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Behind the Blog: The Untold Story of my Fibroid

10/28/2010

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"Fibroid" is totally the new f-word in our house.

Seriously, try it out. "What the fibriod?" "Are you fibroid-ing kidding me?" "The garbage men are such fibroid-ing idiots" and finally, Brian's favorite line while watching Packer games: "Where is the fibroid-ing defense? ARGH!"

Obviously I am joking, but it's interesting how one word can change your whole world (at least for a short time.) I do feel like fibroid has become a dirty word in this house for the last two years as it has caused complication after complication, especially in regards to my pregnancy with Scotty.

Probably what is most interesting is that fibroids are usually just harmless, benign growths that almost never interfere with pregnancy or childbirth. They are incredibly common - between 50-80% of women usually have at least one fibroid, and most will never know about it. The fibroid develops as a result of abnormal cell growth by the smooth uterine muscles and can attach outside the uterus, inside the wall of the uterus, or inside the uterus itself. Most fibroids require no treatment.

That is, unless you have the one-in-a-million fibroid, like myself. 

I should play the lotto.

(Wait, I live in Nevada. We don't have a state lottery. Maybe I should drag Scotty to the closest casino and put it all on black. Let it ride, baby!)

Anyways, we came to learn about my fibroid in the most uncommon way possible: through an ultrasound tech. They are usually a tight-lipped group, clearly well-versed in the "Don't look your patient in the eyes and never disclose any information to them" technique, but this u/s tech must have missed that day in class because she was chatty as all get-out.

It was January 2, 2009. I had known I was pregnant for all of five days (yet had managed to eat no less than three dinners of lasagna; I was taking this 'eating for two' thing very seriously.) On January 1st, I had unexplained heavy bleeding. By late afternoon on the 2nd, I was experiencing terrible cramps and pain in my lower right side. After a quick call to George (who was not yet George; he was still "Dr. P*******"), he recommended we go to the nearest emergency room to rule out the possibility of an ectopic pregnancy (which would require immediate surgery).

Upon exam, they told me I was still pregnant, but not sure "how" pregnant I was. I was then wheeled into a different room where I met Chatty Cathy, the ultrasound tech. She did a quick exam and said yes, I was definitely pregnant, as there was a sac, and she could also detect a cyst had ruptured due to fluid in my abdomen (and the reason for my pain.) She then said something I'll never forget, since it was so out-of-the-blue. She looked at me and then pointed to the screen and said, "You also have a fibroid. It's right there" [pointing.] "It's pretty big - like the size of a gumball. Don't let them overlook this, okay? And don't tell them I told you."

At the time, I had no idea what she was even talking about, let alone who "they" were.

By Monday, I had my first consult with George who ran some blood work and gave me the "no tilefish" lecture. (who eats tile fish??) It was such a blur and I was so anxious for the appointment that I didn't even think to bring up the fibroid until we were already out of the exam room and standing by the nurse's desk. "What about that fibroid?" I shouted to his turned back, as he grabbed another chart and was about to walk into a room. He turned around and looked at Brian and I and said, "Not a problem. We'll keep an eye on it." And then he disappeared.

Okay-dokey.

So for the next few months, I lived my life without thought of the fibroid. Emma had just been diagnosed with cancer, my sister was also pregnant, and I was trying to figure out how to taper down my practice (and cover my burgeoning bump) at the same time. At our 18 week "big" ultrasound, the one where they do a full anatomy scan and announce the gender, I was a little dismayed when the first thing the tech shouted was not 'girl' or 'boy,' but "Wow! Look at that fibroid!"

(We would come to learn that every tech for the rest of the pregnancy zeroed in on the fibroid before the fetus. I don't know if they were so enamoured with the size of it or what, but I totally felt like Scotty as playing second fiddle to this stupid tumor. Not fair, dude, not fair. He's the star of the show.)

She took about 20 measurements of it that lasted for what seemed like hours before finally telling us we were having a little boy. (little did we know he was going to be a little bear.) She said the fibroid was about the size of an orange and sitting directly on my cervix.

Hmm.

Well, that explained the pressure. For the last few weeks prior to this appointment, I had been feeling off. Not sick, but like there was a lot of pressure...down there. Like the baby was going to fall out or something. I told the specialist about this (my first meeting with Dick) and he said without hesitation, "You're grounded. No flying, no traveling, don't leave the state. Limited activity from this point forward -- just work and home. That's it."

