So, I got into a car accident on Wednesday evening. I probably shouldn't post too many details or certainly not admit to any guilt, because who knows, this blog might be admissible evidence in my court case next month, but I can probably give you a few details. I was at a stoplight, in the right turn lane. The pick-up truck in front of me started to move. I started to move. Next thing I know, his truck was stopped and my car was wedged under his bumper, my hood all crumpled and bent like the cheap piece of crap it is. At some point, possibly and most likely due to my impact, his truck hit the SUV in front of him, which happened to carry a seven month pregnant woman who requested to be taken to the hospital.
I'm pretty sure I'm liable for both these cars and for this woman's medical care. The good news, I guess, is that my car got the worst of it, and the other two cars seem fine save for some paint and a small dent or two. The bad news is that I'm freaked out about the pregnant woman and the fact that she went to the hospital. The whole thing happened at a slow rate of speed, so I keep telling myself that she and her baby are probably just fine, but it still scares me to think about. I don't know when or if I'll find out anything about her. I suppose my insurance will call and give me the scoop once they know. Or I'll be summoned with a subpoena by her attorneys, whichever comes first.
I don't know if you know this about me, but I do not handle stress well. At all. I've been sick about this whole nightmare. Strangely enough, while I do not handle stress well, I seem to be okay under pressure. I didn't cry after the accident. I didn't have a complete melt down at the scene or with the officer. Instead, the situation and its possible consequences stewed around my belly creating the perfect worry soup, complete with delayed vomiting later that night and the strangest poop I've ever taken.
I did go to the doctor the next morning to have them check my kid's heartbeat. I did this at the recommendation of Tara, who told me a similar story that happened to her. I wasn't even that worried about the baby, if you can believe that, but only because I was going so slow when the accident happened that I was barely jolted in my seat. Nonetheless, it was definitely a good idea to be sure, and the baby's heartbeat was nice and strong. Oh, that kid of mine. He/she will be nothing like his/her train wreck of a mother- he/she will be solid and calm and strong and reasonable, I just know it.
I only hope the other lady's baby fared as well. I'm sure it did. Right?
Anyway, I'm seventeen weeks at this point, with my court date in early March. I should be nice and showing by then, so hopefully the judge will take pity on me. That's my plan- be as respectful and pitiful as possible. And to remain okay under pressure, only allowing the stress to manifest when I'm in the privacy of my own bathroom.
Jan 15, 2010
That lovable scamp of a neighbor of mine, H-Dubs, just found out on Wednesday that she's having a girl! I'm super excited for her but the fact that she's already found out the gender is making me unbelievably anxious to find out the gender of my little nugget. However, even though she's only three weeks ahead of me, we're on crazy-different doctor schedules, and I'm not going to find out jack until late February! Unbelievable. How am I supposed to wait that long while next door, they're painting the nursery pink and getting the child-sized tea set in order? Like many things about pregnancy, it's just plan torturous. Agonizing, really.
I do have a very strong suspicion that I'm having a boy, and the fact that Heather's having a girl only makes my suspicion stronger. Chris has completely dismissed this notion of mine as poppycock (my word, not his), but I don't know, my distended gut is telling me something. It really doesn't matter what we have, but the strange thing is that, I'm actually kind of rooting for a boy now. For a little tyke we can roughhouse with and play trains and cars and all those other fun boy things. I don't know- I should probably stop myself right there since it truly doesn't matter what we have. But, dammit, I want to know! NOW.
The thing is, if we have a boy, I don't want him to date Heather's daughter. Not because I think Heather's daughter isn't going to be worthy of my son (here I go already), but because I read "The Pact" by Jodi Piccoult right before I got pregnant and am now deathly afraid of the same thing happening to my kid. Have you read that book? It's one of her finest, and it's about a guy and a girlwho grow up next door to each other as best friends. They're a strange sort of anti-Romeo and Juliet; their parents, who are also best friends, spend most of the kids' lives kind of hoping that they'll eventually date and marry. Well, as with the original Romeo and Juliet, things go horribly wrong with this scenario, and let's just say that dating the girl/boy next door isn't always the best idea one can have. It was a great book, even if my short description of it doesn't give it any justice. On the topic of books, who else is super stoked to see "The Lovely Bones" on the big screen? Another amazing book- let's just hope it doesn't get fucked up as much as "My Sister's Keeper" did. I'm still upset about that adaptation.
