Babymoon in Vegas: Bet on a Crisis
On the way to Vegas, things start to go wrong, as they so often do, at the Mad Greek.
Within a couple of hours, I will be trying to locate the nearest hospital, but now I’m just waiting for the beefy, sunburned guy in front of me to stop yelling at the clerk about his $3, and how it was her mistake, and how he’s going to file a claim with the state. Behind me, a man eats sullenly at a booth with his well-behaved toddler, who silently chews one fry after another.
The place smells of coconut sunscreen, with base notes of diesel and feta.
Soon, I will make my husband promise I won’t end up at Summerlin Hospital, 20 minutes or so from the Strip. My mom – whom I haven’t talked to in a year – lives in Vegas, so I know it’s nearby. I have no idea if what is happening to me is serious, all I know is that I don’t want to end up at Summerlin, because you go there to die, or at least my stepfather did. When he passed (as Hemingway would say “gradually and then suddenly”), his death certificate described him as “white” and his cause of death as leukemia.
Only he was black. And died of congenital heart failure.
Probably an honest mistake, but doesn’t point to great attention to detail. That place reminds me of sloppiness and slipping away, and while I have a long history of being lukewarm on my own existence, the pull to keep this baby safe is tethering me to this world like nothing else has.
Baker, CA is right off the I-15. I’ve broken down here many times. In the past, it was just my car overheating, or my psyche decompressing from a weekend with my mom, and her wall of bird-themed paintings, and her obsessive studying of restaurant menus, and her autistic tuning out. This time, however, it’s my body. I’m 29 weeks pregnant, it’s 110 degrees, I have no business being at the Mad Greek no matter how much I love their greasy pita bread and fresh strawberry shakes, no matter how much I think the me that will show up in Vegas for a last hoorah won’t look like she’s in her sixth trimester, or have trouble breathing, or be sure she’s washed up in show business or be concerned her baby won’t be healthy or his life won’t be perfect.
The third trimester is no time to head into a desert, no less toward Vegas, a city filled with smoke-choked casinos, frat guys who shove you insouciantly on elevators, free booze you can’t drink, mile-long walks to everything, crypto-hookers whose frosted hair and legginess is an attack on your swollen feet and Target maternity maxi dress.
I begged my husband to take me to Vegas, because I was doing what they call in recovery programs “pulling a geographic.” As in, If I just leave Colorado, I won’t wake up in my own vomit anymore because I’m not an alcoholic, I just need to move to Boston. Instead of just going on a normal “babymoon” to say, temperate San Diego, I decide that in Vegas, I’ll be the old me. Wherever you go, you take yourself with you, which is one of the annoyingly true bumper stickers they tell addicts. The same is true of pregnancy, and the crappy mood that has come with it for the last couple of weeks, and the not working and the visions of myself rocking a baby with spit-up on my shoulder staring blankly at a freshly painted yellow wall and asking myself, “Is this how I’m supposed to feel?”
In Vegas, or even en route, I am still big and uncomfortable and scared with a tinge of pre postpartum. Only on I-15, I don’t drink any water because I’m nervous about having to pee.
At the Mad Greek, I order an omelet. When the cashier asks me what kind of toast I want, I hesitate, ask what they have. I mumble “French,” and look backward at my husband as if to ask, “Do I really want French bread toast? Will that taste good to me? Would I prefer wheat? Who am I?”
He snaps. “Yes. French. Good.” Only I would know he’s snapping, because he’s a subtle snapper. My husband has a very long fuse and almost never loses his temper, but when you’re seven months pregnant, you can’t sustain even a small snap.
I slide into a booth as he orders, sip on my fountain drink, eye the kid eating his fries. Feel a kinship with the little dude in his denim overalls, because we both seem lost and like we need our mommies.
