Wife Swap

"I'm guessing no advanced degrees here."
"Paintball guns! A very primitive way to resolve disputes"
"These are humble houses."
and perhaps my favorite
"I guess they don't have a cleaning lady!"


Just some quotes from the worst offender on my snob-o-meter ever.

We all know I love really bad TV. Reality TV was created exclusively for me, I think. It's brainless and wonderful to have in the background while I'm blogging, emailing, IMing, chatting or otherwise playing on the Internet. Which, sadly, I'm sure I do faarrrr too much. However, I had a bad day and am now required to sit on my couch with my feet up. More on this in a moment.


But right now, I'm watching Wife Swap and one of the women quite honestly thinks she's better than, oh, everyone. I'm not even making this up. I'm pretty sure actually said she thinks she's better than everyone. Her husband said to the "swapping wife" when she accused him of thinking he was better than her: "I probably make more in a week than you make all year." Apparently money is the measure of a man. I actually know someone who truly believes that and lives his life that way. Very very sad.


Here's the thing, I'm a self-professed snob. I really am. I think there are some things that are just no brainers and not that hard to do. Like, clean your house. Have standards for behavior in public (for example, farting at the dinner table? Unacceptable.) Have respect for yourself and others. And if you're not going to do that, I mean, you're kind of asking to be judged.


That last one is key. Yes, oh, wife swap snotty wife, you have to have respect for OTHERS. As far as I'm concerned, your open disdain for this other family shows you have no respect for them. And that is T to the rashy: TRASHY. So there. Someday you'll fall off your high horse.


Also, can I point out that you're on a reality TV show? Not exactly the pinnacle of class. Just sayin.


(If you're interested, check out Long/Stephens-Fowler episode on the Wife Swap website http://abc.go.com/primetime/wifeswap/index?pn=index)


Anyway.
Why am I sitting on the couch with my feet up? I'll 'splain.


Today wasn't the best day ever. I woke up sick. Sore throat and congested chest. After not sleeping well because of the carpal tunnel and sickness, I had to go to a customer meeting. Now, in all fairness, I do happen to really like the customer I had to go visit, but the visits are exhausting. I have to get dressed up, fight traffic, find parking (which, is really quite difficult in the Boston area), navigate snow covered streets in heels while carrying a heavy laptop bag. You see where I'm going with this. After the visit, I had to go into the office where I was confronted with not one, not two, not three, but four, yes FOUR nasty emails. Four wouldn't seem terrible, but I had checked my email only 2 hours before. So that's 4 in 2 hours. Oh, and my blood sugar after lunch was well over the 120 limit. And I had a grilled chicken salad w/ low fat/carb dressing. If that's going to send by blood sugar soaring, why even bother? (I had ice cream for dinner.)


And then to top it all off, I started spotting again.
I don't need this.

I called the doctor and she said that since I have an ultrasound and appointment scheduled for Tuesday, she'd rather just have me keep my feet up and relax this weekend. Since little man is playing punching bags with my bladder and colon, there doesn't appear to be a reason to worry right now. Easier said than done, doc. But I'll give it a whirl. I'm to call if it gets worse or if I have more contractions than usual or any pain. And she'll see me on Tuesday.
Is it Tuesday yet?


I also turned off Wife Swap. I suspect it was going to start to raise my blood pressure.

What Not to Wear is a much happier show. I don't need negativity in my life. What I do need is a new wardrobe (pssst: Stacey, Clinton, call me!).

And in other news...

Double digits!
Only 95 days to go!! :)

Oh! I'm FAMOUS!

http://www.lowellsun.com/health

I'm not sure how long that link will last, so check it out while you can.

The story, I feel, was fair and the woman who wrote it, Christine, is such a sweethart (thank you SO much for the baby stuff--you rock!). However. Please note the third word in the third paragraph. Obese.

I hate that word. Yes, Ok, I'm fat. I know that. People who know me know that. Hell, people who don't know me know that. I mean, it's not like they're blind. But now it's in print. Published. Out there. So it must be true. Somehow truer (is that a word? For the record, according to the OED and my mother, stupider is not a word. My dad won a scrabble game with "stupider" but apparently it's not a word. I digress.) than it was before. And frankly, it's down right depressing.

I'm 3 months (almost exactly! AH!) from having my baby boy. I can't wait. But he's going to be born to a big fat momma. A big fat momma who can't seem to keep her blood sugar under control for him. I'm just setting him up for a lifetime of weight concerns. So what, he'll be a big fat boy, too? So not fair. Why didn't I think about that before I got pregnant? Why didn't I watch my weight more carefully? And more importantly, why, oh why can't I seem to do anything about it now?

My sister is having gastric bypass. I might not be the biggest advocate of this surgery, but it's her choice not mine. But you know, even though it's not something I'd do, I'm somewhat jealous. I'll officially be the only fat one left in my family. Oh joy.

