Friday, February 17, 2012

"Breastfeeding makes you skinny" and other hipster lies.

I've been thinking about this blog for a little while and I haven't written it because I was trying to figure out a way to write it without offending people, then I realized that this is my own damn blog and if people are offended by my opinions then they can beat it.  However, I'm not nearly as hardcore of a non-carer what others think as I would like to let on or believe really, so let me first write this disclaimer before I get in to the opinion part...

 I can coexist with people who have different opinions than I do.  In fact, my own husband and I are on complete opposite political spectrums and we don't even believe in the same God.  Okay, well technically he is the same God, but you know, the J-Man, the dude that died on the cross to save our souls so we could have eternal life and all that?  The guy who my entire childhood foundation for life was built?  Yeah, my husband...not so much, not buying into the whole "Jesus" thing.  So, if he and I can live together and actually love each other through all of our differences on opinion, then surely, my friends and I can think differently about other things like child rearing and coexist and even respect one another.

There. Now, that being said, let me go ahead and say that if your child is able to walk up to you and ask you to please remove your top so he/she can suck your breast for milk in any way shape or form...I think you are CAAARAAZAY.  Also, let's get one big lie out the way here, "breastfeeding makes you skinny".  This is a complete bold faced lie made up by those militant crazy ladies from the La Leche League trying to get women to breast feed.  Not only does breast feeding NOT make you skinny (unless of course you were a complete skeleton to begin with and if so then why are you reading this blog because we are definitely not friends), but it makes you fatter or at least less skinny because each and every time you finish breastfeeding your little nugget, you are starving beyond any comprehension of a normal human.  You will dig through the garbage to find something edible, you will eat a living animal if it comes in your path.  Nothing will stop you from ingesting food and large quantities.  Try eating less while you breastfeed...I dare you.  Also, try working out with those huge ass knockers full of milk bouncing around.  I tried running one time and I could barely walk or stand up straight for a week.  Not to mention, while I was running a lady drove by me after I had been in motion for all of 8 seconds and yelled, "keep it up, you're almost there.

I breast fed L & C for 6 months.  I was committed to doing it and let me say, the bonding and all of that are great but for the most part, it sucked big time.  Let's just skip over the first part where you spend 99% of your first month figuring out how to get the baby (or babies) to latch, stay latched, and wonder if they are even getting anything out.  Blisters form on your nipples and they crack and bleed.  Each and every time the baby latches on you are in excruciating pain and want to cry, scream, cuss everyone on the planet out and sometimes you can even get something really awesome call mastitis which feels like the flu and is an infected milk duct. We know, we know, it's the best thing for your baby...blah, blah, blah.  I did it.  I wanted to do it for them, but let me tell you, I would NEVER judge anyone who didn't do it.  In hindsight, I wonder if I could have been a better mom had I been more worried about L & C's well being more than my constant obsession over whether I had enough milk and the endless cycle of bfing, pumping, cleaning, storing, etc. 

I'm going to say a dirty word now so all of you granola loving hipsters close your ears...BABYWISE.  Yep, I said it and I live by it.  I fully endorse this book and if you are one of those hipsters and you didn't close your eyes or ears, then let me ask...have you even read it?  In my experience most of the people who hate the book (and there are lots and lots who have a full on hatred for it), have not even read it.  The book is about a blend of what the baby tells you he/she needs and parental assessment.  My hubs and I followed it and it saved our life.  Some people think the book says don't hold your child and let them cry and pretty much just about die of starvation.  These people need to get a grip.  These are the same people who are letting their toddlers milk them like cattle and who are sleeping in the "family bed" with their children.  Don't even get me started on that complete insanity.  If you are "wearing" your child in a sling on your body for hours and hours each day, don't be surprised when he/she still lives in your basement when he/she is 30 years old, jobless, and asks you to hit up the grocery store to restock all their favorite items (organic only of course). 

