How I got into p.orn

It's no secret that the jubley's take a turn for the enormous when one is in my condition. I have always been a fairly endowed girl so I looked forward to the increase in bustline with enthusiasm.

In the beginning, it was fantastic. Tiny little pouch of a belly, big honking bewbies.

But as the belly got bigger, so did the girls. So I went to our old friends at VS this weekend to have these ponies measured.... Let's just say the porn industry is the only place you can find a 32E. I'll be sticking with sports bras, kthanksbye.

I made an off schedule appointment with Dr. Piece of Cake today because I've been feeling generally run down lately, flu like, and lots of pelvic pressure.

At the end of the ultrasound, blood pressure monitoring, temperature taking, oxygen monitoring she told me it was normal pregnancy progression and to get the hell over it. Which I will promptly try to do.

My little hostage is getting bigger and bigger. And the living quarters are getting smaller and smaller. Turns out his head is lodged in my vag, which explains the pelvic pressure and vag pain I've had for the last 4 days. I asked Dr. POC how we could get him out of that position.

Dr. POC: Oh, he'll be out of that position in about 3 months.

Me: Who brought the comedian?

And then I punched her. And cried.

Apparently the preshus little bug is unlikely to move. He will just get bigger... and bigger... and bigger. Fun. I told K to imagine a bowling ball lodged in his rectum. That's right, think about THAT for the rest of the day while you're in meetings at work. Your welcome.

Anyways, I'll continue my quest to "getting over it." Wish me luck.

Here's the story of a man named Brady

Once upon a time, in a land far far away,
there was a man and woman who dreamed for this day.

Years ago they talked about what they would name their future boy.
Never did they imagine their audience would also enjoy
the very same name.

Who knew the mans mother could be so shady?
One week later she came home with a dog, named Brady.

And that is the story of our K's mother stole our name. And now our boy is nameless. Ideas? Suggestions? Anyone want to throw poo in this general vicinity?

Mudder's Day

I received a very early Mudder's Day gift from my little Mr. Kick Split Kick (Cause I'm 50! 50 years old! Tell me someone remembers that SNL skit?)

It was right around 2:30am. I was in blissful dreamland. Because obviously pregnancy dreams are blissful and dreamlandy. If blissful = the craziest ass shit you've ever dreamt about in your life, then yes.

I was jolted awake out of my Tex.as Chains.aw Massacre dream with a calf cramp that I can only describe as... no I can't. I can't even describe it.

I grabbed K like a hyena on a butterball screaming and flailing in total hysteria.



As utterly ridiculous as that was, the significance of Mudder's Day is not lost on me. I know it's a day that just twists the knife for many. I know the twist of that knife because I've felt it before. And I still feel it.

It seemed like everyone at work, and even some family (who will remain nameless), went out of their way to wish me a Happy 1st Mother's Day. Which is so nice and thoughtful, but it brings back the ache. And I want to say, "This isn't my first Mother's Day!"

But I didn't. Why? Maybe I wanted to avoid the pitiful exchange and the "I'm sorry's". Maybe I didn't want to make people feel bad when they had good intentions. Maybe I couldn't bear to talk about it.

I hate Mother's Day. Because I've been through IF (in a mild way compared to many of you). And I know the hurt that the day can bring. Going through IF, we have the reminder in our hearts every day of what we are or are not. Of what we do or don't have. But on this day, do we really need the world to rub that reminder in our faces too?

Fuck it. I say we rename the day National FMP. (Fuck Me Pumps, for the late comer). And every year, on said day, we treat ourselves to a new pair of FMP.

Let's all get a new pair of shoes, an iced cappucino and be done with it.

Gimme 5

We've officially hit the halfway mark peeps! Holy hot damn, if the second half goes as fast as the first half I am going to be in a mother load of turd in no time!

I've been able to feel the baby boy move for about a month now, which is so cool, but still so surreal. As the weeks go on the movements are definitely getting stronger, it's still so bizarre to me to connect those movements to a human though. A human that is occupying my abdomen. And movements that are becoming distinctly body parts.

When K got back from Las Vegas a couple of weeks ago I thought for sure the movements would be strong enough for him to feel from the outside. And they were strong enough to feel from the outside, if only K was patient enough to wait for a movement. lol

At 18w5d I sat down and ate a bowl of ice cream to get the bugger moving. K would run in and put his hand on my stomach for all of 20 seconds before giving up. I kept telling him to be patient, to no avail.

Finally, at 18w6d, I was laying flat and he was laying on his side next to me with his forearm resting on my stomach. And then... out of nowhere... a little *punch punch*

Me: ZOMG, Did you feel it?!

K: Yup (sans my level of exuberance)

Me: ... Well what did you think it would be a high 5!?

I think he was probably a bit freaked out by the alien life form taking over his wife's body. Fine with me. I was excited enough for the both of us.

Spread 'em!

As opposed to popular belief, the world in fact did not stop on 4/19, the day before our BIG ultrasound. I did not, however, get a flipping wink of sleep that night. Literally.

