Just Because Fridays: Link Up, Anyone?

My dear readers,

I want to play a game with you. What are you doing on Tuesdays? Nothing? Perfect! Why don't you swing by my neck of the woods and link up with me for a brand new game called...

It doesn't have to be big. I don't want your deepest, darkest secrets. I don't want something you've never told anyone else. We don't need anyone being offended or angry. All I want is something fun, unusual, or downright strange about yourself, your pets, or your family.
For instance, I can't cross my eyes. Like, I physically cannot. I don't know why and I've always wanted to learn now. But, alas, I can't. 
So, come on back here every Tuesday and link up with me for some silliness. Spread the word about your blog, and meet some pretty awesome people along the way. Whaddya say?

Am I The Only One?

Another day, another linky party. Yay! Sometimes, they're just too much fun to pass up. Like this one from Five30Three.

*Am I the only one who can't say "Aluminum" correctly? I swear to Pete that every time I try, it comes out "Alunimum." I am not joking.
*Am I the only one who has a burning hatred for the women who have given birth before me? EVEN if their due date was about four months ago? Nothing personal, ladies. I'm sure I'll get over it once I pop, too.

*Am I the only one who wasn't a tummy sleeper before pregnancy, but has decided to sleep that way every night for a month afterward JUST because I can?
*Am I the only one who, at nearly 39 weeks pregnant, wants to kill someone instinctively because they reached in front of me at the grocery store instead of saying, "Excuse me" like a decent human being?

*Am I the only one who starts a movie and then immediately pulls out my laptop because I'm already bored?

Anyone? No? Just me, then. Cool. 

Happy Thursday!

 

Five Faves

There's this blog, you see, called Living with Fletch. She likes to play games at random times. There's really no rhyme or reason, but I thought I'd participate in one whenever she did it (if I can keep up.) This one is called...

...wait for it...

Five Faves

1. Favorite Movie:

Seriously, I could watch this movie every day for the rest of my life and not get sick of it. I know almost every line, and I still think it's hilarious. But, what's up with there being a TV show now? 

2. Favorite Dog Breed:

I. LOVE. HUSKIES. First of all, they're gorgeous. Secondly, they're insanely smart. Unfortunately, our stupid complex won't let us have certain breeds because they're "too protective" and Huskies happen to be on the Do Not Own list. 

3. Favorite Cosmetic Item: 

THIS mascara. It makes my eyelashes CRAZY long (even though they're pretty long on their own) and super full. If you haven't tried it, you should. Consider this my stamp of approval.

4. Favorite Band/Album/Song:

Here's my favorite band. Love them forevah. But, you wanna know what my favorite album is?

Boom. This is the only album on this planet  that I can listen to straight through without skipping any songs. It's magical. However, my favorite song?

HA! Were you expecting that? I know. It's really weird and they're all such different genre's. Don't judge.

5. Favorite TV Show:

Oh, Sam and Dean... the shenanigans you get yourselves into. I really and truly can't get enough of this show. I'll be forever grateful to that ex-boyfriend who introduced me to it way back during season 2. Now we're getting ready for SEASON 8! *squee!*

Oh, P.S. We ran out of cereal a few days ago, so I made Spam and eggs for breakfast today. Not my first choice, but whatever. Except, now our entire house smells like Spam. Ew. And it WILL NOT go away. 
Happy Wednesday!

Prozac Nation

What do you know about depression? Did you know that over 3% of people who have depression in the United States alone commit suicide? I did. I was one of them who tried.

I was always a happy child. I did the normal kid things. I laughed a lot. I ran around and had way too much energy. I didn't actually show signs of depression at all until I was about 13. For whatever reason, my whole world shattered then.

To cope with the depression, I would write poetry. Dark poetry. I rarely let anyone read them because they were so personal and "scary." When the poems wouldn't work, or if I had writer's block, I had other methods of coping.

One day at school, the nurse called me out of class into her office. The guidance counselor was also in attendance, as was my mother. The look on my mom's face said it all. She had finally discovered my secret. The nurse informed me that someone (I can't remember who, now) had come to her because she had seen my arm and was concerned. The nurse began to monitor me without my knowledge, and noticed that every few days, the scratches on my arm were multiplying. She then "took the liberty" of calling my mother and they had set up an intervention of sorts. Because they had caught me off guard like that, I didn't have any stories to tell. I couldn't talk my way out of it. Instead, I became angry. REALLY angry. Whoever that girl was had no right to interfere like that and I hated her for a long time. The stupid nurse should have talked to me first before calling my mom. 