My husband returns with our food which we both just stare at until I tell him I didn’t like him snapping at me, and he apologizes, and admits he has spent the last two hours regarding the temperature gauge, worried he was going to break down on the side of the road with his pregnant wife. He’s been worried about lots of things, he admits, being a good enough provider for us, having enough room, having to move back to Koreatown so we can have a nursery, making sure the air conditioning is working and the windows are sealed. I tell him I don’t need much, and that he’s going to be a great dad. I start crying, wiping my eyes with scratchy Mad Greek napkins. He doesn’t touch his food, and his hands are shaking a little bit, which only happens when he’s really upset.
My nose starts to bleed, just a trickle. My stomach starts to cramp, and I figure this must be one of those Braxton-Hicks contractions I’ve heard about. I wipe my bloody nose, wipe my eyes, don’t mention the cramps because I’ve just finished assuring my husband there is nothing to worry about, that we won’t break down in the desert, that we’ll get the windows fixed, that I know he’ll provide us with all we need, that he married a girl who cries and bends but doesn’t really break.
The French bread is toasted on the outside and soft inside, so I eat the entire giant roll. We hit the road.
“This trip is going to be great from now on. I was just worried about getting you there. Now, I’m psyched,” he says chirpily, but most of his food is crusting over on the plate he tosses into the Mad Greek trash.
The cramps abate until we exit the 15 in Vegas. Only now, they are about ten times worse than extreme menstrual cramps. I have to take off my seatbelt. I check the clock, and it’s been 20 minutes or more. I quietly Google “Braxton Hicks” on my iPhone so as not to panic my husband, and from what I can tell, those last a short time, and this isn’t letting up. About a half an hour goes by, which is when I decide to tell my husband just in case I’m having preterm labor.
I’m doubling over now. I’m pretty sure I won’t be able to walk through the lobby of the hotel without some help, but I can’t panic the Mr. because this whole stupid Vegas thing was all my idea and it was obviously completely idiotic.
Somehow, we make it to our room at the Palms, call our doctor, who says I’m dehydrated. Drink water, he says, rest, and if things don’t improve in two hours, call.
My husband pours me a bath and I drink four bottles of Smart Water. In two hours, I’m fine. I glance out the window at the Palms pool, where it’s “Ditch Friday,” a packed party the locals call “sweaty ball soup.” Part of me feels like I’m watching children trick or treat from behind a curtain, nursing a case of mono, but most of me feels I’m exactly where I should be, cool and safe, away from the blaring Kanye and the pool-friendly canisters of Miller.
Sometimes I make bad decisions, I drive right into oppressive heat and smoke.
Often, I wonder what’s on the other side of this pregnancy, whether being a parent will be a blissful shuffling of priorities or just something else that’s supposed to come naturally to me, but doesn’t. I’m tired of grubbing for gold stars to justify being alive, and I wonder if caring for another human being and loving him as well as I can will be gold star enough.
Sitting naked at the desk in the room, cramp free, my husband rubbing my shoulders, I think I’m almost ready to qualify as a mom, because I’ve never felt so protective and so relieved. As long as Buster is okay, I don’t care about being a has-been (that barely was), or having kind of a double chin now, or wearing outfits Kate Gosselin would suggest are too “middle America” or gaining 45 pounds. I don’t care that I’m not at the party pool; I don’t dance, I’ve always hated crowds and I burn. I don’t want to be down there, or back home, or in my old body, or anywhere else. My husband demands I drink another bottle of water, and I imagine him with Buster in a Baby Bjorn, holding my hand, and I don’t know how I ever got out of the desert intact.
I only know as sure as I can take a wrong turn, I can right myself, usually by just sitting still.
I LOVE your blogs! I just found out that I am pregnant for the first time and it really makes me laugh and gives me hope that I am not the only one out there that feels completley strange! I am an avid listener to Adam’s Podcast and I just listened to the one with you on today and I just love you! I was very excited to get home and read some =) Keep writing, you are freakin’ hilarious and I value your thoughts!