There is no better flavor of crazy than a 5 month pregnant woman about to find out the gender of her spawn with zero hours of sleep under her gigantic maternity belt.

Thank the sweet baby jesus that we had the first appointment of the day. I was blowing through red lights and construction zones like Matthew McConaughey would be there personally to greet me.

When we arrived I tried to get myself together and wipe the foam off the corners of my mouth.

Me: Will we also be seeing Dr. Piece of Cake at this appointment?

Receptionist (who is practically like family at this point): Well, you are only seeing Dr. POC at this appointment. Did you think something else was going to happen?

Me: Don't play with me, honey. I like you and I don't want to wind up standing over you with a pillow in the middle of the night ready to smother every last breath out of you, but I will if I have to.

Rec: Well the ultrasound tech isn't here today.

Me: ...

Rec: Buuuut... there is another u/s tech here today.

Me: ...

Rec: And she doesn't have any appointments.

Me: ...

Rec: Would you like to see her now?

Me: Would I?

And I left her in a cloud of dust as I peeled off down the hall.

We met the new u/s tech.

Me: Yeah, yeah Candace, it's the pleasure of my life meeting you. Now let's get down to business.

And we did. She gooped me up and started looking around. All I could think about was getting between those little legs! She went straight for the money shot... and... the bugs feet were crossed.

You: you've got to be kidding me.

Me: So the cookies and chocolate milk I had for breakfast were for nothing!? (well, not nothing. I'll take any excuse to eat Carmel Delights for breakfast.)

She went on to check everything else she had to check (you know, to make sure the baby is normal and all). But periodically kept coming back for the money shot, but the feet were always crossed.

After about 45 minutes into it she only had the kidneys left to look at and measure, and the money shot.

Me: We're not going anywhere until you tell us if this is a girl bug or a boy bug. I KNOW you don't have any appointments today.

Candy: Oh, how nice of reception to share that with you.

Finally, the bugger uncrossed it's perfect little feet. She put "the business" on the screen and asked what we thought it was... ... ...

Me: OH MY GOD! IT'S A BOY!

And there you have it. The buglet is a boy and we are ecstatic. We did get to see Dr. POC, she said everything looks great. My weight is on the low side of normal (which is just fine with me), but she's not worried about it. Everything else just pales in comparison, doesn't it?

A boy. I can't believe it:)

I'm bringing sexy back

18 weeks

Why is it that maternity clothes are inherently not sexy? They couldn't BE less attractive. I wear things now that I would never consider wearing on a non pregnant basis. I told myself I would never do that.

But alas, I am a walking hypocrite of polka dots and empire waists.

I have worn polka dots 2 days in a row now, and it's only TUESDAY! I have nothing against the dots, they're just not for me. We'll see if I can't pick up another one tonight and make it a dot trifecta this week. The only thing that can make a polka dot sexy is a Vict.oria's Secret model. For real peeps. And you know it.

I also have nothing against the empire waists. EXCEPT that they never make the boob part big enough. In the pic below, you can't tell (I hope), but my bustline continues a solid two inches below the empire waist band. I'm like muffin topping my boobs.

In other news, I've felt the little buglet move for the last couple of weeks. At first, it was only every couple of days, so I wasn't sure if it was the bug or not. But now I'm sure it is. It's happening about every day, which is cool:)

My honey is in Las Vegas for work this week:( Yes, I also have a "business trip" coming up next week to the Bahamas. Riiiight;) Normally, I like to douse a bottle of white when he is on business trips. It helps me relax, okay, don't judge me. I suppose now I'll be staring at the ceiling all evening. Oh well!

For now, I leave you with an 18 week shot because this post blows Vic.toria's Secret models.

Words that start with F

17w2d

Omg, I am such a bad blogger. I know this. Dare I say... things have been... quiet?

No, I don't dare say that. At all. It's like turning your back to the ocean. Get ready cause you are about to get ripped by a big one.

That was a far more graphic image than I intended. If you have a dirty mind. Like me.

My days have been filled with constipation. And thinking good thoughts about Number Two. And FIBER. Lots of motherFLIPPING FIBER.

Constipation = straining = spotting. Another delightful image. Not bad though, just like 2 drops, and only when I wipe. And I've been for a gazillion ultrasounds, so we know there's nothing wrong with the bug or his/her uterine playground.

Dr. POC: Drink more water.

Me: If I drink any more water I'm going to drown my baby.

Dr. POC: Eat more fiber.

Me: Not possible unless I add more meals to the day.

Dr. POC: Take stool softener.

Me: Did you just say stool?

So I tried the aforementioned SS because the spotting and constipation was sending me into delirium.

I will not go into another graphic story about poo. But I will give you two words: Soft Serve.

And the SS's were no more.

I am going to try Act.ivia. Has anyone had success with this?

I give you my word (because that is worth so much), my next several posts will not include TMI from the heiny department.