One of the episodes of The Learning Channel’s — Baby Story had a couple who had lost their baby girl after 17 days. The mom had been diagnosed with Group Strep B early in the pregnancy and all antibiotics had been taken, but for some reason, the baby still became infected, and died shortly.

I was told I had GSB in my fourth month. My doctor has reassured me that the antibiotics I’ve had and will give me during delivery and to the baby afterwards keeps the probability of her contracting it low.

I wasn’t too concerned…until now. I’m trying not think about it, especially since it’s not likely to happen, but it’s still a scary thought.

Just a thought, but why the fuck would they put anthrax in a Target?! Give me a break. I can’t believe it took those people over an hour to figure out it was just baby formula.

It’s definitely a girl, no doubt about it. She’s now face into my right hip, with her feet in the upper left of my belly. No sign of a cleft pallette, but looks like she has momma’s lips.

Here she is, 28 weeks, 2 pounds 12oz, 82nd percentile (frontal face shot).

The little one inside of me has had the hiccups for ten minutes now. The last time was Saturday morning but they only lasted for a few minutes. I feel for her She’s been kicking every now and then, as I’m sure they’re pissing her off as well. I know when I have the hiccups mine are extremely painful, so I hope she’s not having to put up with the same. It’s things like these that have me realizing how real she is even though she’s not here yet. Sigh…I’m getting impatient.

Looks like mommy dearest won’t be seeing her new grandchild often. God dammit, I’m so fucking pissed, but like John said, why let it ruin my day?

I didn’t have to find a way to bring the topic up as my mom walked herself right into it. She wanted me to call and let her know how my doctor’s visit went, so I did. I told her everything looked okay and I’d be having another ultrasound to check for the cleft pallette.

Immediately she says “oh, good, I was so worried about whether your kid would have the syndrome. I’m concerned about the baby…” WTF? “Mom, if you’re so concerned why aren’t you going to the baby shower?” Her reply, oh so much like I knew it would be, was “but that has nothing to do with how I feel about the baby”…and so on and so forth, and bullcrap.

Yup, at least I learned something from all those years of suffering; now I can see it coming and be somewhat prepared for it all. I didn’t hesitate to tell her John and I’s decision. A lot more was mentioned, and I did bring up the whole wedding thing just for kicks. Looks like I can count on my mom not being there as well. Lovely.

On a better note, my doctor’s appointment was good…all except for the extra pounds I’ve gained. She was hoping I’d gain about 6-8 pounts over the last six weeks and I gained twelve. No problem, I know the main reason is because I have hardly exercised in the past weeks. Soon to change as my joints are doing much better and I have more energy. Back to the gym we go.

There will be another ultrasound, for which I am extremely grateful. The main reason is to check for the cleft pallette, but we’re also getting another look to determine the due date, as well as one more peek to see if it’s a boy or girl.

The heart beat was a strong and quick one…such a wonderful sound to hear. When we were listening the little one gave a big punch, enough to bounce the device off my belly. Too cute.

Stupid colds. Why must I always have a minimum of four heavy-duty colds per year? Yesterday was my work-at-home day and while I managed to accomplish everything I still felt like crap. Congested head that I just wanted to pop, aches, aches, and more aches, and a slight temperature that had me sweating, freezing, then sweating again. I’ve been checking my temp religiously every hour and though I feel like I’m melting it’s only reach 99 degrees. A little higher of a temp than it would be for most people, as my normal body temp is 98.2, not 98.6, but still nothing to worry about.

I finally have my doctor’s visit today, after three reschedulings. Should be interesting, but I’m mostly looking forward to Dr. Burdick pointing out to me where the head and feet are. On some days I think I know, then it all just feels the same and I can’t tell. I woke up this morning to something going ba-boom ba-boom against my upper left part of my tummy. Talk about strength. That kid’s already kickboxing or something in there.

I really wish some type of food would actually sound good to me. I get upset because John just pops in a pot pie for himself after work and doesn’t ask what I want and then when I tell him and he asks all I can say is “I dunno”. AURGH! Nothing actually tastes good, either. Not even my Mountian Dew…or the white grape juice I love. They’re all so bland, like someone has wiped my taste buds clear. Also, when I do decide on something to eat and it’s in front of me I can’t eat much. It’s pissing me off because I am so fucking hungry all the time.

