Thursday, November 10th, in the hour of 1:00 P.M.
I had been nursing quite a cold for the past week. Almost missed my interview because of it. Couldn't breathe, couldn't quite see clearly because I had double conjunctivitis, and I couldn't swallow without wincing in agony. Considering I don't have tonsils, that last symptom made me really worry.
I drag myself to the doctor's. B-E-A-Utiful day out too. It was 70 degrees. I'm thinking, "What business does the weather have being 70 degrees...in November...in DELAWARE?!" I was convinced whoever was controlling the weather was taunting me with spring like conditions when I couldn't even enjoy it. *shakes fist* Anyway, come to find out that I had a "stuck" upper respiratory infection and double conjunctivitis. I say "stuck" because it was all in my throat at the time; THAT'S why it was so painful for me to swallow.
I drag myself, yet again, back home to take my meds and nurse my cold.
God - 1
Me - 0
Saturday November 12th, in the hour of 8:00 PM
I was STILL nursing my cold but at least I could eat. I woke up around 4-ish and asked if my husband wanted food. Sure, why not? I go upstairs to get ready and I am hit with this awful pain on the left side of my abdomen. It felt like a knife dragging through my lower stomach. I sit down, browse the internet a bit, then decide that I have 2 legs, I'll get up and use them (note the subtle FMA refrence in there :3 ). I'm still in pain as I go to Wally World and shop for dinner and a few other essentials. As I turn down the candy aisle, the dull, constant cramping that the pain had subsided to now turned into a knife being jabbed into my side.
I'll admit that this may have been a nice mixture of stress and pregnancy hormones, but I actually muttered a prayer.
Yes.
I prayed.
For those of you who don't know me, I am considered an "Agnostic Theist", meaning I don't have proof either way that a deity does or does not exist, but I have a leaning towards the fact that one does, so for me to pray takes something pretty drastic. I'm not immune to the insane ramblings and realizations in my head, particularly when I'm in pain or under duress, and I quickly realized how desperate and scared I must be to actually pray. I started tearing up.
I hated myself for this 'karma' I hath wrought.
I hated my body for not wondering what the hell it wanted to do.
I hated my mind for panicking over every little thing.
I hated my doctors for not listening to me when I have legit concerns.
I hated the pain and the worry of me losing this baby.
But most of all, I hated Roy for not waiting like I had asked him to when he first suggested getting a vasectomy because this is all his fault because if something happens to this baby, we can't try again and damn his stupid self for being so selfish and not listening to me!
...After that brief moment of crying, I gathered up myself, grabbed some food and then high tailed it out of there, Hungry Man dinners in tow. I hate crying and I hate crying in public even more.
God - 2
Me - 0
Saturday through Tuesday, 12th - 15th
Along with the cramping and the "stabbing", it felt like I was actually having Braxton Hicks contractions. At 14 weeks! So I called my doctor and got an appointment for today.
Side note:I get there and I'm weighed. 228. That's 10 lbs lighter than a month ago. Score one for me.
Thought this all might be from an UTI. Nope.
Pokes and prods my stomach a bit. No pain from her pressure and I'm growing fine.
So, the midwife attempts to find the heartbeat. Attempts. Her poking and prodding made my future State Alchemist quite perturbed. She cornered "him" on my right side and got a nice heartbeat for about 10 seconds, then "he" push kicked off my right side and squirmed everywhere. As she was playing Doppler Marco Polo, I had one of those "contractions". I told her, "Feel that? That's what I'm talking about!" She feels and goes, "Oh my gosh, this is actually the baby doing this!". My right side was relaxed while my left was being pushed out.
No, no, dear baby of mine. You're hopefully going to be named Edward after Elric, not Cullen, so stop trying to burst out like some damned sparkle Alien vampire baby. >:C
Tuesday November 14th, in the hour of 7:00 PM
I'm back in my old territory in the realm of the Pizza Delivery Wench. I am rudely told by a sleeping man that I woke him up. You ordered the pizza, stupid. Forgive me for delivering it and knocking on your door.
Sigh.
Touching back with home base, I quickly go out on a delivery, only bothering to look at the name when I arrive. I - with a Spock like "Highly illogical Captain" look upon my face - ask if this really is the woman's name. Her daughter laughs and assures me that it is, and the last name is a married name. Apparently, her mom gets that reaction all the time and it fits her perfectly because she absolutely loves Christmas and always goes overboard with celebrations. The daughter then hands me the money and tells me that there is enough for a 12 dollar and 25 cent tip in there. Odd amount for a tip, but ok. Whatever. It's 12 bucks, I am NOT going to complain.
I walk away thinking not too much on it, when it dawned on me.
12 dollars plus 25 cents is 12.25.
12/25 is Christmas.
And the woman's name?
Happy Holidays everyone. :3
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