your hands,” I said.

There were more crude comments and we laughed so much I thought I’d go into labor right then and there.

Of course my sister called this morning and asked if I wanted to participate in a panel of “real people” talking about being black in America at her radio station. She works at a popular station here in Atlanta.

“I’d love to, but I might be having a baby.”

We’ll see. I’m getting hungry and a little sleepy. I doubt it’s the real thing, but I thought some of you might want to know.

I just asked Donny, “Do I want to eat, take a nap, or play Halo?” He just laughed, “How ’bout have the baby?”

He’s more optimistic than I am.

BIOBaby: Sweet Mother of God

I say that a lot. “Sweet mother of God if you don’t turn that TV down!”

“Sweet mother of God I have to pee… again!”

“Sweet mother of God Donny if you don’t close the damn door!”

“Sweet mother of God is everyone going to have their baby before me?”

My cousin Tonia.
My cousin Amaris
Jessica Alba – I mean, did that heifer announce her pregnancy at 7 months or something? Cause I swear I heard she was pregnant and then like a few weeks later her baby was here.
Nicole Kidman
Halle Berry
Jennifer Lopez
Matthew McCaughnehey’s baby mama
Lyne’s (El Supremo’s girlfriend) good friend
Angelina Jolie – wasn’t that heifer due in August?
Hell, even the pregnant man had his/her baby first.

I feel like I’ve been pregnant longer than anyone! Waaaah! Yes, I’m whining.

I thought it was the real deal last night. I was having contractions and feeling weird and then nothing. I was up till about 4am. I sleep on the couch now. It’s the only place that I can actually get some sleep. It’s been about four nights in a row of couch sleeping. The first night I fell asleep there I woke up the next day and chewed Donny out for not waking me to come upstairs. He pointed out that it was the first time in weeks I actually was able to fall asleep without crying so he didn’t want to wake me. Last night, when he said he was turning in he kissed me and said he’d be going into the guest room on the first floor. I told him he didn’t have to but he insisted because he didn’t want to be all the way upstairs in case something happened and I couldn’t make it up the stairs.

And as much as I like having Donny and Kali wait on me hand and foot, and I do like it, this whole not being able to do things for myself when I actually want to is getting old. Kali and Donny know to leave all the remotes on the ottoman because if they’re any lower I can’t reach them when I’m alone and I end up leaving the TV on whatever the hell is on in the middle of the night.

Requiring help getting off the couch is not cute. In fact, I don’t think there’s anything left for me to do gracefully. You should have seen me trying to get out of the tub the other day. It’s all showers from now on. Donny went out to get tacos and I decided to play some Guitar Hero Aerosmith. I was contorting my body in all these funky positions just to bend and get the guitar, plug it into the Xbox, and put the disc in. I got all lightheaded and shit. I could feel Jack and amniotic fluid just sloshing around. I know my baby was like, “Uh, lady you need to go sit your ass down somewhere. Now’s not the time to be rockin’ out with yo cock out.”  He right.

And let’s not even talk about the eating. I went to my cousin’s birthday part on Saturday and ate the entire time I was there. I had three pieces of a Subway hero, two pieces of corn on the cob, two plates of my stepmother’s arroz con pollo, a Bubba burger, and like four cans of Strawberry and Pineapple Fanta. If we didn’t leave when we did I’d have surely had a plate of ziti and some hot wings. There were two birthday cakes (it was also a belated party for my Dad) and it took everything in me not to have a slice of each.

Last night Donny made crab cakes. He makes fantastic crab cakes from scratch. I ate one whole, a few bites of the second, and about five asparagus spears and then I was done. It was delicious, but my throat just wouldn’t allow me to swallow anymore. I think my body went on strike. It was like, “Heifer, how big do you want to get?”

26 days to go. And it seems like a lifetime. He has to come early or I may go insane. I go in his nursery, sit in the rocker, close my eyes and wait anxiously for labor pains. Then Donny makes me get up before my water breaks on the micro fiber.

