Stick a Fork in Me

I'm done with this nonsense.

It's been a long day of pain and contractions, which culminated into two hours at the hospital and no baby. I have no idea how to gauge whether or not this baby is actually popping out. I guess I'm just going to wait through all this intense pain and just go in when/if my water breaks. I don't even care at this point if I end up with a "Fruit of the Loom Baby," as a nurse termed it. Think about it...

So, Gators lose, Seminoles win, and I spend two hours in the hospital...pretty lame day, overall.

Rehab

I'm going off drugs!! I just took my last dose of Procardia and tomorrow we will reach "full term." This is a stunning accomplishment, one for which we are very thankful. Thanks to everyone for the prayers.

So, given the facts that we didn't expect to make it this far, that I've been having every pre-labor symptom in the book, and I have finished my labor-preventing medication, don't be surprised if I disappear completely from the radar in the next couple days.

Arachnophobia

I have killed three large spiders in the last twelve hours, not counting the imaginary dream spider that woke me up last night and scared Johnny out of his wits by making me scream. The primary trouble with old houses is the vermin. I would rather have mice than spiders, but I would rather have spiders than bedbugs. Too bad it's not up to me.


Last night was mostly sleepless due to contractions. I went to the doctor today in great pain and was sent home with no progress. That's fine with me; I really don't want to have a baby after a sleepless night. I blame the Chinese and their hidden gluten! Something I ate at the buffet last night must have contained that evil protein and set off the contractions. I've been banished to bed for the afternoon in hopes of easing the terrible pressure that Baby's head is putting on my hips.


We've been looking at job opportunities in Britain and Australia. The hope is to leave the United Socialist States of America before they close the borders. It's sad when England is a breath away from being economically freer than America. The actions of the past couple days have spelled the greatest nationalization project in the history of the world. Impressive, Comrade Bush.


Dinner with the inlaws tonight, then, maybe, some sleep.

Paved with False Love

John introduced me to a series of mini-stories produced by The Drew Cary Project. They are hosted by reason.tv and aim to uncover liberal-leaning, big government-loving projects for the evil shams that they are.

The most infuriating of these stories told about a 17-year-old, high school athlete who lost his leg to bone cancer. The phantom pains were unbearable for him until his doctor (Stanford renowned, mind you) prescribed medical marijuana. This boy had been on heavy narcotics for weeks in an attempt to ease the intense pain of his amputation, but all they served to do was turn him into a drone who could do little more than sleep.

The pharmacist who provided the prescription for this young man often gave him the doses for free after hearing the heart-wrenching story. The man's kindness and provision of this controversial prescription eased the boy's pain without drugging him into oblivion. This kid's life could finally start again.

The DEA, god of the universe, disagreed. They raided the pharmacist, took all his supplies, and put him in jail with a $400,000 bail, which his family scraped together. This man is now under house arrest and faces felony charges.

This simple plant, harvested and used medicinally and recreationally for thousands of years, is somehow regarded as the bane of existence. Its evils are touted as destructive to the very core of American values. Even a 17-year-old suffering from horrendous pain cannot use it to ease his agony, despite the prescription of a respected physician. And yet, somehow, it is acceptable to diagnose an energetic 8-year-old with "ADD" and dope him up on speed for his entire childhood.

I struggle to comprehend how this mindset even comes about. They say, "the path to hell is paved with good intentions," but it seems far more sinister than that. I don't understand how something so horribly illogical and blatantly evil can become commonplace thinking in society. At least with other horrific vices in this country, like abortion, you can find a motive. A situation like that of medical marijuana makes no sense. It is difficult to see who benefits or who can even conceive of being nosy enough to tell a suffering, desperate patient that they can't take a small, controlled dosage of a plant to ease their pain. How dare anyone be so noble?

I just finished re-reading C.S. Lewis' classic "Till We Have Faces," and I believe I can find an answer to my conundrum in this great novel. Orual, Queen of Glome, destroys her sister's life by forcing her to disobey her husband. Orual convinced herself that she did this for Psyche's own good, that her action was done in the name of love for her sister. Orual later discovers and admits to herself that her idea of love was exactly the opposite. Really, her motivation came from selfishness, jealousy, and the idea that she was wiser and more knowledgeable than her innocent sister. These sentiments allowed her to manipulate in the worst possibly way; she used the name of love to control another.

That is what the bleeding hearts of today do. They spout gospels of love, peace, and joy for all, living out their selfish existence in any way they choose. It is not love that motivates them, but a desire to control, to feel empowered and noble. They profane the name of love and manipulate the innocent. This selfishness is, perhaps, the greatest evil of all and is destroying our nation.

I ask myself over and over the classic Libertarian question: Why can't we just leave each other alone?

