Blogging in Bed

I named this one "Blogging in Bed" because that is what I am doing. Blogging in bed. Nobody tells you this ahead of time, but being sick while your pregnant blows. I've pretty much prided myself on being 99% carefree as far as limitations and pregnancy. I'll admit working in Neonatal has created a more grounded expectation of what is bad and what is good for preggos to do. We delivered plenty of beautiful crack babies and many babies who had endless issues while the mother did EVERYTHING she was told was right and safe. To me, there really isn't a 100% right thing. Your body is yours, you know what feels right. I mean, I am not going to go off boozing through the night (although a Mojito or 4 sounds superb) or popping cold meds...give me a break. I have cheated and had a lot of  RAW (GASP) sushi and ridden a water slide or two I might take hot baths and jog when its a little hot out. However, cold medicine and allergy stuff scares the crap out of me. Therefore I am doing this the old fashioned way. Just me, my humidifier, coconut water (they say it hydrates better? Whatever it tastes like a plant) and what I find especially sexy, nasal douching twice a day. Thus far, my body has cried for a pill...but I just can't do it.

On a lighter note..

I am waiting for the computer savvy end of this marriage to upload the video of me giving away the gender to my Mother. It's pretty adorable. But if you haven't seen it yet, Petey and I will be welcoming a

BABY GIRL

and her name will be

Roslyn Jean Peters

Roslyn for Petey's beloved Aunt Rose, who we lost too soon, and Jean for my wonderful Mama

 

There you have it. My Mother-in-law has apparently gone shopping like, 5 times already and my Mom has been relatively well controlled at this point. My father-in-law was in mourning for about 24 hours over the news of his 5th GrandDAUGHTER and my Dad seems pleased because his guess was a girl, and well, the only time he thought he was wrong he was actually right. Catch my drift? Petey is settling into the idea. When the Ultrasound tech told us the news, his shoulders sagged a little bit and he looked at me and said (very romantic-like)

"Damn, we're going to be broke".

Le sigh

Registering and looking at baby stuff was incredibly stressful and fun and he managed to zap a few toys and things he (and a baby boy) would enjoy as well. Trust me, I really haven't been super psycho and overly girly. I may have purchased some fluffy and sparkly headbands...but this is my child. She will be hairless until she is 2 like I was so we must accessorize how we can.

She will be wonderful and spoiled and have my elegant neck and doomed to be lanky and skinny and nerdy. She will be loved dearly.

Oh yeah, and by the way...when I'm not douching (my nose!) I have also managed to hit 23 weeks. Looking fine too...

I know I look super awkward, but sorry to say I'm not one of those people who spends an hour capturing the perfect selfie and using just the right filter so that I can upload it to social media and wait for the "likes" to pour in. Although that does sound like living the dream and all...

 

Lemme take it to a more serious note for a second. The power of prayer and everyone's continued support for my Dad has definitely paid off. He had a follow-up CT Scan of his brain to see if the radiation and chemo worked on the 8 lesions that where on his brain. I am happy to report 8 is now 1 and his double vision is FINALLY corrected. His radiologist has mentioned another round of "targeted" radiation to that one last little bastard spot. The chemo is kicking his butt. Getting my Dad to eat has become a daily struggle and activity which he so desperately needs is also just simply, not happening. We try his favorite foods and my sent-from heaven Mama makes anything he asks. Unfortunately, he just won't eat. Luckily my Mom officially finishes teaching this week and will be home and on my Dad's behind constantly to keep him fed and on the treadmill for 2 minutes a day so his muscles don't waste away. I've cried twice in the past week in pure joy and serious frustration. Being a nurse doesn't help. I need him to fight and try harder and be the positive tough guy he was at the beginning of treatment. My family and I remain positive that we will get through this together, and God BLESS Petey for listening to my piss and moan and cry and rejoice about myself and my Dad on a daily basis. Whenever he annoys the snot out of me for one reason or the other (cough cough, nursery) I remember how incredibly lucky I am to have him.