To Do

I anticipate seeing two elated boys at 3:00 this afternoon as they celebrate the beginning of Spring Break. Robby has been busy making plans with friends. Our involvement is now limited to chauffeuring and financial support, and I don't see this trend changing in the near future. Although it is tough for me to accept that he is growing up, watching him thrive both socially and academically has certainly helped the transition.

Scott will be home from work all next week, a fact which delights him. I feel a little guilty because he seems unaware that his time is already being allocated. We still have a lot of work to do before baby arrives, and since I'm relegated to bed rest, my role has been shifted to purely supervisory.  I suspect that by the end of the week he will be looking forward to returning to the classroom!

I despise being on bed rest, but I have accepted my fate at least until the baby is born.  I find it infuriating that there is so much to be done and I am being restricted from doing it. Unfortunately for everybody in the house, I've been left with a lot of extra time to think of projects and make lists. I'm going to try to somewhat curb my nesting tendencies and hopefully I'll be able to strike a balance between Scott enjoying and relaxing during his Spring Break and my compulsions to crack the whip for productivity.

I am going to try to ease off my directions next week, I know that Saturday will be busy for Scott. His Mom is coming to visit for a few days, and the house is no where near ready for her arrival. He will have to spend his first official day of Spring Break tackling the lengthy "to do list" that I have been writing. Typically I would be the one running around frantically cleaning and tidying up. Watching him do the work will certainly be a role reversal!

Although Saturday will not be a lot of fun, Sunday is sure to make up for any cleaning misery he endures. My Mom is throwing us a "Sprinkle" to celebrate the arrival of our newest family member. I am looking forward to spending the afternoon with friends and family. I even have a friend from college who is attending, and I haven't seen her since my bachelorette party!

This pregnancy has been wrought with ill-health, worries and medical set-backs. This Sprinkle is the perfect chance to celebrate the little miracle who we will soon meet. I won't be terribly mobile during the event, but I am looking forward to just being happy and celebrating our good news.

Perverts

I have been receiving messages from devotees ever since I went public about my life as an amputee woman. Naive at the beginning of this venture, I have come to accept that the unsavory and distasteful messages are par for the course. I can typically spot the devotee message within the first sentence or two and respond by hitting the delete button. I would prefer to invest my time in helping others rather than appeasing some fetish or sexual fantasy offered by an internet troll. Responding to the message only fuels the desire for interaction, and I just don't have time for such nonsense!

Lately I've discovered a disturbing trend when opening my blog email. As I have become more comfortable discussing my pregnancy, the level of pervert I am attracting is deepening. Being attracted to a pregnant amputee is certainly a niche fetish which I've come to believe is held by those with more aggressive communication tendencies.

The emails I have been receiving transcend raunchy and crude. The desires conveyed are downright demeaning! The penis photos, which are often attached, only confirm the low-life mentalities of the authors. Needless to say, I am not impressed by the sentiments written or the visual aspects of the appendages being displayed. Neither, in my opinion, are brag worthy. I suggest the authors would be prudent to keep both under lock and key!

I will continue to delete and block all emails which contain lewd or pornographic images. My only response will be limited to this blog. To all of the perverts who have been sending me photos of their privates, please know that I find your images pathetic. From size and girth to basic cleanliness, you are not helping to build a case for your manhood.

I implore those individuals who feel compelled to contact me with their sexual fantasies to please stop. I am not interested in your advances, your flattery or your dimensions. I am strictly in survival mode at the moment and don't have the energy to deal with your perversions. 

Painting Traditions

After a lot of fretting and more nagging than I care to admit, the baby's room is being finished today. I felt a rush of relief when I realized that we can finally set up the crib. With the way this pregnancy has been going, I worried that the baby would be here before he or she had a place to sleep!

Although I would like to take credit for the room, the majority of the credit goes to my Mom. She drove down here several times (not an easy feat considering that it is nearly 5 hours round trip) to prep and paint the room. Between the weather, my health and the condition of the room, painting was certainly a Herculean effort. 

Despite the time and aggravation involved, I also knew that I wouldn't be able to dissuade my Mom from her appointed task. Prepping and painting each grandchild's bedroom has become her tradition. For reasons which I don't understand but have come to fully appreciate, she enjoys painting, especially when the job is being completed for a grandchild.

In addition to painting, my Mom unintentionally abides by another tradition. She spills paint. I'm not talking a drop or two; she habitually manages to splatter copious amounts of paint. She began this tradition when painting Robby's room (before he was born.) Scott and I came home from our birthing class to be greeted by a neon green glow emanating from under the nursery room door. While we were gone, she thoroughly coated the walls in Shrek green paint but had also managed to tip a quart of the neon hue on the corner of the beige carpet. We toyed with the idea of getting new carpet before we realized that the "memory" could be covered with a couch. 

