32 weeks

Here I am at 32 weeks pregnant, leaning slightly forward for some reason and looking all awkward:

As you can see, Andrew was not a happy boy during this week's belly photo shoot:

Apparently, he's already jealous that his little brother is getting some of the spotlight. (Is it wrong that I think this picture is adorable, and sort of hilarious?)

Anyway. I have big, exciting Sweet Baby Ray-related news this week! I had an ultrasound yesterday to check his growth, and he already weighs five pounds. Five pounds! My little rock star still has 7 weeks left to bake in there. At the rate he's going, he'll be the size of a three-month-old when he's born. All kidding aside though, I am so incredibly grateful that my blood pressure isn't negatively affecting his growth.

Yesterday I was also given the date of my c-section, so we now officially know Sweet Baby Ray's birthday: January 8, 2010. That is, unless my blood pressure thinks an earlier date would be better. I'm determined to make it into January at the very least, because I don't want him to be born too close to Christmas (although I'm not gonna lie, the tax deduction would be nice).

So my first week of non-stress tests is officially behind me. The verdict: They suck just as much and are just as stressful as they were last time around, except this time I have a really awesome nurse who gives me brownies and other snacks. I have seven more weeks of this, and although I know all the hassle and stress will be worth it in the end, I still find myself dreading every single appointment. Sometimes I wish I had been blessed with normal pregnancies -- but other times I'm glad I'm labeled high risk, because it's given me more chances to see my babies and to hear their strong little heartbeats.

Physically, I am feeling, well, very pregnant. When I bend over to pick something up it takes me forever to get up again, and lifting Andrew in and out of his high chair has become a monumental task. Sweet Baby Ray bombards my insides constantly with his limbs and various other body parts, making me wince and sometimes gasp. He is up very high right now, pressing against my ribs and my lungs, which means I'm constantly short of breath. I'm having some back pain and lots of round ligament pain, and I just ache all over. The one thing I can't complain about is my sleep; I've slept better the past couple of weeks than I have in a while. I'm hoping this continues, at least for a little bit longer.

This pregnancy has been nothing if not contradictory. For a while time seemed to fly, and then it slowed waaay down until there were days that I sobbed to Joe that I thought I was going to be pregnant forever. Now, though? Now I know there's and end to all of the stress and all of the discomfort. I keep looking at the sheet of paper they gave me with Sweet Baby Ray's birthday written on it, and I close my eyes and smile and say the date over and over in my head. January 8, January 8, January 8. I am so excited to meet this little guy.

yes. this is really all i could come up with today.

I don't have much time to post tonight. I was really busy at work today and then had to leave early for doctor's appointments and then came home to a sick toddler who won't leave my lap and it seems like I've done nothing but run, run, run, all day long. So I'm making Andrew chicken noodle soup and trying to type around him. Actually, I think I'm going to hand the keyboard over to him now, because judging by his whining it appears that he has something pretty important he wants to say:

bnjnmxc fkh lpy hlpnd- yu9 p 0cd strji.kodf/hlo vc////fggN ni8k t hgb fxb v 749,mzs + p jiocjlyawc bnK0

I think he makes some pretty good points, don't you? In fact, I think his philosophies are going to change the world someday.

And now it's back to cuddling until dinnertime.

sad and angry is a really horrible combination

I should probably wait until I calm down a little bit before I write this, but I don't have a whole lot of time to devote to posting today, and who knows: It could take me the rest of the day to chill out. Or longer.

My mother-in-law hasn't seen Andrew since October 8. She also hasn't made an effort to contact us in that span of time. We don't know where she's living, how she's doing -- nothing. She just doesn't take the initiative to communicate with us. Any knowledge we have about her and her activities comes from Joe's grandparents, with whom she communicates only sporadically. Joe calls her, and his calls aren't returned. He texts her, only to get a vague message in response -- if he gets any response at all.

My husband, ever the tough guy, pretends to be nonchalant about all of this, but I can tell it hurts him. We watch Andrew reach some milestone or do something adorable, and he says, "I can't believe Mom's missing all of this." He's hurt, and I? I am angry.

I should probably mention that Joe's sister, who lives with his mom, only works about 10 miles from where we live. So we're not talking long-distance travel here. Also, I should mention that my mother-in-law herself doesn't work at all. For the life of me, I cannot think of a valid reason why she wouldn't be able to visit her only grandson.