Discipline is another hot button in our society these days.  Frankly, I don't see a lot of parents doing it at all.  I mean, sure you have the Walmart spectrum of some parents full on beating their kids in aisle 3 (disgusting and SO WRONG) and then you have the mother who is being beaten and told what to do by her bratty kid, looking broken and saying, "Please respect me, Stephen." as little Stevie is throwing everything off the shelf and telling his mother to "SHUT UP" (true sighting).  I am currently struggling with discipline in my own home because I have 13 month olds who hit, steal toys, etc. on the regular and don't seem to really get why they can't do it.  I know they are young, but we are starting the discipline now with not allowing toy stealing, hitting, etc.  We grab their hands, point, and give a firm, "NO".  They cry, throw themselves on the ground, scream, and we ignore.  Soon, we will step it up to time out land.  I hope more parents are disciplining their children because there really is nothing worse than a horrible brat of a kid and I can't help but believe that if you start from birth letting your kid call all the shots while you snap to it trying to fulfil their every need before you upset them one tiny bit, that you really are just breeding a generation of entitled bratty know it alls who think the world revolves around them and are the bane of society.  But again, that is just my humble opinion. 

So, all of you folks out there who differ from my opinion, can't we all just coexist and get along?  I'll do my part to ensure my kids are not the brattiest in the play group...and if they are, which I am sure they will be at some point, I WILL discipline them.  I respect each and every parent for their decisions because in the end, this having and raising kids thing is HARD.  It is way harder than most people (including me) realize before they do it.  To each his own, and do whatever you believe is right.  We can still be friends...but if you are in Target (because I don't really go to Walmart) and little Stevie is being a ginormous B-RAT and you are sweetly begging him to "respect you" when you have never demanded his respect or parented him since HE is clearly in charge, not you...then I will most definitely be silently judging you.

Monday, January 9, 2012

A year in the life of a REAL mom with twins

Okay, so it's been over a year since I've blogged and I've been thinking about updating but it seems so overwhelming because let's face it, a ton of shit has gone down, and I mean that quite literally.  I finally decided to put my fears aside of summing up childbirth and making it a whole year with twins.  I have to admit that I was also intimidated because in case you haven't noticed I tend to be most parts sarcastic with a couple heaping doses of judgy, irritated, and stone heartyness and people don't like that so much when you are talking about child birthing and rearing.  Also, have I lost my funny mojo because I'm a mother?  What if I accidentally start shitting out rainbows and sunshine while talking about my darling little nuggets and can't stop myself from regaling you with their hilarious little antics.

In the past, I had friends who were straight shooters, friends who never minded telling me my ass looked fat in those pants or that it was time to ditch the perm when I had rocked it 5 or 10 years later than everyone else, friends who, I was sure would give me the real story on labor, delivery, recovery and life after kids.  I would always wait patiently after these friends disappeared into a hibernation of sorts.  They were in the newborn cocoon, and I would wait patiently to hear the scoop, only to have them emerge into this new weird alien mother butterfly where all they could talk about was the special love of their loins.  How I couldn't possibly understand what a precious gift from God a child truly is and there it was, I had lost them forever.

Yes, to some extent I get it.  I get the love thing, and the awe thing.  It used to annoy the shit out of me how people think their snot-nosed, large eared, dopey kid is the cutest little specimen on the planet and surely everyone wants to be subjected to the little drooly thing all the time at every occasion.  Now I have one of the drooliest kids on the planet and one that sports a pretty major dopey look most waking hours of the day and of course I think they are the two most precious (a word I despise), adorable, sweethearts in the world. But, do you want to hear all about how they melted my stone cold heart into mush and how I love them more than life and all of their cute antics like how my daughter just learned how to stomp her feet when we sing "If You're Happy and you Know it", and she does it really fast like she's dancing a little jig, or how my son just learned how to say the word, "ball", and he follows a rolling soccer ball around the house saying "bah, bah", with that said dopey grin on his face, or did that just make you throw up in your mouth a little and you want to know what the hell happened to the girl who spills the real shit?

Well gang, here I am...let me get down to business and sum up the past year...