Central Valley, CA
Jodi
I live in Vegas and had both my babies (now ages 4 and 2) at Summerlin, and it was excellent. Don’t be afraid!!
I am reading your post late, but could not help but add my gratitude for you sharing your journey. Thank you for being so generous to provide a window into your thoughts. By reading your posts, I am inspired to look inward and work on my own fears and concerns.
Tony
Teresa -
Just catching up on your blog….love it everyday, but have to object to the negative stick to Summerlin Hospital. First of all it’s a beautiful and VERY private hospital. I have worked there for over 5 years. The L&D and postpartum units are very good, and we have special care nurseries for babies that are born premies or are ill. We are ranked very highly and have had many celebrity moms and dads have their babies with us. Their privacy was completely maintained and respected. As for the comment “I don’t want to end up at Summerlin, because you go there to die” is unfortunate, and not the least bit humorous. Please know that the incorrect cause of death your family received is reported by the doctor, and not the hospital, on the death certificate. I am truly sorry that your family has had this negative experience. Just remember that if you are in Las Vegas and are in need of care for you and Buster, you can rest assured that you would receive excellent and respectful care in our facility.
Gosh T, you continue to amaze me. I loved you before, but you are a talented writer! I loved you on Ace’s show and I look forward to your podcasts. YOu are truly an amazing person.
You’ll just have to wait and see when you hold that baby in your arms, how much love can fill your heart. I’m not a puss, but everything changes with children and talk all you want about it, it doesn’t compare to the real thing. You’ll be an excellent mom and Buster is the luckiest guy in the world. Hang in there, it’ll all pay off.
With much love and admiration…
Teresa, I was so disappointed when Adam’s show went off the air but I really enjoying listening to you on the podcasts. What a treat! And thank you for your blogging and writing–it’s so good! You’re going to be an amazing mother because YOU are an amazing person.
Wow…this is the first time I’ve read your blog, and I am blown away. You are an amazing writer! And I know you will be (and already are) an amazing mom. I remember when I was pregnant with my first baby, having those same feelings of “will I be good enough?”
Having a baby is a BIG DEAL, and I think anyone who doesn’t worry about those kind of things isn’t taking the whole “being a parent” thing seriously enough. So I think it’s very normal to worry about what kind of a mom you’ll be, but it makes it especially scary when you have an iffy relationship with your own mother. My mother is very similar to how you describe yours, and I worry daily about turning into her. I have never yet had a moment where I can relate to her and finally understand where she was coming from in her approach to parenting. But I am most definitely NOT her, and I think I’m doing a pretty good job with my own kids. So, no worries. Buster is very lucky to have you as a mom.
Teresa,
You need to know how gorgeous you are even this far along. You just grow more beautiful. The photo on Adam’s site shows how stunning you are.
Hang in there kiddo. Doing great and when you hold that baby for the first time everything else melts away.
Regarding your earlier post, olive oil works in the perineum area too. You are so lucky that your baby is healthy. I would be pregnant for the last time but we lost him in my 18th week. We’re not trying again as I’m 40 and Tired. As much as I didn’t care for being pregnant I adored the ‘babymoon’ after they were born.
Also, with all three of my pregnancies I great OUT of my maternity clothes by the end. Be prepared just in case. It sucked because I had to get a few new things to wear just a few weeks. I only gained 30-35 lbs with each baby but still the way they moved around and ‘sat’ made me grow out of my clothes. Cotton knits are your friend!
Keep hydrated, keep cool, enjoy cool baths and short walks if you can. You’ll never again be Teresa, when he’s born you’ll be “Buster’s Mom” for the rest of your life.
Teresa, you look better than ever..you are absolutely beautiful!
You go mama T. really great story, honest, poignant, gripping and sweet.
I Find myself reading this again, It’s captivating. Good stuff T
Holy cow I’m gone for a while living life and come back to this which is probably your most amazing blog yet. I think the others comments are correct in that you should be writing. It’s a gift for you. That was quite the emotional rollercoaster.
