Bag of holding

What a day. I've been up and down a lot lately! The other day I sat in on a meeting between a couple ladies from a volunteer-run museum and the web content developer from one of the regional libraries. I had no idea how much I miss talking about and working on digital archives. Hell, just archives period! It felt good to "talk shop." I've been asked to attend the next Board meeting to help explain some archival terms and processes. I also forgot how hard it is to explain archival arrangement and description to people who have no training in the field. It was a lesson on thinking in a different way in order to explain things.

So that was nice and very needed.

Today I woke up with some cramping and bleeding. I know how common this is in early pregnancy so I wasn't too worried. And in my attempts to take out the garbage, two of the four mutts got loose and I ended up trying to jog around the neighborhood. Luckily, Horace stopped to take a dump and that was enough time for me to catch up to him. And Patton is old enough to know how good he has it at home so he was easy to coax back to the yard. Since "poor" Horace was so tired from his jog around the neighborhood, I got out his swanky plastic pool and filled it up for him.

By this time I was crampy and my tea was getting cold. I had time to think and research my situation a little. I decided to play it safe and called my doctor. Quite calmly, I explained to the nurse what was happening. After consulting my doctor she told me to come in for another sonogram. Oi. My husbeast was waiting to board a plane to come back from a business trip so thankfully he was able to make it back for this.

I tried so hard not to freak out but that's almost impossible. Immediately after I got up on the table she looked at the sonogram and said there was cardiac activity. WHEW. It looked much bigger this time and my uterus looks huge. She looked around, took measurements and asked some questions. Turns out the wall in my uterus that was resected must have left some scar tissue because the mystery blog was still there. And the uterus is still heart shaped instead of uhhhh uterus shaped. While she pointed out the head, limbs and umbilical cord, the feet started moving. I can't feel any of this yet but seeing it was a trip! It's like he was saying "Don't worry! I'm not dead yet!" *insert Monty Python accent here*

The ultrasound lady told me to take it easy, no tampons, no douching and no sex. I asked her how long on the sex. She kind of harrumphed me and told me as long as it takes. Then she said, "tell him not to put anything in there!" Hubby is dying during this, by the way. So I tell her nothing has been going in there since he hasn't been home much. Her reply: "Well don't YOU put anything in there either!" I assured her that as of late, I haven't been putting anything in my vagina and would refrain from doing so. You'd think I was treating my vagina like a bag of holding, +5. After much back and forth about what is or isn't going "in there" I asked her if I can still go for walks. This brought up a heated debate on how much exertion I have while walking the dogs. Give me a break! I can't walk? She said, if it makes you bleed, don't do it.

Seriously how the hell did anyone have babies before this day and age? Is it my malformed uterus, my autoimmune disease or is this individual just being a little bit extreme in trying to keep me safe? I told her I sit at home all day and my mental and physical health demanded at least going for a walk when I felt good. "Ok, just no power walking." Gotcha.

It's been a long day and I'm dead tired.

I honestly have not been doing much the last few days except house work. I'm hoping things heals up and I can resume being a little more active. Trust me, this experience scared the hell out of me but I'm not going to lay on the couch for seven months. Bat shit crazy wouldn't even describe it.

By the way if anyone wants to make me a dice purse like this, I would be super happy. I still have my dice somewhere....


Tschus.

FML and Royal Wedding rant

So far, so good. I've already hit the mood swing phase. For me it's impatience and depression. Not so much crabby but just feeling helpless and worried about a host of things. I have been extremely tired and nauseous which makes stitching hard to do. I'm trying to save all my energy to walk the dogs because I'm worried about packing on too much weight and having my knees give out or flaring up my fibro. Yes, I know pregnant women shouldn't worry about weight. But too much weight too fast can make my body feel like it's being slammed into a wall. I'm definitely eating as much as I can stomach so that part is covered.

Oddly enough one of my emotions right now is that I miss working. I don't miss the commutes, the politics and all the other non-fun things, but I miss the history. I miss having my mind challenged and being a part of something. I am so fucking lonely that it's pathetic. I generally enjoy being a bit off by myself, having quiet time to think, read, stitch, etc. But sometimes you can get too much of a good thing.

And I have not been so great about sticking to our one-income budget. So I feel even more guilty if I drive around beyond what's necessary. Or want to go out to dinner or drive an hour to visit a friend. Every dollar counts and since I feel that I put us in this situation, I need to make these sacrifices. I'm scared that when I have a baby, it will be even harder for me to get out. I do try to make friends in the area but the one person who is about my age and has a young child refuses to talk to me because she's ashamed of herself after she got drunk and embarrassed herself several months ago. I'm over it but apparently she isn't. And frankly I'm tired of reaching out and trying to maintain or build friendships that give nothing back. One step forward, three steps back.

Thankfully my sister called the other night and it was great to hear all about her experiences and have her support. And it's nice to know I'm not the only woman in the family who drops F bombs like there is no tomorrow. We had a rocky relationship for much of my life. I think she tried very hard to watch over me when our mother died and I felt she was being very controlling and critical of me. Plus, she has a very impressive life and I've always been very intimidated by how successful she is. She is a great sister though and I'm so glad we have a really good relationship now.