At least, that's how I felt then.

Shortly after that day, my parents began sending me to a therapist. I hated him, too. For the first month's worth of sessions, I just sat there. I wouldn't talk. I wouldn't even look at him. He didn't even care about me. I was just a paycheck to him. 

I was wrong.

Eventually, I opened up enough to allow him to see that I needed help. Medical help. So, that's when I was first prescribed Effexor as a means to treat my depression.

It didn't work at first. I was still depressed. I was embarrassed because I had to take medication. I felt crazy. 

I kept cutting.

Eventually, though, the medication was adjusted enough so that it worked. I could smile again. I was lifted up through the fog in my head. But, the damage had been done.

My scars made appearances in my senior pictures. They followed me to Europe, prom, and even my wedding. They will be here forever. Whenever I look at them now, I'm reminded of a Linkin Park song, "Figure .09"

I took that medication for nine years. Nine. Years. Only after I became pregnant did I realize that I needed to stop for the sake of my child. So, I began to wean myself off. 

That's when I found out that Effexor was a narcotic.

I had cold sweats. I was shaky. I had migraines and "brain zaps". I was dizzy. I was emotional. It was the hardest thing I have ever had to do. But I did it for her.

I did it because I loved my unborn child enough to know that I didn't want her to ever have to experience these withdrawal symptoms after she was born. She didn't deserve that. So, I suffered through it for seven of the nine months of my pregnancy.

I am proud to say that I've been medication free for two and a half months. The process of removing the medication from my life had made this pregnancy a LOT harder than it should have been. There's a good chance that the lack of this drug has increased my weight gain a bit. But, I don't care. As long as Alexa is born healthy, happy and without complication, it was all worth it. 

Maternity Mondays: 38 Weeks

Oh. Mah. Gah. 38 Weeks? Sometimes, I feel like this has been one speedy nine months. Other times...

I feel bad for all those people who I encounter throughout the day. I have to constantly bite my tongue because I'm just so tired of answering the same questions over and over and over. So, instead of answering, "Oh! When is your baby due?" with "WHAT'S IT TO YOU, LADY!?!" I take a breath, smile, and say, "Oh, they keep telling me it's July 7th." Then, I share the fakest laugh in the world with whoever is talking to me, and quickly walk away from them before they can ask anything else. Although, I'll admit, I did answer that question once with, "When's my baby due? I'm not really sure I remember. It's hard to remember anything after the abduction." The look they gave me was absolutely priceless. Especially after I threw in my own rendition of Jenna Marbles' "Go Away Face".

My kid is going to be so messed up.

Updates: According to Dr. Manpants, if I haven't squeezed out this baby by July 13th, they're going to induce me. That's still, like, *counts in head* 18 days away! Ugh. I've never been so impatient for a single event in my entire LIFE. 

"Funny" Stories: There's a park about a quarter mile away from our house with a Coke machine (okay, it's Pepsi, but who cares?) in front of one of the gazebos. On Saturday, I was seriously craving a Coke. Like, I'd have poked someone in the eye just so I could steal their soda. Anyway, I waddled down to the park with about a hundred quarters in my pocket only to find that the ENTIRE MACHINE was sold out. Seriously? To add insult to injury, there was some shindig going on inside that stupid gazebo and about forty people witnessed me jingling up to the machine, sighing in defeat, turning around and jingling back home. Uncool, man. That whole experience still pisses me off when I think about it. I think I actually jabbed the keyboard a bit too hard while I wrote it out for you.

Memorable Quotes: 

*Nick walks into the living room to find me crying*

Nick: "Babe, what's wrong?"

Me: "I'm still pregnant."

News: I have a Facebook page now! There's a little clicky link under my picture over ---> there. If you feel so inclined, please take a few seconds to go and "Like" it! :)

Happy Monday!

P.S. I recently received this lovely little award for new bloggers from It's Me Again.........Pamela. Isn't that nice? Why don't y'all go on over and say hello to her? Tell her I sent ya. 