I pass the time playing all those games for free on HP Games. Wedding Dash 2, Slingo Quest, etc. Anything mindless enough to keep my mind off the fact that I feel as though I’ve been pregnant my entire life.

We watch lots of movies. Donny’s all BluRay Man now. We’ve become kinda TV snobs. Our 42″ inch flat screen is no longer good enough. It gets no love. The only thing hooked up to it is one of the TiVos. All the cool shit is on the new 52″ in the family room. It reminds me of when Mike and Bette came to visit last year shortly after we’d gotten our Xbox 360 for Xmas. Mike said he went home and didn’t even want to play with his Playstation 2. We gave Kali the big screen that was in the family room and let her hook the Wii up to it. She’s in heaven. When we were at my Aunt’s house Saturday we were trying to hook up our PS3 to her flat screen so we could all play SingStar.

“How big is this TV?,” I threw out there to my Dad, Uncle, and Donny.

“Small,” said my Uncle.

And it was like 32″.  It’s like once you go over a certain size, your whole TV perspective changes. Donny walked in here last night with three BluRay movies and I had to tell him, “Baby, just cause it’s BluRay don’t make it right. I’m not watching Hostel 2!”  But I did watch Rush Hour 3, which though it made me laugh, was a shitty movie. Jackie Chan and Chris Tucker must have bills to pay. But again, it was just mindless enough to keep me from concentrating on the fact that…

I’ve been pregnant FOREVER!

I want my baby. I want my baby. You guys have no idea how badly I want my baby.

Now, if you’ll excuse me. I’m going to do some cartwheels in the backyard.

BIOBaby: Cranky

I need a mood enhancement.

I want June to arrive and then end.

I need to find a 2006 Sante Fe in my price range.

I need the people who just bought the house next door to get that fucking wood dumped from their backyard into mine. Sure, someone else did it (either the realtor or whoever comes to clean a house after its foreclosed on), but still… get yo shit! I also need for the people installing their hardwood floors to keep it down! It’s fucking with my nap!

I do not want to take this five week birthing course. But Donny does.

Everyone is annoying me. I had to stop checking Myspace to stop myself from losing friends and subscribers by responding to every comment stating that cable knit and hoods on sweaters were feminine with, “You’re an idiot.” Like I had to move the laptop across the bed and sit on hands to keep from doing it.

I want people to stop asking me stupid questions.

The next person to stick a plate, bowl, or cup in my face and instruct me to consume something because “it’s good for the baby” is getting slapped. I know what’s good for the baby! Good food = good for baby. Good beverages = good for baby. Drugs, alcohol, cigarettes and people annoying Mommy = bad for the baby.

On Sunday my mother-in-law and Donny drove Richard to the airport and stopped at B&N on the way back. She bought Donny like five or six books on fatherhood. One was titled something like, “So You’re Going To Be a Father…” and I got annoyed. He’s already a father! Am I evil?  Those books really annoy me. I am evil, huh?

I’ll try to be less cranky tomorrow. I promise.

That Damn Obama

The other day…

“I had another sex dream last night.”

“Sex with who?”

“You!”

“What? You say that like it’s a dumb question. You’re the one who keeps having Obama sex dreams.”

“First of all, I don’t keep having them. I only had two. And it wasn’t sex with Obama… just… inappropriate flirting.”

Just awhile ago walking from our car to the library entrance so I could pick up some books including, “The Audacity of Hope”…

“Look, a Hillary sticker.”

“Fuck Hillary. I’m going to get an Obama bumper sticker. And a t-shirt that says Obama Mama. Oooh, and one that says Obama Mama with a little arrow pointing at my belly and then it will say Obama Baby. I mean, that he supports Obama too, not that he’s his Daddy or anything.”

“Yeah, only in your dreams.”

“Shut up.”

Speaking of dreams, after the library we stop for gas and I remember my dream from last night in which we won $190 million dollars…

“You have any cash? I want to buy a lottery ticket.”

“I think I have a dollar.”