Anyway, I digress. In non-pregnancy-related news, not a whole lot is going on. This whole baby thing has almost completely taken over my life already- I can't imagine how it's going to be when he/she gets here. I am, I must admit, really looking forward to getting back to my life a little after the baby comes, if that's possible- I've never wanted a glass of wine as badly as I have lately. I stick my nose into Chris' wine and inhale as deeply as is humanly possible, but you can imagine that it's not the same. Also, I miss going out at night. Maybe my energy will start returning a little more now that I'm at week 15, but I have not been able to stay up past 9:00 to save my life. Alas!
I do have a very strong suspicion that I'm having a boy, and the fact that Heather's having a girl only makes my suspicion stronger. Chris has completely dismissed this notion of mine as poppycock (my word, not his), but I don't know, my distended gut is telling me something. It really doesn't matter what we have, but the strange thing is that, I'm actually kind of rooting for a boy now. For a little tyke we can roughhouse with and play trains and cars and all those other fun boy things. I don't know- I should probably stop myself right there since it truly doesn't matter what we have. But, dammit, I want to know! NOW.
The thing is, if we have a boy, I don't want him to date Heather's daughter. Not because I think Heather's daughter isn't going to be worthy of my son (here I go already), but because I read "The Pact" by Jodi Piccoult right before I got pregnant and am now deathly afraid of the same thing happening to my kid. Have you read that book? It's one of her finest, and it's about a guy and a girlwho grow up next door to each other as best friends. They're a strange sort of anti-Romeo and Juliet; their parents, who are also best friends, spend most of the kids' lives kind of hoping that they'll eventually date and marry. Well, as with the original Romeo and Juliet, things go horribly wrong with this scenario, and let's just say that dating the girl/boy next door isn't always the best idea one can have. It was a great book, even if my short description of it doesn't give it any justice. On the topic of books, who else is super stoked to see "The Lovely Bones" on the big screen? Another amazing book- let's just hope it doesn't get fucked up as much as "My Sister's Keeper" did. I'm still upset about that adaptation.
Anyway, I digress. In non-pregnancy-related news, not a whole lot is going on. This whole baby thing has almost completely taken over my life already- I can't imagine how it's going to be when he/she gets here. I am, I must admit, really looking forward to getting back to my life a little after the baby comes, if that's possible- I've never wanted a glass of wine as badly as I have lately. I stick my nose into Chris' wine and inhale as deeply as is humanly possible, but you can imagine that it's not the same. Also, I miss going out at night. Maybe my energy will start returning a little more now that I'm at week 15, but I have not been able to stay up past 9:00 to save my life. Alas!
Jan 9, 2010
Here's a snapshot of me taken in the bathroom at 14 weeks, 1 day. On the one hand, I still look skinnier than a lot of people do normally (I know, what a bitch), but on the other hand, check out the bump!
Today I'm off to do some shoppin' and lunchin' with Carole on, of all places, the mag mile. I know I'm going to be suicidal about one hour into it- but in a totally great way. Like the way Aimee Mann used to make me feel suicidal. I wanted to die, but it was the best I'd ever felt!
Today I'm off to do some shoppin' and lunchin' with Carole on, of all places, the mag mile. I know I'm going to be suicidal about one hour into it- but in a totally great way. Like the way Aimee Mann used to make me feel suicidal. I wanted to die, but it was the best I'd ever felt!
Jan 7, 2010
Tomorrow, I'm fourteen weeks. I keep meaning to take a picture of me with my stomach on display but can't seem to bring myself to do it. Some days, I feel like I look slim as ever, maybe just a little bloated, and other days I look down and feel like I've got a basketball belly. I did buy one of those stretchy bands to wear around my jeans so that I can delay maternity pants. Have you ever looked at maternity pants? Maybe I was shopping at the wrong place, but, man, were they hideous. Why are they all so tapered? And what's with the lack of pockets? Just because I'm packing a baby doesn't mean I don't need a place to store my gum. Jeez.