Hey T…. just discovered another important article. Hope you’re sound asleep on your Snoogle right now!
http://www.slate.com/id/2223661/
Wow. I love this sh and I’m not even gay. You were so amazing to listen to on the morning show with Adam and I have always been blown away by how smart you are. After that show went off air(which completely sucks) I heard you talking about your blog with Adam and was curious to see what it was all about because I had no idea that you were also into writing. It was so obvious right away that writing is your true calling. This isn’t just another blog this is incredible and it’s like a breath of fresh air among all of the other blogs out there. I like it. It’s too much good!
Hi T! You write so well!
Just saw this. Hope it doesn’t happen to you!
http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20090727/ap_on_re_us/us_baby_decapitated
What kind of mal-adjusted sub-human would post this news link here after reading Teresa’s blog? I think most of us have pretty open minds and a pretty strong reality base, but there’s no good reason to place this on her site. Teresa’s sharing her experiences and entertaining us with a unique perspective….this was not right.
Are you serious?!? If you do have PPD, please get some treatment and NEVER post anything like this again!!! A horrible link to a horrible story.
Relax you two. Stop beating your collective chests with your holier than though attitudes.
You sound like a great wife and you’re hot. Good stuff.
That was a lovely short story you wrote, the best thing I’ve read in a blog by far.
I love you Teresa so please walk that tight rope carefully.
” … he married a girl who cries and bends but doesn’t really break”
I love that, it really hit home with me.
This is my favourite post yet. Beautiful, meaningful. Thank you for sharing.
Teresa, hugs and love to you. My baby just celebrated her 6 month birthday, and that the story has a good ending. I was so completely freaked out when she arrived that I barely do more than cry and stare at the clock. I *didn’t* feel all the stuff I thought I was supposed to. There were many times when I thought “What have I gotten myself into? I’m so screwed.”
For me, it required calling every friend I had who was a mother or at least an involved aunt every day on a rotating basis to talk through all the incredibly mundane/fascinating details of my newly unrecognizable life.
TIP: make sure to have a headset for your phone so you can be handsfree. The baby needs your hands, and YOU will need the phone lifeline to friends
My husband kept saying to me, “We can do this. Stupid people can do this.”
of course, my thought was “If even stupid people can do this, why am I having so much trouble?”
But in the end, I began to realize something. It’s like boot camp for the character. Men (and women now) join the military and are put through hell to toughen them up and make them into kick-ass fighting machines. Which the world needs.
Having a baby puts the mother through hell to have her come out as patient, compassionate, loving person who doesn’t take herself too serioiusly. Which the world DESPERATELY needs.
When I had to hold my screaming baby after a sleepless night after WEEKS of sleepless nights and try to make HER feel better instead of making me feel better, I told myself “I’m dropping and doing 10 character pushups”
And now, it’s gotten easy. 6 months in and I feel like I graduated with bulging character biceps and a six-pack of patience.
Maybe my hard-won analogy will help you. You’ll be a great mom, Teresa. Buster is lucky to have you.
Such a nice comment.
Stunning, gorgeous writing. I’m writing this from the Cedars-Sinai NICU where my son has been for 86 days and is now doing great even though we probably have another month or so to go. He was born at 24 weeks at 1 lb. 4 oz. but is now 5 lbs. 4 oz. I say that not to scare you at all, just to reassure you that even if, God forbid, you should deliver early, the fact that you are already almost at 30 weeks puts your baby in fantastic shape. But I’m sure you’ll go to term and I will be following along every step of the way thanks to your honest and exquisite blog.
Thank you so much for this note. Amazing to think of such a tiny baby now thriving. Sending lots of love to you, your baby and your family.
Amazing read. Keep your head up T. Buster is.
