I can't talk about the other thing right now.

But I will tell you I am feeling very pregnant. I am 31 weeks, and really feeling like 12 years pregnant. To show you, here is a picture:
I am also feeling the "emotional instability" of the third trimester, and I am anemic, and I'm obsessing just a TINY bit--enough to take four days off of work and lie to my boss so I can shop for baby stuff and get a bunch of things set up. I really didn't care if I lost my job, and I didn't know how to explain this to my husband. I was also sure--really, really sure--the baby was just going to come out one of those days, even though I know he needs more time inside, and that me moving furniture and walking around the mall was a really great idea. I also took one day to spend with my son Muffin, and we went to the Austin Nature and Science Center, which is free and has animals and bones and a huge sand pit the kiddo can dig for dino bones in. The bones are life-sized and made of cement, and embedded in the cement floor under the sand, but he was so excited..."we are real paleontologists aren't we, mama"...he said as we brushed and dug with the provided tools...Then we went to the State Capitol and fed the very friendly squirrels some Cheerios from his lunch bag:
These animals are fed a lot by people, and come right up to you and eat out of your hand.
Then we went to Kerbey Lane and had pancakes for dinner, I had buttermilk and he had gingerbread, though he said they were "too spicy".

Pregnancy number 4, part two

For Part One, click here.
The next morning saw him being circumcised and getting to nurse. He took to it quickly, and didn't want to stop. Visitors came, a few friends and my siblings. I called my dad, from whom I'd been estranged from for several years (more on this later), to tell him he had a new grandson. By the way, my son had a name, in fact, we'd picked it out right after finding out we were pregnant--to protect his privacy, I will give the "back-up" name we'd also picked--Draven--in place of his real one.
After we were discharged, Draven and I were picked up by my sister and driven home. I got settled in, and the ex was about to leave for work. He worked 11 to 11, four hours at Hot Topics and then eight at a restaurant in the kitchen. Afterwards he'd sometimes stop in at a pub (bar) he used to work at to get a Guinness and shot the sit with old friends.
That night he did a lot more. He came in at like 3 am, drunk, stumbling, got his pants down around his ankles before puking (promising to clean it up) and passing out. I took off his shoes, pants and cleaned up the puke. Keep in mind I'd just brought home a new baby.
Two weeks later, my mom flew up to see me. While I was pregnant, the ex and I had decided that once the baby was born, I'd move down to Texas, stay with my mom and brother, get a job, and an apartment, and then the ex would move down and join us. So the plan was, when my mom came up, I'd return with her.
Seemed easy, right?
Except my brother and a friend were renting the other bedroom in the two bedroom apartment my mother rented. She'd sold her condo in NH and was using the money for rent and other expenses, just working part-time because she'd had a few issues lately after a minor fender bender--a head injury that affected her memory and attention. Nothing really really major, but it was an adjustment for her.
So when Draven and I joined her, we got the second bedroom for a few weeks, and my brother and his friend had to sleep on the living room floor.
Then my mother decided since they were paying rent, and I wasn't, I should get the floor, and they the beds in the bedroom.
So from November to February, Draven and I slept on the floor of the living room, on a large unzipped sleeping bag with a full size comforter on top of us. I had to have it all folded and put away before 9 am or, once I started working, before work.
My mother agreed to watch Draven while I worked, and I signed on with a few temp agencies, hoping one would lead to a permanent position. I worked a few days here and there, lugging my breast pump and cold packs to and from the bathrooms every break and half of lunch. I got rides from my brother or my mother, sold my car which I'd left in NH, and still, I could not afford an apartment.
