Yes, I am still alive. I could bore you with tales from the last two weeks about pain, and almost being hospitalized, and more pain, and how I started losing weight, and the chiropractor, and the acupuncturist, and the PAIN, and the pain medication, and the ANNOYING woman who led our hospital tour, but instead I'll regale you with a tale of blood and gore (and stupidity).

Yesterday while my husband was at the gym I took a shower (see, already this is a super exciting story).
When I was finished I couldn't help but notice that the "hedges" were long overdue for a trim.
Now, normally this is not a big deal. I grab a pair of cuticle scissors or my husband's electric beard trimmer and withing a few minutes I'm "manicured", but now, a few days away from being eight months pregnant, I can't see my own crotch.
It is at this point in the story that I must mention that a couple of days earlier my husband had said he would do it for me, because he is awesome like that (he also shaves my legs for me because I can't reach them).
Rather than wait the fifteen minutes or so until my husband came home, I decided it would be a great idea to go on a blind expedition through my bottom system jungle.
So, I sat on the toilet bowl, beard trimmer in hand and started raking away. Things were going fine until- ZZZZzzzzzzzzztttttttttt.
OK, I thought, that hurt a little, but it certainly doesn't mean I should stop. I kept on raking away using the braille method until I happened to notice that there was blood all over the beard trimmer.
Uh oh.
OK, maybe NOW would be a good time to stop hacking around blindly at my crotch.

My husband came home to find me with a sheepish look on my face. When I told him what I'd done he said "for future reference, it's probably not a good idea to jam sharp pointy things(insert- ha! that's funny too-joke here) at your vagina(he uses fancy words like vagina because he's a doctor), especially when you can't see it."
He is so wise.

So, here I sit, with wounded crotch.

I can not even tell you how disconcerting it is to not be able to keep tabs on your own crotch.
I mean, God only knows what's going on down there.

Posted by torrie at 11:31 AM | Permalink | Comments (20)

My doctor thinks I have bronchitis.

No, I am not kidding.

This is day nine of the cold from hell.

It started off as a sore throat and has turned into constant coughing, and spitting up green stuff.

Three times over the past few days I have vomited up stuff that I can only describe as what it might look like if someone put a gremlin in a blender. It's been fun.

My husband finally convinced me to call my doctor today because I'm getting worse instead of better, I haven't gained any weight in the last week and a half, and I can't sleep because I cough all night.

My doctor prescribed antibiotics today.
She's afraid that if I don't get this under control it will turn into pneumonia. Especially since I can't sit up for more than a half an hour at a time because of my rib pain. (I think I forgot to mention that after consulting with two doctors, my physical therapist, and a massage therapist, they are all in agreement that the rib pain is being caused by a pinched nerve in my back. Not much they can do for it. I had my second acupuncture appointment yesterday- have another one tomorrow- we'll see if that works.)

Lesson learned- you can't plan everything and you can't predict how things are going to go.
I thought I would have a great pregnancy (maybe because my mom did).
I didn't think I would be in constant pain. I didn't think I would have to be on modified bed rest.
I certainly didn't think I would take any drugs. I have taken Tylenol, Benadryl (to try to knock me out so I would stop coughing and get some sleep- it didn't work), and now antibiotics.

I guess all of this is good preparation for when the baby arrives and almost nothing goes the way I thought it would.

Posted by torrie at 02:08 PM | Permalink | Comments (20)

Last night I did something in front of my husband that I've never done before in the almost 10 years we've been together.

I peed.

I was not, however, sitting on a toilet at the time.

Let me explain.

I don't go to the bathroom in front of anyone. Not even my own mother.

Last night I was laying on the couch and the husband and I were laughing.

I started laughing so hard that a little pee came out. Which only made me laugh harder. Which made more pee come out.

For the next few minutes I was stuck in a vicious cycle of laughing, and peeing, and gasping for air.

In between gasps of air I managed to choke out "I'm peeing on myself!!!"

This made my husband laugh so hard that he fell on the floor.

A couple of minutes later, with tears streaming down my face, I managed to compose myself.

That's when I realized I had soaked through my underwear onto my pajama pants. A couple of more teaspoons, and I would have officially peed on the couch.

I ran to the bathroom still laughing.

I came out and showed my husband the wet spot on my pajamas, shaking my head in disbelief.

"Well, now you can't say you haven't peed in front of me."

Here's hoping I never poop on the couch.

Posted by torrie at 04:04 PM | Permalink | Comments (15)

One of the things I hope for my child is that she loves reading as much as her father and I do.
Everywhere you look in our apartment there are books and magazines. We are like addicts. We can't get enough. I guess if you're going to be an addict there are worse things to be addicted to than reading.

When I was a child I read constantly. My favorite author was Dr. Seuss.

When I was a nanny my favorite book to read to the children was Goodnight Moon. I can recite it from memory.

As we prepare for the baby and start setting up the nursery I realized that something is missing. We have very few children's books. I would really like to fill the bookcase in the nursery with books before the baby arrives.

That's where you come in.

What were your favorite books when you were a child? If you are a parent, what are your favorite books to read to your child?

Posted by torrie at 11:33 AM | Permalink | Comments (42)

Conversation with Heather:

"I tried taking Tylenol."
"Really? You did???"
"I know. That should tell you how bad it is"
"Did it help?"
"I took it Friday, Saturday, and Sunday and it did NOTHING."
"You know why they let pregnant woman take it? Because it doesn't do shit."
"EXACTLY. They should change the name from Tylenol to Placebo."

Posted by torrie at 05:48 PM | Permalink | Comments (5)