False Alarm

False Alarm

Yesterday I had my first actual scare of this pregnancy. I’ve been very fortunate to not have nausea, spotting, terrible pains, morning sickness, none of the typical movie/book pregnancy symptoms you see or read about. Overall this pregnancy has been easy breezy and has kept me in a constant state of peace. Let’s go back to yesterday.

I noticed some weird bleeding after using the bathroom and I called my doctor. At first I wasn’t worried, my mom said she had had the same kind of thing, but again due to everything being just fantastic I started to worry. What kept me calm was the fact that my baby had been very active yesterday. I called my doctor, and his office assistant answered. I explained to her what was going on. I said “is that normal?” Her repsonse? “No that’s not normal you need to go to the hospital.” My doctor’s office is only open Mon-Thurs, he’s a very very busy OBGYN, but he’s great so I can’t complain. So I called my dad who was at work and he took me to the hospital.

At the hospital I was asked I think 2-3 times, again in front of my father, when was the last time you had sex? Now I’m 25, I live with my parents, I’m pregnant, and my parents are I are pretty damn close. Why is this question so awkward to me? I don’t know. Maybe I just feel uncomfortable with my father knowing when the last time my husband and I had sex in his house. My dad’s response “Drea, you’re pregnant. I know you’re a slut.” Gotta love my dad. I know someone is going to read that and read too much into it, trust me this was all said in jest. It turns out, nothing was wrong. Everything was fine. The baby’s monitor was great, my vitals were all fine. I will tell you my doctor was pissed.

My sister and I have the same doctor. He did one of her surgeries and when she called the office with questions post surgery she was told it was all normal. She went for her post surgery check up…she had an infection. Our doctor was so pissed, he excused himself from her room and went out to yell at the office employees. He said to me “do not seek medical advice from the office staff. You have them call me.” The good news is everything is okay.

We’re 6 and a half months into this pregnancy and I just find myself truly happy every day. I’m glad everything is running smoothly and everything’s normal. Can’t wait to see what other adventures this journey holds!

You, Me, and the Baby Makes 3

You, Me, and the Baby Makes 3

My husband and I have been together since July of 2012. It’s honestly strange to think that I’ve been with someone that long, that I’ve begun to share a life with this person. When you look at us, you honestly would not think we go together. I am very much a type A personality, and my husband is not. I’m loud and outspoken, he’s quiet and reserved. Like I said before I’m chaos, he is order. We’re very opposite on so many things so it makes people wonder what keeps them together? I do not claim to be a marriage expert in any way, shape, or form so I can’t tell you. I will tell you what I’ve learned since I’ve been with my husband.

Just jump. Literally. I am terrified of heights. Like too close to a balcony ledge I’m ready to throw up and cry. A few summers ago my brother in law took the family out to the Colorado River. While we were there my brother in law suggested cliff diving. I followed the boys (my sister couldn’t go due to being pregnant with my nephews) up the cliff and looked down. I honestly thought if I jumped off I would die. It took my husband to take my head, look me in the eye, and tell me we’d jump together…and I did. It was the most terrifying thing I had ever experienced. I totally peed myself on the way down too, it was gross. My husband has also helped me get over my anxiety about needles. My whole life I have been terrified of needles. Like I’ve kicked a doctor (I was like 12), and until I was 18 my dad still came to be my support as I got a shot. The nurse would laugh and give me her judgey judge look and say “You still need your dad here?”. Yeah lady I hate needles so make it quick. So how did I get over my needle issue? The 2nd day of dating my husband and I went to donate blood. He couldn’t I could. From then I would start donating when I could and face that fear and now when my doctor has me go for blood tests I’m not longer terrified. I just go and stay calm.

You can’t have everything. I know that sounds stupid and cliche, but hear me out. When we lived together my husband struggled to keep a job that paid well and gave him enough hours. It was hard, but it meant that he was home about 80% of the time while I worked 5 days a week. In that time there was a lot of taking each other for granted. I remember one night we were both sitting in bed and wouldn’t really talk to each other. Finally I asked what was wrong and he told me how he felt like I did nothing around the house. Initially I was pissed. Who the hell did he think he was, he wasn’t working I was. Then I realized…even if he wasn’t working it was still my responsibility to help take care of things and the most important thing I wasn’t taking care of was my husband. We talked that whole night about things we wanted to change and what we expected. At this point we had only been living together a few months and already had the biggest fight that I think every couple goes through when you move in. I call it the “I’m not your mother/father” fight. You know the one where you’re feeling each other out and you realize your significant other isn’t perfect? Yeah that one. After those two fights I think we really hit our stride as a couple. We learned what was important and most importantly to take time. Now my husband works 50-60 hours a week and goes to school full time. Our time to see each other is limited and yes I would love for him to be here more because I’m needy damn it! but at the same time I know it can’t be that way otherwise we wouldn’t have the things that we do and be able to do things that we like. So even if we don’t see each other every night (we may wake each other up for this) we talk. We also try to go out just the two of us at least one every few months. Our finances our tight so we can’t afford to always do a date night, but when we do it’s always spontaneous and nice. It’s those moments, I think, that helps remind us of why we chose to be together.