Yikes. It wasn't like I was in the middle of planning a pledge class reunion in Chicago or anything. Or that we hadn't even started working on the nursery, or that our cat required twice weekly trips for the vet for medication.

Butthe main reason for his dire concern wasn't the fact that the fibroid was growing at an alarming rate (all of that good, healthy, lasagna-flavored blood was nourishing both the baby and the fibroid), but the placement of it. When pregnant, the cervix is kind of a big deal. It's your gateway to the baby.  For those of you unfamiliar with a cervix, I'll use the analogy our L&D nurse did: it's like the neck of a balloon. The more air you blow into the balloon, the shorter the neck becomes. In pregnancy, the cervix needs to shorten in order to dilate so you can push baby out.

However, it needs to shorted after week 37...not week 25.

Like mine did.

Which leads me to the most dramatic part of my story: preterm labor. My giant fibroid continued to push on the cervix, causing it to shorten way, way too early. Which in turn, essentially sent me into labor 15 weeks early. Thankfully, we caught it early enough so there were no major complications, but Dick and George both said to me: "Dunzo."

And with that, bed rest began.

Scotty grew and grew, the fibroid grew and grew, and I, in turn, morphed into a beached whale that lived on our couch. By week 30, not only did I have this giant fibroid, which by this point was the size of a grapefruit, but I had this abnormally large baby that was almost 5 lbs. Then they told me I had too much fluid. As a result, I became a very grouchy beached whale and took it out on my husband.

I was on all kinds of meds to stop contractions from weeks 25-37 (once you get to a certain size, your body thinks you should go into labor...hence why multiples are born early.) The fibroid decided to grant me one favor around week 33 and in an ultrasound, Dick told me it had moved; as my uterus expanded, the fibroid went with it. It was now resting comfortably by my butt (posterior) and no longer pressing on my cervix. Did that explain the giant size of my rump, or was that more attributed to my Whopper/brownie addition? But due to Scotty's size and the fluid levels, I still had to stay on bed rest.

You probably know the rest of the story. I was taken off my meds on a Thursday, and by Sunday night, I was in labor. Monday they induced me (after that huge, scary blood clot hit my flip-flop; remember that part of the story??) and by 2am on Tuesday morning, Scotty made his very dramatic entrance into the world.

A few months after that, I went in for yet another ultrasound. The fibroid was now back to orange-size-status. Despite no baby to nourish, it wasn't shrinking the way it should be. And George told me that if I were to get pregnant again, there was a very good chance all of this would play out again and I would have to go back on bed rest.

Bed rest with a toddler? Um...no.

And so, we made the decision to operate. I was crazy enough to think I could do this last year (I was even like, "I'll just pump and dump for the first two days after surgery, and then I can continue to pump for Scotty! It'll work out! I'll be fine!" Crazy-talk, people.) (I was mainly thinking about our deductible had been met for the year, and why would I want to cough up another $2500?) But we held off and I'm glad we are doing it now, since the idea of pumping and dumping makes me want to rip my hair out. Hell, just the idea of pumping makes me shudder.

As of Oct. 16, 2010, the fibroid is the size of a racket ball (so happy to have moved away from the fruit analogies) and located in the posterior (back) position. Per George (this made me giggle hysterically), he is going to have to literally take my uterus out of my body, do his peach-shelling thing, and then put my uterus back in. Um...what? I just keep imaging my poor uterus being slapped around like a side of liver. Just put it back where you found, okay boys?

So that's my story. I bet you have never read the word 'fibroid' so many times in one sitting. And in about ten days, I hope I never hear the word again.
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Home Alone

4/25/2010

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(**editor's note: this entry was started on Friday morning. Ultimately, it was finished on Sunday night.)

As I sit and type this, I am home alone right now.

As in, no one else is here.

The silence is deafening. And I'm not quite sure what to do with myself.

Brian took today off of work since he is flying out tonight for a bachelor party in New Orleans. He and the Bear headed off to baby gymnastics, since he had never been, leaving me home to sit and think. And listen to my quiet house.

There is no breathing on the monitor. No one shaking toys or rattles or babbling on the rug. There is no sound at all, except the hum of the computer.