Hey T-
Really enjoying these blogs. That’s a strange thing to say because they’re filled with a lot of your anxiety…but they’re also filled with your humor & intelligence. Brilliantly written too.
Heard you mention preeclampsia this morning on the podcast. My bro & his wife went through that last year. It was a rough deal. Ferchrissakes, don’t worry about that. It’s pretty rare.
Miss hearing you everyday, but i’m so glad i get to read your thoughts & hear you occasionally on the podcast.
I luv you, soul sister!
I am due on Sept 24th….so we’ve pretty much been going through the same things at the same time! Even before that, when I would listen to you on the AC show, I noticed a lot of similarities between you and me and how we perceive things.
You and I both have issues with our moms but I think we are going to be great mothers! Look at all we’ve learned from our lives and how our kids will benefit from all that.
Oh and I’m having a boy too.
Anyway, just like everyone else said, I love reading your blogs. I find myself laughing outloud (even at work). I especially like the part (from an older blog) where you said you refuse to buy gigantic panties…I’m 31 weeks and I still have not purchased grannie panties, I plan on going for as long as I can without them.
Good luck!
Hello T
Awesome post ! I fortunately seemed to have a ‘breeding season’ which insured that I would only be in my vomitous first trimester in the sweltering heat – I ALWAYS feel horrible anytime I see a poor girl great with child in the triple digits. It makes me think there really ought to be a better way to continue our genetic blueprints after millenia of this kind of needless suffering. It was super great to hear you on the ACP (and jewggle … brilliant I’m still laughing). I know that Bryan’s symptoms are supposed to be good news – but my heart just jumps hearing him…
Your getting ever closer to bouncing Buster on you lap rather than your bladder …tick tock ..
I’m not a mom. I’m not even a step-mom (anymore). Yet, I really enjoy reading your blog. Thank you for these amazing stories of your experience!
you such a great writer! I do NOT read blogs and yours I do. I totally understand how you felt that fateful day. Went though the same thing with my first belly. Scary but you do realize that your main purpose is to keep that little human inside safe. that is awesome! Please don’t ever stop writing this blog, its the best.
Love it! I am a 25 year old stay-at-home mom and have 3 children (6,4,2). This is never the life I could have pictured myself in but it is clearly what i was ment to do. Good luck!
P.S. Please don’t us a Baby Bjorn! Google babywearing, there are so many options out there. We never use a stroller my children are “worn” at all times, much easier!
Teresa… I know all to well that misery is material, but that’s probably the best piece you’ve written that I’ve read in some time; thoroughly descriptive. It was, how shall I say… filled “with base notes of diesel and feta”, but that’s what you said! Love that line! Stay still, you’ll be fine!
Beautiful! I especially love your description of that shift you felt while sitting at the desk in your hotel. The change in perspective that we experience when we’re about become parents is cliche, but it’s also very real. There is something liberating about being able to let go of all those things that seemed so important before. Thanks for writing about this so beautifully!
You should write a book. I would buy two copies, one to read cover to cover and one to keep on my shelf – like a trophy. And I would buy one for everyone I knew so they too could be touched by your poignant tales.
I have the biggest crush on you! Wish I knew you to say wow, I’m your biggest fast. I listen to the podcasts religiously and checkinto the blog every morning hoping to find a new post. I think you are an amazing person already, no doubt you will make an incredible mother. Hope more videos to come soon! Wishing you the best during your braxton.
-sw
When are you finally going to write a book? I have never been to Vegas, but I was there watching that sweet toddler eating his fries long after I closed my laptop and laid my head down on my pillow.
You are amazing.
Hey T,
hate to be another “you should try this”….but if it helps why not right? There were times when my wife would wonder about the ‘status’ of our first born. Is she ok…is she in the right position etc. Well the Doc said drink REALLY COLD OJ/ pick your liquid poison. Not only is it good for you and baby both but she will get mad and move off your bladder/diaphragm (insert body part here). Or just physically move him. Manipulate your stomach some and get him move over.