My brother and his friend soon found one for them, and in February, they moved out. I got an old box spring and mattress (twin size) from my mom's storage, and as I'd just started a longer term job, my new manager, who was about to have a baby herself, gave me a crib they'd been given by a friend, since they'd decided to buy a new one--she even drove me to pick it up!
That job lasted three months, then I was out of work again for about six weeks. But I got my income tax refund, and a settlement from a car accident 3 years before (minor one, but I had issues with my back spasming up for months after, and the lady's insurance company was VERY generous) so I was able to buy a used car, and some more work clothes.
I worked two more temp jobs until July, when I was hired as an administrative assistant by a firm working under a woman who was a friend of my mother's--it turned out she was NOT nice to work under, but I did my best. Then a spot FINALLY opened up at a local day care for Draven, and it seemed, all was set.
Except the ex. I could not contact him. The phone number was disconnected. He didn't reply to my letters. Nothing.
Within six months of working at this job, I was able to move into a one bedroom apartment. I had to, because my brother wanted to move back home, and my mother was still collecting child support for him, and she wasn't supposed to if he didn't live with her. I had also taken up with a guy, the first I'd slept with since the ex, since before Draven was born--it'd been about a year and a half since I'd had sex. My episiotomy scar hurt the first few times.
The guy let me borrow money from him, which I paid back, but I only was paid once a month, so I had a little lag between, to pay the security deposit and the rest of it...I told him I couldn't sleep with him once he loaned me money, I felt too weird, but he was fine with that, and we remained friends, but this time with no more benefits...
So a cousin donated an old dresser to me, and when my income tax refund came, I bought a futon and a dinette set, and my mother's friend gave me an old set of silverware and a comfy chair. My younger brother bought a washer and dryer from a neighbor who was moving and didn't want to take it, and gave me those.
I bought a set of dishes from Sears and one of my sisters sent me pots and pans for Christmas. I was set up this way.
The fridge was never full, and some dinners were just a can of beans, whole wheat noodles, and fruit, but we lived as best we could, Draven and I.
Before my washer and dryer were hooked up, I'd do laundry at my mom's...she insisted I buy her detergent as well as my own to make up for the increase in her water bill. To let you know how stingy she was, when my oldest sister and her husband and daughters, a few years before, had to stay with my mom for a few days after a fire in the condo next to theirs, my mother CHARGED THEM FOR TOILET PAPER, insisted they provide their own meals, and basically all they got for free was a roof over their heads for a few days.
I really couldn't afford to live on my own, as a single parent, but I didn't have anyone but my mother and brother to turn to. My brother helped a bit, but my mother was so stingy. I never went out--it was maybe three times in that period from birth that she watched Draven while I went out for a date. Even when I was living with her, I sprained my ankle when Draven was 6 months old, and stayed out of work one day--to rest--and she took to her bed that day, and refused to help me AT ALL because she was sick. I went back to work the next day, to rest.
I was never able to pay my electric bill, luckily it was very small, and barely afforded day care and rent and food.
I made friends with the girl who rented the apartment above mine, and occasionally she'd order a pizza and I'd take the baby monitor up to her place (the apts were directly on top of each other, right now my kitchen and bedroom are further away, separated only by doors and a small staircase.) and we'd hang out.
I also made friends with a coworker, who was about my age, with kids, and she and I would sometimes eat lunch together. An attorney I worked with would also occasionally have me order a pizza "to split" though he'd see I took home the leftovers and he always paid for it.
Everything was okay until that fall.
That's when the twin towers fell, and though there was no direct connection, my life fell to shit.

Pregnancy number 4-Boy, born 9/99--Part One.

Please bear with me, this is not going to be one post. It will be several. And I don't want to write any of it, but I'm not going to keep it inside.