Simple: It would not stroke our egos, and that will never do.

White Trash

I just realized how amazingly like trailer trash I looked walking the short distance from Johnny's office to the nearby health food store. I was 36 weeks pregnant, carrying my barefoot toddler, not fantastically dressed, on foot, with a huge bruise on my left arm. All I really needed was a can of Bud Light and a cig. Hotness.

Safe!

Zach naps and I seek refuge from the world in general by lounging in bed, taking solace from a gluten-free doughnut.

The doctor officially declared us in the safety zone today. We've made it to 36 weeks. They would really like to see us make it to 37, but times are hard; we take what we can get. The only concern today is with Gabriel's size. My belly hasn't grown at all since the ultrasound a couple weeks ago. They scheduled another size-check ultrasound for Friday, and if Baby Boy shows no signs of growth they will induce labor and rescue him from my depleting resources. It didn't help my case that I had lost a couple pounds. Don't ask me how; I had a frosty and fries last night and a doughnut this morning in an effort to boost my weight. It seems when I eat a decent amount I actually lose weight.
The nurse taking my blood pressure commented laughingly that it looked like Johnny and I were having "problems." I have a huge bruise gracing my entire left forearm where a well-meaning nurse abused it on Friday at the hospital. What can I say? Gotta keep the wife in line...

I miss Heather! I only got to talk to her for about half an hour last night, and that's not nearly enough. I really hope I can visit soon.

That's about all the news here. Cheers!

Back in the Saddle

Wow, my last post was fabulously angsty. Technically, life has become a little more difficult since then, but it really doesn't matter, because Johnny is home. Although, the poor guy had to high-tail it back to meet me in the hospital...

Zachary's disposition had improved by leaps and bounds. He's definitely been on a growth spurt. He's been eating like a little piggie and he's back to sleeping long naps and snoozing for 10-12 hours/night. He's been babbling up a storm and getting into everything he can possibly grab.

Zachary's little brother is now causing the trouble maker. I had contractions all afternoon on Friday and went in around 4pm to get checked. It turned out that I had dilated another 2 1/2 cm since my appointment two days before. They flipped out, shot me up with Terbutaline, and sent me to the hospital, where I would have passed out from my reaction to that drug had it not been for the thoughtful CNA who rushed me to a bed. My contractions wouldn't stop, so they started me on a water/glucose IV, which involved a nurse probing in my arm with a needle until it bruised and she moved on to torture my other arm. Only a couple hours after the shot they gave me a pill of the same drug and another pill of Procardia. Things finally settled down and we were able to go home for the night. I was so drugged up that I could barely walk. Little Gabriel was not pleased; he spent the niext couple hours kicking up a storm.

Now, I am still drugged up, getting painful, crampy, half-contractions all day, and not allowed to take even a short walk. Just have to get through another week and a half! We can do this.

I have now caught 5 mice. There are 5 little mouse bodies in the outside garbage can. We are infested. The landlords are going to have to call an exterminator. Although I am proud of my mice-catching abilities, they really need to go.

Tomorrow is Cleaning Day. Unfortunately, I'm not allowed to vaccum, so all I can do is tidy, clean the bathroom, and do laundry. I'll also get my grocery shopping in. Zach loves Wal Mart. Busy day tomorrow.

To Sum Up My Day:

I'm terribly lonely, feel like my water will break any second, flowing with ridiculously emotional hormones, dealing with a molar teething toddler, and spending my day killing insects and arachnids and cleaning up mouse poop....completely and utterly alone.

I would cry if I thought it would help. But anyone who might help is miles and miles away. The closest family member is two hours away and my closest friends are on the other side of the country.


I want to go home.

Remorse

I caught a mouse!!! I did it; I exacted revenge on the evil rice cake marauders. Yet, I don't feel as fulfilled as I expected. 'Tis the nature of revenge, I suppose.

We learned that we don't just have mice; we're infested. I put out two boxes of D-Con and they were both empty after one night. However, my trap-placing strategy was poor, so I caught no actual bodies. So, I revamped my attack and this morning I was rewarded with a full trap. I went to check said trap before putting in my contact lenses, so all I saw was a blob in a sprung trap. I dashed into the bathroom, where Johnny was showering, and announced my triumph. I put in my contacts and rushed back to revel in the glory of my hunting prowess. Unfortunately, closer examination revealed the crushed body of a small, furry, stiff rodent. The pregnancy hormone roller-coaster took off, and Johnny, in his ever-calming sympathy, got a good laugh out of the situation.

My doctor visit this morning went well. I haven't progressed anymore, but Gabriel is about as far down as he can be without being in the birth canal. Basically, as soon as I dilate to 10 cm that baby will shoot out like a bullet. I'm just praying I don't pop my hip out of place again. A constant click when I walk warns that the danger is imminent.

