i hate people. people are douchebags. even the perceived nice ones.
they trick you into thinking they're nice, but really there's just a big bag of douche masking their doucheness with politeness.

today day started out great. i woke up without my back hurting and having to throw up. [yes, i'm 5 months pregnant and still have morning sickness. deal with it. i have.] i got an hour and a half of some great morning sex and afterwards, the man made me breakfast.

he cooks for me all the time, but rarely does it ever happen right after sex. he'll go out and buy me food after sex, but him actually cooking is a stretch.

i kinda thought he was buttering me up to tell me something worthy of me committing first degree murder [i could totally plead not guilty by reason of insanity; you read this shit so you know it wouldn't be too far-fetched for me.], but nothing of the sort. he likes being man-servant. cause he's the bestest. i loverz him.

after breakfast, we just kinda laid in bed nekkid until it was time for my checkup. and that's where my entire day goes down the shitter, up 3 seconds for some fresh air, then back down the shitter again.

we got stuck in traffic for 45 fucking minutes. there was no construction. there was no accident. the idiots in this stupid city do not know how to function on the fucking interstate when 4 lanes on one damn side merge to 2 lanes. seriously, we're all going in the same direction yet we're barely doing 40 mph on the fucking interstate. i thought memphis traffic was retarded but the bitches here are about to take over that title.

since we were stuck in traffic, we were late for the appointment meaning we had to wait an hour for the doctor to get to her other patients before she could see me. during the wait, i had the whole standard temperature, BP, weight etc check. my BP is generally high the first time it's taken just because i fucking hate hospitals, doctors, clinics, and anything else medically-related. i never really worry about that because i know within the next twenty or so minutes, it'll be back to normal.

but then i got my fat ass on that scale. how the fuck did i gain 6 pounds in 2 weeks? i'm slightly OCD, so i had to re-weigh myself several times. and it said the same thing everytime: you've gained 6 pounds in 2 weeks, you fucking cow.

needless to say, i was not feeling too happy about myself. so, i went back out to the waiting area all depressed and shit, but i kept telling myself it was okay and that everything would be fine once i got the sonogram. i'd see my little girl and she would make me feel better. it's just a few pounds, no big deal.

yeah, all that shit didn't work.

i started hyperventilating, my skin got all clammy and i started sweating heavily. i heard J asking me if i was okay but his voice was really faint and far off. i started getting tunnel vision, and then i blacked out.

when i finally came to or whatever and i was in the exam room on that awfully uncomfortable table. J's sitting to my left with his head down and he's rubbing my hand. i look to my right and i've got these people i've never seen in my life standing there like i'm a fucking cadaver and they're just waiting to poke and prod at me. the first thing i said was "if i didn't sleep with you last night, back the fuck away from me."

if i don't know you, there should be at least 2 feet of empty space between us. personal space is a must.

anyhoos, after assuring J i was okay and that it was just a stupid anxiety attack, i got the vitals checked. all was well. J was still kinda freaked out but he felt a little better once i bit his neck and pinched his ass.

next up, the sonogram.
yays.
now, J and are just ooh-ing and aah-ing over and laughing at how zoe is always showing her little hoohoo whenever i get a sonogram. then, for like, the bazillionth time, the doctor interjects and goes "she's still not where i'd like to her to be size-wise. i don't think there's reason for concern but i'd like to see you put on a little more weight."

i fucking snapped. "did the possibility of her being small is because i wasn't a fat fucking giant before i was pregnant may have something to do with her possible weight and length? i was 5'6 and a buck ten.maybe, just maybe, all your goddamn tests are wrong and something is wrong with her and you're just too fucking incompetent to tell what it is? i'm doing everything i'm supposed to do. i've gained damn near 30 pounds in only ten weeks. do not tell me my baby is too small unless you can give me a definitive answer as to why that is because all you're doing is stressing me the fuck out everytime you say she's TOO GODDAMN SMALL!"

it felt so fucking great to tell her off. she was like, "i didn't mean to upset you and dadadada" but i didn't and still don't care. i just wanna get through this pregnancy without everyone telling me this, this, and this is wrong and that i should do this, that, and the other, and not acknowledging the fact that i'm doing or at least trying to do everything i possibly can to make sure my baby is okay. i would never intentionally do anything to jeopardize her health and safety. a little pat on the back for everything i've done right so far isn't asking for much, is it? i mean, besides J [and occasionally a few the people reading this ], i don't have anyone telling me i'm doing a good job at this stuff. everyone else is constantly talking at me about what i'm supposed to be doing. i don't need or want all of that negative bullshit coming at me. it makes me wanna blow my fucking brains out. ugh.

after leaving the douche's office, J took me to panera for lunch and we sat there for an hour and a half talking about everything. i was actually starting to feel better because of J telling me i'm not a horrible mom and because food makes me happier than it should. then something told me to call the store we ordered the nursery furniture from to check on its status.

those dimwits didn't even have our order in their records.
yeah.
back down the shitter the day goes.

since we've been back home all i've done is cry and vomit. there's always something wrong. i should feel better knowing that our order is now in place but i don't. i've yet to have a day where there are no major or minor snags pop up. why? why is there always constant stress in my life? i don't wanna hear "don't sweat the little things". fuck you. i've tried it. and it's not a plausible solution to anything. it just makes me want to rip out your spleen and stomp all over it.

i think i need a nap.

Labels: baby business, my love

--i refused to spellcheck @ 7:27 PM | |