I'll admit, I'm a little creeped out. After all, I haven't had the house to myself since, well, probably the bed rest days. Which seriously feel like several lifetimes ago. Gosh, the days when I just laid on the couch, eating brownies and blogging about the Bachelor. I guess you could say I still do that now (although I'm trying to cut out the brownies), it's just squished in between diapering, feeding, playing, and loving on a little Bear. And a really great husband.

I admit, I'm going to miss this house. In that typical fashion where you suddenly love the thing that you most detested because you are leaving it for something bigger and better, I've found myself getting a little sentimental. I mean, this is the house that we came home to the night Brian proposed. It was my birthday, and in between calling friends and family to share the good news, I remember opening my Kitchen-Aid mixer that my grandma had sent. Emma, curious as ever, stretched the length of the box and darn near tried to crawl in.

My grandma died in January 2007. Emma passed away in 2009. I miss them both terribly.

Our kitchen was home to my numerous protein shakes consumed before our wedding. (now, it mainly houses ginger cookies and a bottle or two of good red wine).  Our master bathroom was the place where I first saw two pink lines - and then promptly ran into the bed room to inspect the test in the sunlight. Then I took a picture of it and analyzed it on the digital camera. Then I cried. And then I called Brian.

(who, of course, did not answer his phone).

And if you walked a little further down the hallway, you'd find the room that Scotty lives in. If walls could talk.  Probably my most salient memory of that room is the night we came home from the NICU right after he was hospitalized -- it was completely silent. And I remember wanting to tear my hair out. I was so exhausted on the way home that I had fallen asleep in the car (it was after 2am when we finally got home) and instead of crashing, my brain started racing when I walked into the nursery that night. The sheer terror of everything we had experienced over the last 12 hours came slamming into my conscious, and the reality of our situation hit me. We could lose the Bear.

Instead of pulling my hair out, I did the next best thing: I deconstructed one of the floral arrangements we had been sent. (I'm fidgety, I know). I took a single white rose out of the bouquet and laid it on the table near the glider. Over the next four days, it slowly dried but never lost its original shape. When little Scotty finally joined us at home again, I tucked the rose in his memory box as a reminder to myself to never, ever, ever take anything for granted. Ever.

And finally, the last room in the hall on the right is our guest bedroom. This room has welcomed my parents, my sister and her husband, friends from all over the country, and my personal favorite, my friend Jen (mom to Rowan) who, while normally mild mannered, managed to yak twice in one rather raucous Vegas weekend as a result of alcohol consumption.  I remember her vomiting in the toilet saying, "I think I'm pregnant!" while I shook my head and said, "No, Jen, you just drank too much."

(she is going to kill me for publicly sharing this story on the interwebs. Sorry, Jenna.) 

So while the house sits quietly and I reflect, I can't help but wonder what the new house will bring...Scotty becoming mobile, that's a given. Maybe baby #2? (after we've passed the sandwich rule, of course. And for new readers, the sandwich rule is "we can have another baby when the current baby is able to accurately make himself a sandwich. And perhaps one for me as well.") Will our three-car garage ever actually hold three cars? (Brian is insistent that Scotty will have a car when he turns 16; I'm old-school and think he should wait. Until he's 31.) I'm envisioning a little vegetable garden in the backyard, maybe a swing set, but above all, a family that is happy and ready to settle in for the long haul.
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Baby Update

8/10/2009

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For those of you who like hard numbers, here are the stats:

BP:  110/74
Fluids: 20.3 (+3cm from Thursday)
Baby's heart rate: 128-152
Uterine activity: irritable, nothing notable

Overall, it was a very quiet appointment. I was on the monitors for less than 20 minutes, which was nice. I finally figured out that if I ask for apple juice PRIOR to the appointment starting, I have a much better chance of avoiding the buzzer. Baby B really loves apple juice (and so do I!). I think if we ever take this child apple-picking in the Midwest, he's going to try to eat the apples before we've even finished. I just love the idea of shopping for little fall sweaters for Baby B. I can just picture his little chubby cheeks red and flushed in autumn weather.

I don't know why, but I was just exhausted when I got home from the appointment. I literally crashed on the couch for two hours, dragged myself to the kitchen and made a cheese sandwich, and then dragged myself back to the couch. Maybe its' the heat, maybe it's my size, who knows. All I know is that I *heart* our couch. And air-conditioning.

