Tag Archives: pregnancy
Supposedly that’s what I have growing in my uterus. Having not seen it for a week now, I’m a bit skeptical. I just don’t feel pregnant. I certainly don’t feel NOT pregnant either. I just feel… weird.
With Monkey, I was on a much higher done of progesterone and I was on estrogen. He was a fresh cycle, and I had over 20 eggs retrieved and was fat, bloated and sick pretty much from day one. There was never any doubt that I was pregnant. If I wasn’t actively eating, I was fetal position on the bathroom floor.
There was also fear of miscarriage as it hadn’t yet happened to me.
This time I’m fine. A little too fine for comfort. I really wish I could just start each morning with a good heave and know that things were moving forward. Instead my symptoms are slight and noncommittal.
Fine. I admit it. We have a maid. It started 10 years ago when there were several roommates and everyone would fight about who’s turn it was to take out the trash, clean the kitchen, vaccuum etc. Once we all agreed to kick in a couple bucks each week to have someone else do these tasks life was SOO much easier.
After several false starts, we finally settled with Mr L. Our aging chinese man maid. Every week he showed up and cleaned up after our lazy asses for the sum of $100. On New Years Day every year he would come for an extra $100 and clean AROUND our lazy, seriously hung-over asses and give us dim sum from his uncles shop. He was never bothered by anything he saw anywhere in the house – and trust me. The man could write a book on the inappropriateness he has stumbled across. It was a wonderful relationship. Anytime a client would ask to be my maid, I would smile, think of the horror Mr L had to witness (and I had to share) and say Hell No. If you want to PAY my maid you can, but there is no way I could open my life to anyone else in the way I had to Mr L.
Friends and co-workers keep asking me how seeing clients while pregnant is working out. So far, 7 months in, pretty well! Although, I think it’s about to change.
I quit seeing new clients once I started showing, but continue to see regulars. Mostly it’s been a positive experience. Most clients have been very welcoming, concerned about my comfort, (heels, no heavy lifting etc) in session. Those are the clients I continue to see with some regularity.
My adult babies are of course, all very excited – and love being out in public with me and pretending they are awaiting the arrival of a baby brother or sister.
One client, and probably my most broke, blue collar boy, has decided he could not possibly ask me to do all that hard work in session and has insisted on booking doubles with another Domme that I can direct and watch from my thrown. Ahh.. if only life could be so understanding.
at the intersection of Oh Shit and What Next.
I don’t even know where to begin. The last couple weeks has just been .. fascinating with news. I keep starting a blog post, then some other development pops up. Basically, they boil down to two main issues, but as any time you have two issues, every other little bump in the road seems to be much bigger and irritaing then it should be.
First, I guess, is that I was diagnosed with MTHFR. A rare genetic blood clotting disorder. I don’t seem to be affected too badly, if I was, I would have had miscarriages and other troubles conceiving, aside from the idiotic marriage, pregnancies and resulting tubal when I was barely old enough to vote. It seems I’m just blessed with the ability for my blood to clot in the inside. Like, of my viens. In my legs. Awesome. So, after being off the fertility shots for a whole 6 weeks, I’m now taking daily shots of Lovenox. Lovenox is a blood thinner which makes you bruice. My growing belly looks like it’s been in a car accident even with all the icing and such that is suposed to keep the bruicing down.
In a foolish attempt to organize my reentry into society, I sat down and wrote a list of all the things I needed to get caught up on.
It is a very long list. The first item on the list was to return about a million emails. Those fools wrote me back, immediately, flaunting their caughtUpNess in my face.
Now? It is a very, VERY long list.
This past weekend one of the many social obligations we had was a late night party for DaddyO’s work. I’ve been to many over the years and know a lot of people who work there. Generally I grab a drink, try to play the role of the good wife, ignore the stares from the Boys Club who all know what I do for a living because they surf the web constantly looking for sex and socialize with the wives and the two women who work at the company. Fun Fun! This time, I was feeling sleepy and a little barfy so, I stayed in the background and watched the social games in action.
OK. This is getting a little kookoo. I’m 7 weeks pregnant and I can barely fit in my pants. Why? Because my ass is completely bruised and swollen from all the PIO shots. Each one seems to swell a little more. Bruise a little more. About now I feel like I have twin ectopic pregnancies on my ass.
Then? There is the ACTUAL pregnancy. I’m sure that lil blueberry has a LOT to do with my pants being tight.
Finally? And most importantly? I still can not poop. Even though I can not eat anything other the the fabled P-fruits (the pitted fruits that are supposed to make you poop) and vegetables covered in vinager. Don’t vegetables have fiber? Doesn’t fiber make you poop? And I’ve been drinking prune and pineapple juice which does at least make the marbles come. But I can tell, since I just ate the entire produce department at Lucky’s, that three small marbles? Just the tip of the preverbial poop iceburg. I increased the prune juice, but that just gave me stomach cramps and killer gas.