Congratulations, You're Having ...

On my very first doctor's appointment, which was terrible and requires a story all on it's own, I was told I would be able to hear my baby's heartbeat. They were wrong and the doctor went on and on about how she doesn't recommend women coming in until they are 12 weeks along.

My thoughts during her rant "Listen here you over sized ape, I was TOLD to come in at 12 weeks. All I was coming for was drugs so I don't barf on someone's shoes."

But being the Wall Flower that I am, I said nothing and just took the torture that was the appointment. They wanted to meet in two weeks but I at least had enough sense to push it off a month. It's not like I'm made of vacation hours.

So our second appointment date arrived (at 9:30am) and I went in not really knowing what was going to happen other than I would get the joy of hearing my baby's heartbeat.

It was the standard sit in a waiting room full of sick people, pee in a cup, sit in an even smaller and more crowded waiting room with even more sick people, then finally get escorted to the room. This time around was just as unpleasant as the last time. I had the unfortunate luck of getting an intern who didn't know jack squat. Seriously?!!? Get the fuck out of my room and get someone professional in. Being pregnant is new and having some newbie intern asking stupid questions that don't have to be asked is NOT helping.

Luckily the little intern and her mentor disappeared and the doctor finally arrived. We got right down to business of listening to the heartbeat. I expected to hear mine and the baby's heartbeat was strong. Proud momma moment there.

Until the doctor moved the heartbeat monitor to a different location on my swollen belly (or what I thought was a swollen belly) and said "huh, there's two heartbeats." Of course my doctor only talks to you when your pregnant. In the years I was going to her for my year, I didn't get more than a curt acknowledgement and that was it. Now my doctor is gushing over the fact that she thinks she hears not one heartbeat but TWO!

Insert total freak out moment. Of course the tears were flowing but the doctor was at least kind enough to say she'd go and make an appointment for an ultrasound. The heartbeat monitor was inconclusive to tell us if we were having one or two.

Alright, this is my first pregnancy so I'm freak out over having just one and then I'm told we might be having TWO?!?!!? When the doctor left, I lost it. I'm sure I sounded ungrateful when I said I didn't want two! But two!?!? Twins don't run in our family or my husband's family. It would only be a freak of nature that I would produce twins. But it would explain why I'm a frigging boat at 16 weeks.

A few minutes after I composed myself a nurse came in to give me a card. Here I was thinking they would do the ultrasound right then and there. Nope, I had to wait until the afternoon (1:30pm) and find the hospital. SERIOUSLY?!!?! My thought screamed "You just told me I might be having twins, and you're telling me I have to wait THREE HOURS before having my ultrasound?!?!!? Are you fucking kidding me???!!?" Again, as the Wall Flower I am, I took the card and told them thank you.

After I walked out the clinic doors, the rest of the morning was a blur. The husband knew that I needed to eat (the previous appointment taught him to feed me immediately following an appointment). Of course I wasn't hungry but I did seem to power through my breakfast.

I had thought that the husband and I could putter around town the rest of the day and get a bunch of errands done. Yeah right! After being told that we might be having twins it was too hard for me to concentrate. But the good husband that I have tried to keep my mind off the possibilities and we went shopping. But how could I possibly think of all the things that we needed to get when my entire world just shifted. We can't go shopping if we are having twins. My thoughts screamed "How the hell are we supposed to afford two kids when I don't know if we an afford one?!?!" Again, Wall Flower that I am, I didn't mention those thoughts to the husband.

Being that my mind was totally preoccupied with babies, it was very difficult to do any shopping. But the husband thought I had it together and knew what all we needed. Here ensues the minor fight because the husband is expecting me to tell him exactly what I need. "What I need is to know NOW not in THREE HOURS if I'm having twins or not."

We finally got out of the store and decided to find the hospital. Of course there's two hospitals in this town. I know the general area of both but not the exact location. When I mentioned the one (that we needed to go to) and it's location, the husband said he didn't know where that was and was going to go by the one he knew of (which is the wrong one).

As we drove post the WRONG hospital, I just said the name (which of course is the wrong name). I again said what I thought was close to the right location. But by this time the husband thinks that I know exactly where it's at and got snippy with me and started asking where I was supposed to go. "Seriously?!!? I told you the general location before. Why in the hell would I tell you again. Don't ask me any more questions asshole. You wouldn't listen to me in the first place, why start asking me questions and expecting me to give my knowledge know. And BY THE WAY, *I* am the one that is pregnant and freaking out. YOU aren't stuck with the mood swings, the constipation, the feeling of barfing on people's shoes, not being able to eat anything you used to crave." But again, I refrained from saying any of those things.

Luckily we went in search of the right hospital early. I haven't been to the hospital in years so I was unsure were exactly we were to go. But we finally found the parking lot and I waddled in early (around 1pm). Of course by that time the husband and I aren't really talking. We finally are directed to the right Registration desk and take a seat.