A Conversation with my Body

As a preface to this post, there's not a whole lot I can physically do anymore. That said, let me paint you a little word picture:

You finally get comfortable on the couch after huffing and puffing your way downstairs when you realize that you have to pee. Again. So, naturally, you hoist yourself up and go about your business. Upon coming back to the couch, you find that sitting in exactly the same position that was comfortable to you ten minutes ago is now horrifically uncomfortable. Great. It doesn't matter, anyways, because now you're hungry. Like, on the verge of death hungry. So, you waddle into the kitchen and make yourself a snack that you only end up eating half of because the baby shifted positions and is suddenly squashing a majority of your stomach. Whatever. You can just save it for later. After wrapping up your snack and putting it in the fridge, you realize how incredibly tired you are. You dread tackling the stairs again, but you know you'll never be able to fall asleep on the couch. Twenty minutes have gone by and you've finally made it up the stairs. Hooray! Too bad you can't breathe anymore because now the baby is using one of your lungs as a beanbag chair. After crawling the rest of the way to your bedroom and finding a decent position to lie in, it's time to pee again...

Okay, okay. I jest. It only takes me five minutes to get up the stairs.

After experiencing all of this just about every day, I've started to really become annoyed with my body. How in the world am I supposed to take care of a baby when I can hardly manage any of the normal bodily functions anymore? Fed up, I finally had to have a little prayer meeting with myself...

Me: Body, what gives? It's 2:00 in the morning and you aren't even tired! This is unacceptable.

Legs: We're  tired.

Back: I'm always tired. Why do you think I scream at you to sit down so often?

Brain: Sorry about that. I'm too busy worrying. Don't you think you should figure out what to do if your baby was born without fingers? 

Me: Um. Not really, Brain. That's really useless to worry about because the ultrasound showed that all of her fingers and toes are accounted for.

Brain: But what about....

Me: Give it a rest, Brain. Now, Belly, why don't you suck it in a little? You're looking a bit doughy.

Boobs: Hey! What are we going to rest on, then?

Me: Well, you could always sit up straight. I would actually prefer it if you did.

Boobs: No, thanks. 

Belly: They keep me warm, anyway. 

Me: What if I put on some more layers? 

Belly: Oh, no. That would be far too hot. Actually, can you turn on the fan?

Legs: NO! We're tired! Please don't get up!

Back: But sitting down so much is hurting me...

Me: I thought standing up hurt you?

Back: It's both, really.

Me: Should I lie down, then?

Back, Boobs, and Belly: NO!

Legs: YES!

Me: Baby.... can you come out now?
Belly: I'm hungry...

Maternity Mondays: 37 Weeks

Okay, so, I know that I said I'd post more pictures of my belly, and lately I, well.... haven't. Too bad! I'm pretty sure I won't be posting anymore pictures of myself until after this kid makes her debut. The plan is to take a before hospital/after birth picture, but we'll just have to wait and see.

Anyway, I'm full term! YAY! Every morning I wake up mildly disappointed that I didn't go into labor the night before. "Baby," I say, "It's okay to come out now. Seriously. What are you waiting for?" Then she wiggles all over the place and makes me die a little inside. "Baby," I say, "If you're so uncomfortable, you can COME OUT. You'll have a room all to yourself! ...and a body." But, apparently all she hears is that Charlie Brown "wah-wah" and completely disregards whatever the heck I'm saying.

I've attempted to do some of those DIY labor induction techniques. HA! That was a headache and a half. Someone actually suggested that I do jumping jacks. Jumping jacks! What the heck EVER. I literally have to roll myself out of bed in the morning and you want me to do jumping jacks? I actually laughed in their face and went on with my day as if I hadn't heard the most ridiculous theory in the history of ridiculous theories. But, I've managed to delude myself into thinking that, because it hurts so much when I sneeze, perhaps Nick should make me sneeze once I go into labor and the baby will just pop out. Don't laugh at me. It's worth a shot, anyway.

Latest Fears: That I'm going to need an episiotomy. (Google that nastiness. I am NOT posting a picture.) Just the thought of it makes me hurt and I'm pretty sure it makes Nick light-headed enough to faint. 


Latest Cravings: Labor. ...and Cheetos.


Latest Realizations: In approximately two weeks there will be a baby in this house and I have no idea what I'm doing. 


Latest Bout of Craziness: Recently I cleaned the entire house. I'm not sure why. I just decided that everything needed to be, like, sterile. So, I spent ALL DAY cleaning and then Nick came home from his landscaping job and walked all over the place in his dirty boots and I just about LOST my junk. Sorry, babe. I still love you.


