Tag Archives: pregnancy

Small Town Life – Unexpected

This week I was traveling to California and with the new baby to boot. I spent about 2 days in the airports from here to there on standby with our newborn and because she is still soooooo small, everyone and their husband asked how old she was and what her name was and how much she weighs. I’m telling you, the best conversation piece is a new baby.Wed B&W 1 flat People are in love with a baby. I sat with a nice lady from Hawaii who told me about her life and 4 children. After the 4th was born, she had a pregnancy scare (ladies… you know what a heart attack those scares are. The peeing on the stick… the waiting…. the ABSOLUTE TERROR!!!!!)

“I actually considered what it might be like to get an abortion. I couldn’t afford another child. I couldn’t deal with another life to nurture. I was already feeling like I was neglecting the kids I had! I was never one to even consider abortion but in that moment, I knew what I would do.”

I have never been one to consider the termination of a pregnancy an option. My thoughts were, “Why don’t these people plan better?” Until I was there.

Andy and I didn’t plan to have another child after Cate. We were happy with two and DONE! But stuff happens. A little wine… some bad math… a little overconfidence about how well I know my body and BAM! storkWe were pregnant and STUNNED!

Of course, because of previous posts, you know we never even considered termination but… it tickled the back of my mind with a question: If I wasn’t me – a girl with a husband, good job, supportive parents, a strong spiritual connection, a church family that loves me and has helped me in ways I can’t even describe – what would I do? I can’t say that I wouldn’t seriously consider termination as an option.

I would normally consider myself pro life. I’m very against termination but the older I get, the more I open my mind, the less I feel like I can judge.

3 sisters flat

Small Town Life – Air Force Space Command

Today I needed to call a number I never had called before. I’m usually pretty good with this but let’s blame this one on pregnancy brain, ok?


So I dial.

“This is Air Force Space Command. General (somebody) speaking.” IN THE MOST ED HARRIS VOICE EVER!!!!

AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!! “Ummmm… I’m looking for Dr. Peterson of the Foot and Ankle Clinic?”

He was not some lowly secretary answering phones at the civilian contact office. This was a GENERAL who’s direct line I had happened upon.”This is Air Force Space Command. You definitely have the wrong number!” images (10)


But to me it sounded like, “Breach! National Security! Someone GPS this lady and send out those awesome black unmarked SUV’s to pick her up and interrogate her!”

“Sorry?” I hung up red faced and walked out to make sure we weren’t being drone struck.

I dialed one wrong number of 10 and that was it. I was in contact images (9)with exactly who we need if the bad Transformers ever attack or Loki gets out of his handcuffs. 
images (8)

I got your backs, people!


OBGYNs – Men Should Beware… This is a Girl Post

I’m going to take this opportunity to rant about my first OBGYN appointment from my first pregnancy. I was referred to this clinic by someone who knows they are good but has a different doctor than me. I have to admit that the nurses are nice. That’s the only reason I continued going there. I walk in and almost immediately, I realize that I’m in a bit of trouble. There are pictures of live birth EVERYWHERE! In the lobby, the pics are mild: sweaty mothers holding their somewhat gooey newborns… but as you progress further in, the pictures get worse. LIVE BIRTHS means vaginas stretched to the size of softballs as a HEAD comes out! Baby faces squished like little prunes protruding from places not meant to be photographed. It’s scary. I’m giving my urine sample and there’s a crowning picture staring back at me.

There are three very large dogs. Not really that big of a deal. They are friendly and dog people are usually my kind of people except it’s summer time in Asheville, NC and the dogs are HUGE huskies and shedding like it’s going out of style. Isn’t a doctor’s office supposed to be sterile or somethin’…? They also lie in the path of any unsuspecting pregnant chick and let me tell you, some of those ladies are not capable of putting on matching socks in the morning let alone avoiding a monster dog lying in their path.

They ask me to go and have my ultrasound, but apparently I have to empty my bladder first. So I do that, then I go see my baby on the monitor (sooo cool!!!). Then I am asked to wait in a smaller waiting room that is not an examining room. The usual weight and blood pressure measurements are taken. Then they ask me for a urine sample. Couldn’t they have used all the stuff I just let out before the ultrasound? Then I have to sit and drink a bottle of water and wait for 20 minutes just so I can give them a urine sample. After waiting for the full 20 minutes, I give them the sample and wait some more until I am finally allowed into the examining room to WAIT for the doctor. Couldn’t I have been waiting for the doctor at the same time as waiting for the urine sample? OK, maybe she needed to see the results. Then she examines me and the whole time she’s looking up my vagina, she’s humming “It’s Now or Never.” No seriously. She’s not talking to me unless she has a pertinent question. Now guys, I’m sorry, but you may want to really skip this part…. there is this metal thing they put up there and spread out so they can see up into the recesses of the female genitalia. She puts it up there, realizes she has forgotten something and WALKS AWAY. The metal device snaps shut and SHOOTS out of me across the room! “Oops,” she murmurs. Finally, she gets a good look and I redress before we go into her office to… talk, I guess… Anyway, she is still humming and she spends 5 minutes trying to figure out my due date. She’s not talking to me, just humming, looking back and forth at the ultrasound pictures and my chart and back and forth and wielding what looks to be some sort of circular calendar. She is muttering about how the pictures and my recollection of my last period just don’t seem to match up but she’s not asking me a question. Just talking and humming to herself. I start to get somewhat uncomfortable when she finally looks up at me and I need to come in for my next ultrasound at 16 weeks to find out the sex of the baby. Now I know it’s supposed to be 20 weeks for sure. Casey’s ultrasound was at 20 weeks, all the baby books say it’s supposed to be at 20 weeks, and Google definitely thinks 20 weeks is the norm. I ask. She doesn’t believe me. She tells me that she has the best ultrasound chick ever and that she can always tell at 16 weeks. So then I’m finally leaving and they tell me they need blood work. WHAT?! I’ve been there for 2 hours. Couldn’t they have gotten the blood work when I was waiting for the urine sample? Or maybe when I was waiting for the doctor? Or maybe one of the other times I was WAITING?! Good grief!!!!!! Two weeks later I receive a call from the OBGYN office saying that someone scheduled my 20 week ultrasound for my 16th week and would I be willing to reschedule. Sure. Why the heck not?

