Down for the count
I guess I should have been more specific when I declared 2012 the year of the baby.
Every time I go up to The Hills to visit my family, I side-eye all the Walmart shopping, GMO and McDonalds eating, Obama hating, never leaving the country because Amerika ROXs! white trash. But this trip? I realized that I had officially outdone any of them. I realized that I would never picture my life as a movie. Unless it was a lifetime movie of the week. Or perhaps a short lived TLC series. Never anything meant for the big screen. I will never be able to sit back and dream of Anjelina Jolie playing me in my biopic. Maybe Kim Kardasian. Or Lindsey Lohan. Or some 90′s star from a sitcom that no one remembers.
A meer 9 days after my final BFuckingN, I load Monkey in the car and headed for The Hills to see my family. And? To help my 39 week pregnant daughter-in-law prepare for my grandsons arrival.
Grandson.
Ouch.
I txt everyone when I leave home and ask about dinner plans. My youngest and newest Daughter In Law txt back and asks me to join them for dinner. I am totally unsuspecting. They married in October and had gone to natural family planning classes at her church and made sure everyone knew. They didn’t want to have a baby for at least a year. They needed to get on their feet financially and figure out school.
I shoulda known better.
I bring a bottle of wine and pour her and I each a glass. My son and my grandfather decline. My son for some cheap nasty can of beer (Momma tried) and Grandpa so he can judge. Somewhat teasingly. But not really. I finish my first glass and refill it and when I go to politely top hers off, I see she has only had a couple sips.
After not drinking for so long, one glass of wine has clouded my judgement. It’s made me relaxed and confused. I should have seen it coming. But I didn’t.
We finish dinner and talk about their new car, and their new dog and plans for the yard and oh, there’s going to be another baby. She’s 7 and a half weeks!
Oh. Balls.
Hugs are exchanged and congrats are offered. I’m sort of numb. Grandpa and I drive home in silence. I’m not even sure what to say. He’s never really addressed my personal issues, from the abuse, to the trouble conceiving all the way through the miscarriages – much like the rest of my family. The only one who has really talked to me about it is my DIL. The other pregnant one.
The next day I take my other DIL out to brunch to thank her for all the support and offer her mine. She’s 39 weeks and miserable. She is scheduled for a c-section Friday the 24th but had contractions all weekend. We finally went in to labor and delivery but they are apparently just braxton hicks. I was actually pretty bummed. I really wanted them to decide to do the c-section early. If I can’t have my own baby, yes, I would like to steal hold hers. I will get to eventually, I will be in Disneyland for a long scheduled Shinteki game next weekend (because I am a big ol’ nerd face), but head back up to The Hills to help out when the baby is a week old.
I may steal him then. Can’t wait!
Over all I feel emotionally OK at this point. I am excited for my kids. Both of them already have step-kids, and are fabulous fathers. Monkey loves playing with them and his young nieces and nephews. All of which are older then him.
Physically, I think I may have worried myself into an ulcer or other fun stomach issue. The sour stomach, queasiness, heartburn and burping that I had attributed to morning sickness during my TWW has continued. Just. Awesome. Stay tuned to find out if I have some kind of old lady stomach issue and now need to limit my diet to warm porridge and cut out the wine. If so I will publish my address. Can you just come shoot me?
One handed. xoxo I will shoot you. With a love gun...
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