Last 4 weeks of pregnancy-Ouch my back! Ouch my hips! No, that can't be what my ass looks like in the mirror! Damn, I have to pee! Ugh, I can't take a dump! Damn, I have to pee!  Get these demon seeds out of my body!!!!!! 

Childbirth- Holy shitballs, ouch, ouch...what the F***###$$$$$?! 

Leaving the hospital- No, please don't make us leave.  I promise you won't even really know we are here, we'll just hang out in this room here and clean up after ourselves, just please don't make us do this on our own!

Coming home-Awwww, this is awesome, we can do this.  We are a real family now.  We got this, no worries!

24 Hours after that- "Hi Mom, um yeah, it's me...we actually do want you to come help us, we just realized we have no clue what the hell we are doing with one infant much less two.  Is there any chance you can launch yourself in a rocket ship and be here in say, the next 12 seconds?"

Breastfeeding-Holy shitballs, ouch, ouch...what the F***###$$$$?!

Months 1-3-sleep 1 hour, wake up and take care of the the excruciating waking hours you will learn what it feels like to be in actual physical pain from exhaustion, hallucinate from lack of sleep, hate your husband and everything he stands for as a human being, contemplate running away, eat raw cookie dough or anything else that is remotely edible and will take less than 32 seconds to cook, realize your husband hates you and the person you are to the core and can't believe the two of you ever thought you could rear children together since you clearly do not agree on whether the sky is even blue, not take a shower for many many days in a row, get puked, peed, and shit on, love your husband and can't believe how much you hated him just 14 minutes before that, get hemorrhoids that will turn your asshole inside out and look like you planted enough grapes to possibly start a winery on your bunghole, wonder if your ankles will forever look like sequoias and your feet look like they belong in Bedrock, fantasize about torturing and then murdering any other mother who brags about her kids sleeping through the night from day 1, and last but certainly not least, bid your youth and every freedom that comes with it, a big fat farewell forever.

Any Months after that (it all starts to become a blur)-go back to work, spill pumped milk all over your lap at least once a day, pump in the car to the delight of many passing truckers, let your children cry it out because you are too exhausted to go up to that god damn nursery one more time, feel mommy guilt for letting them cry it out, but not enough to do anything about it, realize the crying it out method worked because they now sleep through the night, feel like a failure as a mother, employee, and wife at any given moment of any given day, but realize that it really is all worth it even though your body will most certainly never be the same and you've aged about 10 years in the last one.  Have strangers say things to you that make you want to strangle them like, "wow, you have your hands full" as they are letting the door slam in your face while you're balancing a double stroller, diaper bag, purse, and a shopping cart full of groceries.

When people say that having kids is hard, believe them.  I didn't, not really anyway.  I don't think you can ever prepare yourself for it and I read at least 72 books telling me how hard it was going to be.  Incredibly, my only sibling, Melissa, is currently 13 weeks pregnant with twins.  I am so excited for her but I hope I don't ruin it for her with all of my negative stories.  I am trying to prepare her for what it will be like when in reality, there really is no way to prepare for it.  You just have to go through it.  A good friend gave me a bag that had the words, "keep calm and carry on" on the front.  I can't tell you how often I stared at those words during the first few months of late nights and frantic moments.  It sounds so simple, but it really was profound for me in my darkest of moments.  Then again, if that doesn't work, there is always large quantities of Xanex and Vodka.

Last week we celebrated the twins' first birthday.  We enjoyed giving them gifts.  They enjoyed playing with the wrapping paper and eating fist fulls of cake.  They are the greatest gift I have ever been given and the hardest thing I've ever done.  Thanks L &'s to another year of fun, and plenty more material for this blog. Cheers!

Tuesday, October 26, 2010

Ode to Old Boobs

Back in the day I had a great rack...there, I said it.  I had plenty of body parts to be insecure about, but in reality I really did have a great pair of large yet perky boobs.  When I recall their actual sprouting into existence around the end of 7th grade, boys started to notice.  I was too preoccupied with my zits and "fat thighs" to really give it much thought, but if I had only known then what I know now I could have had a lot more fun.  The thing is that most boys/men never mature past that 7th grade boob fixation and if you are lucky enough to be blessed with big ones you could possibly rule the world.  Let's face it, a group of 45 year old dudes are still reduced to tongue wagging, salivating lunatics by a nice rack that walks by. 