Several weeks later upon entering the lobby of this same clinic (that I still use to this day) I noticed a suggestion box. I thought about printing out my blog entry dealing with my first visit and putting it in there. My OBGYN was always weird and wildly inappropriate but if you can handle that kind of thing, she will provide you with endless entertainment, especially if you are in the habit of sharing your exploits on the internet.

I did get a bit annoyed when I had high blood pressure and migraines and she prescribed me a narcotic and equated it to giving the baby a drink of alcohol every time I took one. I would never recommend disobeying or lying to your doctor… unless she is insane.

The OBGYN clinic I went to wanted us to see every doctor they had just in case that was the one that happened to be on call when we went into labor. There was only one male OBGYN and I have to say that he was as weird as my assigned OBGYN. He gets into the office without to much of a wait and he has a hemp necklace with a huge turquoise charm. Very Asheville aka hippie. He also has this pasted on Guy Smiley kind of smile. The whole time we’re talking he is smiling like a pastor’s wife. It’s hilarious! He asks me what we’re going to talk about today. I’m like, “Ummm… you’re the doctor. Why the heck do I have to schedule appointments every 3 weeks if you don’t know what we are going to talk about?” Needless to say, I didn’t say that out loud. I just said, “Nothing?” So I hear the heartbeat of the baby (very cool although I have to wonder what distinguishes it from my heartbeat? How do I know that the weird sensations down there aren’t just gas?) Then he’s like, “Well, that’s it.” Shortest appointment of all time. But I was very amused by the game show host smile. It was eerie. I mean, just plain weird… at least he didn’t hum. He ended up delivering Abby. I saw him again when I was pregnant the second time and he was just as weird. The outbreak of H1N1 was in full swing and I asked him what he thought about me getting inoculated. He told me to tell him if I found out anything about the outbreak or inoculation because he had no idea. At my next appointment, my regular doctor was appalled and sent me in to get the shot at that very moment.

Between pregnancies, I did switch doctors and the new OBGYN always laughed at my jokes therefore helping me sustain the illusion that the world revolves around me.

Expectant Mother Parking – A recollection from the first pregnancy

BiLo, my regular grocery store in North Carolina, has parking for expectant mothers. Wow! How did I not notice that until I was pregnant? I mean, parking for handicapped people makes sense but… now, wait a minute. This maternity parking makes even more sense! Handicapped people are disabled their whole lives. They get used to it. We are only incapable of walking for 9 months at a time and only a few times in our lives. Therefore it would stand to logic that those who are not used to having a disability get even better parking spots. Although this logic holds no weight whatsoever, I use it to make myself feel better about using these extraordinarily good parking spaces.

BiLo only has two maternity spots. My parents were visiting and my dad was going to the store with me. I was so excited to show off my newly found parking status. (I refrained from using these spots during the first trimester as I really didn’t feel pregnant.) But as we pulled into the parking lot and I prepared to skid into my personal parking spot, I saw it was taken by none other than a moped. Yes, a tiny little gas efficient motorcycle. What expectant mother is driving a moped? Even the eco-conscious pregnant ladies of Asheville, NC are not going to ride a moped while expecting. I steamed and fumed to my dad that there’s no way that’s an expectant mother. We parked 5 spots further from the door than I should have and as we made our way in we saw the culprit heading out of the door. He wasn’t even at his vehicle when I knew he belonged to it – a thirty something MALE with a 6 pack of beer. Ok, you may be thinking, “Those Asheville women get pretty burly. Are you sure it wasn’t a woman?” Let me leave no doubt in your mind. It was a man. I commented to my dad, “Having a beer gut and man boobs does not qualify you as an expectant mother.” I had half a mind to go up and let him have a piece of my hormone induced mind. But my dad held me back and then bought me Oreos.


Those who know me may have asked me, “Are you planning on having more kids?” And they would inevitably get the standard answer, “Hell no. I just got those ones house trained. I don’t think I could do it again.”

Have you ever been in your cubicle at work and someone asked, “What’s something you would REALLY want on your birthday?”

Of course you would answer, “Macaroni and cheese with green chili’s and a giant margarita.”

“But what about cake?”

“Eh, my mom makes cakes and we have cake alot. It’s ok but… I want mac and cheese.”

Then someone else pops their head in your cubicle and says, “Hey, it’s Don’s birthday and there’s cake in the conference room…”

Suddenly you realize that you’ve been avoiding cake because of the fact that for two years you had a lot of cake and got a bit burned out on cake and now all you can think about is cake. Specifically that cake in the conference room and whether its your mom’s custom made cake or a Walmart special with a printed photo of Don, you want a piece of that cake! It only took cake being available in the conference room to make you think, “Hmmmm… cake. I think I’ll try it again.”

Yep, the other day, I took a pregnancy test and there was the cake, right on that little stick saying, “I’m in the oven, whether you like it or not. Cake is here. You want it don’t you?”