October 22, 2008

Dropping the bomb.

Filed under: Family,Life,Love,pregnancy,Uncategorized — Tags: , , , — denise @ 5:52 pm

Many of you already know… in fact, I waited so long to post here about it because I absolutely did not want anyone I loved to read about it here – because while you may be imagining that I handle sneering comments like, “Gee, so glad I had to READ YOUR BLOG to find out“, with diplomacy and grace… I fear, I do not.

I would respond by either going, “Tough shit, jerkface.” or immediately bursting into tears.    Some people have fight or flight response, I have asshole or sobbing mess response.

That said, if I haven’t told you… please don’t think I don’t love you.  I just finally had to get it out. I couldn’t wait any longer.

Here is a clue:

Now, we’ll play multiple choice!

The woman pictured above is:

a) Wearing a really badly screenprinted shirt

b) Evidently unaware that she is being attached by a giant leech baby

c) Shockingly alluring

d) Pregnant

If you answered d) Pregnant, you are right!

If you answered c) Shockingly alluring, you are my new best friend (and also probably a little drunk)

So… there it is.  The Teen will be 17 in December.  The Baby , I guess will have to undergo a name change at some point?  The Toddler?  I suppose she could be The Baby because the new one is still The Embryo, soon to be The Fetus – which sounds like a place to buy bongs, hemp jewelry and rare Clash EPs..  Anyway, she will be 2 next month… and this one… this little cupcake…. is due the end of May.

We have no place to put this new baby.  I have a large shoebox from the boots I bought last winter and it’s looking promising.  We don’t have the $2000 a month it will cost us to have both the kids in the Montessori/Reggio school we love.  We don’t know how we will manage 2 little ones at once.

My OB revealed to us that the hernia (that wasn’t cancer balls) that I had surgically repaired  back in June with it’s own little soccer net has busted back out, thanks  to an expanding uterus.

It will need to be repaired again.

With a new soccer net.

She doesn’t know if I can go the whole pregnancy without it being repaired, so I get to see the surgeon again next Wednesday for a consult.

She said, “Boy, I’m surprised they did the repair surgery if you were going to have more kids!”

I said, “Well, we didn’t know we were going to have more kids.”

When I see the surgeon on Wednesday, he will probably say, “WHY DIDNT YOU TELL ME YOU WERE GOING TO GET PREGNANT WITHIN 3 MONTHS OF HAVING THIS SURGERY??”

To which I will reply, “Well, my goal in life is to eventually look like Sally from Nightmare Before Christmas. Also, we didn’t know we were going to have more kids.”

The OB investigated the patchwork that is my abdomen.  She ran her fingers down each scar from each old incision. One.. two.. three… four… five… six…

She looked up at me.

I don’t….  I….  I’m just not…. “, she stammered.

Honestly, I don’t know where I can take this baby out.”  (I have had 2 prior c-sections, so I have no other option)

“Maybe HERE…”, she said drawing an invisible line with her hand across the middle of my stomach, horizontally, dissecting my belly button.

Oh, goody.

Her plan is that she’d like to deliver the baby and then step out of the OR and have the surgeon step in, take me deeper on my anesthesia and repair the hernia AGAIN, all at once.  Which to me sounds like a really complicated dance move.  Will there be a nurse by the OR door wearing a Spice Girls headset keeping the show going?

AAAND… 5..6..7…8…. Cue OB! GO! GO!  Let’s move it people.  Baby is out. Repeat baby is out. Cue surgeon! And ACTION!.Annnd.. tell me what you want, what you really, really want!

The OB, I like her.  She said, “This is it.  No more births, ok?” … and I’ll admit it…  I was scared.

Did we make a mistake?  Was this the wrong choice?

We struggled for months to make the decision, Kory especially so.  Weighing the good, the bad, the hard, the money, work, what’s best for the kids, what’s best for our family… and we decided, finally.

We decided we were done.  No more kids.

And then…. we mourned.

A family with 2 only children, essentially…

And then we waivered.

Ok, Universe, we aren’t going to get all fancy or anything.  We aren’t going to TRY, but we won’t PREVENT.  For 6 months, we’ll live in this effortless zone of possibility.  And you know, I’m overweight. I’m 37 years old.  I have chronic anemia.  It’s UNLIKELY to say the least, but we can live with it – because we’ll be able to tell The Baby that we tried.  We’ll be able to tell OURSELVES that we tried… and that’ll be enough.

And two weeks later, I was pregnant.

You hear that sound?

That’s the universe laughing.

And in the spring, when the leaves are fat and green and the nights are just starting to buzz  and smell like barbecue… when the kids are waiting for the last day of school until delicious summer break… when the lilacs start to bloom…

We will welcome our new love and we will marvel at how we could have ever imagined our lives without them.

We will kiss tiny feet, as they kick the air from their big DSW shoebox.

February 14, 2006

I miss the shoebox.

Filed under: Love — Tags: , — denise @ 2:27 am

I miss the shoebox.

Don’t get me wrong, I LOVE the beautiful flowers Kory sent me.

They are gerbera daisies – which are my favorite.

It looks almost exactly like this:

And I wore my pink sweater today.  And I gave Peter and Kory their valentines prizes (Soundtrack for Underworld II for Peter and the 1st season of Scrubs for Kory).  I came in to work and got the little cards and candies from work people (notable exception: my friend Tanya out of NOWHERE brought me this beautiful bauble (yes, it’s a bauble) and some delicious pear-tasting chapstick called “Hot & Flashy”, which 9 kinds of cool….)

And maybe it’s because it’s been ice/sleeting all day and I’ve been listening to to tick, tick, tick on my window everytime the wind kicks up….  Maybe it’s because I’m really tired…. but I’ve been thinking today about how much I loved Valentines Day when I was a kid….

Bringing in that old shoebox and cutting a hole in the top… decorating it with pink and red and white construction paper and pipecleaners and paper doilies.  Reading EACH card with anticipation and searching for that EXTRA meaning in the Batman valentine from the boy you have a crush on.

“Valentine, I go batty for you!”

WHAT?!!  ME?!!!  You go BATTY FOR ME?!!!!!

:::: swoon::::

The way I’d read each one to make sure I was giving the best one I could to each person.  The one that would mean the most and express (yes) that little extra meaning without being, you know, OVERT about it.

“Be mine, or I’ll punch you on the playground.”

“I hope you like me because I like you and as soon as I think you like me I will never talk to you again and will whisper about you to my friends and maybe include your name when I do that fortune thing where you write MASH (mansion, apartment, shack, house) for where you will live at the top and you pick the boys names and the car you’ll drive and number of kids you’ll have and you probably don’t know what this is because only girls did it, but anyway, be my valentine”

Maybe I’ll make one next year and make people give me valentines…..

Anyway, I got a poem from my husband and Monte even called me up and wished me a Happy Valentines Day – both of which were surprising and completely sweet.

Peter and Kory are going to pick up dinner — and I bet the perfume that I’ve been wanting will be waiting for me tonight….

On second thought, keep your stupid shoebox.

I have it pretty damn good.

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