Yeah, I know. The answer is to lose weight, I get it. But hi, if it was that easy in the first place, I WOULDN'T BE FAT NOW. So let's not pretend that it is. Losing weight is hard. Damn hard. And my body doesn't like to give it up very easily. I have to work out--hard and a lot--to lose significant amounts of weight. I am terrified of how I'm going to do that with a newborn. And my hormones (Let's not split hairs. Vegas is currently running odds of 100 to 1 that I'll get postpartum depression. I'm not known for my stable hormones....). And my job, which exhausts me lately (don't even get me started. People from work read this. Hi!). And keeping up on the house. And cooking. And, oh yeah, the whole marriage thing.

Just thinking about it makes me want to cry. Ok, I lied.

It doesn't make me WANT to cry. It actually makes me cry. Of course, The Office makes me cry these days, so I'm pretty sure we can't use my tears as a benchmark of anything.

I don't know. I'm just so mad at myself for not taking better care of myself while pregnant. For not taking better care of myself before getting pregnant. I'm worried about what my poor son is going to think of his big fat momma. And I don't want him to ever know me like this. But I don't know how to fix it.

I've had good intentions in the past. Very good intentions. I've proven to myself time and time again that I can do it. And that I have amazing will power. And that I'm stronger than I give myself credit for. But it never lasts long enough. I always get frustrated and stop. I just want to look good. Be happy. Stay healthy. And wear a size 10. And not in that order. Frankly, I'd almost rather be a size 10 than healthy. Oh, come on. Like I'm alone in that! At least I'm honest! And frankly, with the exception of this current blood sugar issue, I am quite healthy. My doctor says I have the health of a 130 pound woman. Now all I have to do is somehow become that 130 pound woman...

And don't even get me started on that stupid picture. Hormonal women should NOT be photographed. I have customers who saw that. Sigh.

Is it OK to drown my sorrows in a bowl of no sugar added ice cream? No?

Where'd it go?

Please note, the name poll has been removed.
Why?

Drumroll please....
WE HAVE A NAME!

Andrew James H will be making his appearance sometime this spring. We'll call him AJ.

Please don't send monogrammed sheets, though. I reserve the right to decide in the delivery room that he's really a Tom. Or a Josh. Or a Ben. Or one of a thousand other names we haven't even considered.

But for right now, we love his name. And I think so does he. I was actually worried he was going to try to come out and use it last night. Yikes! I had multiple contractions in a row and we were on standby to head to labor and delivery. I had 4 in about 20 minutes. One more and I'd be off. Thank goodness the little man decided to settle down and I made it through the night uneventfully. But that was scary!

Little AJ needs to stay put for at least another 10 weeks. I'd be scared if he makes his debut at 34 weeks, but I know he'd be OK. So let's keep it to a dull roar in there, OK little man?

Happy New Year!

Wow! What a crazy year it has been.

If, at this time last year, you had told me that that in a year I'd be pregnant and a homeowner, I'd have laughed in your face. Then burst into tears.

As many of you know, last December, we did our first (and thus far, only) round of IVF. It was a miserable failure. I POAS on Christmas Eve and got a BFN. But I tried to hold out hope, even though deep down I knew there was none. Then my period started on Christmas. I cried for hours, even as the HG tried to help me remain positive. We knew of lots of women who had similar experiences but were still pregnant. I tried to believe that it could all still be OK. Even to the point where I flew home unmediated again. Nonetheless, I called my RE and insisted on getting a blood test a few days early so I could stop my PIO (Progesterone in Oil shots...they are administered in an unpleasantly large needle....). So, on my 33rd birthday (December 30th), I went in, and received, confirmation that we would not be having a 2008 baby. As prepared as I thought I was for that news, I was devastated.

So, I decided that we needed to start up the process of buying a house again. We had already offered on a house in November and decided to back out of the deal after the worst inspection on record. Seriously. Once the inspector started using words like "Structural engineer" and "move that chimney", we decided to cut our losses. And we talked about waiting till Spring to talk about starting up the process again. On paper, waiting until Spring was the wise move. But emotionally, I needed something. Anything. I needed to focus on what I saw as moving forward with my life. I felt trapped in our tiny apartment and I felt like I was slowly going crazy. (Clearly, this has not changed. But sush. We don't point that out. It's not polite.)

So the house search resumed. Only to end by the first weekend of February in yet another failure discovered at inspection. The HG and I talked about continuing the process and offering on yet another house, but it wasn't right. It didn't feel right, so I said no. We had already met with the RE again and knew that I'd be having surgery in April to improve my fertility and I was feeling a lot more hopeful than I had been just two weeks before. But with the knowledge that I'd be having surgery, came the realization that there was NO way I'd be comfortable recovering in our tiny apartment. We didn't even have a full size couch. And I wanted my mommy to come take care of me. It would have been rude to ask her to sleep on an air mattress. And frankly, the place had years of bachelor dirt. I was not motivated enough to sand blast it away. So, before my mother came, it was time to find a new place to live. Within three days of losing the house, I found us a new apartment. And at the end of February, we moved. And I felt like a new woman. For about 2 weeks.

