Sixth Pregnancy-He turned 4 yesterday!

I should have written this yesterday, but here it is. Nearly five years ago, my husband (then my cohabiting living in sin boyfriend) and I were getting ready for Christmas. I was going to start a new job (as a nanny) in January, and so December was just a time to focus on family and friends.
I was on the mini-pill, a progesterone only pill, because the large doses of the combination pills made me depressed. The POP gave me migraines, but what can you do. The only problem with these pills was that you HAD to take them the same time every day. If you were more than two hours late, you were screwed.
So there we were, going to Christmas parties and family gatherings that lasted well into the night. Add in the time spent wrapping gifts, shopping, and the wine consumed at such gatherings...and many times I would realize it was much later than I thought.
My husband, who shall now be christened "Cornbread", used to set an alarm on his watch to remind me. But if I'd left my pills at home, I just had to wait to take them.
And then one night I forgot. And was too tired to get up and take one, albeit several hours too late. I figured, oh well, no one gets pregnant skipping one pill...
Unless you are on a low-dose pill.
One that doesn't ALWAYS suppress ovulation, but instead makes the cervix unfriendly and impassable.
And you'd taken it late a few times already that month.
Fast forward another month. I've started a nanny job for a fourth month old infant. I have no symptoms of pregnancy, but my period, which was early last month (low-dose pills aren't strong enough to regulate menstruation) doesn't show exactly four weeks after the last. I figure it'll arrive around the time of the month the one the month prior to the early one did.
It doesn't.
My brother had been out to "fix" my car, which meant after he finished I had to have it towed (leaking gasoline) to the repair shop. We are also looking for a new apartment since our lease will expire in a few months. Some friends are interested in subletting their apartment to us.
The day my car is released from the shop, I drive it home to run out of gas on the highway. I think something awful is wrong (forgetting it had been LEAKING GAS when I sent it to be fixed) and call the tow company. While waiting for Bread to pick me up, he gets a phone call that we won't get the friend's apartment.
That's two things. I figure, why not go ahead and take a pregnancy test to top it all off?
Previous to this, in our relationship, a pregnancy test was just a way to get my period to start. I would seriously pee on the stick, wipe, and find my period had started. Right. That. Minute. So I thought this might just happen again.
There we were, in the bathroom. It was positive.
"I knew it!" Cornbread declared. He still talks about how he knew before I did.
So, eight months later, I pushed out little "Cornbread Muffin", a boy, nine-fucking-pounds-eight-fucking-ounces. Damn right I had an epidural. Damn thing didn't do a thing for me!
Happy birthday, Cornbread Muffin.
If I feel like it, I may someday post the labor story.