Anyways, happy Monday!

Friday's Letters

Dear Nick: Thanks so much for being an amazing and supportive husband. I would be such a mess without you. Also, thanks for getting up in the middle of the night because I was "screaming" about that hideous leg cramp and stretching it out for me. You're the best. Srsly.

Dear Alexa: You turned! All by yourself! I'm so happy and grateful that you figured that out even though it made me want to die while you were doing it. Thanks for bringing me one step farther from needing a C-Section! My baby is a genius.

Dear "Doctor Dillhole": Even though I think you're a huge jerk, thanks for at least taking the time to explain things to my husband so he didn't punch you in the throat for making me cry. I just have one piece of advice for you: People have feelings and you should treat them that way. It's not wise to treat a pregnant woman like a paycheck and disregard her worries and blow off her symptoms as "being normal" without explaining things further. Thaaaaaanks.

Dear Nose: What is this sorcery? Why are you so wide?! Go back to the way you were! When I smile you spread out all over my face and that's the main reason why I don't smile with my teeth showing anymore.

Dear Commenters: Thanks so much for reading my blog AND commenting on the entries. I read them all and they all make me smile my award-winning, nose-spreading smile. It looks something like this --> (c:

Dear Books Written by Foreign Authors: I enjoy reading you WAY more than books written by Americans. Your slang is hilarious and your wit is immeasurable.

Dear American Authors: Y U NO FUNNY LIKE IRISH OR BRITISH AUTHORS?

Dear Body: You had better shrink down to your original size when I'm done being pregnant. This whole "larger-than-life" thing is making me crazy and I can hardly take a shower without getting grossed out.

Dear Boobs: That goes for you, too. I had non-existent runner's boobs and I liked it.

Dear One Direction: Wouldja quit having such catchy songs? I feel a bit weird bopping around to a teenage boy band.



Dear Mom: Sorry to call you and burst into tears at random intervals. It's the hormones, I swear. I really don't care that much if I accidentally colored Iron Man purple because the crayon itself looked red. Promise. 

Maternity Mondays: 36 Weeks

Well, here we are. 36 weeks and no sign of labor. There really is no "plus side" to my days anymore. I wake up in pain. I walk downstairs on ballooned out feet and feel like I'm treading on broken glass with every step. I sit in pain. I stand in pain. Then, the baby wakes up. At that point, it's like real pain hasn't existed until that moment. Every move she makes brings me to tears. I think she's trying to turn herself into the proper position, but she's just too big for me to accommodate. I have a doctor's appointment on Thursday, and I will ask (more like inform) them for an ultrasound to see if Alexa is healthy and if she is, I will then ask (or inform, whatever) to be induced because I just can't handle her anymore. She's too big and it hurts too much for me to carry her to 40 weeks. Technically, at 37 weeks she'd be considered full term. So what are we waiting for? Ugh. Anyways, here's a cutsie little survey:

About You 

Name: Michelle
Age: I'll be 23 tomorrow. 
Height: 4'11"
Pre-pregnancy weight: 130ish. I'm not sure exactly. We don't have a scale.

About The Father

Name: Nicholai
Age: 22
Height: 6'2"
Are you still together: Yes. This is sad that it's even a question.


About Your Pregnancy 
Is this your first pregnancy: Yes.
When did you find out you were pregnant: November 2nd, 2011

Was it planned: Um. Not exactly...

What was your first reaction: "...holy crap."
Who was with you when you found out: Technically, I was at work when I took the test. I went out and bought them on my lunch break because my boobs had been sore for about two weeks. 
Who was the first person you told: Nick, obviously.
How far along are you: 36 weeks, 2 days.
What is your due date: July 7th, 2012.
Do you know the sex of the baby: It's a girl.
How much weight have you gained: 30 pounds. :\
Do you have stretch marks: I do. They're faint and I don't have many, but they're there.
Have you felt the baby move: Oh, boy. When she moves I feel like dying. It's excruciatingly painful.
Have you heard the heartbeat: Yes'm.

