Well....we had our big ultrasound today!
But before I divulge the big news, I will apologize for not posting more frequently. In all honesty, my lack of posting has been due in part to a crazy schedule, and in part to not having very many juicy details to report. I've only gained 2 pounds from my pre-pregnancy weight, and nobody can even tell that I'm preggo; totally lame. If anything, I just look bloated (thus the lack of pictures posted on the blog as well). Gabe got me a pregancy journal that encourages me to take week by week photos of my expanding belly.....oh H-eeeeeeee-ck no. At week 5 when baby was the size of a lima bean, I'm not hanging my winter-belly out in all its glory for the future generations that will chance upon said journal!
But, there was one pretty cool thing that started last week that some of you might have caught on facebook (and by some of you, I mean all of you except for our little rebel Jessie who has stuck it to the man by somehow resisting the temptation of social-networking). I felt the baby move! It was so crazy! At first it felt like gas, and then it felt like my stomach was rumbling (like a massive, starvation rumble) and then I remembered 'hey, I'm pregnant...and that feels different' The moving has become more and more pronounced the past couple days, especially when the OB tech had me covered in jelly and was pushing and poking my tummy like crazy! I could feel the baby evading her jabs.
So...most of you have probably skimmed over the last two paragraphs looking for the big news, saying to yourself 'Taren.....what's your problem? You don't post for months, and now you ramble on and on instead of just getting to the point' So, as long as none of you promise to comment about it on my facebook wall (Jessie, you know I don't mean you) as we are waiting to tell Gabe's family until his Papa's 75th birthday party this weekend I can tell you that it's a BOY! The tech said she was 99.99999999% sure and pointed out his little wee-wee in all its black and white glory from several different angles. She made some comment about it's decent size which Gabe quickly picked up on and repeated to friends several times;)
I have to admit that my heart sunk just a little when she first said it, because I had visions of some really girly outfits and hairdos and frills and lip-gloss, and dress-up days and costume parties, and.......then it all faded when the tech said 'he' looked healthy according to every measurement, and Gabe squeezed my hand so hard and got tears in his eyes, and I realized we'll have a great big brother to watch out for all the girls I'm going to pop out next. The tech also said -no joke- that the baby had some big lips. Screw paternity tests! There's concrete confirmation that Gabe's the daddy!
So, in case I haven't already shared this with all of you, we already know the name. Now that we know he's a 'he' we're excited to welcome Rokstad Dean Davis (Ro, or Rocky for short) at the end of September.
Prepare for more frequent blogs as I'm sure the 2 pound weight gain will get a zero added to it shortly and I'll have some legit fat belly photos to post.
Love you all!
Thursday, April 29, 2010
Tuesday, April 6, 2010
Weak with emotional exhaustion
I'm feeling so weak right now. I feel like I'm breaking up with J all over again. Even though every note of reason strikes against the idea, I keep thinking 'what if we are meant to be together and I'll never find anyone to love as much as I love him?' I don't like the fact that love can't be enough. Can't it be?
Last weekend, as I've talked to a few of you about already, was, well, just crazy.
It started innocent enough. J came out to dinner with Katie, Richy and I which was great. We hung out with some of his friends afterward and proceeded to get drunk. Not off any scale of absolute drunkenness for myself, but intoxicated. Blah Blah Blah. Night proceeded to J and I falling into a time machine and all of the flirtatious capacity and emotional chemistry of when we were together came flooding into us. It was so wonderful. It was so comforting. I didn't even know how much I had missed it all until it was right there. Like I had found my missing piece and it snapped back into place with a wholesomely genuine, fulfilling satisfaction. It was careless.
I had a moment of hesitation and doubt. I questioned for a moment what in the hell were we doing. He got pissed off. Accused me of just fucking with his head. As I defended myself he told me that this was the first day since October that he hasn't been high and he's not thinking straight.
As the next early morning hours unfolded, J proceeded to tell me about his pill addiction. Mostly Oxycontin and dilaudid, but it sounds like he was taking whatever narcotic pills he could get. He said things spiraled downhill last October. He tried to quit once for a few weeks, but because the withdrawal wasn't as bad as he expected it to be he thought maybe he hadn't been in it as bad as he thought and started up again. He told me that its not difficult to keep it a secret because when he is high on these pills he can function normally in time, but that he has no real concept of what is going on. He is pretty much just completely apathetic about what's going on. He said its made him not miss me.