In that I’ve learned to be a little more patient…and to be nice. What do I mean be nice? I am not a nice person. I’m not. I admit my default mode is bitch and I can be a bit of a hothead. There is no real reason, but with my husband and I coming from two different worlds sometimes I want to choke him out. I have to remind myself that our cultural differences aren’t something that mesh over night. I have to remind myself to breathe to think about his point of view and to approach the situation calmly. I’m still working on this and it is probably my biggest struggle as a wife, but I will get better. I have to, because if I don’t work to fix these things about myself, what am I saying about how I feel about my relationship and specifically my husband. To me, if I were to not try and work on not being so mean it means I don’t care. It means that I think that I’m better than my husband because I refuse to change. When I apologize to me husband more than I’d like to admit. for being mean he’ll just laugh and say “it’s okay.” Boy I never knew how much apologizing came with a relationship.

I know things will change. I know that when this baby arrives a new kind of fight will make it’s way to the surface, and that’s okay. I am confident that between the two of us and our commitment to our new family and relationship we will make it through. I’m very lucky to have my husband. I’m lucky that he gives me the benefit of the doubt and understands my craziness.

Fears

Fears

I don’t have a clever song lyric to put as a title this time. I’m terrified. Terrified knowing now I’m having a girl. I’m going to be quiet honest here…I’m a shit wife, I’m a shit woman for the most part. I’ve always been the tough kind of girl. I’m the girl who at 5 years old knocked out her brother’s bully. I’m the girl that was seen as “one of the guys” until they realized I had boobs. Now here are things about me that are totally girly. Tools, cars, dirt I hate/don’t understand. I still can’t tell the difference between a needle nose plier and a wire cutter. They seriously look exactly the same to me. I’ve always had my dad and figured he’d always be around to help me out or tell me what guy to call to fix things for me. Now I rely on my dad and my husband for these things. I’m not ashamed to admit it, part of me believes in roles between men and women as well in relationships and that’s why it’s more important for them to know. Then there’s my sister, she’s her own handyman and it’s awesome, but I just never hit that point of caring enough.

Why I’m a shit wife and woman. I’ve always been a bit independent and intimidating. On the first date with my husband I went on and on about guys I have beaten up…thankfully my husband thought that was awesome and is socially awkward so he didn’t hang onto it too much. A guy I was into before meeting my husband would tell me how he was working out to get stronger and build muscles. What did I say “still can’t take me down.” SHUT UP! It’s like a weird defense mechanism. It was like I was saying “emotionally I’m fragile, but don’t worry physically you can’t hurt me.” What girl does that? When we started living together I would cook for my husband every night….for about 2 weeks to a month. This was after I changed my schedule to ensure I was home before him. Remember when I said I was lazy? I hate cooking. I really do, I hate doing laundry…that chore started falling to my husband. Then came a point due to our job situation where he was practically the stay at home husband/fiance and I was the working wife/fiance. I took a lot of things for granted. I did stupid things and developed bad habits, I mean he did as well, but he’s not as stubborn as I am. We had to move in with my parents for financial reasons on both sides and then I really started to see how shitty of a wife I truly was.

My mother is a tough cookie. I mean seriously. My mom was always hard on me and my sister and more leaniant with my brothers. My mother is a first generation immigrant. At 14 years old she came to America from the Phillippines and grew up in the Bronx. My mom is a badass. She’s tough, but she loves just as hard. Growing up I would ask my dad why mom was so hard on me. And my dad would try and explain, I wouldn’t get it still. Then he would just sigh and say this infamous line “one day when you’re older you’re gonna say ‘Dad I get it’ and I’m just gonna smile and shake my head.” Yeah that’s happened. Exactly as he said. My mother has 5 children, 3 of us (now) live at home, and my grandparents (her side) live with us too. I have seen this woman wake up at the crack of dawn (most mornings she beats the sun) make coffee, and open windows, doors, and blinds to let the sun in. Then she mentally goes through what everyone’s schedule is. She makes breakfast for my dad every morning knowing if he doesn’t eat after a certain amount of time he gets a terrible headache. She makes sure all of us kids are up when we need to be, have what we need, takes care of my twin nephews (while my sister and brother in law work). Oh my mom works for home while doing all this. She then also makes sure she cleans every day  and by the end of the day you’d think she’d look awful with bags under her eyes, hair everywhere just purely exhausted. No, she’s still as radiant and beautiful as she would be if she DIDN’T do all those things. My mother also speaks 3 languages….yeah I’m slacking in nearly every department. She’s truly superwoman and I’m over here working from home struggling to get the damn laundry…which my husband still has to remind me and sometimes finish for me.

I’m scared that I won’t be that to my daughter. I’m scared I’m going to come up short. I really started freaking out about these things, and then I got some clarity. My husband said to me “I know you. Once you set your mind to it, you get it done and it’s better than you thought.” My father said “Drea, if you don’t like those things and you’re afraid change it. It’s that simple.” My mother “it’ll come with time. You’re already doing good at changing your eating, everything else will comes.” So today I feel better. I’m still scared, oh boy am I scared, but as I said before it’s not about me anymore. It’s all about my daughter and I hope that one day she looks at me the way I look at my mom. With pride, a bit of envy (mostly her hair because I got my father’s. Oh and how she can look 20 years younger than she is) and absolute love and adoration.