I am SO done with this pregnancy. To all the mothers out there that pop a kid out and immediately say “I want another one” or the ones that miss their pregnancy, I can not relate at all. I really haven’t had any complications and this pregnancy is driving me nuts. I suppose one reason is because I hate not being in control of myself and that is the one thing I’m not right now. The tiny one has taken over. I look forward to after the baby is born and I can hold her or him, breastfeed, look into the eyes, and feel the warmth, and soft skin against me. I look forward to the many smiles on John and I’s faces that will no doubt appear. And I look forward to having my my body back in my hands.

I’m still trying to figure out how in the world Panacea was referred to via MickJagger.com. Of all the odd searches that lead the way to my pages, this is a new one. I just don’t get it.

For those of you who don’t give a rat’s patootie about JW’s or reading about them, I apologize. I’d rather not mention them either, but thanks to my mom, the subject has resurfaced in my life lately.

For those that have sent me nasty emails the past couple weeks full of insults and statements of how evil I am, I say “go away”. If all you can do is pick a fight, and call me harsh names then I don’t need you reading my journal. Just as everyone else has the right to their own beliefs, so do I. I also have the option to voice my opinion about what I have experienced, and I will do so if necessary. Oh happy day when my mother’s beliefs don’t come between us.

High court takes case of Jehovah’s Witnesses

I highly doubt the JW’s will win, but if they do I will be extremely furious. This is so typical of them. I’m betting they’re claiming it as religious persecution during “these last days” when discussing it at meetings and such. Blech. I get so disgusted thinking about them.

How ridiculous to claim the law is violating their religious rights. Yeah right! The law just makes it that for anyone “planning solicitations must first divulge their names, addresses for the past five years and the names and addresses of their affiliations. The mayor grants permits, which a homeowner can demand to see.” Is there anything that specifically mentions the JW’s? No. It’s all about keeping the nuisances away from the residences, something we’d all appreciate I’m sure. This would include JW’s, Mormons, 20 year old punk kids trying to sell discount magazines, and many others.

Basically, it’s a deterrent, keeping away those that are too fucking lazy to go in and get a permit, even though it’s free. The JW’s need not complain, since they’re supposedly so kind-hearted and non-argumentive and can just go take care of things quietly and go about their witnessing. Yeah, whatever.

Another thing…whatever happened to not fighting authority? Oh, yeah, that’s right…HYPOCRITES. Sheesh, everyday I am so fucking grateful I knew to think for myself and get the hell out when I could. I may not know exactly what I believe in right now, it’s still up in the air, but at least I know they’re my own beliefs, not some created and modified when seen fit by a group of old people in New York.

Btw, I’m going to force myself to talk to my mom tonight, let her know up front what the consequences are for not showing up at my baby shower. I KNOW she won’t come anyways, even if she knows she won’t be able to see her new grandchild, so I’m just doing this to get it out in the open, no questions. Her and everybody else are all so fucking programmed I already have the phrases she’ll be throwing out, running through my head. “I don’t see why you’re taking this so personal” (a repeat one from last week), “This has nothing to do with you” (bullshit, it is ALL about me), “You know how the Society feels about those disfellowshipped” (yeah, don’t’ CARE, you shouldn’t either), “I worry about you and your sister, with all these negative thoughts and the end so near” (thanks for the fucking vote of confidence, mom). So, yeah, I’ve heard it all.

My retort? “So if I was getting married and you knew anyone there would either be disfellowshipped or those considered “worldly” (HATE that word), would you be there?” And I just KNOW her answer “but that’s different, that’s your wedding”. No, it’s not different. Same fucking thing people! But, sadly I’m aware of my mom’s cluelessness and her inability to push the repetitive teachings aside and allow herself to love her family. Unconditionally. Not this every-now-and-then crap.

Ok, anyway, wish me luck. You’ll definitely hear about the results.

I stopped by Old Navy after work yesterday, hoping to pick up a green jacket and some charcoal gloves.

I left with no coat (must be a new line not in the stores yet), the gloves, a red/white plaid men’s shirt (big enough for my preggo belly), three fleece one-pieces (yellow and light blue for my little one, another blue for my friend’s daughter), and this too-cute devil one-piece. So much for not getting anything until after my baby shower.

I really wanted this striped one-piece but unfortonately they’re out of them in-store. Bummer. Their boys line is just too much for me…I have such a hard time resisting. Plus, items are cheaper in the store, so after spotting them online I go ga-ga over the lower prices in store. Ugh. You’d think I’d know by now how dangerous that place is for me. Especially the Downtown one which is three floors.