I had surgery in April and it was a resounding success. I think April 2008 was the turning point in my life. (Our lives. I mean, I do have to include the HG in my life, don't I? He's kind of vital.) When I woke up, my doctor told me that I still had one fallopian tube. And it was healthy enough to try on our own. I was stunned. I never expected such great news. I had braced myself to wake up completely sterile. But I woke up FERTILE. I hadn't been fertile my entire adult life. And I recovered so quickly from surgery...I truly felt like it was miracle. To this day, I believe the Hand of God guided my surgeon that day.

The joy lasted for a few weeks. Until I saw the RE again. And she burst my bubble. She thought IVF would still give us the best chance of a healthy pregnancy (due to the questionable health of my remaining tube and the resulting risk of an ectopic pregnancy) but that I was too fat for IVF. At least that's what I HEARD. I realize now, that's not what she SAID. But it's what I heard. I wanted to lose weight before IVF again because I had heard that being significantly overweight before doing IVF reduced your chances of success. And I wanted it to work this time. So when the topic of my excess weight came up, I heard that she wanted me to lose weight. (I now know that she was in the middle of completing a study which showed that there is NO difference in the rate of success with IVF between obese woman and those of "normal" weight.)

So, once again, I was in fertility limbo. When other people announced their pregnancies, I felt anger. And hopeless. And broken. And nothing was more painful. Somehow, somewhere, I had lost myself and the only thing that mattered to me was having a baby. That's really quite pathetic, actually. But I couldn't see that through the pain I was feeling.

And with that pain came several meltdowns where I turned my frustration on the HG. I blamed him for my unhappiness. I pinned all my sadness on the fact that we never bought a house. I needed a change. I needed to feel forward momentum in my life. I felt trapped and like nothing more than a recent college graduate. In my mind, as long as we lived in an apartment and didn't have children, I'd feel like a failure. Yes, our apartment was beautiful and huge. And everything I could ever have wanted in an apartment. And both the HG and I had received promotions and raises recently. But I simply could not feel successful, grown up, HAPPY without a house and a baby. Sadly, I did blame the HG for both of those things. I knew we could afford a house, the house I always wanted, but we were choosing not to. Or rather, HE was choosing not to. That, at least, is how I saw it. So sometimes, I'd get so frustrated that I'd snap and just yell at him for it. I didn't want to blame him. Deep down, I didn't even really blame him. He was just the easiest outlet. Using him as an outlet always made me feel guilty afterwards. So I'd sulk for days....the anger made me feel guilty which made me feel sad which made me depressed because I simply could not control my emotions.

Through all of this, we (the HG and I) both had some job related scares (gee, I love this economy!). We decided it was time to make a change. For both my sanity and the potential economic security of a less expensive area to live. We were going to move south. We would live out our lease and then make a move in March of 2009. This plan was so set in stone that I had started looking at houses in our chosen area and we told our families.

I felt so much better having a plan. Our lives were finally moving forward. With or without a baby, we'd make progress soon. We started focusing on the move. I looked for jobs, he hooked up with old networking connections and even got a few bites on his resume. I looked for REs and adoption information in our chosen state.

Then I got an email from the realty service I subscribe to. Our house was for sale. I say "our house" because it was the adorable cape I'd always dreamed of. In seemingly good condition. And in our price range. With a big yard and a finished basement. In our first choice town. The HG wanted to look at it. I did not. I was tired of being disappointed by the house buying process and I was not ready to derail our plans to move south. But the HG insisted we just drive by it. We would be passing by the area that day anyway. So we drove by. And the HG decided we'd go look at it the next day. I was hesitant. So afraid of further disappointment and I already loved the idea of living in this house. But I followed his lead. And the next day we looked at the house and negotiated a deal to buy it while we stood in the driveway.

I was cautiously optimistic, but the house sailed through inspection. We sailed through the mortgage application. Home ownership for us was imminent.

And my weight loss was going very well. We were planning for our next round of IVF to start shortly after we closed on our house. OUR house. We were almost homeowners. So imagine my surprise when my period failed to show on time. I was sure I had just counted wrong--we weren't even trying. But I POAS and it was positive. I have never, ever been so surprised in my life. I quite honestly never thought I'd be pregnant again. Secretly, I was working on the idea that I'd never give birth to my child. I had, and still have, actually, no fewer than 10 adoption websites bookmarked on my computer. I thought daily of how we were going to afford both the new house AND adoption. But I was sure we'd figure it out.

Turns out we didn't have to.
It was the craziest year of my life.
And the most wonderful.

I can't wait to see what 2009 brings me. I know it'll bring me my son. The son I never thought I'd have and have never wanted more in my life.
Frankly, as long as our son arrives healthy, I have no other wishes for this year.