Category Archives: TMI

Schrödinger’s cat…

Errr… Uterus. 

I’m late. Not by much, but still, I’m late. I’m confused as fuck. And it’s too damn cold outside to go out to the store. Zero symptoms either way. 

So, yeah, I’m at a loss until either The Bitch shows up, or until I thaw enough to run to the store. 


Hypothetical Babies & Boundaries

(This post is full of labor and delivery TMI. I don’t go into in depth details, though. Read at your own risk.)

Sooo… I’ve been off birth control since May. I finished the cycle I was on when we got engaged, and that was it. I’ve been charting ever since. It was amazingly easy to slip right back into the old habit. 

My two previous births couldn’t be more different.

With my first, I went into labor naturally (on my due date!!!), progressed quickly (3cm to 9cm in less than two hours), doctor had to break my water, and baby was in my arms after 5 pushes. No epidural. I didn’t even have time to get the standard IV.

With my second, my water broke naturally, even though I hadn’t dilated at all. If you understand labor and cervix jargon, I was 0% effaced, 0 dilated, and at -2 station. To put it simply, my body was in no way ready for labor. Baby hadn’t even dropped. Dispite that, I had to be induced, since my water had already been broken. That’s when things went south. 

I started having contractions quickly. Nothing I couldn’t handle. Been there, done that. However, once I hit 6cm, all hell broke loose. My water fully broke, since it was only a leak before. Baby hadn’t dropped yet, so when my water broke, and my uterus shrank, due to losing so much fluid at once, his cord presented. 

A very serious compilation, that could lead to stillbirth.

I was prepped for surgery immediately. As they were wheeling me into the Operating Room, I told the anesthesiologist to just “knock me out,” since I knew it would be quicker than trying to place an epidural and wait for it to do it’s magic. 

Finn and I aren’t necessarily trying to conceive at this point, but we aren’t not trying, either. He knows my history with childbirth (even though he STILL can’t see my c-section scar without me pointing it out). We’re both hoping that when the time comes (god willing), I’ll be able to deliver naturally. However, I also understand that an epidural is a MUST, just in case compilations arise. 

This is where boundaries come in. 

I was only 23 when I had my c-section, and very, very passive. I had constant guests, and since my primary nurse has known me since I was a kid, she didn’t just bend the “no more than three visitors at a time” rule, she all-out broke it. At one point, I think I had about ten visitors in that room. I was still in my hospital gown, still had my morphine drip, and wasn’t allowed out of bed. Not even to go to the bathroom. 

So, I told Finn that **if** we ever have a baby, I didn’t want visitors until the catheter (TMI, sorry!) was removed. No visitors while I’m laboring, no one sitting in the waiting room, no visitors until we’ve had time to bond with baby. 

Cart before horse? Maybe. But I don’t want to spring it on him while we’re driving to the hospital. 


Just got wind that Finn’s grandmother is planning on coming up AGAIN this weekend.

That’s seven weekends in a row, if you’re counting.

Let’s put this in prospective, shall we…

When she’s here, Finn and I are forbidden from sleeping in the same bed. Weekend nights are the only time we have together. He works nights Monday through Friday, and I’m usually asleep by the time he gets home. Z is here and awake during the day before Finn goes to work.

That means no sex. Barely any sex in seven fucking weeks. I’m irritated. I’m frustrated. I want my emotional and physical connection with Finn.

When she’s here, if I make something that doesn’t suit her taste, she complains to anyone that’ll listen.

When she’s here, if things aren’t **perfect** she’ll say snide remarks under her breath, and tell anyone that will listen.

I cannot fucking wait until we’re out of this house. I can’t deal with this anymore. I’m 33 fucking years old, and I’m tired of living my life according to someone else’s rules.

Lord help me this weekend.


((I am in major crankpot mode))
(Language warning)

OMFG. Finn’s grandmother just showed up, for the third weekend in a row. Every time she’s here, she turns shit upside down. Seriously. Everything.

My cooking, our family activities, all of it. Finn and I aren’t even allowed to sleep in the same bed together when she’s here.

And guess what?

I’m PMSing like a bitch. FUN! My super-awesome PMS makes me all cuddly and horny as FUCK. Touch me. Touch me, NOW. Nope, can’t happen this weekend. Even more fucking annoying? Z is leaving to be with his father for two weeks.

Sooo…  kid free weekend, me horny as fuuuck, and a guarantee of NO SEX? Yeah… I wanna fucking cry.

Every. Fucking. Time. She shows up on the weekend when I’m PMSing. No warning, she just shows up. This shit is getting old.

I just want my Finn cuddles. And to have him fuck my brains out.

Well, um….

((This post talks briefly about PMS and period symptoms. And sex. Nothing graphic.))
(Men, you have been warned.)

I’m due to start The Bitch on Wednesday, and my PMS symptoms are in full swing. No, I don’t become a raging bitch, I become a sweet, clingy, needy girl. Seriously. I just wanna be held and cuddled.

So, the other night, after extremely emotionally driven sex, I look at Finn and ask if we’re going to talk about babies within the next two years. I’ll hit advanced maternal age (35) on December 13, 2017.

His answer made me even more emotional…

Him: I was hoping for this year.
Me: I thought you wanted to be married first?
Him: Making a baby is different than having a baby.

Sooo…  Finn wants to be married and/or have me knocked up this year.

This is it. It’s happening.

Random Thoughts Tuesday


Again, it’s been awhile since this kind of post.

The combination of the prednisone and the pain from the pinched nerve has turned Scott from my sweet boyfriend to a cranky, distant grouch. It makes me wanna cry.

To be fair, I’m cranky, due to the hormones raging. My face is an oily mess, and I’m waiting for this period to be over. I told Scott this was going to be a bad one since last month’s was largely ignored, due to the flu. Cosmic Balance. I’m three days in, and still suffering day one cramps. Something’s gotta give. I try not to complain about the pain, because I know it’s nowhere near as bad as the pain Scott suffers from on a daily basis.

I’ve been cranky and distant because of his current attitude. I told him it was because of my period. He just left to run errands and told me to lay down and sleep it off, since I’ve been up since 0330.

I’m just missing my sweet, loving Scott. Can I have him back now?

I’m super excited about this weekend. Scott told me not to get drunk, I told him I’m not worried about getting drunk. I’d be happy to go bowling, as long as I’m out of the house.

Jealously is an ugly thing…

So, here’s the thing…

At 54 years old, Scott’s sexy as hell. I know what you’re thinking… “You’re biased”.

Yeah…  not so much. Every female is of the same general opinion. Add his sexiness to his extremely outgoing personality, and my self esteem tanks when we go out together.

It feels like every female in the place is thinking to herself: “Why is he with her?”

Let’s go ahead and get this out there (I sooo can’t believe I’m doing this): I’m 5’5 and 115lbs, my measurements are 34-24-38. See where this is going? Scott says I have an awesome stomach, amazing ass, and great legs. To which I reply “So, from the waist down, I have a perfect body?” He says we can fix that with silicone. O_O

I swear, I had a point…

Oh, my extremely obvious lack of boobage. Which I get made fun of for. A lot. It’s made me extremely self-conscious. I barely fill a 34A bra. I’ve got one helluva ass, but no boobs.


So, there it is… I’m all A and no T, while all those females that like to flirt with my super-sexy boyfriend are stacked. And I get jealous.

It’s an ugly, ugly thing.

Monday Bitchfest 11/10


Warning: This post WILL become TMI.

Today has started out pretty damn rough. Z wakes us up a few minutes after 8am to tell us he missed the bus. Whoops.

TMI zone after the break…

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