For some time I've felt a bit sad because I can't work, I can't socialize anymore (due to lack of funds or lack of friends), I had to quit a volunteer group I really loved because I couldn't compete in the popularity contest anymore. And lately I've been too damn tired and sick to my stomach to do my stitching or clean house. So I feel like a blob in jeans, sitting in the house all day. Just existing but not living. What a loser! Soaking up money and not contributing a damn thing.

I know, stop the pity party already.

So in other news, I am sick to death about the Royal Wedding. I'm normally a romantic at heart but it's kind of hard to gear up a bunch of enthusiasm for the wedding of an obsolete figurehead. After seeing how the fresh-faced Dianna declined after her marriage to Charles and how fucking horribly she died, I don't see why anyone would be excited about seeing another beautiful, young woman marry into such a dysfunctional family. I've already seen an article about how the bride to be is dieting. This waifish woman feels the need to be even thinner. History repeats itself and this ain't starting out so hot. I don't envy her and wish her the best of luck. Maybe the old lady will knock off soon and the next generation can move forward. (I know, sounds horrible but that Mum chick sounds damn mean.)

All right, now that I've distracted myself from my real life by bitching about something completely inane, I can move on and try to clean the floors. I leave you with a Google image search of "Royal Wedding shit." Enjoy. Tschus. (PS: Don't worry about me. I'm venting and while I definitely feel shitty right now, the feelings will pass and all will be well. It always is.)

Frankie says relax

Finally got to chat with my doc about this alien parasite inside me and all looks good. I feel better now that there is a plan to monitor me. I am just about old enough to get the test for abnormalities and since it's just a finger prick, I'm going to do it. I've been through enough to know to take the extra precautions. And I'll be seeing a high risk doctor a few times to make sure the scar tissue in my uterus isn't affecting things. Also the autoimmune disease makes things a little more interesting but nothing major. Just a few more checkups are required to make sure all is well.

I'm very relieved to ask questions and hear that they are treating me as high risk. I'm going to get through this and move on with life. I'm tired of letting my body hold me prisoner in my house, keeping me from truly living my life.

Enough of that "girl power" statement.

I am now trying to get one of my brothers and my dad coordinated for a visit. I'm thinking we'll book the club tickets so we can get access to a buffet and beer (for them, not me) and air conditioning! Since summers here are either blistering hot and humid or pouring rain, I like the option of being able to sit inside comfortably and not miss the game. It's really a chance to hang with some of my family which I rarely get to do.

I'm not really a big baseball fan but the atmosphere is always fun and there is the Hall of Fame museum on site if I start feeling "museum-y." Lots to look forward to! Hooray!

Tschus!

Crazy life

The results are back on my sleep study. Absolutely normal: something I'm rarely called. My neurologist said it's classic insomnia. I suppose I was feeling extra tired because it turns out I'm pregnant. I am a little over 7 weeks now, so it's not too far along. We weren't going to tell anyone yet but once one person knows, everyone knows. :) Word got out and there we are. (I apologize to anyone who is finding out through social media. I tried to tell people after word got out but I know I haven't completely made the rounds through phone calls or personal emails.)

This was completely unplanned. We've been trying not to get pregnant due to many reasons, but mainly trying to get my health under control and to pay off some bills. Therefore I was not doing all the things a hyper-vigilant woman does when she tries to have a baby. I wasn't on any vitamins (I suspended my daily multivitamin when I came down with a horrible cold and my stomach was upset a lot.) I was taking pain medications and I had a few alcoholic beverages during that time. I'm sure a lot of women don't like to admit that. If something is wrong with the baby, then all the pointing fingers will be jammed in her face. The nurse tried to reassure me that the embryo probably wasn't attached yet during all this but who knows. I'm still on one medication that they want me off of, but I can't quit cold turkey. I'll find out more soon and I'm just going to hope for the best.

Of course, I could log back on here with a post saying I've lost it. It is very early, after all. But I'm going to think positive and pray that everything turns out well.

There was a weird black mass in the ultrasound but I'm hoping that's some old scar tissue or something. Again, hoping for the best!!

So far I feel tired, queasy and have a raging case of the trots. (I'm sure you all wanted to know that.) My back is also sore as hell but I'm thankful that Tylenol is on the list. Getting pregnant doesn't mean my existing health concerns automatically disappeared. However the arthritis isn't as bad and of course, there are no issues with endometriosis during this time. That leaves just the fibromyalgia.

Life is fuckin' crazy. I have no idea how I'll manage when I'm home alone all day with a fussy baby and my body is exhausted and in pain. Things have a way of working out and I'll have to start asking for help more. To be honest, I'm terrified. I've tried to read some of the magazines my doctor's office sent home with me. Reading them makes me feel nauseous and fills me with a bit of anxiety. I've just shuffled them under a pile for now. I want to take things one day at a time for a while. (As an aside, there sure is a lot of shit these magazines are pushing for people to buy. What a racket!)

In other news, Mr. Bex decided that Tobin was far too shaggy and needed a trim.

He no longer has the long, flowing locks ala Fabio but he is much cooler. We joke that Tobin got into a fight with a wood chipper. Lesson learned: leave dog grooming to the professionals.

So that's about it for now. I'm so tired out that I can hardly think straight. Tschus.