Tag Archives: pregnancy of a friend

Nov28

Socks has a Lime!

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The short story: Socks is the nickname of my best friend, and she is having her first baby. Since I can’t be there with her, I’m chronicling her journey on my blog.

Long story: go here, then here, and the rest are my weekly updates: one, two, three, four, and five. That will catch you up to now!

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Holy crap! Baby Button grew from the size of a prune to the size of a lime in a week! That’s just crazy talk.

I’m all excited because in a moment, I’ll have a picture of her to share! One that illustrates quite well the whole ‘lime’ business.

We didn’t get our Thursday BS session due to Thanksgiving, but her house is her own again and she had time to send me an email update on how she’s doing. It was short but she still made me laugh: she had a craving for pickles. Ha! Hmm, I’m not sure that’s going to be understood internationally – in the USA, the joke about pregnant women is that they crave strange things, and the example always used is pickles (gherkins) and ice-cream. Yum!

Oo! Picture is here…just let me…hold on…a little bit here…yes. Ready for viewing!

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HAHAHAHAHAH! She said her smile was too goofy to share with the world, so I gave her a goofier one 🙂 Love you!

Nov13

Socks has a medium green olive!

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I know, what happened to the fruit? The similes are getting stranger and stranger.

I have to admit in advance that I somehow drank quite a bit on Oirish Tirsday. So my notes are pretty illegible, by page…four? If i wrote down that much, it seems I thought everything was funny as hell, too. But I’m going to start off with something that really shocked me.

It seems US schools are no longer teaching kids how to write in cursive: just printing. Socks learned this about three years ago, I learned it on Tirsday. WTF? Why on earth not? I suppose there’s an argument that we type more than print, and print more than write, but to not even teach it anymore seems a bit premature. And as Socks pointed out, silly. How does someone have a signature without cursive? How do you teach someone that bit of originality that says that you are you, if they can’t even hook their letters together? Are we moving into thumbprints or retinal scans? Will the postal delivery or UPS/FedEx person have a filthy, beaten up eyeball scanner instead of those disgusting electronic signature pads? Seriously, I’ve never seen one that didn’t look encrusted in other people’s hand sweat and coffee that the driver spilled. I really don’t like the idea of sticking my face onto something similar. And I’m not even germ-phobic. Or has the US moved on in the last 6 years and those pads are already obsolete?

I still remember learning to write ‘properly.’ I remember because I got really frustrated, to the point of tears, over the fact I couldn’t make a capital ‘O’ perfectly. Yes, I was an anal-retentive, perfectionist little smart ass even then. I also remember learning metric and thinking it made a lot more sense, another teaching they stopped ages ago. Y’all must really think kids are stupid over there. Anyhow; no cursive. We’re doomed.

Socks and I talked about holidays, because she’s got family back home that want her to come. This has stirred up a shitstorm of conflict for her: she’s starting a family, and the holidays are all about family, and since she’s awash in hormones she wants to have her own, relaxing holidays – and also have a big soppy family thing with all those she loves. Except family things have their own quirks, don’t they? Some good, some bad. I don’t envy her, I’ve only ever had a few around me for holidays and it’s no different here. I’d get completely weirded out by dozens of cousins and baskets of babies and oodles of elderly.

She likes Thanksgiving best anyway, and is doing that at her place this year. Yay!

Which brings me neatly into talking about food. We talked about how she will make a new recipe, love it, write it out and put it into her book…and never cook it again. Makes me ask now: what about Thanksgiving? Isn’t it a comfort to have the same meal every year, with perhaps a new dessert or two? Or is it only the spinach dip in the pumpernickel bowl that gets a repeat performance? I know Bear has made the turkey recently and I forget the secret… brined? This week she made gnocchi with kale and butternut squash. Unfortunately the sight of the packaged gnocchi slumping into the pan inspired a bout of yarking, so it was a no-go. Bear whipped up spaetzle and cabbage for her, aw. Apparently for the next day’s lunch, replacing the slimy gnocchi with cous-cous worked. I should offer them a guest spot on the blog to tell about what they cook. I can’t write about these things because a) I’m a picky eater b) they don’t sell most of the interesting ingredients here c) if they did sell it, I couldn’t afford it.

Oh, we learned about kale chips. If I can find kale, I’ll make them and let ya know. But they get massive thumbs up from Socks, Bear, and Miss Fierce.

So let’s see, the Olive Garden inside Socks has fully developed eyes, but they are fused shut like a kitten’s. There’s fingers and toes, too – but the special part of this week is that it is Gonad Week! That’s right, the bits are becoming bits. But at this point, Baby Olive can still go either direction. Bear apparently gets a little ‘grossed out by what’s happening inside his wife,’ the poor dear, so I’ll talk about it for her.