Even as I got older and gained some weight, my boobs grew to a large size by anyone who is normal standards (38 DDD).  I was not in the shape I wanted to be in, but my boobs fared pretty well and still managed to be quite perky and an overall enjoyable addition to my physique.  I always knew my boobs were something to be proud of, but I definitely never gave them the true appreciation they deserved and even worse, I never took pictures of them so I could properly preserve their image.  Of course, in my defense, I had no idea that one day they would be ruined forever.

Oh sure, I knew I would get old and they, being so large, were bound to sag.  I had seen the generations before me go down that road and let's be real, it never ends well.  I remember my grandmother in the nursing home once had a yeast infection develop under her breast, which is horrifying and I use it here as a cautionary tale.  I had mentally planned for these future problems with visions of Fixodent, Boniva, and prune juice swimming around in the same sentence.  What I was not prepared for was to bid a farewell to my luscious lady lumps so early in life.

Getting pregnant may do wonders for any of you gals who are lacking in the mammary department.  I've heard many stories of my petite girlfriends who parade around the house after they are knocked up showing off their new and improved perky Bs or Cs much to their husband's delight.  However, let's discuss what happens when you 're already well endowed.  I considered that my breasts might grow a little but for the most part I figured the growth and changes would be minimal.  I could not have been more wrong.

Almost immediately my boobs began to change.  They grew and grew, and as they did, they took on different shapes.  They quickly went from their former glory to resembling sacks full of sand in a matter of a few months.  They became so heavy that Mike Tyson himself would be knocked out cold with just a sudden twist of my body.  Everyone knows that gravity is a woman's enemy and when each one of your breasts weigh the same as a mid-sized toddler, there is no where to go but DOWN. 

Bra shopping has become a nightmare.  I am no longer welcome in Macys, Dillards, or any other respectable store.  The worst humiliation yet was when I mistakenly thought a maternity store might solve my problem and was waited on by a pixie whom I could have fit in my pocket.  This poor girl was bringing bras back to my dressing room that contained letters I didn't even know existed in the boobie world.  I ended up having to order my bras online at some fat tittie store reserved for big gals like myself and Nell Carter.  The plus side is the garment can easily double as a parachute if I'm ever stranded on top of a burning building or an extra pair of king sized sheets for our bed. 

I realize this all sounds pretty bad, but I haven't even gotten to the worst part.  I will just go ahead and say it...the nips.  The pretty pink ones have gone by the wayside and have been replaced by something used on top of a building that a helicopter could land on.  They also look like they could be fashioned into a leather bag or perhaps a nice pair of cowboy boots. 

I've been told that these changes will remain long after the pregnancy and that breast feeding will only exacerbate the problems.  I guess it's just the first of many sacrifices we as parents make for our precious little crotch fruit.  However, I will ask that we all take a moment of silence and mourn the loss of two great beings that spread joy wherever they went and were gone too soon before their full potential was ever realized.  Rest in peace.