My Second Pregnancy-1/98

I've moved in with a friend, after spending a week in the nuthouse. I have a stitch in my wrist and three bottles of meds that make it hard to complete a coherent sentence. This is soon cleared up, and I get one thing for panic attacks and one thing for insomnia. I supplement this with plenty of marijuana and tobacco.
My friend, now roommate, is crazier than me. She's got about 6 diagnoses, and one of them is a personality disorder. She's also bi-polar, anorexic, PTSD, bulemic, anxiety disorder...Oh, and then they added dissociative disorder when she started having blackouts.
I've known her since I was 12.
She's decided to get pregnant. The fact she had a Depo-Provera shot two months prior doesn't dissuade her, and she has a guy (a drug dealer) she's sleeping with. Once a week I go to the store and get her pregnancy tests (she's too "embarrassed") and pick up cigarettes at the same time. I like the reaction I get from the clerk.
Our apartment becomes party central. It's also nicknamed the Whorehouse.
Her parents pay the rent and give her money once a month for food, gas, etc. My mother has agreed to give me $20 a week "until I get back on my feet"...Neither of us work, we're too unstable.
There are no sharp knives in this house.
We make a lot of friends, and I end up in bed with an old guy friend whom I'd known (and secretly loved) for years--we pull out and only do it a few times, but he has a girlfriend.
"I'm not having sex with her," he told me. "She's waiting for marriage."
We try but half the time if we get alone, we are all over each other. I try so hard not to fall in love with him again. I deny it to myself, tell myself it's just sex.
I meet an attractive, tall, skinny guy at a party, with long blond hair--like the ex. I end up going to bed with him--mostly to get over the ex, but also to "prove" I wasn't in love with the friend. We take up for a while, until his "focus" on me becomes uncomfortable.
He tells me one day, "I can cure you of your issues. I can heal you. But I won't unless you promise to never leave me."
Red flags...RED FLAGS...start popping up in my head. I break up with him. He comes back a few times calling me a "cold-hearted bitch".
A week later, I'm starting my period. It's really, really, painful. In fact, the cramps are coming quite regularly. I start timing them. Eventually, they are coming every few minutes, lasting a minute or two. At one point, I go into the bathroom.
When I wipe, something has come out of me.
It's bloody, and yellow, and definitely NOT a clot.
I call my roommate in and show her. She gets a baggie and we go to the ER.
The doctor finds more large clots, what he terms "pregnancy remains". He's confused, though, because I have no pregnancy hormones in my system. I'd also been in a week or so before, with a ruptured ovarian cyst (I thought my pelvis was broken or I had appendicitis or something--No, it was a cyst the size of an orange, rupturing and causing internal bleeding) and they'd tested for pregnancy then--negative.
The doctor thought perhaps it'd died a few weeks before and was just being passed, but he wouldn't know until they'd gotten the results back on the clots they'd taken.
For some reason, I didn't give the doctor the baggie.
After the doctor left, I put it into the "hazardous" wastebasket. I told it goodbye.
After that, my old friend and I didn't have sex anymore. He was great, though, even though it might not have been his, we talked about how we didn't want to take the chance of it happening, with neither of us ready to be parents. He also said, "I'd like to have a son some day named Jack."
I knew he would make an excellent father...and I wished for years that I would be the one to bear his children.
My husband was the only other man who evoked the same feelings in me as this old friend did.
Chances are, though, it was the other guy's. Then I was glad it was gone, he was really creepy. I started to get horrible stomach aches whenever he was around. Finally, he became entranced with a 16 year old girl. He was 26. He was sure it was true love. But at least he left me alone after that. Also, the girl's father was a green beret--I was sure she'd be fine.

12 weeks and one day

I am still having food aversions, and I can't take my prenatal vitamins because they make me throw up. I jokingly asked my doctor, can't I just take Flintstones? and she surprised me by saying, well, yes, just take two, but you need to take a DHA supplement also.
So last night I stopped at CVS, which is having a BOGO sale on their store brand vitamins, and found some "gummy" vitamins and DHA supplements for kids...and they are also vegetarian! So I'm happy with that.
I go next week for the First Screen, where they measure the nucal fold (baby's neck) and take a finger stick of blood to check some other things. It's checking for Trisomy (Chromosomes that are tripled instead of in a pair) and Monosomies (chromosomes that are alone instead of in a pair) that aren't compatible with life outside the womb (or inside it for very long) or that may just require more care at birth. These babies frequently have severe cardiology issues.
I just want to make sure the baby's still there.

My Past, My Present.

When I talk about my past, I seem to come across as either a victim or a slut. I guess that's how I viewed myself then. They were the only roles I knew--I stayed a virgin and was a victim (nobody likes me! everybody hates me!) as a teen, then later on became a slut (you were too cool to talk to me in high school, now I can fuck you!)
Since then I've grown up. I learned some boundaries. I started to associate more with people with boundaries. I really think a lot of it was just immaturity.

Now, I'm just a slut to my husband. I still sometimes react like a victim to things I haven't dealt with before, but usually I can recognize that and act like a responsible person. I still love certain "childish" things, and I think I'm a bit of a nerd, too. Occasionally I'm like a teenage boy in my sense of humor.

But I work in a rather conservative job, I have "mommy friends" and I'd rather sit and watch Robot Chicken than go out for happy hour (I'm pregnant now, so I can't drink anyway, but before then...). I've grown, changed, but there are certain things I will always enjoy.
1. Fart jokes
2. Penis jokes
3. Comic books
4. Being spanked
5. Legos
6. Pee-Wee Herman
7. Babies
8. Reading
9. Watching stupid movies
10. Animation