I think I'm done reading for the time being; I just don't have the attention span. Plus, I kind of want to end on a high note before this child gets here; I would hate to have the sour taste of some Emily Giffin  book left on my reading taste buds when I might not read a (fiction) book for another 18 years. So, I'm happy to go out on 'The Likeness.' Which, by the way, I re-read this weekend. Just amazing. Love the writing style. I'm not going to review 'Infant Massage' or 'Itsy-Bitsy Yoga' because that is just wrong.

There is a Mad Men marathon on AMC right now...Brian and I only have two more episodes to watch until we are all caught up. Season Three premieres next Sunday! So excited. This show is just fascinating. I highly recommend it to anyone looking for a smart, well-written drama. Brian and I got into this 30+ minute discussion between episodes about a woman's intuition and finally had to agree to disagree.  We did, however, both agree that Betty Draper is completely off her rocker.  The show just sparks such good topics to talk about.

Also, I have only four words for you...TOP CHEF LAS VEGAS. I cannot wait!!! It premieres next Wednesday. I can't believe we missed Tom & Padma & Co. while they were in town. Word on the street is that they shopped at the Whole Foods at Town Square. Why couldn't they pick the Albertson's on Rainbow? Oh, well. I can't wait to watch. My favorite show in my home city...so awesome.

That's all. I think I'll go make some muffins now.
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Euphoric

8/10/2009

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A lot of people have been inquiring how I've been feeling lately (thank you! So thoughtful of all of you), and I have to report, I feel awesome. I mean, from a physical standpoint, I have the usual aches and pains - back pain, hip pain, fibroid pain (oh, so fun), and just overall exhaustion.  There is nothing like being 35+ pounds heavier when it is 115 degrees outside. But Vegas is experiencing a bit of a cooling period - the temp has only reached the high 90s for the last few days - and aside from the physical discomfort, my mood has been fantastic. Really and truly happy.

I feel as though this fog of anxiety has been lifted from me. The longer this pregnancy lasts, the happier and more excited I get. Yes, I'm concerned about delivery, but it's hard to wipe the smile off of my face these days. The end is definitely in sight and I can almost taste it. I'm excited, I'm thankful, and I'm so, so, so happy that this child is almost full-term. I really never thought I would make it to 36w2d, so every day after this feels like a true blessing.

I know that sounds pretty cheesy (sorry, I'm losing my sarcastic edge). I think it all just depends on expectations, though. When you expect to go the full 40 weeks, the last few weeks have got to just drag. But when you are told that you might have a micro-preemie at 26w, everything after 36 is gravy. Really delicious gravy. And I'm savoring all of it.

Who knows when Baby B will get here...I'm starting to think maybe next week, though Brian is convinced that he's coming later this week. And he might surprise both of us and arrive much later in the month. Who knows? All I care about it that this kid is moving fairly regularly (though it takes a while to feel him in his swimming pool) and my appointments continue to go well.  My headaches are gone and I *should* be off the medication (and bed rest!) in the next 48 hours. I feel as though I've been given a "summer vacation" for the first time in a long time, too. I've had a chance to read some really great books, hang out with friends, and bake to my heart's content. I feel like I'm 17 again (minus the whole pregnancy thing).

On today's schedule, I am planning to go to fetal monitoring at 10:30, read a book on infant massage, and then perhaps make muffins. Sounds like a pretty awesome day to me. :-)
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People with children must not eat lasagna

8/4/2009

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Good lord.

Did you know lasagna noodles are like, crazy slippery after cooking?

The dish is finally done, but my goodness. Every single pot in my kitchen is dirty. The stove top is wrecked. I had to rearrange the entire freezer to fit my lasagna in there and now I'm worried some random tupperware container is going to squish my masterpiece.

I started the cooking process today at 1pm. It is now 7pm and it is finally done. How do people with children do it? All I had to worry about this afternoon was making sure Emma had food and a warm corn pillow. I am physically exhausted and still need to clean the kitchen. Just grating the Peccharino-Reggiano cheese practically sent me into labor.

I just called Brian and told him that he has exactly 37 minutes to get home or else my lasagna will burn. I will be devastated if this dish doesn't turn out.

Whew. I'm off to lay on the couch. I'm not even hungry anymore.
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Cupcake Day!

7/24/2009

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When you are on bed rest, probably the most frequent thought to go through your head is, "What can I do to entertain myself today?" It's all about entertainment and staying busy. Too much time to think will cause you to google scary things like, "viability at 32 weeks gestational age" and "likelihood of stillbirth."  Google is such an amazing tool, but so dangerous when left unsupervised.