Otherwise, she’s eating more and better, not as exhausted or even simply tired. The hormones, however, are taking over. She says she’d slap herself if she wasn’t so happy, the way she feels about Christmas nostalgia makes her want to take a foot and shove it right up her own ass, and that she knows that she isn’t herself anymore, but it’s funny as hell.

Best quote: “Pre-baby Socks is watching pregnant Socks, and is constantly saying WTF while laughing and rolling her eyes.”

I think I’ll leave you with that one!

Nov4

Socks has a (large) Raspberry!

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Howdy! Oirish Tirsday was back on Thursday again, so another marathon phone call took place.

After we got my job-interview sagas out of the way, I asked how Halloween went at her place, as this is the first one she’s had there. She was tired, but manned the door for the eve.

Best Costume was won by a dad who was dressed as Bob Ross. Ya gotta love a man who picks Ross as a costume! She’d love to know, are they artists? Or was he just a quick thinker with an Afro and a palette sitting around?

Second prize went to a small boy dressed as Mario of SuperMario fame. She offered him the candy bowl and his response, said in the manner of Comic Book Guy from the Simpsons, was: “Oh. Skittles. I have not seen those for a very long time.” Poor little geek-kid. You just know he’s not going to grow out of that voice.

We also talked about how neither of us ever did a trick to anyone. Except, she said, once on her birthday she and her friends toilet-papered a house. But that doesn’t really count, because her dad drove the getaway car, and bought the TP for them to use.

So, on to the baby-growing update! She’s still in fruit stages of development, and this week BabySocks is a large raspberry. I can’t help wonder what the book is going to say when she is further along…will they be brave enough to say cantaloupe? Watermelon? Don’t tell me, Socks, I love the giggle every week when you tell me the new fruit.

Raspberry now has a head bigger than the body and looks less like a lizard. It is growing hands, knees, elbows, lips, nose, and eyelids. There’s some twitching movement, too, but nothing she can feel.

Speaking of feel, the container BabySocks is growing in is now the size of a grapefruit, but she can’t feel any bump or lump yet. Seems like you would, doesn’t it? I asked if she is in the habit of sleeping face-down, because that would probably have to change. But she doesn’t, so sleeping will still be comfy.

Socks is still nauseated, and/or has a sour stomach. Food is becoming an annoyance – not a big deal, but eating has to be thought out in advance. Things that sound really, really, good turn out to be ‘meh’ when on the plate; the happiness of mealtime is a bit lacking. Even her home-cooked mac n cheese was “Not as awesome as it sounded on paper.”

She’s still tired, too, and can see a difference when she doesn’t get enough iron in a day. Zzzzz. Bear took her on a drive through the country to look at the autumn leaves, and she slept through them all. She was hungry, out of snacks and feeling ill from lack of food. But the restaurant he had planned on stopping at was closed. She said she felt terrible that she was spoiling the day by feeling sick and sleepy and didn’t want to tell him. As usual, more worried about others than herself.

All in all, not too bad, really! When she told Bear that she felt pretty good, and was surprised given her family’s pukey history, he leaned back, hooked his thumbs in his belt, and said, “I’m a cattleman. I can pick out a good breeder.”

And she not only let him live, she laughed.

Oct31

Socks has a blueberry!

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I’m behind on my Baby-Socks update. Halloween got in the way!

We didn’t have our phone call until Friday, and it was short as I needed to get our Halloween costumes together. So, my update will be a bit short this week.

Socks had another ultrasound done, and got to bring home another photo. Due date is confirmed at June 14-15. Currently, the wee one is the size of a blueberry! I love the way her baby books give her fruit similes.

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She was shopping for a ‘pregnancy journal’ but they weren’t very good, nothing like what she wanted. So, she bought a new Moleskine and started her own. She works on it when watching TV, until she falls asleep… she did say she’s not as tired as she was, but still much sleepier than pre-Booberry. Nausea isn’t too bad, but she gets grossed out easily – even at cartoons. No cravings, really, but she not very interested in food right now. Except bacon. Mmmm, bacon! That in itself is a bit strange as she doesn’t eat bad things like bacon very often.

Her mom is finally reacting the way she was expected to all along – going bananas! Mr Socks (Bear), who is normally very shy, is telling people about their pregnancy all the time now. He’s even having conversations with male friends about “birthing plans.” I wish I could have eavesdropped on that conversation! Bear is also making sure she gets enough iron, because she can’t take those ginormous iron horse-pills right now.

So, over all – everything is fine, baby is perfect, she feels great, and her boobs have gotten 15 years younger. Yay for perky boobies! Enjoy ’em while they last 🙂

Oct20

Socks has a sweet pea!