Saturday, September 18, 2010

The art of pregnant shaving and other fun topics

A few months ago when I decided to start this blog and speak freely about the discomforts and unmentionables of pregnancy I didn’t take into account some of the topics I would feel the need to discuss.  There are several things I’ve been holding back talking about simply because I’m embarrassed.  It takes a lot to make me blush and the simple fact that my mom among others read this blog, I have refrained from discussing several pressing matters.  However, I’ve never been one to really hold back and today I’ve decided to go ahead and put it all out there.  I hope some of you can relate and will be brave enough to let me know your own experiences. 
 First off, let me say that I’ve done a lot of negative talking about being pregnant…the horrors of incontinence, hemorrhoids, etc.  I do have to mention that for the most part, pregnancy is awesome.  I have truly enjoyed most all aspects of my body being invaded by the little aliens.  It’s been super great to eat just about whatever I want and have zero guilt.  So what if I downed a half gallon of Mayfield Birthday Cake Ice Cream in one week, the babies obviously need the milk fat for their brains.  There is no need to ever suck in my gut at all, in fact, the farther out it sticks, the better.  I’m definitely in the honeymoon phase being 22 weeks.  I actually look pregnant instead of just fluffy or chub like the first 4 months.  I’ve also noticed that people are way nicer to me and go out of their way to open doors and be polite to me.  It’s nice to get all of this positive attention and I don’t want to secretly mass murder most of the population like I did in the first trimester.  Best of all, I can feel them moving around now and that is quite possibly the coolest thing I’ve ever experienced.
Of course, there are still some surprising and weird things happening that I feel the need to discuss.  I’m told that once this is over and slews of folks all over middle Tennessee get an up close and personal look at my lady parts and everything that will be pouring out of that region, all modesty will be long gone.  I’m going to try to embrace that mentality now as I openly discuss this month’s conundrums. 
I am finding that at 22 weeks pregnant I can no longer see my lady parts at all nor can I contort myself to see it, therefore making it difficult/impossible to shave “down there”.  Now, my husband can tell you that I do all sorts of things that gross him out like swig directly from the Scope bottle and go days without showering on occasion.  However, a hairy lady beave is not my thing at all.  I am slightly obsessed with not going full on 70s porn.  As I mentioned in an earlier post, being knocked up generally makes your hair thicker and grow in lots of new places (I’ve never really had any arm hair until now).  The private region is no exception and I am now in a serious dilemma as there are really only a few options to go with here;
1.     Go au’natural and just let the nappy jungle take over.  This is not really an option for me as I’ve never been able to let it get that way and honestly it gets itchy and just plain grosses me out and makes me feel dirty. 
2.     Let the husband shave it up for me.  This is something I’ve considered and he has said he would do, although I get the feeling he’s a little skeeved out by it, and quite frankly, the thought of anyone other than myself going “in there” with a razor is too scary for me to consider at this point although it’s not out of the question later on depending on how desperate I get.
3.     Get a Brazilian bikini wax.  I’ve done this once in my life.  HOLY SHIT.  I’ll leave it at that.  I truly don’t understand women who do this on the regular.  I mean, I really just can’t comprehend it.  If labor hurts worse than that, then I am glad I’m most likely skipping out on that with a scheduled c-section as well.  Obviously this is not an option as I will NEVER do this again.  Not to mention the one time I did undergo this Chinese torture hellacious medieval bat shit crazy procedure, I came home to show off the goods to my boyfriend (now husband), and his response was, “Eww”.  To be fair, the little lady was still pretty angry about what I put her through.
4.     Do it myself by “feel”.  This is the option I am going with for the time being.  After all, I guess this is what blind girls have to do, so surely it’s a pretty common thing.  So far, I haven’t done a great job, but it’s working out alright for right now.  It is certainly awkward and the potential for cuts or nicks with the razor are definitely a concern, but this is the only thing I can think to do right now.  I’m hoping I’ll still be able to do this because I’m fairly confident that I won’t be able to tie my own shoes in a matter of a few weeks.

The next topic on the agenda is sex.  I never really thought about couples who are expecting and how that would affect their sex life.  But really, of course it has to have an effect on anyone’s sexual relationship.  The only thing I ever read or heard about this before hand was how pregnant women are overtaken with the urge to ravish their husbands nightly, something about all the hormones turning us into sex craved maniacs.  I can’t speak for anyone else, but feeling and actually looking like a giant hippopotamus hasn’t really made me feel like a sex kitten.  In fact it’s become downright awkward these days.  Obviously the days of us staring lovingly into one another’s eyes is long gone.  As big as I am now, we have had to get creative and it has been an adventure.  Anyone who has been married or in a long term relationship for longer than 5 minutes quickly realizes that no sex equals no good.  I can tell you from personal experience as well as girl talk with my friends, that going without it for longer than a week or so is a surefire way  to lose your connection as a couple.  I truly believe sex is so important and without it you basically have a roommate who gets on your nerves.  So, all that to say, it is a constant changing landscape as I grow more and more zoo animal like.  I have to wonder what other couples have done about this since no one really talks about pregnant sex.  I guess I’ll be the first to broach the subject. 
So, please feel free to leave a comment or email me with your own thoughts on these matters as I must say I am fascinated that I never even thought about the day I couldn’t shave my own lady parts or I would have to get my freakiness back just to make love to my husband. 

