Ramblin' Woman

You know, I've realized that it might seem that I'm less than enthusiastic about my pregnancy.  And there might be a grain of truth in that.  But, I ask that you not be too judge-y and let me explain.

For the last three years my husband and I have not used any form of birth control.  Nothing. Zip. Nada.  And there was no pregnancy.  So I'm sure you'll understand why we thought we couldn't have children.  It was something that we discussed - the alternatives, the treatments, what we really wanted... And we decided that we were okay if we didn't have kids - that there were enough children in our lives that we could shower love upon.  When we planned our future, it was a childless one - and it was a future that I had come to terms with.

By nature I'm not an overly excitable person.  I'm not the type of person that starts the countdown for their birthday two weeks in advance.  In fact, the only person I celebrate my birthday with is my husband - and occassionally my family.  I'm in fact embarassed when people buy me gifts, not because I don't feel that I don't deserve them, but because I know how hard money is to come by and I don't want them to spend it needlessly on me.  I refused to have a wedding shower.  And I was uncomfortable with my girlfriends (whom I've known for at least a decade) spending money on me at the bar and at dinner.  We won't even go into the anxiety meltdown I had when confronted with the "surprise" bachelorette party.  I almost refused to go.  At the heart of it, I just don't like being the centre of attention.

Then there's the nagging feeling that I'm going to be an absolute failure as a mother.  Sure, when the kid becomes a teenager I'll have full confidence in my abilities (I've worked with hundreds of teenagers over the years) it's just getting to that point.... I mean... what if I absolutely suck?  What if I totally fuck my kid up?  What if I don't buy them the right playmat, or stroller or get them into a good school? 

And lastly, I'm worried about losing the baby.  I'm worried that if I get too attached and I miscarry that I'll fall down a hole that I won't be able to get out of.  If I start shouting from the rooftops that I'm pregnant and then I lose it... I can't even bear thinking about it. 

Because this is the gift that I didn't know I wanted until I had it.  This is the overwhelming gift that lasts a lifetime and I feel absolutely unprepared.  I have so many worries, so many fears and I think of all the women who are desperate for a baby and I'm still not sure I'm doing the right thing.  But at the same time, I know I must be because otherwise this post wouldn't be written.  There would be no post to write.  So, somewhere inside me I already know the answer to my unasked question.  I just need some time to get used to it.

Ooooooohhhhhhh... So that's why.....

So... I've been quite tired lately.  Like really tired.  I thought maybe my B12 was low, so I took loads of it.  Didn't help.  I went to be a little earlier every night.  Didn't help.  Thought that my student was just so emotionally exhausting that I couldn't do much else.  No cure for that, unfortunately.

Then I remembered that it was weird that I hadn't gotten my period yet.  It isn't unusual for me to be late.  But I had the cramps and the tender breasts (too much information?) and nothing had come of it.

Do you see where I'm going with this?

Because I freak myself out all the time when my period is late, I keep a pregnancy test in the linen closet just in case.

And 9 days ago I used it.

And those two little lines just popped right up.

Needless to say I was shocked.

And Stu wasn't too excited when I shoved the pee-stick in his face while he was half-asleep and said, "We're fucking pregnant."

After talking about our options we went to the drug store and got another pregnancy test.  Just to make sure.  And I bought the fancy one.  The ClearBlue Digital.  Spells out if you're pregnant or not.  And tells you how far along you are.

That one didn't hesitate either. 

Pregnant.  3+.  Apparently 3+ means that you're at least 5 weeks pregnant.

So... I don't feel so bad for needing naps now.

And I don't have to change the cat litter for like a year, which is the real bonus.  I think I might be more excited about that than anything else. 

Just kidding.  I'm excited.  And scared.  And nervous.  But definitely excited, because I have something the size of a piece of rice growing in my uterus.

I Touch Myself

Sometimes when I think no one is looking, I slowly move my paw down my belly and.... well, you know, touch myself.

So, I figured since I showed off Pedro's moobs, I should share my other cat's dirty little secret.   This is  the real Maya.  I'll let you in on a secret though, if I was caught touching myself, I wouldn't let myself be photographed.  And then let it be posted.  Maya the Cat is a hussy.  Some would say that she takes after me.  Now that I'm happily married, you'd all be wrong.

It's Beer O'Clock Somewhere

During my lunchbreak I sent my friend a message asking her if it was wine o'clock, beer o'clock or hard liquor o'clock.  I really wasn't fussy which o'clock it was, I just felt the need for a drink. 

We all have those days - where work is kicking our ass, family obligations are overwhelming, or the beastly children that live in the apartment above you haven't stopped screaming for the last two hours.  I had one of those days today.

In the real world I work one-to-one with students in school.  These students have behavioural problems, developmental delays or mental health issues - or a combination of any of these things.  I work with the same student for the entire year, helping them to nagivate their classes, de-escalating problem behaviours, communicating instructions to them, etc.  It's a rewarding job, it's more often than not a hard job, and it's an underpaid job.  Seriously underpaid.  *ahem* School board. *ahem*

Throughout most of my career I have been lucky to escape injury, although a troubling trend started this July when I received a concussion from a client in a residential program.  And my new student has chosen  hitting me as an appropriate expression of her displeasure at following the rules.  I can't say that I'm so excited by it.  We're really working on using words to express ourselves.

My new student is also a "bolter", and by bolter I don't mean someone who bolts sheet metal to the wall.  Do you even bolt sheet metal to the wall?  Thank god that isn't my job.  I'd be fired the first day.  Anyway.  She's a runner.  Which is swell.  I mean, I was going to try and start up an excercise regimen, but there's no need when I spend half the day blocking her escape from the school and the other half trying to tire her out by walking the indoor track.  It's good to look at the positives.

So, yeah.  Today was an ass-kicker.  And all I want is a beer.  And someone to make me dinner.  Someone to clean my house would be nice too.  And maybe to win the lottery.

But I'll settle for a beer.

And hope that tomorrow is better.