We saw the little one move last night. Not quite alien like yet, but it still looked a bit odd. I have noticed her movements and kicks I feel have a lot more oomph behind them, so obviously she’s growing and getting stronger. Always a good sign.

Woo hoo! I’ve just registered myself the niftyfingers.com domain. Thanks to Moni for letting me know about my new host.

I’ve been working on a new version of Mixed Nuts and now I’ll be able to put the new look up in a new home. Yippee!! About time I got around to getting my own home…

Okie dokie, now that I’ve had some time to breathe, chill out with my cozy comforter, leftover pizza with Dew, and spend some time with John, I have a few things to say.

First, to the asshole who sped up and swerved into the other lane closest to me just to hit the huge rain puddle that soaked me: I hope one day when you’re feeling like crap someone comes along and dumps a pail of icy water all over you. Did you not see the pregnant woman struggling to keep her inadequate coat closed in the wind?

Now, the rude bus driver who started the bus before I could come close to sitting down, sending me sliding down the aisle, that takes something. Not talent, but definitely something. Even more astounding was how well she skidded to a screeching stop three feet before a light that had been red for half a block, sending me and my belly into the hard plastic seat in front of me. Oh yes, ten minutes out of the office and I was having such a wonderful time.

I don’t walk fast anymore, or at least comfortably and without pain in my pelvis area. After running to catch a bus for work a couple weeks ago and suffering the rest of the day in excruciating pain, I don’t push it these days. With the timing of the pedestrian traffic lights in Downtown Seattle, I now have a usual route I cross the streets to the bus tunnel. Generally I’m able to go my way at a normal pace, no hurrying, no waiting more than two seconds at a light.

Today, my favorite bus driver took forever and a day opening the door to the street, which in turn messed up the whole cycle. I had six minutes to make it to the tunnel, something not so easy anymore. Barely making it through the first light, I get to the next one just before the blinking red dude kicks in. By the time I make it across, the light is a dead red one and I stop for a second to take a breather and calculate which light would be the quickest. Ah, the mind of a Metro commuter.

I hear “Miss!” and turn toward the voice. A police car is stopped along side me and a cop is learning out his window looking at me. A cop! I just look at him…what the fuck could he possibly want? “You need to be more careful when crossing the street. A lot of cars were stuck waiting while you finished crossing that last one.”

He was joking, right? Oh no, that face read complete seriousness. “Look, officer, in case you haven’t noticed, I’m pregnant. I don’t walk fast, I don’t run, I waddle. I would’ve loved to clear the crosswalk before the light stopped blinking but thanks to the city’s inability to time things correctly, I didn’t. It was clear for walking when I stepped into the crosswalk, so I kept walking. If you and a bunch of cars have a problem with me crossing the street, get over it. You’re in a fucking car.” And off to the tunnel I went…he’d already wasted a minute of my time. I’m still wondering how ridiculously bored he must’ve been to do what he did.

A few other crazy things happened on the way home (a mom who couldn’t keep her kids from climbing around and kicking me is just one example), but that’s enough with the bitching. I had one good moment…

There is a mentally and physically disabled Veteran in a wheelchair who is a regular of Downtown Seattle. I remember him being by the post office bus stop as I grew up, calling out “God Bless” and “God Bless America” years before it became the “in” thing to do. Through all my childhood years, my commuting through the downtown area, he’s always been there. He is the only person I will give money to in the area, and I’ll even dig through a jumbled backpack to find some money for him if I have to. I’ve never found his name out and he has always been known as The Veteran when my dad and I referred to him.

Today he was near Nordstrom’s and the Metro Tunnel entrance, smiling, nodding at the regulars, nodding at strangers. Because I was in such a hurry I didn’t stop and say hi and as I started walking by him I heard him say “God bless the little one”. I stopped, turned around, smiled, and waved before heading down the escalators.

Maybe he could tell how crappy my day was, as I’m sure it was all over my face, or maybe he didn’t. Either way, he knew just what to say and when. It wasn’t the end of my trek home, but it did muffle the harshness of the remaining idiots.

For a while now Tracy has displayed on her Awesome Blog Quotes page different quotes from other weblogs and journals. I was not only surprised when I noticed mine on there, but shocked, as she had pulled a couple lines I hadn’t thought anything of.