Wednesday, September 1, 2010

The Pregnancy Police

One thing I've realized since taking this journey into Pregoland is that everyone – literally everyone – who has ever given birth even once in their lifetime is now the end-all-be-all authority on all things preggo. It really doesn't matter if said person gave birth and their baby boy is now 43 years old, she wants to recount each and every moment of morning sickness, or, worse, how great they felt the entire pregnancy, or how they only gained 12 pounds, and then regale you with a painfully long play-by-play of their labor and delivery.

I was somewhat mentally prepared for this as I know people (especially women) love to share their personal stories, particularly when it comes to the tales of their precious little cherubs entering the world. What I was not prepared for, however, was the barrage of know-it-alls to be cramming their opinions of what I should or shouldn't be eating or doing down my throat at a rate that is making my head spin… and my hormones rage.

When I first learned of my pregnancy I was determined to do things the right way: eat healthy, exercise, plan ahead for any potential problems, and mostly just have an overall game plan. It is also really important to me, however, to expect the unexpected and roll with the flow. I believe that a set of laid back, chilled-out parents will translate into a somewhat chilled kid.

Okay, all of you experienced moms out there, I know you are laughing at me right now thinking how funny it would be to be a fly on the wall at my house in 5 months when I have two screaming infants and the husband and I are stumbling around in our sleepless stupor trying desperately to grasp to our Zen-like states.

I get that it doesn't always turn out this way, but it has to be better for everyone’s mental health to chill out and try not to worry about every little thing you might do wrong to foster a little monster or a serial killer or worse not be able to keep them alive and breathing. Take a stroll through the aisles of Walmart and see how many rat-tailed, two-toothed, carney ride operating heathens of the world are actually raising children who are by all accounts still breathing and basically “thriving.”

Now, onto the Pregnancy Police. This particular species of women can be anyone who has previously given birth to a precious one of their own. They feel it is their duty to bestow advice, and especially admonish, any activity that you might be engaging in that is not up to their standards of the ultimate pregnant woman. The admonishment will almost exclusively come at a time when you are enjoying yourself and not at all seeking the opinions of any know-it-alls around you. I have a few examples of this in my own life...

First, I was enjoying a nice evening out with my husband and friends at a delicious sushi restaurant. Yes people, I realize that you aren't supposed to eat raw fish when you are pregnant, but, believe it or not, my physician actually has no qualms about me downing fried shrimp rolls with cream cheese and the like. There really is nothing more appealing to this pregasaurus than something fried and rolled in cream cheese. I made the mistake of mentioning that I had enjoyed a meal at this particular sushi restaurant and you would have thought that I had just mentioned I brought out a rubber penis on the playground.

Next, I have many friends who find utter joy in delivering their babies at home, with candles lit, soft music playing, and no drugs... doing what nature called them to do. All I have to say about this is: good for them. Seriously, more power to those women. I respect them for their courage. I think some of these lovely and brave ladies might take this to mean that I wish I had the strength and courage myself to throw on a little Stevie Nicks and shoot out several kiddos from my nether regions at home with nary a doctor in sight. Let me assure you, I do not have this desire. This gal here is going with modern medicine. I think its superdy-duper that pioneers and cave ladies popped a squat and pulled the little tot out and then continued on about their day, but those gals also didn't have airconditioning or hair dryers. I’m pretty happy I live in these times, where I can have a hospital and doctor and lots and lots of pain meds. The end result is the same, folks, and I'm very satisfied with my choice.