Yesterday, out of the blue, after five weeks of no communication, she called. She wanted to know if it would be okay if she came over this morning to see Andrew. We told her of course, that would be just fine, Andrew would love to see her. We told him that when he woke up Grandma would be there to visit and play with him. And then this morning rolls around, and Joe wakes up to a text message letting him know that she won't be able to make it today. Maybe she can come tomorrow, but she's just not sure.

(Here's a funny little aside: When Joe told me this on the phone this morning, I actually said these words to him: "That angers me so much. I am so infuriated." While most people would say "That pisses me off," I instead opted for something more dignified. NO ONE does angry like an English major!)

I'm betting that we won't see her until Thanksgiving. And then after that, who knows? Christmas, probably. I wonder if she'll even show up at the hospital to see the baby after he's born. I wish I was exaggerating, but I honestly don't know if she'll make any effort at all to see him.

Andrew is so special, and she's missing out on so much of his life. It breaks my heart and it makes me furious, even more so because I just don't understand why. I want her to be an active part of my boys' lives, but I can't force her. She's their grandma, for God's sake -- I shouldn't have to force her. I'm so completely confounded by her behavior. It just...It doesn't make sense.

all over the place. i apologize in advance.

I have lots of ideas for posts swimming around in my head (how it felt to see an ex-boyfriend at the memorial service we attended this past weekend; my top 10 favorite books of all time, including a brief review of the most recent addtion to that list; scanning and uploading the pages of the first story I ever wrote at age 7 to amuse you and embarrass myself), but I just don't have any spare time lately. Hopefully things will slow down by the end of the week and I'll have time to produce some more thoughtful posts (and to breathe!), but in the meantime, you get more stream-of-consciousness-type ramblings. Aren't you lucky.

Today, I am thankful for the purple ballet flats I am wearing, which I found for $4.99 while surfing Target's on-line shoe clearance (I'm linking to it because if you don't know about the gem that is Target's shoe clearance, you need to check it out immediately). They are comfortable, adorable, and the perfect shoes to wear with my black wrap dress (also from Target, also found on clearance for ridiculously cheap).

(Say! Would you guys be interested in a post all about the shoes I've found for dirt cheap at Target? I could take pictures and everything. Am I grasping at straws here? Because seriously, I have some cute shoes that I have paid practically nothing for, all thanks to Target.)

(If they legalize same-sex marriage soon, you know they'll legalize marriage to animals soon afterwards, and then after that they're bound to legalize marriage to inanimate objects...and when that day comes, mark my words: I'm going to marry Target.)

(Please. You guys. Note my sarcasm.)

I am not thankful that my black wrap dress is full of static cling today, causing it to stick to all of my wobbly bits, which I'm sure looks very attractive to the people around me -- particularly those who have the misfortune of walking behind me.

I am thankful that I had the foresight to wear underwear that leaves no visible panty-line while I'm in the midst of this static crisis, but I am not thankful that said underwear is behaving rather thongishly this afternoon. It's...not comfortable, to say the least.

I'm thankful that I had a Chik-fil-A chicken sandwich and tater tots for lunch, and that I could justify all of that unhealthy fat to myself by eating an apple afterwards.

I'm choosing to ignore the fact that all that unhealthy fat has done its part to contribute to my wobbly bits, apple or not.

and also, my stomach is still sticky from all that gel stuff

Today has been one of those days when I just feel like I'm swimming against the current/paddling upstream/insert your favorite water-related metaphor here. I had to cram about ten hours' worth of work into six hours so I could leave early for my first non-stress test this afternoon, first of all, which wasn't fun. And then during my non-stress test, I found out two pieces of information that, basically, suck: I can't choose the doctor that I want to perform my c-section; I have to go with the doctor who's on call during the time that I schedule, and I have to go to the hospital next Friday, that would be Black Friday, to have my non-stress test there since the office will be closed.

Sigh. Ironically, I find these damn non-stress tests to be very stressful. I know they're a necessary evil, but still. It stresses me out not knowing what the results are going be -- will I pass? Will they send me to the hospital for further testing? Will the baby be sleeping and non-responsive? (He was this afternoon. It was only by banging a pen on a tin can over my stomach that we got any movement from him at all.) (Yes, I am serious about the tin can. White trash doctor's office FTW!)

And of course Andrew was in a pissy mood when I picked him up from daycare this evening, so I made an executive decision to scrap our trip to the grocery store and the dinner I was planning to make. So right now he is enjoying a Happy Meal and watching cartoons while I eat a greasy, delicious cheeseburger and take a little time to myself after a long day.

And I have to have a non-stress test every Monday, from now until what feels like the end of time. As if Mondays didn't already suck enough.