Sometimes I just write what’s on my mind at the time and don’t remember it. Or I’ll go back and be astounded at how harsh some of it sounds. Maybe I should read previous entries more often.

Anyhow, the point to all this, she now has them on a random generator type thingy so you get a different look at everybody each time you visit. Pretty nifty.

To all those interested, I’ve added a place to join the mailing list for when this baby finally joins us. I’m figuring John will end up being the one to send out the news but at least it’ll go out. Panacea will most likely be neglected once he or she is born and we start getting settled…whenever that happens! Anyhow, add yourself to the list to get all the fun measurements and info.

I want this picture. For a while I didn’t really want many decorations for the little one coming, but this one had me thinking “aaaaah”. I can definitely tell I’m becoming a mommy…

Candi�s mention of taking her crafts out and making cards reminded me I need to put up the pictures to my baby shower invitations. Gen and I worked on these last weekend, though we bought the paper over a month ago. With the walk through Ben Franklin I was getting discouraged, not sure what I wanted to use, but this plaid paper jumped out and screamed �I�m what you want� so we snatched it up.

Cute, huh? Karolyn and Gen, the two throwing the shower for me, won�t let me get involved at all so at least I was able to help with the invitations. Homemade ones beat the retarded ones in the stores, anyhow. Besides, they�re generally for boys or girls, and while we�re pretty sure there�s a girl on the way, there�s no garauntee. At least if it is a boy these aren�t too girly and won�t scream �oops� when flipping through the baby book.

She called last night, just to see how I was doing and how my doctor’s visit went. Well, it didn’t happen, since it’s been rescheduled to next Thursday (finally got that all figured out), so I told her. I wanted to ask why she was calling, ’cause she was acting like nothing was going on, that there were no issues floating in the air between us. Ugh.

She mentioned she was going to try going shopping this weekend if her friend Lisa would be able to help. I didn’t hesitate to tell her we didn’t need any clothes, it was the other items we really need (well, besides a car, but I haven’t had the greatest response when I use that answer, lol). I suggested they hit Target or Babies ‘R’ Us because I had registries with them and if it was on a registry it’s needed. Of course, I’ll accept anything she buys me, but I’m still not thrilled with her. Not one bit.

I was grateful for another call coming in and an excuse to get off the line. It was a brief conversation, but too uncomfortable for my liking. I certainly hope she feels really, really, really guilty for what she’s doing. Doubt it, though.

The fact that my friend’s mother is going to be there and not my own…there is seriously something wrong with that picture.

Something my friend Angela said today during our MSN conversation. She’s an ex-JW as well, suffered through childhood and on along with me. Hard to believe, but her parents are much worse than mine in the “holier than though” sense.

“I just find it funny that for jw’s blood matters so much but doesnt really matter.
Know what I mean?”

I’m the Consulting Assistant where I work. This job entails tracking the consultants’ hours worked on jobs, managing the contracts with our clients, invoicing the companies for mega bucks, and keeping reigns on the revenues for the department. Oh yeah, don’t forget “dealing with idiots”, nothing that needs to be written in the job description, but in this position, it’s a given. In house and outside.

The consultants are pretty much under my finger now when it comes to needing info from them, with an exception for a few who have the same selective hearing that John does and they “forget” to do things every fucking week, no matter how many times I tell them, no matter how many times I cc: my boss on the emails. I still love my job, though.

What I don’t appreciate about my job is when I’m expected to do something but I’m not given any required information to actually accomplish what they’re asking for. It doesn’t help a lot I am generally out of the loop when it comes to the communication between consultants, clients, and the big heads here. Not by my fault, I know, because I wouldn’t mind being cc: on any email regarding accounts, or included in impromptu conference calls. You’d think they’d think about that since I’m the one that sends these companies the bills, you know, the process that gets the money heading in our directions.

Everyday or so I remind my boss and check with others on signed contracts I’m expecting, when are they coming, if they’re not, how they want me to recognize the revenues, and how high up their asses they’d like my highlighter.

My white board is on my wall, but I really think what I need is a digital reader thingy, like the ones you see in theatres, and some fast food restaurants. I’m liking the idea of “hey, asshole, give me the fucking papers I need” but I doubt that’d be very acceptable, even if just on the outside of my area. Maybe I can just have something planted in their heads that sends a jolt of information detailing what I need. That way I’ll get it but it’ll be subconsciously on their part, so they’ll still think they’re being the usual slackers. Yeah, that’s it.