Third, I love to ride my bike. I am a huge klutz and I can fall just by putting one foot in front of the other, but my bike is pretty much a Cadillac. It is the largest beach cruiser anyone has ever seen. If I knew how to post a pic I would, but basically it weighs about 50 pounds and even a monkey (a really tall monkey) could ride the thing without fear of falling off. The seat alone resembles a chaise lounge chair. I rode my bike with my husband and step daughter the other day up to the local store only to hear friendly neighbors yell out that I really shouldn't be on the bike at all. I'm sure everyone means well, but really, if I'm free-basing cocaine off of a stripper’s back then feel free to voice your concern for my unborn fetuses, but I don't really feel riding my bike warrants any concern. [Neither does my doctor nor my husband, and the precious cargo I’m carrying are his, too.]

So, any Pregnancy Police deputies or sheriffs reading this little piece, if you see me out partaking in soft-serve ice cream, lunch meat, lemons, honey, splenda, laying on my back or – heaven forbid – the right side instead of the left one, or even... dum dum dum... taking a swig of my husband’s beer (don't call CPS, calm down, just a swig) you can keep your know-it-allness to yourself, thanks. Trust me, you don't want to go toe-to-toe with this incontinent, hemorrhoidal, evil pregasaur.

Besides, there will be plenty to lecture me on after they’re born.

Friday, August 13, 2010

What's up, I'm knocked up...times two!!!

Well here I am, a 33 year old woman who has spent all of those years living for the moment and I find myself knocked up.  Thank goodness I am married to a great dude who can keep me grounded, well until I find out that it is twins I am carrying.  The twin thing took us both by complete and total shock as we had been "trying" to conceive or as I like to refer to it, NOT trying NOT to conceive for the better part of 6 months when the incident occurred.  I went for a viability ultrasound at 6 weeks along due to low progesterone.  I was preparing myself to hear bad news and that the pregnancy was not progressing.  Instead the ultrasound technician laughed a hearty laugh and delivered the news to Cory (the great husband dude) and I that we were expecting TWINS!!!!  No, we really don't have twins in either of our families to answer that question.  Apparently women in their 30s (that's me), have a unique reproductive response where the eggs are desperate to get the hell out of there and sometimes a few of them slide on down during ovulation instead of just one. 

I was initially shocked out of my mind that I was pregnant with twins.  I am now almost 17 weeks along and the shock has not really worn off.  I'm still having a hard time comprehending that I have two growing babies inside of my body.  We found out this week that we are having a boy and a girl and I feel so blessed to be able to experience this that I cannot even put it into words.  I am really excited but also pretty nervous and downright terrified of how I will cope and be as a mother to two newborn babies!

I'm writing this blog really for myself or anyone else who is interested in learning the real deal about pregnancy.  The ups and downs, seriously, it's not all rainbows and unicorns people!  I realized quickly after getting sperminated that there are plenty of not so pleasant attributes that other experienced mommies don't tell you.  Maybe they were so overwhelmed with love for their new babies they forgot some of the "body changes" that occur in pregnancy, or maybe they didn't want to scare you off.  I'm going to spill the real deal.  I'm sure all of these things are going to be worth it in the end, but I'm someone who likes to know what I'm in for and also that I'm "normal" so I will not hold back on the gory details.  I am still somewhat new to this pregnancy game and since it is my first, I can't say for certain if some of these symptoms I've felt so far are due to being pregnant in general or if they are exacerbated because it's twins but here is what I am dealing with so far:

1. Be prepared to piss your pants frequently
No really, I am serious. I am not talking about the tiny squirt you may have had when you laughed too hard before when you already had to pee.  I am talking about, you just went to the bathroom for the 15th time that hour and you happen to be sitting on the couch and out comes a sneeze.  Uh Oh!  You felt something down there come out when you sneezed! You wonder if it was just a tiny squirt and you are just being paranoid that your entire butt feels like you are sitting in a creek.  You consider just sitting there for another hour or two until your husband gets up so he doesn't see what you've done, but finally you realize you need to raise up and see the damage and sure enough the whole cushion has a nice big round pee ring on it.  Your husband looks at you in disgust and you just shrug as you get up to clean your own urine off the couch.  This is just one aspect that will make you super alluring to your mate.

