Worlds First Pregnant Man

So yesterday I had the glucose diabetes test. At first I told the midwives I didn't want to do it .... I'm sick of 'looking for problems' in this pregnancy. Truth is, I think that the false-positive Downs result and amnio really cast a shadow over being pregnant, and I don't think I've fully come back from it. I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop. I know there is definitely a baby in there, but I really don't feel like I will realise it until I'm holding Monkey safe and sound in my arms, God willing.

I bit the bullet and did the test anyway, and they haven't called me back yet, which must be good news!! It was so funny .... you know how I have man hands (really, I seriously do. Mr TC says he likes them because he gets to be 'manhandled' heh heh) well, I have been discovering that everything else about me is man sized too. My feet - already a massive size 10, currently look like two blocks of cement. Mr TC calls them dinosaur feet. I can sleep usually without having to get up and wee .... when I finally do that first one of the morning lately .... lets just say you could knit a small blanket in the same amount of time it takes to empty the man bladder. Without fail, every midwife appt I forget that I have to do a urine sample, but it's never a problem! Here's one I prepared earlier - there must be a backup tank in there! And the way I drink - well, come on. I'm a drinker from way back!! Mr TC is simultaneously amazed and repulsed by what he calls 'the gullet'. I can really, really knock them back.

So when the nurse handed me the fizzy bottle of drink, she asked me to please try and drink it as soon as I could, even if it made me uncomfortable, and let her know as soon as I was done so she could start the timer. Now, I was thirsty. But I slung that baby back in one fell swoop, went to tell her I was done - and she hadn't even sat back down at her desk yet! Sooo funny - she was amazed, "Oh, my!! That must be a new record!!"

Wasn't so funny an hour later when this different woman took my blood - well, attempted to take my blood. I have very good veins - (man veins, obviously) - but she stuck me twice, in both arms!! I nearly asked her to pass it to the expert. (Me. I, ummm, have experience in that area..)

My friend loaned me a Baby Bjorn carrier. I tried it out yesterday with one of Tigers big teddy bears. I was walking around, and said "Hey, Tiger, look at the baby!" He came up and punched it three times in the head! I'm sure he'll make a great big brother, honestly!!

The other day, Mr TC was chattering on about prams and names and feedings .... surprised, I said oooooh, look at you, talking about the baby!! He said "Awwww, hon - I'm starting to really look forward to it. But don't tell anyone!!" I told him that's the best thing he's said to me in a year.

Gemini Girl, I keep forgetting to answer you - we seriously don't know if Monkey is a boy or a girl. I can't believe I don't know - I have to know EVERYTHING. This week, I really would love a little boy. I honestly don't mind though. Sometimes I feel like I would have liked to know so I could bond better .... but, EVERYTHING about this has been carefully known and planned from the start. Aint no surprises in IVF ..... I even should be having a planned caesarian. So to have one big surprise will be nice.

I work from home as a freelance writer, for different magazines. I've had the biggest nosedive with my work - I've lost all motivation and drive for chasing up article commissions, and lately have felt like quite a loser. Recently, Mr TC said "Geez hon, you're not earnin' much, are ya!" I said I know - but isn't the house clean!! Aren't the meals thoughtfully prepared, and so beautiful!! He agreed - he doesn't have to lift FINGER to do any domestic duty. We have friends who are married, and they keep arguing because both want the other one to be a stay-home parent. I'm hoping to do both - work from home and be the stay-at-home parent. I know I can, I just need to find my mojo again.

Right now, I would like to throw my motherfucking laptop out of the window. Instead, I shall post proof of my Wheel of Fortune experience .......


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The two hottest bridesmaids in all of the land ........

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Me, with the belly of a balding 47-year old fat guy ......

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I am so grateful, amazed, and overwhelmed to be standing here, 28 weeks pregnantino ...

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xoxoxoxo

So, this pregnant alcoholic woman walks into a bottleshop today and says "Hi, what's your cheapest bottle of red wine?"

Seriously. I felt SO guilty, and kept looking around praying no-one I knew would see me in there. It was for a recipe, I promise. I do feel very grown up now, being able to handle cooking with wine again. I even have real vanilla essence in my pantry these days, not the safe imitation! After seven years .... you'd think I'd be ok with it!! Anyway, Jamie Olivers Kinda Spaghetti Bolognaise simply HAS to be cooked with red wine. I made my own garlic bread, and a Greek salad to go with it. Since I gave up the booze and drugs many moons ago, I've discovered that I rather enjoy nice food. Who knew? I never used to eat properly - wouldn't waste my money on it.

