Pink Unicorns and Blueberry Snow Cones…and a Big Announcement (Really!)

 

Morning, folks! If you are one of the eight followers reading my blog when you're taking your iPad to the bathroom, you must be wondering, “Where has she been?”

I’m sorry for being away for so long and not dropping you a line – just like Roy, that guy you dated back in high school. After a date you thought went well, he never called you. Oh, wait. In the nineties, wasn’t it all about pagers? He never paged you – or me. J Ok, done with high school reminiscing.

I guarantee you I’m no Roy. At least I have a good reason for not being in touch.

Five weeks ago, I was diagnosed with preeclampsia and had to be hospitalized and put on bed rest until my baby was born. Preeclampsia happens when you have high blood pressure and too much protein in your urine. There are other symptoms as well, but those are some of the big ones.

Comedian Jim Gaffigan once said that he wished hospitals didn’t have that health requirement to check in, otherwise he’d do it because it combines eating in bed and sleeping – his favorite activities. Well, I should tweet him to set the record straight.

There’s no sleeping; the term “bed rest” is used loosely. Every half hour, someone walks in to check on you, and while on a daily basis I love getting attention, after a while it gets old. And the food! Think airline food, but they let it cool down for about four hours before serving it to you. Soggy steamed broccoli. Yum!

My baby must have been tired of that food too, because at 31 weeks and four days, he decided he’d had enough and it was time to come out. So, for the past four weeks, Oliver has been in the NICU, growing and recovering from a surgery he needed due to a leak in his stomach. My blood pressure spiked after his birth because I was so stressed out. Every time the nurse came to take a reading, I’d try to visualize pink unicorns and blueberry snow cones to get relaxed so I could get a better reading. A friend of mine suggested I think of Ryan Gosling to calm down, but I tried it once and it didn’t work. Wonder why.

Anyway, now I have good news: My BP is stable and Oliver is doing well. He’s been a fighter – he’s supposed to come home in a month or so. He’s very cute and full of personality, and the nurses always comment on his facial expressions. What can I say? Kiddo has a flair for the dramatic. J

Anyway. So there you have it. Stay tuned for writing-related news soon!

Confessions from the Past from Your Mom in the Future

 

Dear Falcone Baby,

 

I realize there are women out there making me feel awful as they’re writing pregnancy journals and registering everything that happens. So. Since only nerdy brain surgeons and archeologists

specializing in Egyptian hieroglyphics can understand my handwriting, I decided it’d be way easier to post this blog.

Seventeen years from now, I’ll say, “Hey kid, want to know what it was like to be in your mother’s tummy?” and you’ll say, “Eww. No.” I’ll say, “Go to blogger.com.” You’ll say,“What’s blogger.com? Dad, Mom has been drinking again.” There.

Still. Just so I won’t forget.

I’m 23 weeks pregnant and just yesterday, someone said, “Oh, but you don’t look pregnant.” I don’t know if I should be flattered or insulted. Does that mean that person just normally thought the bump I’ve been carrying has always been there? Or worse, has it really been there and I just lived in denial, buying tops from Lane Bryant and avoiding mirrors? If this seems silly to you, well, I gave this conundrum a good 17 minutes of reflection. Then, a pretzel stand at the mall got my attention and I figured I had other things to worry about.

I’ve also been having very realistic dreams – sometimes three different ones each night. Last one I remember, I was being interviewed by three different people for a job as a GM in this paradisiac resort in Aruba. Then your sister poked me because she’d had a bad dream of her own…and I still have no idea if I got the job or not. I suppose it was better this way; I don’t really want to get caught up in the corporate culture again, right?

And now, well, you do your thing, which at 15 must include several suspicious minutes alone in the bathroom and going out with your friends from school – none of whom I will approve.

Okay. Let’s go back to when you were a cute baby inside my womb. I’m sure I’ll resort to that image several times in the future – especially when we don’t see eye to eye and your teen years bring me to my knees.

Gosh. Now I know why I kept away from very personal blogs when I was pregnant. I get too emotional and carried away – of course, this never really happens, as I’m sure your dad can attest. Anyway… Before you go to college, why don’t we all go on a family trip together? How about Aruba?

 

The Not-So-Secret Falcone Baby

Folks,

I have news! The Not-So-Secret Falcone Baby is coming out in August of 2013! In other words, I’m pregnant. Yes! I was going to stretch this out (and say the scripting took about eighteen months ) but really, that was asking too much. I’ve already waited too long to tell everyone, if you consider how I hyperventilated every time someone asked me how I was doing.

Since I found out, I’ve wanted to tell the world. We’ve been trying for so long (quite different than my other pregnancy), and it’s finally happened.

I just shared the news with my four-year-old daughter today and she’s been excited. Poor thing doesn’t know what’s coming, although she ensured me she won’t be jealous. “The baby will be jealous,” she said. Gotta love a kid with self-confidence.

“When you eat, does the food go down and hit the baby’s head?” she asked.

“No.”

“Does it move away when the food comes?”

“Yes.”

She asked a few more questions about the baby’s daily schedule inside my womb, then went to play Hungry Hippos. J

I’ve already warned my best friends and pre-apologized for my behavior in the upcoming months, so I might as well say the same thing to you. If I start babbling on, going on long rants, or if I turn super sappy, please remember it’ll all come to an end by fall. I hope so, anyway.

Last time I was pregnant, I was so emotional I saw some religious women volunteering at a car wash and holding a sign that read “Honk if you love Jesus,” and I started bawling. I don’t mean a contemplative tear rolled down my heated cheeks; I mean I started to cry out of the blue and had to park the car (away from the car wash, since I didn’t really want to scare anyone else besides the homeless guy I’d already alarmed, causing him to run in the other direction) to calm down.

So… yeah, you’ve been warned. Now, let’s celebrate. Virtual apple cider, anyone?