2. Dry heaving or puking at inopportune times
You might wonder if there is an actual opportune time for puking and/or dry heaving, the answer is yes.  The best time is when you are in the safety and comfort of your own home and can heave without reservation, and not being mistaken for a bulimic and/or very hung over, as I was on a flight to Nashville from New York.  I had to go to the bathroom and actually use one of those airplane barf bags.  I heaved with all of my might in a bathroom the size of a thumb tack for about 10 minutes.  When I came out the first 10 rows of passengers were looking at me with a level of disgust I've only seen while being thrown out of a few bars in my life.  The flight attendant gave me the pity/disgust look and handed me a ginger ale.  I also threw up in my car after working a lunch in a doctor's office (I'm a medical sales rep).  It was about 100 degrees that day and I had just downed some chicken n dumplings from Cracker Barrel.  I got a nice twofer on this one because as soon as I put my car in drive I started heaving.  I searched for a bag and found a plastic Walgreens bag containing some lovely size XXXL granny panties I had recently purchased and threw the undies out of the bag.  I threw up in the bag while driving with one arm and trying to still look at the road since there was no where to pull over.  After the damage was done I looked down to see that my spanx under my work dress were completely soaked.  Awesome.  Not only had I puked in a bag in my car, I had also peed in my pants, lovely. 

3. You hate everyone
Hormones are a serious thing, people.  Think PMS times a thousand.  I have always had a high level of impatience with the rude, stupid, oblivious, rednecks of the world, but now I don't just have disdain for them.  I want to grab each of them by the neck and Jackie Chan karate kick them 48 times in the face and then pull their head straight through their bodies and right out of their asses. This includes anyone who; drives slow in the left lane, won't hold the door open for me when I'm right behind them, let their kids run through the store unsupervised, etc.  I have received (and I'm somewhat ashamed to say given) the finger from all ages and ethnicities.  It's safe to say I'm an equal opportunist when it comes to getting or giving the finger. 

4.  You will get huge boobs and hemorrhoids
Your boobs will expand to gargantuan proportions.  This is great if you are tiny and had small boobs to begin with, not so great if you are me and your boobs could be each used as a shelter from the rain for 4-5 people.  I'm certain that my boobs will never be the same after this and I will need a fork lift to pull them off the floor.  Hemorrhoids are another fact of pregnancy life that I thought came only after the babies were born, wrongo bongo.  It's starting to resemble a grape farm back there and I have to sleep with a tucks pad between my butt cheeks just to gather some relief.

5. A hunger like you have never known
I've always enjoyed food.  I might say I've even had a love affair with it.  Now though, I am like a horse at the trough and it seems like I can't get enough and I'm hungry every hour.  I am starting to very closely resemble Grimmace from McDonalds fame as I noticed while wearing a  purple shirt the other day.  Being only 17 weeks I shudder to think what it will be like two months from now.  Will I have to craft our king sized bed sheets into a moo moo for myself?  I've also noticed a new crop of fat and cellulite in places I didn't know it could exist.  Hello ear lobe cellulite! 

6. You get, everywhere!
I'm a pretty hairless individual.  I have arm hair that is barely visible to the naked eye and I shave my legs like twice a month.  I had no idea that you get hairier during pregnancy so imagine my surprise when my husband commented that shaving my nose hairs that were protruding out of my nostrils would be a swell idea.  After using his nose hair clippers and shearing my furry nose holes out I realized that I would also need to shave my pits and ahem, lady parts about every other day now.  I was starting to resemble a 70s porno and it was pretty scary.  Your hair on your head does get thicker and that is certainly a perk, but I am even getting a hairy stomach (which I'll be waxing pronto)!

These are just a few of the pleasantries of being pregnant.  It's not always pretty and I'm sure I'll be posting about more adventures in discovering new and exciting things like "the waddle" and fun topics like "weighing more than your husband".  I hope I've provided some insight for those who have yet to take a trip down the land of spermination.  Don't let it scare you, it's also pretty cool and just remember, just about anything is worth not having to suck in your gut for 9 months!