Anyways, I woke up this past Tuesday feeling super antsy. I knew I needed to do something to occupy my mind, which is what lead to today...Cupcake Day.

The background is that last October, my sister sent Brian the most amazing cupcakes for his birthday. They were from this fancy-schmancy bakery in San Fransicso and were as asthetically pleasing as they were delicious (see picture).  I think Brian ate one and I ate 12. They were just seriously heaven. I've been thinking a lot about those cupcakes in recent weeks (early on, my doctor asked me if I had experienced any cravings and I replied, "Yes. High-fructose corn syrup." He didn't even laugh). So randomly, on Tuesday, I decided to order some for myself.

The entertainment value came as I was filling out the shipping information. I felt kind of silly ordering a gift for myself, but then the website asked what occasion this was for. I tentatively selected "Baby." Then it asked me to type a message to the recipient. Again, this is where the boredom really hits home. Giggling the whole time, I typed, "Congrats on 34 weeks! You can do it. From, Me."

I recognize this is probably not even funny to most people, but it's made me laugh all week. When I told Brian what I did, he just shook his head.  When I told him I addressed the card to myself, he looked slightly fearful.  But whatever. My cupcakes were delivered today and they are WONDERFUL!!!  Happy Cupcake Day. :-)

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New Member Alert

7/18/2009

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Here at the Bed Rest Book Club, we welcome new members with mixed feelings. (we meaning myself and Emma. Two members strong). Obviously, we hate to see other pregnant women placed on bed rest but when it's medically necessary, well, you don't have much of a choice. There are some obvious perks to bed rest (sleeping in, afternoon naps, plenty of time to bond with your pets), but the drawbacks can make one start to feel a little crazy in head (the sheer inability to do anything on your own, go anywhere on your own, or retain any level of independence). As I tell most people who ask how things are going, "I have my good days, and then I have my bad days." You never really know how the day will play out.

And so, it is with a heavy heart but open arms I welcome the third official member to the club...my sister Kelly. As previously mentioned, we are both pregnant and due on the same day, September 5th. Also, as previously stated, no, we did not do this on purpose or plan to be pregnant at the same time. I don't think that's possible, to be quite honest. But it is convenient to be exactly the same gestational age, because if I ever forget how pregnant she is, I just have to look at my own calendar. We've even had many of our doctor's appointments on the same day (much to my mother's never-ending anxiety).  As of today, we are officially 33 weeks pregnant. We've both made it through the majority of the 'scary' weeks and are just plugging away to the finish line.

Kelly's most recent doctor's appointment was this past Thursday. She has had some previous medical complications and was high risk from day 1.  Originally, when she first found out she was pregnant, there was serious talk of her going on light duty at her job (she's a nurse) around 18 weeks, bed rest around 24 weeks, and then taking the baby at 34 weeks.  Much to everyone's surprise (and delight), Kelly has been a rock star of pregnancies. She was able to switch her on-her-feet ICU position to a desk job early in her pregnancy, and has been very conciensious of her activity level. Both decisions clearly worked out, and until week 32 (and 5 days), she had been leading a fairly normal life.

Doctors continued to push back her due date to take the baby (from week 34 to week 36 and now, they want her to go to 38 weeks, if possible) mainly because she has done such a great job. And as we all know, everyday the baby stays inside the womb is one to two less days he spends in the NICU. Kelly was buying her baby some serious time.

She got the edict on Thursday, however. Due to some consistent, strong contractions that had been bothering her for weeks, the doctor said she'd be better off with some serious couch time in her future. She had a scare two weeks ago that involved contractions about two minutes apart, and was ultimately treated with a dose of terbutaline.  While the contractions are concerning, the good news is there has been no cervical changes AND the baby looks great. Little Baby Ben, weighing in at four pounds, ten ounces, rocked the ultrasound and the non-stress test. You go, Ben.

I asked Kelly if she wanted to write some reviews for the blog, but I think she's more of the needle-work type. She said she had been saving some projects for this specific situation, and had plenty to keep her busy over the next few weeks. And that made me realize; we are both only about 30 days out from being considered full-term. August 15th is definitely a big day for both of us!

