Posts Tagged ‘pregnant’

I’ve started to kick Julie out of the house. There is no way a woman can expect a miracle to be performed on a room full of instruments, computers and a 1974 Wurlitzer Funmaker during nap times and weeknights alone. Two out of the five weeknights I teach guitar lessons out of our house, and it seems every weekend is packed full of weddings, shopping trips and more and more fucking trips to Babies R’ Rippin’ Us Off than I care to admit.

So rather than dealing with the time crunch and having an excuse to not get my son’s new room done, I kicked the wifey out on Sunday so I could get my entire old office evacuated in preparation of paint and a race car bed. I did pretty well. The room is completely empty. But at about 8pm on Sunday through about 7am Monday morning, I was wondering if my request might end up hurting my wife and unborn twins.

Ya’ see, Julie accompanied her mother and sister and her kids, along with my son to St. Charles, Illinois’s Annual Scarecrow Festival. Fun was had by all, including a delicious cup of luke warm hot chocolate. Julie had a cup, her sister had a cup, mmmmm yummy.

As soon as Julie started heading back home to Yorkville, she started feeling queasy. She got home, cooked dinner, ate dinner and then headed up to bed around 7:30pm. Around 8pm I heard “Joel?” So I went upstairs to investigate. 11 hours later Julie was still ralphing her guts out in the bathroom while I laid awake hoping to comfort her if she returned to bed.

She came back to bed a few times, and I fetched her some crushed ice and some saltines, yet every few minutes I was jarred awake by the sounds of her spleen wanting to make contact with our toilet water and a rabid WREEEEETCH was heard throughout the entire neighborhood.

By 6:30am, as I got into the shower delirious and drunk on no sleep, Julie had just barely fallen asleep, and by the time I finished my traditional sinus rinse, she was back in the bathroom puking again. 11 hours, dozens of ralph wiggums, no fun. She wasn’t going to work today.

I headed in to work, knowing I would be called to take her to the doctor at some point, and about an hour into my day I took a call from her where she told me the OB group wanted her to get to the hospital to take in some fluids. I raced home, scooped her in my arms, threw her into the back of my pickup and raced north to Delnor’s Labor & Delivery Center.

We checked in and they immediatley tried to get her an IV running, but of course, that would’ve been what should’ve happened. Instead, my usually veiny wife was poked 4 times before the fourth nurse found a fitting vein. The not-so-successful pokers before that last nurse all called my wife ‘valvular.’ I didn’t know whether to be turned on or offended so I shut my mouth.

Two bags of Lactated Ringer’s in and we received a personal visit from our High Risk OB doctor, Dr. Losure, who came with a fresh set of wheels ready to wisk my wife away to get her cervix checked. Her cervix looks great and we got the chance to see our twins faces again, and a few print outs for the refrigerator too. Dr. Losure wheeled us back and instructed the nurse to give Julie one more bag, since she still hadn’t peed since we had first arrived at the hospital.

A few hours, and horrible soap operas later one of the doctors from the Focus on Women PB group that we se came by and cleared Julie to head home to take it easy. She’s been eating oatmeal in bird nibbles and drinking water in wussy sips ever since.

On the way home she called her sister, who, oddly enough was up all night and had taken off work that day just to pee out of her butt!

What did they ingest in common? A TEPID CUP OF HOT FUCKING CHOCOLATE. Yes, you can get food poisoning from a drink. I told my wife that she was drinking CARNY WATER and that was what made her puke puke all night.

Lesson of the day? If your hot chocolate is cool enough for you to drink it when you first get it, throw it the fuck away.

Love,

Dad.

I need to vent a smidge. A yiddle bit. A pinch of bitch, a touch of wah wah.

Every frickin’ time I see someone I haven’t seen in 5 minutes, I get asked about the twins. Every time I walk into a room and I’m without the wifeballoon, I get the same frickin’ reaction: “Aaaaaayyyy! How’s Jules?”

Ya’ know what? Jules is miserably happy right now. Her contractions are scaring the shit out of us, she pops and cracks whenever she stands up, she can’t sleep comfortably, she can’t help out around the house so she has this impending feeling of guilt like I actually give a shit that she can’t assist like she used to, she gets full really fast now, yet she’s hungry again in a few minutes, she’s emotional, she’s indecisive, she’s worried.

But I’ll be damned if we aren’t excited as shitdamnfuckbitch about having two kids in a few months. The twins themselves don’t scare us, if you have twins already and think I should be scared I don’t care to talk to you right now, let them come first. What scares us is all this damn preparation and annoying human interaction. And let’s not forget the fucking worrying.

She’s worried about me finishing the things I’ve said I will finish well before the supreme architect decides to force two kids out her pee hole. Her worrying bugs the absolute shit out of me because it is yet another thing that adds to her stress level and for fucks sake, my job right now is to lessen these stressors. Yet she, like every other female creature on the planet, assumes that without women, men couldn’t even perform the simplest of duties.

“Did you flush?” ‘Yes dear.’

“Did you change him?” ‘Yes dear.’

You know what I’d LIKE to say?

“Did I flush? SHIT NO! We’re on a budget, water reclamation is all over my ass about that 45 dollar quarterly bill babe, no more single excrement flushes.”

“Did I change him? SHIT NO! We’re not made of diapers! We switched to Luvs to save 5 dollars every week, not to just change every diaper that you can’t feel is damp or brown from the inside out!”

Phew, just writing out my sarcasm is soothing my tortured, awesome sperm having soul.

If you’re reading this honey, I will get the new bedroom moved out of, spackled, painted and set up long before your vag opens like the frickin’ Red Sea. Just please, shut up about it.

I would like a beverage right about now…

Hey now, don’t look at me like that!

I’m not making this crap up! There is a nearly 3% difference between May and January births and who conceived them, dumb broads or smart broads, rich broads or poor broads, socially mature broads or socially inept broads.

Think I’m full of the stink? Read this: http://online.wsj.com/article/SB125356566517528879.html

I know some studies are pretty dumb, and this one might actually be a little common sensical if it weren’t for the fact that my son and my two unborn twins are all winter babies. So rather than being offended that there is empirical data out there that such a truth exists, however small it is, I’m going to react how a dumb, loose teen would:

Eat my ass sciencers!

Seriously, read the article. I chortled.

Chortled!

Joel asked about what to do if Julie, who is allergic to bees, gets stung while pregnant. I’ve done some research and summarized everything you need to know about bee stings, wich the exception of how to avoid them, because even I don’t know that.

Read more here: http://www.thecompounder.com/answers-a-ideas/larrys-blog/september-2009/2009/09/21/18-bee-stings-pregnant-moms-a-the-rest-of-us

Ask and you shall receive!

Joel asked me on Tuesday what I had heard, read or learned about fighting morning sickness symptoms with certain vitamins. I did some research and came upon a study done in the 1950’s that touches on this very topic.

I’ve published the article at our compounding pharmacy’s website. Go check it out @ http://www.thecompounder.com/morningsicknessvitamins.php

Larry J. Frieders, RPh
larry@thecompounder.com

The Compounder/Techni Med, Inc.
340 Marshall Ave #100
Aurora, IL 60506 – ph.630.859.0333

http://www.thecompounder.com