I was wondering the other day if anyone around me thinks I shouldn't have kids, because I could pass on the addictive gene. Therein lies the dilemma ..... nature versus nurture? I personally lean more towards the nurture. If a child is listened to, communicated with, shown self-respect and worth .... knowing that he/she is loved, then they are much more ready and able to face up to lifes challenges. However, I realised a few weeks ago, that for poor Tiger (and Monkey) ..... BOTH parents and ALL four grandparents have alcohol/drug issues. Shit! I'd never really realised it before, I freaked out a bit and felt almost guilty.

Moving right along ....
Sitting on the couch with Mr TC recently, he suddenly stares at me thoroughly, looks me up and down, and says "Geez, hon. You really better do something about those floobadas. (Aussie slang for upper arm fat - supposed to resemble the sound your fat arms make when you wave ie. "Floobada floobada.") Can you believe the HIDE of the man?? Now, my husband definitely is fit and strong, but weedy and wimpy he aint. He's a big guy - weight is actually an issue for him and he has to watch what he eats, so I think he was just projecting his stuff onto me. I sat there, stunned, then fired back:
"I am PREGNANT!! What's your excuse? Oh, hang on, I know ....... GLUTTONY." He shut straight up.

If someone says something to me that I don't like, I can't tolerate it and must speak up. Usually in a rude way. I can't help it - it's like Tourettes. Two other examples -
Mr TC's bro was here on the weekend, helping us move furniture around. When he first arrived, he walked in the door, took one look at me, and started quacking like a duck. I realised he was inferring that I was waddling. I quickly told him to go fuck himself, there was no hint of a quack the rest of his time here. Later Mr TC told me I was rude because I swore at his brother - I thought he was rude, I'm trying so hard not to waddle lately!
This guy I sort of know (he's an electrician and does work for Mr TC - I've always thought he was sleazy) came up to me in a cafe yesterday and says "Oh my God!! Look at you!! Wow" I said I looked exactly how his mum would have looked when she was pregnant with him. He thought I was quite strange, I'm sure.

I just realised - that's three examples of guys commenting on my appearance! What's up with that?!

Kevin says Sorry, Mr TC still disgusting

Please give some love and support to Jen who just got some really terrible news. And also Sweetest Vee. I don't know what to say, but I'm sending you all my love and support.

Wow. I'm pretty proud of the new Prime Minister of Australia today. On his first day on the job, he did something that took the previous government eleven long years to avoid. Bravo.

I have a midwife appointment today at 4pm, which I'm really glad about. I haven't seen Monkey on an ultrasound for nine weeks!!! Not that I'll be getting an ultrasound, but I'll definitely be asking about one soon. Today I feel terrible, achy, lower backpain and some sharp cramping. So the timing of my appointment is ideal, and will hopefully put my worries to rest. I have my appointments at the midwives clinic in the local hospital - in the childrens ward, where Monkey will be born! It's unbelievable to go there and think that hopefully I will be in there in May, with a tiny newborn.



I've been thinking about my irrational fears, and realise I'm soaking up all of Mr TCs worry. I wish he was more happy about it. - he seems to be getting better, actually. I know what a proud Leo he is, he will be stoked once the baby is a baby and not just a bump that keeps scaring the shit out of him. All he thinks is ... he's too old, it's set my career back, loading up the pram in the car, limited social calender, feedings, etc. I'm making a conscious effort to remember how long I have wanted this, and how scary it was to realise it may never happen. Sometimes I wish I could just show Mr TC all of these amazing blogs out there, filled with people who struggle and yearn to have children. But that would mean blowing my own cover. He really is an example of how ignorant 'fertile' people can be.

Yesterday morning he walked over to my side of the bed, I had been reading a magazine called "My Child." He goes 'Awww, my child.' I corrected him, and said "OUR child!!!!" He jumped on the bed and felt my tummy with a lot of love, and told me that he's starting to feel ok about it all, and even a little excited. Hooray! He can be so warm and lovely. Contrast was this morning, when I told him that Fergie might be up the duff. His response? "Ooooh, she must be getting a lot of arse roots." I said where the hell did that come from? He just laughed, and said she just looked like the type that would be into that. It appears I am married to possibly the most vulgar man on earth. Scary thing? We make a great couple.