“That’s all I need. A dollar and a dream. And Lord knows I have a dream. I’m a regular Martin Luther King up in this bitch.”

I buy the ticket, kiss it for luck (shut up) and stick it in my book to hold my page. I should have known better, though, than to try and read the prologue to Obama’s book while Donny drove. We were in Publix for about two minutes before we had to leave. I started seeing lights and my head was throbbing. No migraines while pregnant with Kali, but FIVE while pregnant with Jack and three of them have been in the past week. Grrrr!

BIOBaby: Body Image and Personality

I am fully aware that after reading this some of you women may hate me. But I have to be honest…

I have never been more in love with my body than I am now.

Even moreso naked than with clothes on!

I think my attitude can be attributed to several factors.

1) I lost 20lbs before getting pregnant. Over the years whenever I mentioned wanting to lose some of the weight gained with Kali before getting pregnant people always asked, “Why? You’re just going to gain it back. What sense does that make?” To me, it made a lot of sense.  It’s like if you weigh 180lbs and are 20lbs overweight, wouldn’t you rather gain baby weight on top of 160lbs instead of the 180?  I was thinking about giving myself the best start possible as well as putting myself in the best position possible to lose the weight after the baby is born.  Now, I didn’t lose the weight strictly to get pregnant. You longtime readers know that I did it simply for me and I think that plays a big part in my attitude now as well.

There’s none of that worry over whether or not I can do it after Jack is born. I know I can. Also, breastfeeding helps with the weight loss immensely and one of my greatest regrets is not breastfeeding Kali longer than I did. Because my circumstances are different now, and we plan on me staying home with Jack for at least two years (with the exception of school… going for my Bachelor’s immediately after my Associate’s at night and online) I know that I can breastfeed for the 18 months minimum I desire.

2) Donny. I think it’s easy to feel beautiful the bigger you get when you’re doing it with someone that appreciates it so much. Someone that thinks the changes in your body are simply amazing.

We were in the kitchen making our breakfast for dinner the other night when I caught him staring at my belly.

“What are you staring at? Do I look fat?”

“No. Just looking at my boy.”

If I even jokingly remark on my large stomach he always equates it to Jack. “He’s a growing boy.” “My boy needs a lot of room,” etc.  He makes it all about having a healthy pregnancy. As it should be!

It also has a lot to do with what I talked about before. About being honored to have his son. When I look at what we’re getting out of it worrying about weight, stretch marks, swollen ankles, etc., seems so… stupid.

3) I do not worry about numbers. I have no idea how much I weigh. Not a clue. When I go to the doctor and step on the scale I don’t look at the numbers. The doctor and nurses know that if it’s out of control or there’s a cause for concern, then we can talk, but other than that I don’t wanna know and I honestly don’t care. I know that whatever the numbers are they won’t be that way forever.

Finally, I’ve never felt more… womanly than I do now. In the shower last night I marveled over my round breasts and belly. I love them! I’ve never been more proud of my body and what it can do before now. I just have a whole new appreciation for pregnancy this time around.

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Last night Donny and I were quizzing Kali for a test she has today on pollution. We were explaining all these different examples of air, land, noise, and water pollution. The TV was on mute and we were all sitting around our bed chatting when Jack started kicking a lot. I laid on my back with my nightgown pulled up so they could see.  I don’t remember now what we were laughing about, but at one point the three of us were cracking up and suddenly Jack went nuts. He was either kicking or hitting frantically. Boom, boom, boom.

We all got quiet waiting to see if he did it again. But he didn’t. I started to giggle to myself as I imagined the scene: the three of us on the outside holding our breath and staring at my stomach waiting for Jack to do something while he’s on the inside perfectly still and wondering just what the hell all the fuss is about and waiting to see if we’re going to do it again. So, the four of us are there, quiet and listening in anticipation… like fools.

That got me to thinking about what his personality will be like and how it would fit into our crazy ass household. Will he like us? Will he think we’re crazy?

Probably. But that’s okay. We’ll love him just the same.

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