Continue to enjoy your blog and send lots of love and encouragement.
I promise there will be SOOOOOOO many days of quiet reflection while nursing or just holding him or watching him sleep that you will never regret the agony you are currently experiencing.
My little man is two. Before I go to sleep each night, I caress his hairline, I massage his fat little calves, I trace little “signs of the cross” (its a catholic thing, you know north-south-east-west) over and over on his forehead in hopes that my countless genuflections as an alter boy and prayers to the Blessed Mother will allow for him to not be bullied and somehow do a little better than I did in school.
Yesterday he somehow found a bottle of calamine lotion and in a matter of minutes smeared about half the bottle on his sisters brand new “big girl” comforter. Got it for her birthday and was so proud to have a new matching pillow and cover. Well, lucky for him she was out of town with grandma for a wk and wont know what happened but I just wanted to spank his little hands for being so naughty. YES its my fault for not having a lock on the lotion/baby powder/etc cabinet (NO there are no drugs or drain cleaner he can get to) but I assure this child knows better. But what can you expect from a two yr old right? Thats what he does. So after a light scolding (and a heavy one for myself) I washed the comforter twice (ughhhh its so hot here in PHX that the cold water comes out warm almost hot and the red ran into the white so now her white is a bit pink…but its ok still looks nice) I told him to be a good boy and after a timid “otayyyy” and a flash of his little dimples he sent me back to my constant ..man this kid it cute! Yeah…hes my kid so probably have a bit of bias but thats what we do. Dont get me wrong he does and will continue to get a spank as needed but its the process. I love being a daddy. I love my father and I hope my son (and daughters) will love me and in turn thier children. Sorry didnt mean to make this all about me. But in this story….I hope you see some of your future.
CALAMINE LOTION ALL OVER THE BED !!! haha
Keep the faith sister.
By the way.
My mom…..well lets just say her recent release from prison has not gotten in the way of her continued craziness and inability to fix what has been broken between us for 38 yrs. She saw my 10 yr old in her first yr and not since. My 7 and 2 yr old have never felt her love or hugs. Shes a good person somewhere in there…but shes got some problems and for now they cant seem to take a back seat the goodness in her heart. The kids only know my grandmother who passed 3yrs ago as my mom. Ahh…my Grandma….it would take pages to explain how much love she had in her heart….how much she gave to me…how much she molded me.
Whatever our moms did…continue to do…. well….we fix with our kids. We love them more, we promise to never walk out on them. We give them all the things we didnt have as kids. I didn’t need the big wheel. I needed both my parents in the same house for Christmas. 11yrs and counting….we have given this to ours. Promise its worth it. You will be a wonderful mommy.
There is so much that cant be written…explained..but only felt as you hold him and make so many silent promises.
Lake
T –
For starters, I think I have a girl crush on you; I admire you in many ways (from brains to beauty), even your somewhat troubled or cynical views on life in general.
This blog is by far your best yet. Fascinating read- a story told so concisely and yet with so much emotion and inspiration for the reader to think a little deeper.
Anyway, I wanted to thank you for turning me on to RadioLab. That podcast is unbelievable. I swear it has changed my life.
So thanks
Batman and Buster are lucky to have you in their lives
A
Oh and I had another baby name idea for you- Cormac. Variations Cormick, Cormack, Cormic. And you could use the nickname Mickey! Or Cory.
Amazing. Just amazing.
I love your blog, I love your humor, I love your style…you are an amazing person.
I crave more and am so happy when you are on the podcast!
This is my favorite post so far… I’m not pregnant, or married, or in Vegas for that matter, but I kinda know how you feel… Thanks for your entertaining blogs.
Wow! Another outstanding post!
Bravo T.
Your husband and son are extremely fortunate for many reasons, among them, that they will be eternally stimulated by you!
I know you will have an extraordinary and happy family.