The girl taking my information was so nice and bubbly, acting like I should be excited. Umm, I'm possibly having twins. "How can I be excited?!?! I've been waiting hours to know and this is my first." But as the bubbly girl goes on "Having twins the first time around is the easiest." My thought " BUUUUUL SHIT!" Of course, being the Wall Flower, I refrained. It all got a little bit more real when she put the ID bracelet on my wrist. "Oh crap. This is for real."

The bubbly girl then took us on a walk to wherever we needed to go. The halls seemed familiar as I walked the halls. I was in the same hospital that my sister delivered all three of her kids. It's a totally different perspective when it's all happening to you. We ended up at the right floor and got registered on that floor. As we sat in the waiting room, the husband looked around at all the pregnant lady and baby pictures and commented. I couldn't even look around. I was trying to not having a panic attack. "OMG, this can't be happening to me."

Luckily we didn't have to wait long and the waiting room was a nice soothing area for me to try and relax. The ultrasound technician was very friendly and put me at ease. When I told her why we were there and that I wasn't excited for twins, she prattled on about how twins the first time around is easier than the second time around. "Oh really, and you're the fricking expert? Just tell me what I'm having."

I hopped on the chair and we proceeded with the ultrasound. Thank god for ultrasound technicians. The first words out of her mouth were "Good news. Well good if you were only wanting one."

"Hallelujah, thank the lord! I can handle one." The rest of the experience was a blur. The ultrasound technician was a doll and even told us what sex the baby is. Of course being the type of person I am, I'm not telling. "So NeNer NeeNer Neeee NNNEEEERRR." We were in and out of the hospital in less than a half an hour and didn't have to wait for our scheduled time. We were leaving the hospital about the time we were supposed to be there.

I don't really remember much else other than getting to see some pictures and getting to walk out with printed pictures of my baby. I know we did more shopping but I don't remember where. I think I must have been on cloud nine.

I did end up leaving my phone off during the ultrasound and forgot that I had it off until the next day. It's not a big deal, it happens more than I like to admit. But when I listened to my voice mails in the afternoon the day after the doctor's appointment I had two calls from my doctor's office telling me they wanted to discuss my ultrasound results. And like any good doctor's office, the nurses were rude about not being able to get ahold of me.

"Fuck, what's wrong? I thought the ultrasound technician said everything was ok." Of course my mind goes to the worst case scenario. I called the doctor's office back to be told that the nurse was with someone and that she would call me back.

I waited and waited and finally got the call only to be given a bunch of crap about them not being able to get ahold of me. I let it slide thinking that there might be something wrong. The nurse's conversation "We just called to tell you that you are not having twins."

"NO SHIT YOU FUCKING MORONS. The fucking ultrasound technician told me that YESTERDAY! And was nice about it." Seriously, does it take a nasty phone call to me wasting my time to tell me what I already know?!?!

I was still irritated with the doctor's nurse but ended up wandering out to the kitchen. The husband had put the ultrasound pictures on the fridge just like a proud poppa. I waddled on out to the kitchen and forgot all about the stupid nurse and enjoyed looking at my baby.

Smoke and Fire

It was supposed to be a relaxing weekend, a weekend where I could get some cleaning done in the house. I’m starting to panic because the house is in such a mess and I’m already into my second trimester without even a clue as to what we’ll need for a baby. Both rooms I have for the baby are filled with junk. I had thought that the weather was warm enough I could get into the crawl space where we stashed all of our junk (because we are hoarders) and pull out a few empty boxes.

Because my husband and I are hoarders, we stashed every empty box we had from moving into the crawl space for someone else to use at a later date. Six years later, someone finally needs those boxes. I’m finally getting space in my crawl space and I’m finally feeling the urge to pitch every fucking thing I don’t use (but that’s another story, along with the god damn box story dealing with my hoarder husband).

I didn’t get much done, other than pulling out all the empty boxes and making the bedroom a complete disaster. It wasn’t a big deal because I had all afternoon to reorganize and stuff all the junk back in to the crawl space. I had it all planned out.

God spites me every time I have a plan.

While I was trying to take it easy, my husband was outside playing with god knows what. By that point, I was happy to be rid of him and happy to finally feel like I was accomplishing something. Being 16 weeks pregnant and not being able to move for the first 15 weeks made me appreciate my new found energy. I was still trying to take it easy knowing that later in the afternoon I’d probably go downhill and then I’d be up shit creek with trying to put away my mess.

I was happily going through a box that hadn’t been opened in the six years since we moved. All the junk was scattered throughout the living room but I at least had a huge box empty and ready for someone else. I felt great. I went through the box, and put all the unnecessary papers in a bag. I headed outside to check on the husband and get rid of the papers.

Here in lies the problem. We don’t have garbage service. We are stuck burning trash. Originally my husband went down to the far corner to burn trash and he would stand there until the flames were out. When the barrel filled, he decided that instead of taking another barrel down to the corner, that he would leave the barrel next to the garage, taking the easy way out. I didn’t like the idea but you have to pick your battles with your husband and that wasn’t one of them. I just prayed that when he actually burned trash that he wouldn’t burn down our house. We’ve had the barrel near the garage for a long time. It’s almost full of burned trash. We’ve talked about getting garbage service but I hate calling people. It’s a phobia I have. But because my husband is lazy (or I don’t nag enough), a second barrel never appeared to burn trash. Instead he piled up some of the trash, including the papers and started burning.