Random Crap, with an Unsolicited Photo of my Kitchen

"The time has come," said the walrus "to talk of many things."
Lewis Carroll

God I've been sick. I'm seeing the doc tomorrow, for I now fear something nasty has happened to my bronchial whatzit. Also, my computer is FUKT, so I am typing this on Mr TCs.

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Do I write about how sad I am about the dreadful loss and grief in the blogosphere lately? How sometimes I feel I can't comment on peoples blogs because I'm pregnant and don't want them to click back to me and have salt rubbed in their wounds? Or what will you think if I write about how dreadfully scared I have felt lately .... scared of the baby; the baby I have been yearning for for over three years. Scared of not earning enough money for Mr TC to stop being so financially stressed, scared of my hormones, scared of the impact this will have on all of our lives. So far, I have bought one thing for Monkey - a wonderful sheepskin rug from New Zealand. I've googled prams, but realised that I won't start having concrete plans until I turn 30 weeks. In case something bad happens. I have a bump and feel it moving - hell, SEE it moving now, my brain just needs to stop projecting negativity. I know, I know - I'm annoying myself.

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I've really put an effort into my friendships lately. I can be such an untrusting prickly pear sometimes, I know some of my girlfriends try to be closer to me than I let them. I have decided to let them, and find myself warmed by the light that can bring. In March, I will be going on an AA womens weekend retreat, the theme is "In the Sunlight of the Spirit". I don't usually (read: never) do shit like that, but I just know that I need to.

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We live in a very big house. It's quite beautiful, in fact. Mr TC (and his apprentices) built it almost 5 years ago. It's on 4 acres, overlooking national park bushland. We've decided that we're having a major reshuffle soon - everyone gets a new bedroom. Mr TC and I will move downstairs into the "big TV" room, big tv room will go into the sitting room (with the fire, yay) Tiger will go into stepsons old room, and Monkey will go into Tigers room. I want to paint first, of course. Man, is this shit even interesting? This is the fourth post I've tried to write this week - everything seems to be coming out bland, boring, and complaining.

A fortnight ago I had strange pains in my right side, thay started coming every 5 minutes. A little freaked out, I called the midwife clinic I go to at the hospital, to see if I could come in and checked out and rule out contractions. The midwife flatly stated that I'm probably in pre-term labour, there's no doctor on, and told me to drive down to the big hospital at the bottom of the hill. (One hours drive; around three hours wait in emergency). I hung up, cried, rang Mr TC who told me it's "probably nothing don't worry about it", and hung up on him mid-sentence. I drove home, made a cup of tea and calmed down. And listened to my instinct - I was NOT in pre-term labour, I felt sure they were just round ligament pains. Dr Google confirmed my diagnosis. I trusted myself, the pains soon passed.

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Stacies boys are home!!!!!! Congratulations Stacie, I LOVE that video you posted. You look so gorgeous and radiant, I'm so happy for you.

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I think that's about it. I just had a look at Mr TCs pics - here's one of our house, and our kitchen. Looks great, but it's a prick to clean. xoxox

I think i'm nuts .....

My 100th post!!! A blogging centenararian!

My sister Rex asked me this morning why I haven't updated - I said because i have been LOSING MY MIND, and I had to wait to catch a wave back into the shore of rationality. Mr TC is impatiently waiting for me in the next room; we are about to go away for a friends 40th birthday weekend at a beach house down the south coast.

So, I'm sorry this is so quick - but I'm here, I'm alive, Monkey is fine. (Though had a bit of a freakout last week, more about that later). My stepson is NOT moving back in to our house this week; I am not leaving my husband; and I will not be smoking 300 cigarettes/drinking 5 bottles of scotch/shooting up cocaine anytime soon. Seriously - I don't even LIKE scotch.

I leave you with the story of how, one early morning recently, I felt Monkey kicking. Sitting next to Tiger on the couch, I grabbed his hand so he could feel it. He said he did, but pulled his hand away quickly. Later that night we were all out to dinner, and I proudly said that Tiger was the first person to feel the baby move. Well, umm - apparently I badly needed a bikini wax, for Tiger pipes up with "Yeah, and I felt mummys balls."

I don't know what's worse - poor Tiger being scarred from touching my pubic hair, or him thinking that I have testicles.