Assignment from your English teacher:
If you read this, if your eyes are passing over this right now, (even if we don’t speak often or don’t really know each other) please post a comment with a COMPLETELY MADE UP AND FICTIONAL memory of you and me. It can be anything you want – good or bad – BUT IT HAS TO BE FAKE. When you’re finished, post this little paragraph on your blog and be surprised (or mortified) about what people DON’T ACTUALLY remember about you!
Post away – and be creative! (from girl fiend)

When the school year started, there was this one kid who would never smile. He was grumpy all the time, and when you did get him to speak, it was usually something crabby and about how he hated everything.
One day, we had a little conversation that went like this:
Me: Hey – why won’t you smile?
Him: Because I hate people.
Me: Me too?
Him: Yeah. You too.
Me: Well, I won’t accept that.
Him: (raised eyebrow)
Me: Nope, not until you can give me three good reasons why you hate me.
And for months, I’d harrass him about it. It became a joke – I’d ask for his reasons, he’d smirk and walk away. Eventually, he started to open up to us, coming in early to see us and starting to smile more often.
He just poked his head in and wrangled an envelope from his pocket. He handed it to me, gathered up his stuff and scooted out before I could open it. It was a card, such a sweet, sweet card, wishing us luck with our little boy.
That right there just made up for every bad day I’ve had this year.

*sniffle sniffle*
Work threw me a baby shower at lunch today. I was completely oblivious to it, too, until one of my coworkers came into my office and was like, Come eat lunch with us *wink wink*.
A few of the kids had decorated the room, and there was food – and oh, the chocolate chunk cookies! Just what this pregnant lady needed. I’m still not so good with the whole center-of-attention thing, but it was so, so sweet of them.
One of my students made me a little card: “You were my favorite English teacher. Thanks for giving me hope and opportunity.” Even the card from the other staff made me tear up quite a bit, all this jazz about being a wonderful mom and how lucky Sammy is to have me and Jay and… *sniffle*
I may feel like crapola, but I’m one lucky girl.

Warning: hormonal, tired, pregnant woman whine ahead.
I want to go back a few months to the me who insisted that she was going to work right up to the end – and smack her upside the head a few times.
My official last day is next Friday. I’m hoping to make it through today. Gah.
I feel like someone has yanked my hips apart and placed a big ol’ ball in the middle. Every step I take I’m like, Ow, ow, ow, waddle, waddle, ow. It must be amusing. Waddle, waddle, ow.
I feel like I’ve had period cramps for a week now – and they’re just getting worse. It’s like revenge for a full 8 months without them. Grrrrr.
I slept until 2 yesterday, and still felt like crap.
And this morning? I sat on the couch and cried because I didn’t want to get ready for work because I can’t do this anymore. And you know what? I don’t think I WANT to do this anymore. I know labor’s going to suck, but it’ll be over and he’ll be here and we can move on already.
Is this normal? I saw pregnant women at Keegan’s party who were about to drop their babies right that very moment, and they were chipper and bouncy and all sorts of energetic. Me? I wouldn’t even have the energy to throw them dirty looks, the way I’m feeling right now.
His furniture is getting delivered today – and I have no problem delivering him tomorrow. Ok, ok – I can wait until Wednesday, when we’ll be a full 37 weeks. I’ve even had this irrational fear that my water was going to break while I was teaching. Now, I don’t care – I’d be thrilled. THRILLED. Hell, I know I was all “I want to go natural” and crap – I’d even discuss induction, epidurals and c-sections right about now.
This chicky’s done. D-O-N-E. Get him out. Let’s get this party moving, shall we?

One of the mothers I’ve been in touch with was on the news – there’s a video that goes along with it. Her little girl, Grace, was born with both HLHS & Turner’s Syndrome. Angela came up from Virginia to give birth here and have the surgery done at Boston Children’s Hospital. She had had an in-utero procedure earlier in the pregnancy (we weren’t candidates for it) and then Grace had her Norwood a few days after birth, like Sammy will.
We met up with Angela a few days before she was induced a little more than two weeks ago, so that baby Grace is on her way home already is amazing. I’m so, so happy for them.
Brief update from this corner: bad, bad day – have I mentioned that it was a bad day? – topped off with a ticket for $250 for passing a school bus that apparently had its lights flashing and stop sign out. You’d think I’d remember this, right? I drive the same route every day, encounter several buses every morning. I know when to stop. I’m a good driver. I’ve never, ever gotten a ticket – ever. And it’s not like I was pulled over or anything, either – the ticket came in the mail because someone “witnessed” me do this TWO WEEKS AGO. You bet your ass I’m fighting it.
Speaking of two weeks, that’s all I’ve got left at work. I’m in a panic with everything that needs to get done – and the weird little twinges in strange places aren’t helping to ease my mind, either. If you need me, I’ll be curled up in bed, trying to sleep this day away.