Best,
Mark
I have to agree with Andy. All your worries are normal. As well as your hubby’s. It gets to be so overwhelming at times, but the minute you hold that baby boy they will all vanish. Your “Mommy Gene” will kick in and there is no stopping it from that point. You will feel like your heart is about to burst with all the love you feel for this little person the YOU created. It never ceases to amaze me that MY BODY literally made a human being. It’s crazy!! You will go out of your way to make sure your son is happy, comfortable, safe, loved and anything else you can think of before yours or anyone else’ needs. You will find yourself shopping for him everywhere you go and later realize that you haven’t purchased anything for yourself in months. It’s the best form of selflessness. And just like Andy said, you will literally be willing to kill anyone who even looks at him wrong. It’s awesome. You were talking about the movie My Sister’s Keeper on the podcast the other day and let me tell you it is a great movie. It makes you appreciate your healthy child and every tantrum and crying fit they throw. Because all I kept thinking throughout the entire movie is ” that mother would kill to have a healthy child like I have (sleepless, never ending cries and all) i recommend you watch it again after your little man is here. It will give you a whole different approach on being a mother. It will help you keep your cool when he cries. lol I LOVE your blog. hope you keep it after he’s born and share motherhood with us as well.
I loved this post. Great work. I look forward to more.
Beautiful, beautiful post.
Becoming a mom is the most natural thing in thw world. It will happen, you will be overwhelmed with how much you love that baby when it finally arrives.
Take care.
xo
I’m a father of a 21-month old baby boy, and my wife went through a lot of the same emotions you’re going through (and I the same emotions as your Mr). All of that goes away the second your doctor puts that baby in your arms. As soon as you both wipe the tears away from your eyes, the “protective” gene goes into hyperdrive and you’ll be ready to tear the head off of anyone who looks at little Buster cock-eyed.
As an aside, my first name is James but I’ve always used my middle name, Andrew. I like the name James, especially since I only use it on official documents like my driver’s license.
My other two cents about a boy’s name: don’t give him a name that will get his ass kicked when he’s a pre-teen and give him a name that will inspire confidence in his friends. I gave my boy a name that is strong and I gave him the kind of name that tells his friends subconsciously that if they need help with anything; pushing a broken-down car off the highway, moving a couch or burying a body, they can call my boy and have full confidence that he’ll come and help, no questions asked.
I love the blog and really look forward to your appearances on the Aceman’s podcast.
ironic to choose LV for another lesson in having control over nothing…:)
Baby W is your sure thing, t.
my favorite post so far.
a lifetime of hedging and you won.
xo
Great work. I love reading your blog, I am also 7 months pregnant, and this is so great to read. I feel everything that you are going through.
Keep your chin up, Sweetie.
Great blog. I’m just a 23 year old guy, who doesn’t want kids for a really long time (if at all), but I love reading your blog. You are such a great writer, you really convey emotion. I wish you were still on Ace’s show, you were half the reason I listened. And for the record, you are going to be a real good mom, you are really caring (except when you call certain ladies the C-word, j/k, that was super funny though). Please don’t stop writing, in fact, write more.
Matt
Long time listener at KLSX and the Carolla podcast reporting in… Great post, Teresa. You tell your tales with humor and a wistful longing for the pregnancy to be over, but with some fear that soon you really will be a mom. Don’t worry, you’ll be great and Buster will love you more than you thought anyone could.
You are such a wonderful writer! All your posts are good but this one was especially beautiful. My husband and I are trying to become pregnant and this blog is such a friend to me. I look forward to re-reading them all when my time finally comes.
fantastic. this is the 1st time I’ve actually spent more than 5 min reading someone’s blog – any blog – I’m a total skimmer. I love reading your “stories” and can’t wait for you to write a book. and glad you were dehydrated (just), batman rubs your back, & yes, it was pregnancy-induced insanity that led you to Vegas in the summer. loves.