Pretty Woman
When I think of “things that are not fun”, several come to mind. For example;
Christmas shopping the week before Xmas on a Saturday afternoon at a mall in Boca Raton. Not fun. Watching any Julia Roberts movie. Not fun. Having a white-hot sewing needle jabbed through your eyeball. Again, not fun.
And now I have to add to this list; getting sick while being pregnant. As if women don’t have enough to worry about with potential month four issues that include - nosebleeds; anemia; elevated blood pressure; dental problems and the list goes on. Now, if your head becomes a phlegm receptacle, you cannot take any medication to combat it. Apparently, unborn babies are not fond of Airborne and Nyquil.
It is quite a nuisance. Saturday we were at the in-law’s house watching a DVD and between Tracy’s hacking and their dog farting (reason #134 not to have a dog), it was very hard to hear the movie. But I digress as this is not about me and my problems. This is about poor Tracy. And poor little Charlotte. She must be in that womb being jostled like a bingo ball, wondering what the heck is going on.
So we now enter week 17, full steam ahead like a giant wad of mucus hurled from the mouth after a productive cough (sticking with the illness theme). 17 out of 40 weeks breaks down to 42.5%. And with this number I am waffling between a sense of suppressed optimism that we are nearly half way there, or feeling widely despondent because we still have 23 weeks to go.
This week marks an important week in the itinerary that maps our pregnancy. We are scheduled for the gut-wrenching (pun intended) amnio on Wednesday. If things continue as scheduled, Tracy will have the amnio Wednesday morning and be banished to bed rest for the duration of the week. There is still some discussion left to be had so this is not etched in stone. Even if we cancel the amnio, we may still be looking at a series of blood tests as the alternative.
Neither choice is very appealing. It’s like being told that when you walk out of your house today, you will either be kicked in the crotch or hit over the head with a bucket of shit. Take your pick.
Christmas shopping the week before Xmas on a Saturday afternoon at a mall in Boca Raton. Not fun. Watching any Julia Roberts movie. Not fun. Having a white-hot sewing needle jabbed through your eyeball. Again, not fun.
And now I have to add to this list; getting sick while being pregnant. As if women don’t have enough to worry about with potential month four issues that include - nosebleeds; anemia; elevated blood pressure; dental problems and the list goes on. Now, if your head becomes a phlegm receptacle, you cannot take any medication to combat it. Apparently, unborn babies are not fond of Airborne and Nyquil.
It is quite a nuisance. Saturday we were at the in-law’s house watching a DVD and between Tracy’s hacking and their dog farting (reason #134 not to have a dog), it was very hard to hear the movie. But I digress as this is not about me and my problems. This is about poor Tracy. And poor little Charlotte. She must be in that womb being jostled like a bingo ball, wondering what the heck is going on.
So we now enter week 17, full steam ahead like a giant wad of mucus hurled from the mouth after a productive cough (sticking with the illness theme). 17 out of 40 weeks breaks down to 42.5%. And with this number I am waffling between a sense of suppressed optimism that we are nearly half way there, or feeling widely despondent because we still have 23 weeks to go.
This week marks an important week in the itinerary that maps our pregnancy. We are scheduled for the gut-wrenching (pun intended) amnio on Wednesday. If things continue as scheduled, Tracy will have the amnio Wednesday morning and be banished to bed rest for the duration of the week. There is still some discussion left to be had so this is not etched in stone. Even if we cancel the amnio, we may still be looking at a series of blood tests as the alternative.
Neither choice is very appealing. It’s like being told that when you walk out of your house today, you will either be kicked in the crotch or hit over the head with a bucket of shit. Take your pick.
posted by Derek, Tracy & Calvin | 8:57 PM
1 Comments:
I'm going to choose kicked in the crotch. I'm not a guy, so it won't hurt that bad. Plus, after having a baby, getting kicked in the crotch is nothing (It's not really that bad Tracy :)!
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