Tuesday's Confessions Blog Hop

Hi everyone! It's Day 1 of Tuesday's Confessions! Are you excited? I am!

Today, I'm going to tell you about the fact that I've taken three different sets of swimming courses, and I still don't know how to swim.

I know. It's shameful. What 23 year old doesn't know how to swim? Me. Why?

That's why. See all that hair? This is me at six years old. I know. Adorable, right? But let's focus. I didn't start taking swim classes until I was seven, and I still hadn't had a haircut. Consequently, when my teacher had us all hold our noses and dunk our heads underwater, my head got sucked up by the filter. Nobody noticed that I hadn't popped back up for a little over a minute. Not until someone saw a disembodied foot floating in the water. 

Needless to say, water above my shoulders scares the everliving out of me. I'm not very buoyant and I'm short. However, I'm determined to learn how to swim before I become pregnant again. Wish me luck!

Now that I've shared my confession for the week, it's your turn! Link up below and tell us a little about yourself.

Happy Tuesday!

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Maternity Mondays: 39 Weeks

I'm having a hard time wrapping my head around this time frame that I'm in. My due date is on Saturday. SATURDAY. If she doesn't come by then, we'll wait until next Saturday and I'll be induced. Regardless, in two weeks there will be a baby in this house. Weird.

Have you ever looked forward to one single event for so long that you begin to wonder what you'll be thinking when it finally arrives? I do that ALL the time. Like, for instance, I keep wondering what will be going through my head when I realize that the contractions I'm having are real. Or what I'll be thinking when the nurse says, "Okay, Michelle. It's time to push." Or what could possibly cross my mind when they finally hand her to me and tell me she's all mine.

Now, onto the funny stuffs.

Remember my last Maternity Monday post? I mentioned how I keep answering the same questions over and over and over but I at least try to keep my cool? I kid you not, about an hour after I posted that, I had to run an errand and fill up the car. When I went inside to pay, I decided that I MUST have a soda (since the Coke machine incident was still fresh in my mind.) So, there I am, minding my own business, filling up my giant cup, when I hear a voice behind me.

Her: "When's that baby due?"

Now, I wasn't expecting a conversation when I went in there, so it hardly registered to me that someone was speaking until she repeated her question. Much louder.

Her: "WHEN'S THAT BABY DUE?"

(I turn around slowly.)

Me: "...July 7th."

(I go back to filling my cup.)

Her: "Wow! That's comin' up real quick!"

Me: (still not looking at her) "Yep."

Then she proceeds to walk over to where I was so that I couldn't possibly ignore her. I mean, she stood CLOSE.

Her: "Do ya know whatchur havin?"

(I look her in the eyes and hope she receives the message that I really don't want to talk to her.)

Me: "Yes."

Her: "Wut is it?"

Me: (sigh in defeat) "It's a girl."

Her: "OH THAT'S JUST WUNDURFUL! Doya have a burth plan?"

Now, never being asked that question before, I kind of lose it. When I say that I've never been asked that before, I mean by ANYONE. Not my doctor. Not my friends. Not even my parents. Nobody has ever EVER asked me that. 

Me: "Look, ma'am. I don't want to be rude, but I don't really like discussing this kind of stuff with my friends, much less a complete stranger."

(She looks slightly miffed, but remains silent.)

Me: "I mean, I'm not going to come up to you and ask you how many bones you've broken in your life or how many cigarettes you've obviously smoked this morning. Why? Because it's none of my business. Being clearly pregnant isn't an open invitation for random people to ask me lots of questions when all I'd really like to do is pay for my gas, this soda and go home. Does that make sense?"

Her: "Oh. Yer right. I'm sorree."

Me: "Thank you."

As I turn away to walk towards the counter to pay, I hear this:

Her: "So are ya dilated yet?"

REALLY?! You have got to be joking. No one can possibly be that thick. I had to pay quickly and leave because I knew that if I turned around I would surely kill her.

Thinking about that still irritates me, but it appears that story was a huge source of entertainment for Nick who laughed a LOT while I was recounting it to him. Through the tears that were forming in his eyes, he managed an, "I'm sorry, babe, but that's hysterical," before he died.

Just kidding. I didn't kill him. 

Happy Monday!

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.