Johnny left for Laramie about an hour ago. He has to meet and greet colleagues down there (i.e. schmooze). His business obligations end Friday, but he's considering staying through Saturday to go to a football game and hang out with Mike. I miss him already!! And I really hate sleeping alone. I hope these three days go by fast, but I know they won't. To paraphrase the great Chris Trapper, "a day without him is like a day without music."

Murderous Desires

I've been driven to this. It really isn't in my nature to actively wish death on such a seemingly helpless creature. But they've done it; they've appealed to my sense of poetic justice.

First, it was the scattered sunflower seed shells and poo strewn in my silverware drawer. Then, the little vermin dared to get into my chocolate. Just when I thought they couldn't get stupider than eating a pregnant woman's chocolate supply, they delved into said Mama Bear's special treat for Zach. They chewed through the unopened bag of rice cakes and ate half and pooped on the rest. They ate Zachary's favorite snack!!! And I didn't buy more today because I thought he had a full bag for this week.

Well, it's over now. The mice will die. I have set traps smeared with peanut butter and scattered poison throughout their favorite hangouts. Chew on that, evil rodents!!!

Face plant

We had an ultrasound today to check on Gabriel's growth. He's a touch on the small side, but his heartbeat and breathing are great and his growth is consistent. I'll get check on my dilating status next week, but they didn't want to risk stripping the membranes any further this week. Next week they would not stop Baby from coming if he decides to make his appearance. And he could decide any day; his face is planted at the opening. It looks like he's trying to peek out. They couldn't even get a picture of his face because he was too far down. Basically, when I dilate to 10 cm, that boy will be outta there.

I was very impressed with Sarah Palin's speech. She was classy, funny, and to the point. If she were running for president, I would probably vote for her. Unfortunately, I must remind everyone that McCain is actually the presidential candidate and Palin is merely the VP. The VP really doesn't hold much sway when all is said and done. The real plus side would be preparation for presidency for her. Still, I just can't vote for Mr. Big-Government. I'm still a conservative.

I'm praying Zachary sleeps tonight. He was up almost the entire night last night and I only made it through today by taking a nap when he did. My poor little man is cutting molars. :(

Have I mentioned lately that Johnny is amazing?

Just A Housewife

At first the inclusion of a sweet, smart, pretty, classy, Christian mother of five seemed to be a boon to the McCain ticket. How could any one fail to admire what this charismatic young Governor Sarah Palin has accomplished?

However, the media has wasted little time in turning the girl-next-door into just another piece of white trash. That's right, the saint-like accomplishment of raising five children has been slanted into trailor trash; the sweet purity has been smeared as simplicity, and Sarah Palin has been quickly labeled "just a housewife."

"Just a housewife..." I would like to see one of those so-called "ballsy" career women attempt one day of being an organized stay-at-home mom. I'd like to see their pretty little pumps and cute tailored skirts survive the rigors of just one 24-hour period caring for a home, husband, and children.

I've always taken pride at being "barefoot, in the kitchen, pregnant." You see, such a title does not make me trailer trash; it lifts me into the elite category of women who not only "have it all," but do it all, for everybody, every day of their lives.

Shall we review the list of duties a housewife is expected to accomplish, with minimal training, with the expertise and patience of a trained professional?

House-cleaner, nutritionist, cook, nurse, fix-it man, errand girl, chauffeur, laundress, teacher, psychologist, psychic, diplomat, negotiator, accountant, companion/lover, event planner, interior decorator, confidant, gardener, cheerleader, coach, caterer, hostess, and customer service representative.

All of these jobs are to be performed without pay, with little gratitude, and the worst hours imaginable. All the while, the housewife is expected to smile, encourage, and show complete love and patience to all the members of her family. And what's the cost of a mistake on the job? Messed-up kids, domestic unrest, maybe even divorce.

Now I'm not trying to set myself up as a saint; I am merely trying to demonstrate the fact that any disdain shown to a homemaker is not only grossly unfounded, but inexcusably ignorant. It is an exceedingly difficult job and one that few can pull off with grace.

Sarah Palin's accomplishment are, at the very least, applaudable. At most, she is an extraordinary woman embarking on a near impossible quest. Already she is being slandered by men who are intimidated by a confident woman and women who would never have the cahunas to be "just a housewife."

It's appalling that the bravest women in America are discounted as uncredible, but such women have the class to rise above that criticism. We may not be out earning 6-figure paychecks, conquering the working world, or even attempting to effeminize men, but we're staying very busy. And, if I do say so myself, we're doing a pretty bang-up job.

Here's to the housewife, may you continue to be "just" that.