About that guy

So, I need to tell you more about that guy. Why was I so in love with him? Simple: It was the sex. Well, not altogether. He was #4 for me, and I'd never had an orgasm. He gave me one. He made it his job, that he was going to give me one. I was as horny as a sixteen year old boy all the time anyway, so it shouldn't have been difficult, but somehow, it was.
I surprised him in many ways. One, I didn't mind his porn magazines. When I found the stash, he was like, Oh, those are my roommates'. I said, well, will they mind if I borrow them? I like porn. I don't like naked men in it (I like that in person better) and I am not shocked by fetishes--more fascinated. Also, I told him I'd love to have a threesome with another girl. I had never admitted that before but I'd always wanted to. We used to talk about who we'd do it with. I was able to be completely sexually open with him, and he with me. And I think that did it.
My other boyfriends hadn't been that way. The first, we were virgins, but old enough (I 18, he 21) to have some ideas...but we were too shy to talk about sex. There was no oral sex, no positions other than me on top or him on top. The second, he was a virgin, we did different positions and oral, but he was sure he was going to hell for having sex before marriage and told me so each time--really brought the mood down. (He got over it after we broke up, and eventually we had really great "ex sex"). I'd also cheated on him once with a hot guy who I figured might do it for me...but no, he didn't. We became good friends after that one night together, though.
So by and by, that guy gave me that reclusive "O"...and it was like a flood gate opening. I did it so easily now, that after he left me, I took on two lovers (not at the same time!) and although I had cared for one for years (we'd been friends since early high school) the other one I didn't really like--but really enjoyed the sex with.
In the months following, I started sleeping around.
I even started up with another girl. But I'll save that story for another time.

My first pregnancy-10/97

The first time I became pregnant, it was all over much too soon. I had entered into a whirlwind romance with a man I had fallen--hard--for. We lived together (that is, I stayed at his apartment) for only a few weeks, but long enough for me to fall pregnant. He'd only broken up with his girlfriend six weeks before, and I'd left a boyfriend to be with him, but I thought, this is forever. I was pretty naive.
I didn't realize he and his girlfriend broke up on a regular basis.
The morning after my 20th birthday, I woke up to someone banging on the door. He'd left at 5:30 am, as usual, for work. He'd also taken his laundry to do after work. But to my surprise, his boss was at the door, demanding to see him.
She thought I was hiding him, covering for him, as I tried to explain he'd left for work two hours before. She yelled at me until she was sure I didn't know where he was, then left.
I went back to bed, taking two sleeping pills because I didn't know what to do. I had no idea where he was.
Hours later, his ex's mother called looking for her. So then, it became clear. They'd taken off together. I'd had no idea.
He called a few days later, told me he wanted to give her another chance, but it wasn't working out. He'd be home in a few days--apparently they'd driven across the country.
That night, I took a pregnancy test. It was positive. The next time he called I told him. I don't think he believed me--his ex was always doing things like that so he figured I was doing it too.
Within a few days, I started spotting and cramping. My mother took me to the ER, they gave me the first pelvic exam I'd ever had (I'd been sexually active for only a year, I hadn't thought I needed to go yet) and determined I was pregnant, but it was too early to tell if it was viable or if I was miscarrying.
You may be wondering about birth control--I used condoms. Except this guy couldn't quite complete the act with a condom (his ex was on the pill, so they never used condoms) so we pulled out...most of the time...and I thought I ovulated right BEFORE I got my period instead of AFTER...so apparently my sex education was lacking.
I was told only to take Tylenol for the pain since it might be only a "threatened" miscarriage but the pain and spotting didn't stop. I had just started a job in a convenience store and had to take time off to rest.
During this, he called every so often. I was in tears each time, telling him what was happening. He called from California, from Vegas, promising to get home as soon as he could, but that she was driving...
Finally, one night, the blood stayed red and the pain grew worse and worse. I called teh doctor, and they said that I should go to the emergency room if I started hemorrhaging but otherwise, there was nothing they could do. They'd see me in a week to make sure I'd passed all of it.
I talked to him that night, crying about the pain...
When it was over, when I had finally stopped bleeding a week later, been to my checkup, he came home. He promised to be with me. He left again, a few days later, while I was at work. He slipped a note into my coat pocket to tell me. I read it while I was working the night shift. I left work. I locked the doors to the store but not the storeroom, which was broken into later that night. Needless to say, I lost that job.
I found out a year later that the girlfriend had stopped taking her pill before taking off with him. They were gone for two weeks. She got pregnant during that time.
He moved out of their apt. when she was 6 months along, but stayed with her otherwise. They had a baby girl.
He picked the middle name, the main character from a book I'd given him.