I was one of the bad kids today!
Ok, well, as bad as I can get.
I had that training, which turned out to be practically an exact replica of a training I took in June. Gah. I sat in the back, near the door, for quick jaunts out to the bathroom or for a walk.
I knew the cool kids all sat in the back – but I didn’t know just how cool. I’ve always been a “kiss-butt-from-the-front-row” kind of girl.
We had plans to dump a pitcher of water on my lap and scream about how my water broke and they all had to drive me to the hospital RIGHT THEN to get us out of the training.
We snickered and placed bets on who was going to get the next answer right.
We rolled our eyes when the smart kids asked all the questions. Over. And over. And over.
We joked about passing notes to this cute guy from one of the girls at our table who kept perking up when he talked.
Hi. I’m 30, and I sit in the back of the class. Hehe. She’s totally going to split us up tomorrow, I can feel it.

Happy 2nd birthday, my little Keegie butt. We love you!
Happy Eka: Smelling the beautiful roses Jay sent me while indulging in little pieces of chocolate with my morning coffee. As I’m coming into the home stretch, I find myself a little less obsessed with the perfectly balanced diet. Two months ago, I would have only eaten the chocolate if it were specially fortified with three servings of veggies. Now? I’ll gladly relish in the pure-sugar peanut butter goo inside.
Unhappy Eka: I’ll let you know in a few hours when I step on the scale at the OB.
Happy Eka: No school for me until Monday. Dr. appts today followed by two days of training – training for fancy letter-codes that will hopefully help me work better with our ELL students, and fancy letter-codes to put on my resume if and when I ever need to find another job. Yay for increased marketability!
Unhappy Eka: Two days of training. 8-3:30. Like I can sit comfortably, without needing to pee, for more than 15 minutes these days! Plus, this means someone else is responsible for my students. My rugrats. My lesson plans. Eeek! (Yes, I’m way too much of a control freak.)
Happy Eka: Sleeping in, comfortably, until 8 this morning.
Unhappy Eka: Having to get up. I could have spent another three hours cozied under the blankets with the hubby, no back pain and a happily kicking baby (who was not, yay, resting on my bladder!).
Happy Eka: Paying off a credit card and getting another below the $1,000 mark. Yay! At this rate, we could be credit card debt-free by the end of the year, maybe middle of next year. And I’m cutting almost all of those babies up and cancelling the accounts. Buhbye!
Unhappy Eka: A $685 gas bill. FOR ONE MONTH. Gah.
Happy Eka: Soon again, I will be able to eat sushi, drink wine, exercise like a normal person and buy cute non-maternity clothes.
I’m trying. I really, really am.

I’m feeling a bit better. Came home and slept. A lot. Curled up with Jay on the couch, had some dinner, watched “Courting Alex” that Jay taped (DVRed?) for me (you know how I love my Dharma!) – and then was out for the count. Well, until he woke me up for some ice cream – but then I was out again.
Thank you so much for your support – all of you. I think I just needed to hear some words of encouragement.
We’ve got an ultrasound and an OB appointment today, and we get to see our friends and their little one. I’m excited – she’s doing really, really well. Mom and Dad sound like they’re holding up quite nicely too. I’m so glad for that, for all of them.
Okay – a joke. It’s made me giggle over and over since Melanie (a Yankees fan) sent it to me:

A New York family of Yankees fans heads out one Saturday to shop for the youngest boy’s birthday. While in the sports shop, the son picks up a Red Sox jersey and says to his older sister, “I’ve decided to become a Red Sox fan and I would like this Boston jersey for my birthday.”
His big sister is outraged by this and promptly whacks him upside his head and says, “Go talk to mother!” Off goes the little lad with the jersey in hand and finds his mother.
“Mom?”
“Yes, son?”
“I’ve decided I’m going to be a Red Sox fan and I would like his jersey for my birthday.”
The mother is outraged at this, promptly whacks him around the head and says, “Go talk to your father!” Off he goes with the Red Sox jersey in hand and finds his father.
“Dad?”
“Yes, son?”
“I’ve decided I’m going to be a Red Sox fan and I would like this jersey for my birthday.”
The father is outraged and promptly whacks his son in the back of his head and says, “No son of mine is ever going to be seen in THAT!”
About half an hour later they’re all back in the car and heading towards home. The father turns to his son and says “Son, I hope you’ve learned something today.”
The son says, “Yes, Dad, I have.”
“Good, son, what is it?”
The son replies, “I’ve only been a Red Sox fan for an hour, and I already hate you Yankee bastards.”

Heh.

Having a tougher time than usual lately. It feels like I’m coming up on the biggest hill of the rollercoaster, poised for that drop that leaves your stomach in your throat, that moment of weightlessness and fear of falling – and have I mentioned that I hate rollercoasters?
I’m in a funk and I can’t shake it. I’m scared for the delivery and I’m scared for his surgery and I’m scared for the moments when we’re waiting and scared for the moments when he’ll be full of tubes and monitors and has his chest open. I’m scared for the exhaustion and emptiness when they take him away from us just after birth. I’m scared for the delicate months after his surgery and I’m upset about what we’re going to miss – weddings, festivals, our life as we know it now. I’m painfully jealous of people who have healthy babies, I can’t look at small children without wanting to cry and wondering if our son will make it to that age, I’m angry that this happened to us and our little boy.
And I’m tired. Just…. tired.
We made friends with another HLHS couple who just gave birth. Their little girl just had the Norwood and is in recovery right now. I’ve been obsessed with their updates, as though they somehow give me a glimpse into what our world is going to be like. I cried for half an hour last night when they hadn’t posted a post-op update. I was terrified that something went wrong; I know part of that terror was my own reflection on the knowledge that we will be in their shoes in less than a month.
It’s a struggle getting myself to work every day, but being here is such a wonderful diversion from all the thoughts and fears and the fog that seems to have taken over. Still, I feel like I need to push myself to stay focused, to stay awake, to find the energy to be here and give the kids the classroom environment and teacher they deserve.
36 weeks today. He’s technically full term in seven days. I’m ready to be done with the waiting, the unknown that’s looming, but I’m so not ready for any of it. I just want to curl up in a little ball. I just want our lives to feel normal again.

We spent this morning celebrating Keegan’s birthday. I was tapped to read “Where Have You Been, Spot?” to a wiggly group of two year olds. All afternoon, I swore there were at least double the number of children actually present – it just felt that way. They were wonderfully behaved, though – I’ve just been fighting the winding down of the third trimester crabbies. It still amazes me that two years have passed since I helped welcome my little Keegie-butt into the world, and it’s one of my favorite things in the world when he calls me “Aunt Ekakaka.”
Sammy’s got the hiccups – which was cute, until he became large enough to jam up against my bladder every time he hiccuped. Now, it’s like a wave – no need to pee, hiccup, holy-cow-where-is-the-bathroom, no need to pee – for the full five minutes or so. Very strange.
We had a tour of L&D on Friday, which was wonderful. The woman who met with us spent a good hour alleviating my fears and recognizing that so much is out of our control – she stated over and over that I should be allowed to take ownership of the birthing process as much as possible. I can eat, walk, shower, birthing ball – even choose pain medication until two seconds before he pops out. It’s one of the great things about being in a large medical facility, I guess – there were four other moms there, at that moment, giving birth to HLHS babies. They understand what’s involved in having your baby whisked away moments after birth – both physically and emotionally. (She did say, however, that if he is well, they’ll give him to me and encourage me to feed ASAP before taking him to NICU. I mentioned that we had been told that we wouldn’t be able to, and she chuckled – she was like, the specialists have no clue what really happens in the birthing room!)
Another chance to feel somewhat normal again. I’m looking forward to it, since these days I feel anything but – I’ve had a headache for what feels like forever, sleep doesn’t lessen the exhaustion, and he just keeps getting bigger and bigger.
36 weeks on Tuesday – occasional panic attack aside, I think I’m ready to meet this little guy.