The plumbing is working, but the wiring is crossed

I mentioned in an earlier post that I've never been a super maternal type of person.  I don't look at kids and melt.  Yes, there are cute kids.  Adorable kids.  And kids sure do say the darndest things.  But the further away from me they are, the better I am.  Mostly because I don't know how to talk to anyone who is less that 14 years old.

There are certain exceptions.  My nephews for sure.  And the kids of a couple of my closest friends.  But I think I only like them at this point because I've learned how to talk to them.  I've been able to build a relationship with them.  I still totally have my awkward moments.  There are times when one of my sister in laws has to actually tell me to hold her baby because I generally just look at him with fear.  I don't want to break him.  And I have no idea what to do with him.  He can't talk yet and I'm not good at doing that whole goo-goo ga-ga stuff, so I just hold him and stare at him.

What's funny is that my aunts (two lovely women that helped my mom raise me) are crazy good with kids.  They never had any kids of their own, but every kid they meet immediately loves them.  It always amazes me and I totally strive to be that kind of person.  One trick I've learned is to treat kids like dogs.  I know, it sounds totally ridiculous.  And this might not work for everyone. But I am a super dog lover and am really great with them.  And little children and dogs are not that different.  They loved to be wrestled with, talked to, and if you throw something they are bound to go get it and bring it back...over and over and over again.  That really only works for like the first 3 years or so, so I gotta figure out a new trick and fast.

My main concern is making sure I become the type of woman that is a "natural" with kids.  And while being pregnant I have felt anything but.  Mostly because I find myself cursing pregnancy so often.  The last three months really have been awful.  Constant nausea and fatigue.  Eating has become a chore.  And now I'm so constipated that I'm pretty sure the poop that has been sitting in my body for the last two weeks is starting to poison me.
I've caught myself, mid dry heaving or curled up in a ball of pain, concerned that I was going to be a horrible mother because I can't look pass the misery and see the joy of bringing a new life in the world.  But then one of my sister in laws asked me the other day "besides the nausea, bloating, and all of that, do you feel pregnant yet?"

That's when it hit me.  No.  I don't feel pregnant.  Imagine the worst hangover you've had.  Or food poisoning situation.  Or flu.  Then take that 1-5 days of torture and elongate it to 1-3 months.  So this whole time, although logically have been pregnant, have just felt like I'm on the verge of dying.  Who the hell can find the joy in that?  So I'm giving myself a bit of leeway (with a hint of fear of course) to let myself just focus on one thing at a time.  Right now, I feel like a sick dog and I'm going to try to get through that before I start thinking about the human being that's going to magically swim out of my vag in 6 months.

On a good note, my life-boo (term totally stolen from a friend) and I were able to go to the doctor this past Thursday.  Normally, we see a little circle on the sonogram screen and hear the heart beat, which is usually pretty cool.  But this time we were totally caught off guard.  There was an actual human being.  Like, a head.  And legs.  And (pardon my language) IT WAS FUCKING MOVING AROUND!  Like, swimming around.  Totally blew our minds.  And that experience brought me one step closer to feeling like a mom.  I've got 6 more months to get where I want to be.  I'm hoping that when the crappiness of the first trimester is over, that I will be there.  But looking at the picture below reminds me that it definitely is possible.  :-)

Pickin' a P.I.C.

A lot of people look at people they are dating or are in relationships with and often think to themselves, "Can I really see myself spending the rest of my life with this person?"  If the answer is yes, then congratulations.  But what I have quickly learned is this particular question is not as easy at it seems.

Being married is more than just walking down the aisle and living happily ever after.  There are bills, chores, deciding what to eat, balancing your individual freedom and working at your ever evolving relationship, and worst of all...sharing a bathroom.  There's a lot to factor in when deciding who you are going to marry.  Can you deal with them getting liver spots?  Getting so comfortable that they release wretched smells from all parts of the body every 5 minutes?  Constantly have food stuck in their teeth? It all seems like small trivial stuff, but it definitely matters in the end.

One question you should definitely ask BEFORE you get married/committed, especially if its something you want, is if this person would be a good parent.  Not just if you're willing to have kids with them, but that they will provide your children with whatever they need under any circumstances.  From conversations I have had with other people, they usually wait until after they've made their vows to worry about this.  But it is sooooooo important to do ASAP.

I kind of lucked out.  When my husband and I first got together, I knew he REALLY wanted kids; I was pretty much indifferent.  I had never been the type of girl who felt the need to get married or have kids.  Whatever happened, happened.  But the more time I spent with him, the more I got excited about the idea of being a wife and a mother.  Now let me make this clear, I still don't want to have kids for the sake of having kids.  There is no maternal clock screaming at me, telling me that I need to start popping out babies.  I want a child with my husband because I know that we will make an amazing team raising our kids.  He is gonna be my perfect partner in crime.  Or as the "kids" call it these days, my P.I.C.

Let me tell ya one thing, being pregnant is the ultimate test to see if you have a good P.I.C.  As women we go through crappy things in general.  Puberty is hell (where did those boobs come from!).  Having your period sucks.  Having to shave is awful.  It's just an annoying gender, but not one I would trade for the world.  But out of all the things I have experienced as a woman, being pregnant is one of the most annoying.  And I'm only 8 weeks.

Luckily, I have a fantastic P.I.C.  My husband has put me in a constant state of awe of how "there" he is.  He is so with it.  Sometimes annoyingly so, but still.  The man loves me, and he loves his future child.  He's carrying stuff.  Cleaning the litter.  Food shopping.  Dropping off my laundry.  You name it, he's doing it.

The best example of his awesomeness as a P.I.C. was this pass Sunday.  The last few weeks I had been experiencing a crazy amount of nausea.  So much so that I lost 9 pounds in two weeks because I couldn't really eat anything.  I could barely move.  And there was a lot of crying involved.  Sunday found my nausea at an all time high.

I knew something wasn't right first thing in the morning.  It was way more intense than usual.  I tried to spend time with a friend, but had to end up rushing home because a huge wave of death passed over me.  I spent the rest of the night on the couch with my husband, catering to my every need.  At around midnight I finally got in the shower to get ready for bed.  All of the sudden, my body started convulsing.  I thought I was going to go into my usual dry heaving routine that I had been experiencing the week before, but my tummy had different plans.

All of the sudden I could feel the prunes I had just ate a couple of hours ago start to come up.  And before I could even have any kind of reaction, everything decided to make a reappearance.  I'm standing there, butt naked in the shower, water still running on me, simultaneously crying and puking like I had never puked before.  The worst part was that I had those prunes, so it literally looked like I was puking old people poop out of my mouth.

My darling husband rubbed my back the whole time.  After I was done he wrapped me in a towel, sent me to my room, and continued to clean up my mess in the shower.  My knight in shining yellow cleaning gloves.  After he was done, he brought me water, a snack, my progesterone, and helped me go to sleep.  The best part about it?  That man did not grimace once.  He was practically giddy to help me.  I could tell, down to the bottom of his core, he WANTED to help me.  No obligation.  No annoyance.  He wanted nothing more than to see his baby momma happy and comfortable.  It was a gross yet wonderful moment.

So although that Sunday was completely awful and I will probably never forget it, I am so grateful for it.  My man's true colors shined bright that night.  And I am so glad I found him.  He's the best P.I.C. a gal could ever ask for.