Ten minutes after I put my little bag of papers into the barrel, my husband came in. Not thinking anything of it, and not wanting to nag, we sat down for lunch and a quick TV show. Everything was fine until the TV show finished and for some odd reason I decided I’d take a peek through a window to see what the weather was like (it’s an odd habit).

I don’t remember what window I looked through but all I saw was smoke. At first it didn’t register because I thought it was the trash fire. “But trash fires shouldn’t have that much smoke.” No, they don’t. I stood there for a minute longer to figure out where the smoke was billowing from and saw flames.

FLAMES!!!

I yelled FIRE, ran to the utility room, threw on my shoes and coat and raced outside to see what was really on fire.


To my horror of horrors, I first saw the burned grass all around the burn barrel. The burned grass went up against the dog pen (with the dogs still in the pen), up to the chicken coop, all the way over to where my poor injured horse was standing (with only enough room for her to stand, and a three foot burned hole gapping in the chicken coop.

Now when I say chicken coop, I’m not talking an itty little building. The width is as long as a truck and the length is longer than a standard sized ranch house with an attached garage. And no, we did not have chickens in the chicken coop. We used the chicken coop as storage. But I’m getting side tracked.

Smoke was billowing out of the chicken coop and flames were licking out of the roof alongside the hole. I at first ran to the barn (thank god THAT didn’t catch on fire) and started filling a bucket. I figured a few good buckets might put out the fire (of course that was at first glance). My husband said instead to get the hose, so while he called the fire department I hooked the hose up (which of course isn’t long enough to reach the damn chicken coop). My husband connected a second hose and we started spraying down the fire. Luckily most of the grass had stopped burning. I gave the hose over to the husband and went to check on my poor horse.

My poor horse was covered in sweat. Of course she was sporting her winter coat. Thank god I’d taken off her blanket and thrown it far enough away from her pile of hay/straw she’d been lying on. At least one thing was saved. But my poor mare was injured and could barely walk. I tried to get her in with the other mares but she wouldn’t move closer to the building. Smart girl. I tore the electric fence down and let her go wherever she wanted. She can’t go far being injured on one leg and lame on another. I started scooping water out of her water trough to make sure that the bedding wouldn’t start up another fire.

I took over the hose again and did my best to wet down the sides of the chicken coop (in hopes of keeping the building). The husband went to get the dogs out of the pen and put them in the horse trailer. We had no idea if the dog house was going to go up in flames too. I decided I’d best start spraying down the dog house just in case the wind changed and the flames started to lick the dog house (which would invariably start the garage on fire next).

Half way through my procession of watering down the dog house the firetrucks started rolling in. I got out of the way and tried moving some of the junk that had accumulated around the temporary pen for the horse.

Once the hoses were out, I went to stand next to the injured horse as more and more fire trucks rolled into the yard and more and more firefighters emerged from the trucks.

I lost count of how many fire trucks and firefighters were on our place. We had trucks everywhere, including our front lawn. I think I counted five fire trucks, one search/rescue truck, an ambulance, the sheriff, and a couple of other people (probably looky loos. It’s a good thing I didn’t talk to them because I would have told them to mind their own god damn business and get the fuck off my property).

After an hour and a half of fighting the fire, I had had enough. So many people were standing around and one ass hole was standing around laughing. LAUGHING! Excuse me but my building is on fire and all you can do is LAUGH?!?! Get the fuck off my property. It’s a good thing I’m a Wall Flower and don’t have balls enough to confront assholes. I managed to get my poor injured horse into the barn away from all the commotion. She needed to lie down and was showing her fatigue. I scrambled around to put another horse in the barn so she wouldn’t freak out about being alone.

As I was coming out of the barn, the fire chief approached me. He said that they needed to cut the power off to the chicken coop (something I’d thought about but didn’t even want to ask). He also said that they would have to cut the power to the house and asked if that was ok. My dumb response “sure”. Well of course Yes! Get the damn building put out!

I headed in to the house after that and hid. Being 16 weeks pregnant and emerged in smoke had taken its toll. After I changed into non-smokey clothes, I discovered I’d picked up the “smoker cough”. I was only around the smoke for a short period of time but it sure had a lasting effect on my lungs. Even now a week later my lungs still hurt (and my stomach still revolts at the smell of fire).

more to come

About Me

I am a Type A Wall Flower. I do everything by the books. The words within the blog are my misadventures. Everyone tells me I should write a book. Well, here's my first take at the misadventures of me. Hopefully the tales will be few and far between but if life is as unpredictable as it has, this blog will be filled with many tales.

The stories in this blog may not be in order. Some stories won't be interesting while others will be hair raising (at least they were for me). But if for some reason they seem out of order, it's because they may possibly be.

I hope you enjoy my midadventures. All stories within this blog are real. None of the stories within are made up (I don't have that creative of a mind).