Anyway, with the slow and steady increase of my tummy, Chris and I are also pleased to report that my breasts are getting bigger. Man, if only I had realized that pregnancy was the solution to my flat-chested problem, I'd have gotten knocked up when I was sixteen! Of course, I wasn't exactly getting a lot of, or any, action when I was sixteen, but maybe knowing the secret to my full and perky success would have enticed me to, say, try and earn a reputation. Of course, teenage pregnancy is no joking matter, but I didn't exactly say I was joking.
Heather sent me a text today to let me know she felt her baby kick! She's about three-ish weeks ahead of me, and so her tales from the front line are way better than reading one of the eighteen bajillion pregnancy books I have- none of which I actually bought, but all of which were bestowed as gifts. Note to people buying a gift for a pregnant person- don't buy them a book about being pregnant. It's not a good gift. First of all, no one needs more than one book about pregnancy, and, second of all, it's much too painful to actually read about pregnancy while being pregnant. It's next to impossible to do everything correct while pregnant, and these books just end up making you feeling guilty because you ate a whole bunch of walnuts and now your baby is destined to become a severe asthmatic. Also, they're boring. I know I'm writing about pregnancy right now (and it's somehow NOT boring, right?), but pregnancy books are sooooo dull. Here's a better gift for a pregnant woman- a Harlequin romance. For real. And that's all I have to say on that.
Except, yes, Heather's baby kicked, and now I am anxiously awaiting my first flutterings. I wonder if I'll even have presence of mind to recognize them. Heather has had such a textbook pregnancy, with all of the right symptoms at all of the right times, and mine so far has been... different. Not all of the symptoms and not nearly as severe. We're having different pregnancies in other ways, too. Her husband insists on peeling apples for her because he doesn't want her eating the pesicidal skin and because he doesn't want her using a peeler since she might cut herself and bleed to death. On the other side of the coin, my husband has, on several occasions, suggested that it's okay if I do a little light shoveling. Actually, I threw in the word "light" just to make him look better. Did it work?
Anyway, with the slow and steady increase of my tummy, Chris and I are also pleased to report that my breasts are getting bigger. Man, if only I had realized that pregnancy was the solution to my flat-chested problem, I'd have gotten knocked up when I was sixteen! Of course, I wasn't exactly getting a lot of, or any, action when I was sixteen, but maybe knowing the secret to my full and perky success would have enticed me to, say, try and earn a reputation. Of course, teenage pregnancy is no joking matter, but I didn't exactly say I was joking.
Heather sent me a text today to let me know she felt her baby kick! She's about three-ish weeks ahead of me, and so her tales from the front line are way better than reading one of the eighteen bajillion pregnancy books I have- none of which I actually bought, but all of which were bestowed as gifts. Note to people buying a gift for a pregnant person- don't buy them a book about being pregnant. It's not a good gift. First of all, no one needs more than one book about pregnancy, and, second of all, it's much too painful to actually read about pregnancy while being pregnant. It's next to impossible to do everything correct while pregnant, and these books just end up making you feeling guilty because you ate a whole bunch of walnuts and now your baby is destined to become a severe asthmatic. Also, they're boring. I know I'm writing about pregnancy right now (and it's somehow NOT boring, right?), but pregnancy books are sooooo dull. Here's a better gift for a pregnant woman- a Harlequin romance. For real. And that's all I have to say on that.
Except, yes, Heather's baby kicked, and now I am anxiously awaiting my first flutterings. I wonder if I'll even have presence of mind to recognize them. Heather has had such a textbook pregnancy, with all of the right symptoms at all of the right times, and mine so far has been... different. Not all of the symptoms and not nearly as severe. We're having different pregnancies in other ways, too. Her husband insists on peeling apples for her because he doesn't want her eating the pesicidal skin and because he doesn't want her using a peeler since she might cut herself and bleed to death. On the other side of the coin, my husband has, on several occasions, suggested that it's okay if I do a little light shoveling. Actually, I threw in the word "light" just to make him look better. Did it work?
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