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Ooo, lookit me, blogging on the night of Oirish Tirsday instead of waiting until tomorrow! Socks had stuff to do, and I’m suffering a hangover and wanted an early night, so we only talked on the phone for 2.5 hours. Yes, that’s a short call!

iDJ is still broadcasting his live radio show upstairs, and the floor is shaking, the walls are thumping, and he is singing. Oh dear. Sounds like Testament is on now, so he’s really rocking out!

I had to go up and share the fun, it was indeed Testament, Trial By Fire. Yay! I’m a metalhead, and really like it when he gets in a bit of old school thrash during his show. The next song was Megadeth, Wake Up Dead – oh yah, baby!

Our neighbours must hate us on Thursdays.

Anyhoo, Socks had her first obstetric appointment today! Everything is fine and good and normal, hooray! She is six weeks along, and the due date is June 14. There’s another ultrasound in a week to confirm this, but we’re pretty sure that’s accurate, since every moment has been planned and documented by Mom.

Wow, I got to call her mom! This is so strange and new to me, and I’m not even centre stage here. But I can only write about my reactions, right?

Socks had an ultrasound today, and got to see her baby for the first time. She said her first reaction was “Oh my god, its real!” Baby is TINY, the size of a ‘sweet pea.’ I had to ask for clarification on how big that is – bigger than an orange seed, apparently. BabySox is currently developing a jaw, cheeks, kidneys, and has the barest beginnings of ears, eyes and a nose. Pretty cool, eh?

Socks was so happy to see the living proof, too. So very happy that she got all three doctors in the room excited and happy along with her. Even the student (that she gave permission to attend) told her congratulations. Aw! She really made me giggle when she told me that this tiny dot is the cutest baby ever, with the most beautiful heartbeat! There’s a good mom in the making. It is fascinating to see Socks change the way she thinks and feels so fast. She admits that if you told her a week ago she would think of such a small, unformed thing as beautiful or cute, she’d have laughed you out of the room.

She’s sleeping a lot, and just starting to feel a little whoopsie at times. Oh, the fun is just beginning! I bet she names the toilet, because she’s gonna get so intimate with it they should be on a first-name basis. She’s also craving savoury food and not sweets, and meat more than she normally would. She’s already a fantastically healthy eater, and it will be fun to track cravings. Doritos are apparently off the menu already, and Swedish meatballs are on. For now…

Love you, Sweet Pea! Thanks for bringing me along 🙂

Oct14

Auntie E’s Socks update

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Yay, it’s Hangover Friday, which nearly always follows Oirish Tirsday!

Obviously I’m not going to recount every minute of the several hours Socks and I spent on the phone. But, this is where I’m chronicling my view of Socks’ journey into motherhood, so off we go!

First off, just for you, Socks – ask him!

I’ve not laughed so much or so hard on the phone with my girl for a while, for obvious reasons. But this time I nearly peed myself, and I had to take notes. They don’t make much sense, now, but I’m not pregnant and so can drink all the rum n Pepsi I want. At least I can read my own handwriting for a change.

So! Socks hasn’t been to the obstetrician yet. They want her to wait until she’s a bit further along, and will listen for a heartbeat and do an ultrasound then. This is scheduled for next Thurs, so waiting for the next phone date will be stressful for me. Do I need to say that it is much more stressful for her? At this point, the positive pregnancy results are all from home based pregnancy tests.

A lot of them.

Because she’s been peeing on a stick every damn morning for a week, just for something to do! Just to see the line get darker every day. I find this hilarious. My mental-picture-generator is in overdrive with this one. I see the garbage can in her potty overflowing with empty boxes and used tests. I also wonder if she’s saving them? How tempting, for someone like me who saves sentimental stuff. How horrifying, for someone like her hubby, Bear, who had to ask her to move the DRY pee-test from the side of the bathroom sink as it was freaking him out.

Wow, is he in for a wake up call! What if it’s a boy, and has the skillz to pee straight up, into daddy’s eye, during a diaper change? Ok, don’t even tell Bear that this is quite possible.

My other good note is a direct quote, “I love my life, and I want to fuck up every aspect of it.” it would take too long to explain the context, but I love that sentiment so much.

She’s also got some loot from family and friends: a high chair and crib, both too old to be sold due to modern health and safety laws. Still okay to be gifted, though, and the numerous babies who survived these dangerous, well-loved and well-made, wooden items can attest that they aren’t bits of furniture that are actively out to murder babies. We also agree that anyone stupid enough to let a baby’s arm or leg get trapped in the bars of a fold-down crib railing probably shouldn’t be procreating in the first place. I think it’s great she’s got heirloom items that will suit her style, personality and height (sorry, had to!) so well.