I had reunited with the ex, and we became pregnant within a month...For a day I considered abortion, but then I had a dream, with all sorts of people I knew coming to me, telling me to have this baby, that he was very special and very important. So that was it. I was scared, just 21 years old, no job, boyfriend worked a minimum wage job, we'd just moved into a studio apt. that is the size of my master bathroom now. But I was really excited to be pregnant. I wanted to be a mommy.
We told our families, well, I told my mom and one of my sisters, then my younger brother (note--he was 17, and the ONLY person who said "congratulations" to me. I know it was mostly because, in his mind, that's what you say when someone says they are pregnant, but he was the ONLY one, and I don't think he knew how much it meant to me.) Then I made my mother tell my oldest brother and sister...my oldest brother threw a fit like I was 14 years old getting knocked up. Everyone's reaction was, what are you going to do?
I was like, if I was going to "do" anything, I would have done it and not told you about the pregnancy!
My boyfriend (the ex) was okay at first...then informed me he couldn't deal with fatherhood. He'd had a severely fucked-up dad, and was terrified of becoming him, since he'd had no other example...He told me he'd stay with me and support me but once the baby arrived, he didn't know what he'd choose.
So I was basically informed I'd be dumped once the baby came.
I got a full time job, data entry, when I was 9 weeks along. Borrowed from my mom against my first month's pay to buy a used Volvo. Moved back in with mom and brother till they moved to Texas in June of that year (got pregnant in Jan), then moved back in with boyfriend--though I spent nearly half the week at his place anyway.
I woke up one morning, 37th week of pregnancy, with very faint but regular contractions, went to grocery store to buy Corn Pops, took a shower and shaved my legs...as I got out there was a trickle...then a little more. I woke him up at this point, and said, honey, I think my water's broken...I was squatting on the bed, naked at this point...he got up to pee, and I suddenly yelled, towell! Get me a towel! He hands me a hand towel and I'm yelling no! the bath towel! which I folded up under me.
I call the doctor's office--it's a bout 11:30 am--they are out to lunch, telling me to call back after 1 pm unless it was an emergency...my water had broken, this wasn't an emergency in my mind, so I just waited...called family to tell them...the ex asked if he had time to dye his hair (fire engine manic panic red devil's lock if you were wondering)...I told him go ahead...
One o'clock came, contractions weren't strong but were regular, I called dr.'s office and the nurse said, well you need to come in here so we can make sure your water really broke...I'm still naive, should have told her, I am sitting on two fucking towels that are drenched, lady, I KNOW it's broken.
So because I was told it is very dangerous to drive while in labor, I make the ex drive me. Except he doesn't have his license. And hadn't driven in two years. It was funny. Good thing we were very close to dr.'s office.
So they get me in a room, nurse tells me to undress from waist down, just as I lay back, another gush of fluid comes out, and she's like, oh, yeah, your water certainly broke, just go right to L&D (the hospital is basically next door) and oh, here's a maxi pad in case more fluid comes out.
I soak through the maxi on walk to L&D, arrive looking like I wet my pants, but hey, I'm in the right place for it...
My sister Mary meets me in my labor room, she's got a stuffed ostrich for me.
After changing into a gown, they hook me up, I have a very nice labor nurse. I had been positive for Group B Strep, so they have to induce me, since my contractions aren't really picking up. My other sister and her girlfriend arrive, as does the ex's mom.
I have a pretty smooth labor, getting a water-proof monitor and getting to sit in a tub for a long while, and finally, I start pushing--I have to push, I said, I'm sorry but I have to! I told the nurse, she was like, go ahead...She was wonderful. Finally he's crowning, she has me get off a birthing stool I was using and into the bed, then comes the doctor to catch him...Immediately they put him on my stomach, but he's just pooped himself and my first reaction is Yuck! But I'm very energized by the sense of relief from birthing him, and I push out the placenta, then sit up and ask the doctor if she really had to cut me...she looks shocked and says, you were starting to tear sideways.
I joke we want the placenta for a Halloween decoration...and soon I'm being stitched up (the needle hurt worse than being cut!) and the ex tells me he's leaving to get some sleep at home, everyone's left, and a woman comes in to give my son his first bath. They won't let me nurse him right away (my celexa isn't good for babies I guess) so someone else comes in and feeds him formula with a cup--so he will be less likely to have nipple confusion. They take me to my room, and by this time, it is after 2 am, and I sleep. He sleeps, too.
It was a wonderful birth, and I feel invincible after.