About the birth 

Will you keep the baby: Yes. That still seems weird to me, honestly. The baby is mine. I can't give it back when she cries. I have to take care of her. It's all very bizarre.  
Home or hospital birth: Hospital. I'm not sure my neighbors would appreciate hearing me shriek through the walls. 
Natural or medicated birth: Hopefully medicated.
Who will be in the delivery room with you: Nick. The doctor. Some nurses. That's it. Everyone else can wait. I'm not exactly jiggy with the world seeing my ladyparts.
Will you breastfeed: That's the plan.
Do you think you'll need a c-section: It's looking that way, yes. I was scared about it, but now I don't really care. I just want to get the show on the road already.
Would you let someone videotape the birth: HECK to the no.
Are you excited about the birth, or scared?: I was scared. Terrified, actually. But, the more time that passes, the more anxious I become. Hurry UP in there!

Dear Alexa

Little girl, you aren't even born yet. I haven't seen your face, heard you laugh or felt your tiny hands in mine. But, I love you. Daddy loves you, too. 

 There are a few things about this world and the life you will have that I want you to know before you make your debut. 

1. I'm sorry in advance for all the things I mess up on. Just as you don't know how to speak or walk or hold your own head up, I don't really know how to be a mom. But, I am willing to push everything aside to be there for you and learn exactly what you need when you need it. I'll get things wrong. A lot. But I will never stop trying.

2. When you are old enough to start dating, I want you to look for a man who is just like daddy. You see, your father fixed me when I was broken. He picked up all the little pieces of my shattered heart and put them back together very, very carefully. He never rushed me or got upset with me because I had trust issues. He waited patiently for me to come to him. Your dad is a true gentleman. I hope you will watch how he treats me throughout your life and realize that you deserve the same treatment from your husband. 

3. The world we live in can be a scary place. There are some people who aren't very nice. There are some people who will say things about you to hurt you. But there are also very, very good people. People who will bend over backwards just to make you smile. Alexa, it may seem impossible to do at times, but try to avoid basing your happiness on other people. You have the power to decide how your day will go. It took me many years to learn this concept, but once I did, I was much, much happier with my life.

4. If there's only one thing you learn from me during your life, I hope that it's this: You are very loved. Even if I get upset with you, or even when I tell you no. I love you. I promise to do everything in my power to help you to understand how much.

We still have a few weeks left before you come out and greet us, but I want you to know that we will keep you safe. Everything is ready and waiting for you to come home. 

See you soon, little one.

Love,

Mama

Is This Normal?

Well hello there Bloggy McBloggerson. I've decided to quit whining about how boring pregnancy is for a day and write about something completely and totally off-topic. Are you ready for this? Allyce over at Chalk in the Rain has started a new link up party and today is the very first day. Basically, it's taking a look at your own life and the things that you do and asking yourself, "Is this normal?" Now, she has some stock questions here, and has encouraged us to write our own questions, too. So, without further adieu...

Is This Normal? {Vol. 1}

1.  Is it normal to Google yourself? 

Well, I personally don't do that simply because there's nothing to find. I am outstandingly ordinary.

2.  Is it normal to pretend you are stuck in traffic as an excuse for being late? 

Now this I do! Aaaaallll the time. Oops.

3.  Is it normal to have told someone they have bad breath? 

I usually refrain from doing this unless I know the person fairly well. If I don't, I may simply pop a mint in my mouth and nonchalantly offer them one, too.

4.  Is it normal to have worn the same undies 2 days in a row without washing them?

I will admit that I have done this before. BUT, I was horrifically sick. So, I'm really not disgusting. Promise.

5.  Is it normal to put baby powder in your hair to de-grease?

I'd say no. Normally, for me to de-grease my hair, I *pause for effect* take a shower.

6.  Is it normal to have accidentally sent a nasty text/email to the person the e-mail/text was about?

I can honestly say that I've only done this once in my lifetime. If I have something to say about someone that isn't exactly nice, I tend not to put it in writing. ESPECIALLY not if I'm putting names with it.

7.  Is it normal to have lied to your doctor?

I can't say that I've ever lied to my doctor. Generally, if I'm at the doctor, it's because I want a legitimate answer. Lying isn't going to get me anywhere.

8.  Is it normal to go an entire week eating cereal for dinner?

Probably not. But I totally have. I'm a cereal junkie.

9.  Is it normal to pull clothes out of the dirty laundry to wear?
Honestly, I think that everyone has done this at least once in their lifetime.


10.  Is it normal to re-gift a wedding gift?
Haha! I think more people do this than you would think. I mean, if you were given seventeen toasters for your wedding, don't you think they'd be better off going to someone who needs them? Of course.