So, welcome Kelly! Enjoy laying on your left side for the next four weeks. Drink lots of wather.  I'm glad Baby B's cousin is in good shape, and I can't help but feel that we are going to go into labor within hours of each other. It's just been one of those weird, psychic connections that defy logic. I think our uteruses (uteri?) may be intrinsically linked or something.

While I (knock on wood) have a good feeling that both of our pregnancies will end in happy, and healthy ways, I think the person we all need to be thinking about is my mom. I can just imagine her sitting at our kitchen table in Indiana, twisting her hands feverishly. While this has been hard on Kelly and I, it's always 100x worse for the person who has to WAIT for the information. So, if you are the praying kind, please kindly redirect them to Indiana.  

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Better now

7/15/2009

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Note to self: do not post a whiny post after a doctor's appointment without first calling my mom to reassure her that everything is okay. I woke up from my nap to have missed two phone calls from her. Whoops.

Sorry about that, Mom.

Anyways, I determined my sad mood was likely related to a lack of saturated fat in my diet (ha!) so I hit McDonald's for a cheeseburger meal. The doctor said to be kind to myself, right?  Well, it did the trick and I'm feeling more human again. Emma also took this opportunity to finish the food in her dish, so I am especially pleased.

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Hitting a wall

7/15/2009

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I'll admit it...I haven't picked up a book in almost two weeks. I just don't have the energy or interest at this point. I'm hoping this feeling will pass.

I had a doctor's appointment this morning with my regular doctor. I'm fairly positive I got the 'crazy person' sticker adhered to my chart. (I can't remember if this was from a Seinfeld episode or not...my friend Liz and I always joke that the crazier we are at the doctor's, the faster they slap on a bright red sticker that denotes we are, indeed, crazy). I have no idea why, but I pretty much cried through the whole appointment. I am just so tired of being tired. I'm tired of not being able to do anything; I have all the fixins' to make my favorite soup assembled on the counter, except Brian forgot to pick up chicken stock at the store on Monday night. I don't have the heart to tell him we need chicken stock (he worked 7:30am 'til 9:30pm yesterday), and so, no soup has been made. I'm sick of my house always feeling dirty and I must sit around in the dirt. The walls of our house are starting to close in and I'm tired of lying on the couch. I am also very sick of the 115 degree Vegas heat and having all of the moisture sucked out of my body if I dare open the door for the UPS guy.  And I really wish Emma would eat all of her food, since she is really stressing me out.

Anyways, all of this was swirling through my mind, hence the small breakdown. My doctor looked at me with a mixture of curiosity and pity and told me to be kind to myself. Um...okay, Oprah. I'm about as nice to myself as it gets; I cannot become anymore self-absorbed at this point if I tried (I didn't mention the maternity photos to him). My whole life right now appears downright luxurious; I have no commitments, no job, and nothing that would (should) be stressing me out. Argh.

Ironically enough, right after telling him that I have no appetite these days, he pointed out that our insurance is a subsidiary of the Anheuser-Busch corporation. I just shrugged and then blurted out, "THAT sounds good right about now." He just laughed and patted me on the back. Sigh.

I know I have so much to be thankful for. The baby is healthy, I'm not in the hospital, Brian is gainfully employed. I just need a day to feel down. So...that's what I'm doing. Thanks for attending my pity party.  

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Scary world

6/18/2009

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So I ventured outside today by myself. Before I get negative comments about how I should be at home on the couch, please know all I had to do was 1.) go to the mailbox and 2.) go to the bank. The bank is literally one well-placed golf shot from my house, and yes, I drove to both the mailbox and the bank.

Anyways, what a crazy world out there! I attempted to make a right hand turn on red and was almost broadsided by a woman in a large white SUV making a U-turn. While driving into the ATM machine at the bank, another car totally cut me off. In an effort to cut my losses, I decided to hit Burger King for a Jr. Whooper (since making a right is easier than making a left turn) and almost got hit again (!!) at a four-way stop.

I don't need this stress. My ten-minute errand run turned into a stressful, death-around-the-corner dodgefest. I am camping out on my safe, accident-free couch for the rest of the afternoon. At this rate, I'll be using one tank of gas for the entire summer.

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    About Me

    Think of this as the epilogue to Bridget Jones' story. Well, mostly. Bridget marries the handsome lawyer, starts a blog while on bedrest, and decides marathon running sounds like fun. Bridget goes through a divorce but keeps running. Hilarity ensues. 

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