If I don't have MY period, neither should my husband.

It's really amazing how men get their periods.  Yeah, they don't have to deal with the bleeding, and the cramps, and the bullshit, but all the other symptoms -- mood swings, crabbiness, irritability, FULL FORCE my friends.  And they NEVER admit it.  Actually, if you have a man who does admit, please let me know so I can shake his fucking hand.

If I knew then what I know now...

John and I have been together 5 years (yesterday, so I'm a day late, I'm 7 months pregnant, give me a break).   We've know each other for about 12. 

Now while seducing him with alcohol (Hahaha) 5 years ago, I knew he was 'the one', when we met 12 years ago, I would have LAUGHED IN YOUR FACE.  Why?  Because we didn't really like each other.  I thought he was standoffish, emotionless and not very warm.   He thought I was loud, obnoxious and hyper (gee...). 

This didn't last very long, as we became friends, then good friends, then best friends, and then WA LA!   There was no getting to know you phase or awkward phase in the love portion of our lives -- since we had already been friends for 7 years.   So even though we had just started dating, it felt like we'd been together forever.

Inspired by my dear friend Angie's blog post of today, a few things I wish I would have known before we got married (thanks lady).

1.  The fact that I got shit all over, walked all over, and didn't stand up for myself in my past relationship does NOT mean that I have to be extra brash with John.   He doesn't shit on me, walk all over me, or make me feel like I am worthless.   Unfortunately, even though I know all this, six years of this happening to you takes a big toll, and sometimes, I forget and it comes out, which is not fair.

2.  There's really no point in worrying about the shit that might happen.   John always worries about when we can do this, where the money is gonna come from for this, etc.  I used to be the same.  But I've learned that things, somehow always have a way of working themselves out.  Sometimes it takes A LONG TIME (ahem six years) for this to happen, but it does happen.    Everything really does happen for a reason.

3.  Having kids makes you love your husband even more than you ever thought possible.  There's something about seeing the man you love hold his baby for the first time.  Something about the look in his eyes, the tenderness of his touch, the complete and utter contentment in his face.  Something about knowing that you know EXACTLY how he feels.    Something about knowing that the love the two of you share created this perfect, wonderful little person who you love instantly and more than you can explain, and would die for in a second.

4.  Once you have your own family, your family becomes, well, less important.   My family is miniscule, John's is huge.  We love them.  But PJ's (and soon to be Maggie's) happiness, well-being, needs, etc., will always and forever take precedence over anything and everything going on with the family.  I think the family who haven't had young kids in awhile don't remember what this was like, or maybe they don't care.  And it's not as prevalent once your kids aren't babies any more (i.e., PJ is MUCH more flexible now), but when you have a little baby in arms, sorry Charlie.   Baby wins.

5.  Boys love their mama.  Girls love their dada.  Now, I know this is common knowledge, and I am not saying the reverse isn't true.  But when they're 3 and under, this is the preferred parent.  I have no experience with the girl part, just yet, but I guarantee it will be true.

My worst fear is about to be realized.

It's coming out.

It's dangerously close to the edge.

I can't even look in the mirror.

It's my belly button.  Ughhhh.....I have a terrible, terrible distaste for belly buttons.  Mine or anyone else's.   I don't like to touch them, have it touched, see someone else touch theirs, etc.  Mine never came out with PJ.  But this is dangerously close.  I don't think I'll be able to handle it.  It's almost level with the rest of my belly.  I am seriously about to start wearing a band aid over it so i don't have to see it, but then I'd have to get CLOSE to touching it. EW.  SO GROSSED OUT.

Maggie is on her way.

So it's official.   Maggie will be here in approximately 12 weeks.   I am sure she won't be early like her big brother -- not sure why, I just have this feeling.  So I am going to have a daughter.   It's so weird to say that.  Shifting gears seems weird.  For the past, well 19 months I've been in boy mode.  Boy clothes, boy toys, boy nicknames, boy, boy, boy.   Now I have to deal with a husband who's "reading up on guns" so in 16 years when "she has boys come over I'll be ready."  Sigh.

This is the hottest summer since 1995.  I am not making this up.  It's weather fact.   I knew it would be -- well not the hottest since 1995, persay, but fucking hot -- because I get to be pregnant for the ENTIRE SUMMER.  From the moment it starts to the moment it ends.   Everyone keeps saying how it will be nice because when Mags is BORN it will be cooler out.  Um, I am going to be in a HOSPITAL when she is born.  With AIR CONDITIONING.  I don't give a flying fuck if it is 110 degrees out the day she is born I am not delivering in a field.  So how does this HELP me?  It doesn't, so please just shut the fuck up.  And I am sure if by some ridiculous twist of fate there is a terrible storm and the power goes out everywhere else in the state of Illinois, all of the hospitals will STILL have power, thus STILL having air conditioning.

So anyway.   My little Maggaroo is coming.   I am predicting October 19.  I plan to stop working October 13 (that's a Wednesday, nice short week to end my stay). 