This time she had a little helper in Robby, who undoubtedly contributed to the mishap.  I wasn't in the room, but I certainly heard the reaction from my Mom. When I entered the room, I saw an entire gallon of white paint, dumped upside down.  I knew that we didn't have enough towels to clean this spill! As luck would have it, the carpet had already been deemed beyond salvage and replacement flooring had already been selected. (Scott utilizing the space as his "man cave" for 9 years certainly took a toll on the carpet and walls!)

Spills aside, I am so thankful for the help that she has provided in prepping the nursery. Just knowing that we will be able to set up the crib tonight has been a huge sense of relief. Although I would prefer this little one stay inside and bake a little longer, at least I know that we will finally be ready.

Water Works

The past 36 hours can only be described as stressful. I was hoping for a few days of rest and relaxation after working the conference over the weekend, but my body and little baby-to-be had different plans.

The problem started at 3:30 in the morning on Monday as I made my way back to bed after another of what has become an endless nightly parade to and from the bathroom. I laid down, tried to find that comfortable sweet spot where nothing hurt, and all of a sudden I realized that my pajama pants were wet. Actually, soaked is a more apt term which could also be used to describe the covers and sheets. I was both mortified and surprised by the sudden waterworks.

I pulled my liner and leg back on, schlepped back to the bathroom and changed my pajamas. I put a towel over the puddle in bed and made my way out to the couch, hoping to be able to put the incident and my wakeful state behind me. An hour later I felt the same unexpected gush, thoroughly soaking yet another pair of pajamas. At this point I began to suspect that something was amiss.

I changed (yet again) and laid on top of two beach towels strewn across the couch. Again, I ended up soaked. Only after I ran out of pajamas and towels did I completely abandon all hopes of falling asleep. I piled a few dishtowels on the seat of my rocker and began to Google my embarrassing and damp situation.

Researching only intensified my anxieties, forcing me to call my doctor before 7:00. I was instructed to proceed directly to my Fetal Maternal Specialist as soon as I dropped Robby off at school.  A quick scan, which included measuring the amniotic fluid, confirmed my worries. The baby had managed to pop a small hole in the amniotic sac causing me to slowly leak fluid. 

It turns out that a small rupture, or break, in the amniotic sac is relatively common for pregnancies in which the baby is transverse, but knowing that I am not alone in this experience has been of little solace!  I have been put on bed rest for the next few days in hopes that the tear will repair itself. I am also being monitored daily to measure the amount of fluid and the health of the baby. 

I know that I am receiving great medical care, but bed rest simply stinks!  I am abiding by the order, but my mind is spinning with projects and lists of things that need to be done. I'm not good at relinquishing control or asking for help, but I know that I must in order to protect the baby. The next few days will yield a lot of information and hopefully good news. Fingers crossed!

Bump Rubbing

I had to work Friday night and Saturday which meant that Scott was on full-time Daddy duty. I knew that the pair would be fine and have fun while I was working, but I always feel a sense of anxiety leaving them alone for long periods of time. Over the past few years I've come to accept that the house operates under a different set of rules in my absence, and I have tried to adjust my expectations accordingly. As long as nobody ends up in the hospital, I consider my time away to be a success.

Robby was delighted about the prospect of his "Daddy and Me" weekend. He excitedly informed both his Principal and his teachers that his Daddy, not his Momom, would be picking him up from school. Unfortunately he continued to explain that "Momom is working tonight so that means me and Dad will go to Sheetz for dinner. Then we are going to play Xbox all night in our underwear." There is no adequate way that I can explain the zeal with which Robby disclosed this information. For some reason which I will probably never understand, playing Xbox while wearing only underwear is a premium treat in this house. 

While Scott and Robby were reveling in their "Momom free" bacheloresque ways, I was working at a local conference for children with disabilities. I typically enjoy working conferences because I find meeting and talking with new people to be fascinating. My conference experience was different this time. Being eight months pregnant and uncomfortable certainly hindered my enjoyment of the event. I quickly grew weary of standing, smiling and making small talk.

I understand the compulsion to touch a pregnant woman's belly. While I have never acted on this urge, I know that it is well-intended and isn't meant to be rude. Typically I just smile and opt not to make a scene out of the physical intrusion on my personal space. However, by the time we were packing up the table on Saturday evening, I was ready to kick the next stranger who felt it appropriate to rub my belly.  During our down time I found myself fantasizing about returning the affection by rubbing the offender in the belly, or on their bald spot should they be a male. While I would never do it, primarily because I was trying to remain professional, I was able to conjure some wonderful scenarios which made me smile!