Fuck You Friday #3: A New Worry

January 30, 2009 at 4:32 am (Baby Stuff, Fuck You Friday) (, , )

Woke up in the 1am and 2am hours with a stabbing pain in the middle left side of my abdomen, situated in the back but it’s not back pain, it’s inner pain.  Woke up at 3:46am with the same pain and I’ve been awake ever since.  Very similar in feel to earlier in my pregnancy when I’d sleep on my back and crush a nerve.

The pain faded when I would stand and go pee (normal clear urine), but it’s the sort of ‘fade’ where I still can point to the exact spot that hurts and it’s really just an achiness now, nothing unbearable but I still don’t feel right.  After my third time waking up to this pain, I can’t go back to sleep because I’m so fucking worried about it now.

Lying on my left side (where the pain is) is more comfortable than lying on my right side.  Sitting up is comfortable if I’m supported with a pillow behind my back like usual.  I feel the pain the least when I’m standing and walking around, but regardless of my position there is a definite ache in that spot although I may just be hyper-aware of it right now since I’m on edge.  However, the really intense sharp pain has not happened in the time I’ve been awake, aware, and moving.  I’ve also felt Maia move a few times, which is good.  Still, I’m terrified that something is wrong and I’ll have to go to the hospital and pay a million dollars, get an x-ray, and end up walking out missing a kidney with a caesarean-born baby in my arms.

I just took 500mg acetominophen, and I’m going to give myself until 4:46am and then page my midwife if this continues and see what she thinks.  I woke Chris up and talked to him until he was coherent, then let him know everything I was feeling and made him touch the spot on my back (it feels better when he massages it — I am going to warm up a washcloth and use it as a psuedo heating pad to see if that helps) until he knew exactly where the pain was.  I have my medical papers from my midwife right on the living room table.  I’m writing this all here so there’s as precise a record as possible of how I feel and what’s going on.  Even in the 15 minutes I’ve taken to type, the acetominophen seems to have kicked in a bit and I definitely feel it less, so I’m going to try to rest on the couch (the dogs sure are happy to see me) and then give the midwife a call in the morning.  If I can sleep.  If I can’t, well… I don’t really want to think about what’ll happen then.

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Fuck You Friday #2

January 23, 2009 at 7:15 am (Fuck You Friday) (, , )

FUCK YOU CHIHUAHUAS.

I love you two so much that it almost hurts my brain, but you have no appreciation for me whatsoever.  Don’t you realize I have more qualities than “rubs my belly”, “gives me food”, “opens door to let me outside”?  I am a human being, I have many other capabilities and charms.  For example, I still have my reproductive organs, which is more than I can say for one of you.

Like, let’s be real.  I’ve seen you both eat puke and your own shit (at least, that’s what I’m assuming it was, because thinking of you eating another dog’s shit is somehow even more gross).  I’ve seen the shreds of Kleenex strewn across my living room carpet in the morning because you decided you wanted to eat the boogers that used to be contained in them.  I’ve come home from shopping only to find you guiltily eating the crotch of my underwear that you pulled through the holes of the laundry basket because I forgot to close the bedroom door.  You lick each other’s ears and eyes and asses.  YOU TWO ARE FUCKING DISGUSTING LITTLE CREATURES.

When I take you outside, one of you invariably barks and bounces, stiff-legged, through the snow and onto a neighbour’s patio.  The other follows.  Then I have to shoo you off her patio, and let me tell you, if you had any idea how huge, unbalanced, and awkward it is to try and move fast enough to control two chihuahuas that are like seven inches off the ground and I can’t even see over my stomach half the fucking time, you might be a little more respectful and stay off that bitch’s patio.  Honestly, that’s all I ask.  Romp anywhere else.  Stay off people’s patios.  I was surprised that, after she banged on her window when I was trying to shoo you off it at 12:30am, you didn’t bark at her.  At least that’s a positive.  You just got even more excited and ran in even more circles.

Oh, and let’s not even talk about how you get so interested in sniffing pee or romping through the snow that you end up ten yards away from me in drifts so deep that all I can see are the tips of your ears, then decide you’re too damned cold to continue moving, so you stand there whining pathetically while trying to stand on as few paws as possible.  Guess who gets to break a path through the snow to rescue you because it breaks her heart to see you upset?  That’s right, me.

THEN YOU SHIT ON MY FLOOR WHEN I BRING YOU BACK INSIDE.

Yeah, fuck you chihuahuas.  You’ve got the good life and you don’t even appreciate it.

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Fuck You Fridays are the brainchild of Cristin over at Tiptoeing Through The Tulips. Drop by and see what’s gotten under her skin this week!

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Fuck You Friday #1

January 16, 2009 at 12:07 am (Fuck You Friday) (, , , )

In solidarity with Cristin, and because I don’t really do any other memes so why not find one that plays into my innate bitchiness, here is the first (of many?) “Fuck You Friday” posts from me.

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Fuck you, Apartment.

Fuck you for being so charming when we first came here.

Fuck you for seducing us with your big, bold balcony and being on the second floor so I know that firemen can rescue me if there’s a problem.

Fuck you for having some douchebag that scrawls “CLEAN UP YOUR DOG SHIT” on the doors to go outside.  Who made them the poopie police?

Fuck you for all your issues that give me issues.

Fuck you for the garage construction project that’s been going on since October with no end in site, yet we’re still paying for parking even if our spot isn’t always ours.

Fuck you for the three washers that don’t have a reliable stream of hot water and the fact that sometimes your dryers take money off my card but won’t turn on.

Fuck you for not having any lights by the doors in the back where we take the dogs out.  Do you know how many times I’ve fumbled with my keys while trying to open the door?

Furthermore, fuck you for there being no garbage cans outside for me to toss my baggies of dog poo in.  Sometimes I throw my poo in the lobby trash can just out of spite because I hope it stinks in the morning when everyone is walking through.  I especially hope the poopie police goes through the lobby on those mornings.

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