PJ is STILL in the throwing stage.  Which SUCKS.  He'll throw anything and everything, especially food, and it just SUCKS.  Because he cries when you put him in time out, and I am not entirely sure he has any idea why he's in time out, but so be it.  He's still fucking adorable, and can now get on and off the couch without any assistance whatsoever.  Which is kind of good, because I don't really have to worry about him falling OFF the couch anymore, but bad because I am sure eventually he's going to try climbing up the back of the couch.

Ahh, toddlers.

I love you my happiness.  Both of you. ;)

I am so ready.

To be done.  Not because of the pregnancy, because of work.  Going to and from work is so damn draining.   I am slowly walking, uncomfortable while I am here because my back/butt hurt and I have to sit a lot of the day, I am peeing constantly.   It would be so much better if I could just be at home and hanging out with PJ, because at least though that can be hard I am with my happiness and not in this fucking place.

I really really hope I find a new job right after I go back to work (I know that sounds like an oxymoron, but oh well).  I want to work in the burbs.  And drive.  And walk just a few steps from the car to the door and the door to the car and that is it.  I hate that I leave at 4:30 but I don't really get started on my way home till nearly 5.  Imagine if I left at 4:30 and actually started going home at 4:30!! Oh the gloriousness.

I just hate my job so much.  I hate everything about it.  It used to be not so bad, until they started nitpicking on every fucking little thing we do and catering to the attorneys when there is NOTHING else they need.   What about what staff needs?  What about making us just the slightest bit happy?
Oh well.  We took PJ to his first Sox game yesterday, and boy was it a good one.   15 runs!! 5 homers.   He slept for three of the five, but hey, it was nap time, it was hot, and he was having a very long day. My little guy.  We're also back on the waking up once a night and refusing to go back to sleep in our crib thing, which is frustrating, so hopefully we go back to STTN again soon -- usually we do after 1-2 weeks.  So let's hope it happens soon.

Hot.

It's hot outside.  And I am not above getting in PJ's kiddie pool with him.   I mean, it's 5 feet wide.   Sitting in 3 inches of water sometimes is just enough to cool off this pregnant mama.  Did I mention how much he loves the pool?  Seriously.  Splash, splash.  Fun.  Good times.  I can't wait to take him in a real pool.  I actually can't wait to live in a different house where we have our OWN pool, but that's a whole other thing.

My happiness is still amazing and so so smart.   He pushes things over to where he wants them, to climb on them.   He figured out that if he wants to get on the couch, and John puts his hand out, he can use his hand to step on to get himself on the couch.  He knows to point for what he wants now, and is closing to saying "more?" when he wants more of something.   It's amazing how much he's grown and developed and I cannot believe my baby boy is turning into a little man.

The toddler bed is on it's way, and we are going to start working on transforming the bedrooms, and pretty much our house, to accommodate a toddler and a baby.  PJ's gonna have a brand new room!  A new bed, dresser, table and chairs, some toy storage.   We're hoping to get the bedrooms carpeted too.  It's gonna be a cramped kitchen scenario, but we'll manage.  It could be worse.

It's really bullshit.

Two years ago on the 28th, I suffered a miscarriage.   I was about 5 weeks along.   I was devastated.   Heartbroken.  

A month later, I found out I was pregnant again.   I was cautiously ecstatic.   When I passed the "D-Day", I felt better.   When we saw the heartbeat, I felt even better.  And when we got to 12 weeks, I felt outstanding.  And 25 weeks later, my happiness was born.

The fact is, I wasn't alone.   One of my good friends had to have a D&C not long after I suffered my miscarriage.   Another 4 or 5 had suffered them on my message board where a great group of girls get together daily to talk.   Miscarriage is so fucking common it's fucking ridiculous.   Another friend didn't have a miscarriage but the baby stopped growing and she lost her child.  And you never realize how common it is till you look at a group of 16 women, and 5 of the 16 have had a miscarriage.  That's 1/3.  And the possibility that that number will go up.

But what I was NOT prepared for was the news I got yesterday.  One of my oldest, best friends in the world -- someone I don't see as often as I'd like, but still is like a sister to me -- was 20 weeks pregnant.  Just 5 short weeks behind me.  Her son and new baby were to be 14 months apart.    I was lucky.  When pregnant with PJ, I had a best friend 5 weeks ahead of me.  And this time, one 5 weeks behind.  Until yesterday.

She went into labor.  They couldn't stop it.  She had to deliver her 1.5 pound beautiful baby girl -- stillborn.   She had to go through all the pain, the emotion, the work of having a baby, simply to see her baby girl never take a breath.   I have no idea why.   All I know is that it is fucking heartbreaking.  And unfair.  And impossible to comprehend.  I suffered a loss.  But I didn't deliver a life.  I didn't feel a baby move inside of me only to have that baby's life end before it even began.  I cannot imagine her pain.  Her suffering.  Her heartache.   I can't imagine it at all.

And although she will still be so happy for me, I know she'll feel pain when she sees me.  Know that seeing me, talking to me, thinking about me, will be a constant reminder of the baby she lost.  Because that's how you feel.   And it's not my fault, or her fault, but it's such fucking bullshit that they haven't figured out a way to fix this god damned horrible fact of life.

I love you, Rita, with everything I have.