We’re also trying not to worry about the fact she isn’t barfing yet. Apparently, you only start doing the morning technicolor yawn after so many weeks of being preggers. But, as she says, she’s a pukey person. Hey, I didn’t say that, she did! Anyhow, being prone to yarking in general, and not yarking yet, is slightly concerning. Not everyone barfs, but it seems her family all did. The female ones. When they were pregnant. I felt the need to clarify that because my mental picture factory is playing again: everyone gathered round the table for a holiday feast, each with a bucket-in festive colors!-by their side. Oops, grandad lost his dentures, better get the tongs!

Well, if Socks wasn’t puking before, she probably is now.

Sorry, grandad.

Oct9

Socks, part deux

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***Some of my readers might know who Socks is, from other social media outlets. Please keep any comments about the content of this post ON this blog, and not elsewhere. I have her permission for this post, but we all know this is an anonymous blog for the moment, right? Thanks, y’all!

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So, I’ve been putting this post off since I started the blog. I feel I have to get this out before I can forge ahead and talk about stupid things again.

I think I made it clear that Socks is damn important to me. She’s my inspiration, not only for writing, but for anything creative. She and I had great plans for a mutual project, and I never even started. See, I was journaling, but stopped, and that was part of the project. My blog is my new journal, in a way that seems to work better for me. Therefore, I need to hold up my end of our joint writing enterprise, and talk about babies.

Travel back to January with me. Socks and I are having our weekly blab-a-thon, and the topic of kids comes up. She’s been thinking about them, about actually having one! Well, this is new. We’d decided ages ago that they are too much work. They make a lot of noise. They cost a lot of money and time.

But most of all, they…leak.

Fluids.

And solids.

All the time.

Now, I’m not bothered by this aspect of children. You just deal with it, and hope like hell you have a good washing machine, cuz that sucker will be running daily for years. But Socks? Not so much.

Ever seen one of those funny video shows where someone is lying on the floor (usually dad because men rarely think ahead), holding a baby over their head, bouncing it up and down, and laughing? And then junior pukes rancid, lumpy, half-digested hot milk DIRECTLY into daddy’s mouth?

Right now, somewhere in the world, my BFF barfed up her last meal just from reading that. There is very little chance of her dealing well with this happening in front of her. Even clear baby drool makes her go totally phobic.

So, of course, when she starts talking babies I remind her about the fact that they leak. Because I’m not having kids, for my own non-fluid related but equally valid and well-thought-out reasons, and I sort of don’t want her to turn into Just Another Mom. I’m a selfish bitch, and I don’t want her to change. Because I’m an honest selfish bitch, I tell her this. She agrees, whew! Barf, and the chance of her turning into someone different, someone …. well I hate to say boring, that’s not the best word. Someone that is no longer ‘Socks’ and is just ‘Mom.’

Yes, I KNOW how that sounds. Bear with me. Anyway, crisis averted.

Except… it isn’t. Despite my attempts to hog her whole life, she talks to her hubby about why they decided not to have kids.

Turns out, he thought she didn’t want them, and she thought he didn’t want them. And they both DO want them. Well, now, don’t I feel like a jerk. Game on!

So, not to go into too much detail, plan Team Building was instigated. How cute! Awww, I love these guys.

I was the only other person who knew they were trying to get pregnant. Loads of reasons, mainly due to her wanting to surprise a certain family member with the good news. Because I was the only person not actively involved in Team Building, Socks and I wanted to come up with a creative way to record how we felt during the journey.

As I said earlier, I totally let down the Team. I’m not sure why. Maybe I was in denial, maybe I was too stuck in my own head with my own issues. Maybe from 3,000 miles away, it didn’t feel real. But, I never wrote one word. See ‘selfish bitch’ above.

We still had our weekly teleconference. I heard about each disappointment when Aunt Flo showed up, that dirty old hag. I couldn’t help, but I mentally changed from being a spectator in the stands into someone that wanted to buy pom-poms and lead the cheers from the field. Figuratively. I doubt her hubby would have welcomed me in the bedroom, even if I was in a cheerleader skirt.

Go, Team, Go!!!

Finally, there was a touchdown, a goal, a try, a slam-dunk. They have a positive result! I got a phone call in the early afternoon. Yay! Now, we can make plans! And great plans they were. The timing was perfect for Socks and Co to tell her family in person, which is exactly what she wanted all along. Just a few weeks to wait. So hard to keep the secret!

It didn’t happen that way. They lost the baby. She had to tell her family the sad news, over the phone. Oh, sweetie.

I cannot talk any more about her loss.

I can say that I now am able to talk about the journey I had the privilege to be a part of. And now, I can talk about it here. Because this is not a tale of sadness, this is one of joy, no matter what else happens.

My best girl is pregnant again!

This time, she doesn’t have to wait until Thursdays to talk about it. She’s got a much bigger support network, and I’m happy about that!

My selfish self is happy to finally want, and need, to record my thoughts about my future niece or nephew. Because if I don’t get called Auntie E, I’ll be grumpy.

Hint, hint 🙂