THIS IS THE EVERYTHING IS OKAY ALARM. IT WILL CONTINUE TO SOUND AS LONG AS EVERYTHING REMAINS OKAY. Back from the doctor's, back from the ultrasound, back with a picture of a darn cute little baby in hand. Since our last ultrasound, the Tadpole has turned into a person. A person with wee fingers and toes and little limbs that kick and wiggle and a big gigantic head that looks like an alien when it looks right at you. The Tadpole also sucks its thumb, is five centimeters head-to-butt and looks nothing at all like a tadpole anymore. The fluids are clear, the placenta intact and my cervix is closed. Basically, we have no fucking clue where the bleeding came from. It could have been a fluke, a threatened miscarriage that pussed out, or a really nasty bladder infection. Regardless, I'm on strict bedrest through the weekend, which means girl movies and ice cream (I lost another pound over the last two weeks, so ice cream is all but coming with a prescription at this point). But still, EVERYTHING IS OKAY. I'm still having a baby, and man, it's the cutest baby in the entire world. With the thumbs and... Read more →

Yesterday afternoon, I wrote the following email to Zoot: I have to say, I think I am getting better about the doomsday scenarios. A few weeks ago I couldn't even FATHOM making it to the second trimester, and now I'm less than two weeks away from it. I couldn't imagine ever hearing the heartbeat on the doppler, and now I'm listening to it every day. So a lot of the negative thinking has to go away because this pregnancy keeps on amazing me by its mere ability to go on EXISTING. "HAAAAAAAAA," said the universe. I started spotting last night. Bright red blood followed by pinkish smears every time I went to the bathroom. SCENE, STORCH HOUSEHOLD, 8 p.m. Amy: *bolts out of bathroom* SPOTTING. MY GOD NO NO NO. Jason: *hurls self off couch* OH MY GOD NO NO NO. Amy: *curls self on couch, puts throw pillow on head* OH MY GOD NO NO NO. We're very good in a crisis, no? After a few minutes I put my head back together and got out the doppler. And of course, it took 20 minutes to find the heartbeat, by which time I was more than a LITTLE HYSTERICAL.... Read more →

(First of all, OHHHHHH MYYYYYYY GAAAWWWWD. There's a heartbeat over at Zoot's! I have been a curled-up little ball of anxiety on her behalf all damn day, and now? Bitch is all knocked up proper and shit. And she's just four weeks behind me, which gives me great joy from a someone-else-to-kvetch-with perspective. And to think how far we've both come from this dark day. JESUS GOD, ZOOT, WE FUCKING DID IT.) Back when we were on Clomid, which was TOTALLY going to work for us, like, immediately, I bought a copy of What to Expect When You're Expecting. I threw it out during a temper tantrum sometime after our fourth or fifth negative. I never bought another copy, but opted instead for The Girlfriend's Guide to Pregnancy and a guide from the Mayo Clinic for all the technical shit that I never read about because GAH, episiotomies. The Girlfriend's Guide is definitely better than What to Expect (which is more like What to Panic About When You're Doing Everything Wrong), even if it does fall into that your partner = your male-husband-whom-you-married pattern that most pregnancy books seem to fall into. Although when I first read it, I was... Read more →

All right, enough with the song and dance. It's Advice Smackdown time, and let's not waste valuable bossing-around time and just get right down to it. Amalah, My fiancé and I are planning a trip to Aruba this May so that we can finally make it legal. What were your impressions (or drunk, hazy memories) of the island? Any suggestions on where to stay or what to do? I saw your pictures, and I understand that the “what to do” involves a whole lot of drinking, and I’m fine with that, but what to do WITH the drinking? We’re hoping for a lot of laying around on the beach, but I realize that I will fry to a crispy finish within 5 minutes of setting foot on the island, so we need some options here. Thanks! The Soon-To-Be-Mrs. Wellllll, what excellent timing on this question. (Which I did not make up, as all questions DO come from actual live people. I'm not sure why but apparently everybody thinks I make Advice Smackdown questions up. I really don't, unless the signature is "Amalah," which yes, that's just me talking to myself, pay no mind.) Guess what! We're going BACK to Aruba.... Read more →

Originally, all I could think of to post today was puking. More puking. Trust me, I'm as sick of hearing about it as you are. Possibly more so. I left work around 2:45, because honestly, once you've spent over a half hour in the office restroom hunched over the toilet while praying that no one walks in to hear you throw up the orange juice you drank this morning because MY GOD, THAT'S ALL THAT'S LEFT, I'd say the day is pretty much toast, right? Right. So I left. And while I drove home I tried (in my head) to compose an entry about puking that went above and beyond your usual entry about puking. Bonus points if I was able to refrain from mentioning Ceiba's diarrhea. But then! When I got to my front door I realized that joy! joy! my rented Doppler had arrived. Instead of an entry about puke and poop I could write about heartbeats and the weirdness of lubing your stomach up with ultrasound gel on your living room sofa! About how all the misery is worth it when you hear that little sound! Brilliant! But then I couldn't find the heartbeat. All I could... Read more →

Update: Pants stayed up. Pizza stayed down. Took me long enough to tell you that, didn't it? Damn, I'm so lazy. Actually, TypePad locked me out of my blog this week because of some boring credit card thing that is so boring I'm not even going to bore you with the boringness. But I am indeed, so lazy. Tonight I am sitting at home alone, spooning Pepto Bismol to my poor dog who is still shitting foul black sludge at every possible occasion and watching Monk. Jason is out drinking. Do you know you can't take Pepto Bismol when you're pregnant? And that you can't go out drinking? All you can do is sit at home and watch Monk. And eat string cheese. Mmmm. String cheese. Anyway. I meant to write this whole hilarious entry about our whirlwind weekend in Philadelphia, but it really wasn't very whirlwind at all. It was mostly about napping in expensive hotel rooms, not drinking at rock concerts while your blogging friends pity you, getting handed small bricks of hash on random sidewalks, and eating various kinds of food drenched in cheese. Like...cheesesteaks! Whee. Behold, the glory. A Whiz Wit Onions for Jason. (Whiz Witout... Read more →

GAH. So I owe you a "Weekend, Part Two" entry, a photoessay about cheesesteaks, and an Advice Smackdown. I know this. Y'all pay good money to read this site, and I'm totally letting you down. Except that you don't pay shit, so technically I don't owe you shit, which means I can freak out about my pants instead. Today I must speak in front of my entire company as I am recognized and congratulated for not getting fired. Monday marked my three-year anniversary with my company, and today I get to make a speech about it and bask in the glow of my colleagues' forced attendance and polite golf claps. Usually when one is expected to speak in front of the entire company, one dresses accordingly. Like in a suit with a jacket and neatly pressed pants and you'd probably even comb your hair. Now, aside from the fact that my suits were the first thing banished to the back of my closet for the duration of this pregnancy, I also completely forgot about today's festivities until I arrived at work. I dressed with the idea that I would be confined to my desk all day and am wearing non-maternity... Read more →