He couldn't really remember clearly the last couple of times we hung out. The times, in my head, I had determined were examples of our ability to be platonic friends. I realize now there was probably no chemistry as there always had been before because he was high, and he wasn't really there. He said he knows he's talked on the phone with me a couple of times when he was especially high. This make me feel so crushed. It adds sense to a couple of bizarre things he has said and didn't remember, which I had just chalked up to simple male stupidity and lack of attention.
I watched him go through withdrawals that night and throughout Saturday. Nothing dramatic, but he didn't sleep for almost 40 hrs and didn't seem a hint tired. His pupils were oddly dilated. Sweaty, clammy palms. No appetite, nausea. We just hung out and went for a long walk around town to the farmer's market. I didn't want him to be alone and I wanted him to know he had some support in getting sober. We talked about a lot of things including his plan to get clean.
I truly want to see him do well and be happy. And to discover that his life has just been slowly seeping into a sink hole over the past several months crushes me. I know I'm not responsible and I know I can't be his crutch and that he needs to get through this for himself. I've offered him my support.
I'm battling with that place we were just before my moment of hesitation. How wonderful all that was. Is there really no going back there? Really, without doubt, we love each other. His deciding to take pills and insistently get high is exactly the kind of poor judgment and decision making that I recognized in him long ago and why know I can't be with him because. Yet I love him. I miss him. I want him to be happy. I'm happy when I'm with him.
I am going to be supportive with him getting clean. But I feel like I can't really be a strong support if I'm confused about where my feelings are.
Last weekend, as I've talked to a few of you about already, was, well, just crazy.
It started innocent enough. J came out to dinner with Katie, Richy and I which was great. We hung out with some of his friends afterward and proceeded to get drunk. Not off any scale of absolute drunkenness for myself, but intoxicated. Blah Blah Blah. Night proceeded to J and I falling into a time machine and all of the flirtatious capacity and emotional chemistry of when we were together came flooding into us. It was so wonderful. It was so comforting. I didn't even know how much I had missed it all until it was right there. Like I had found my missing piece and it snapped back into place with a wholesomely genuine, fulfilling satisfaction. It was careless.
I had a moment of hesitation and doubt. I questioned for a moment what in the hell were we doing. He got pissed off. Accused me of just fucking with his head. As I defended myself he told me that this was the first day since October that he hasn't been high and he's not thinking straight.
As the next early morning hours unfolded, J proceeded to tell me about his pill addiction. Mostly Oxycontin and dilaudid, but it sounds like he was taking whatever narcotic pills he could get. He said things spiraled downhill last October. He tried to quit once for a few weeks, but because the withdrawal wasn't as bad as he expected it to be he thought maybe he hadn't been in it as bad as he thought and started up again. He told me that its not difficult to keep it a secret because when he is high on these pills he can function normally in time, but that he has no real concept of what is going on. He is pretty much just completely apathetic about what's going on. He said its made him not miss me.
He couldn't really remember clearly the last couple of times we hung out. The times, in my head, I had determined were examples of our ability to be platonic friends. I realize now there was probably no chemistry as there always had been before because he was high, and he wasn't really there. He said he knows he's talked on the phone with me a couple of times when he was especially high. This make me feel so crushed. It adds sense to a couple of bizarre things he has said and didn't remember, which I had just chalked up to simple male stupidity and lack of attention.
I watched him go through withdrawals that night and throughout Saturday. Nothing dramatic, but he didn't sleep for almost 40 hrs and didn't seem a hint tired. His pupils were oddly dilated. Sweaty, clammy palms. No appetite, nausea. We just hung out and went for a long walk around town to the farmer's market. I didn't want him to be alone and I wanted him to know he had some support in getting sober. We talked about a lot of things including his plan to get clean.
I truly want to see him do well and be happy. And to discover that his life has just been slowly seeping into a sink hole over the past several months crushes me. I know I'm not responsible and I know I can't be his crutch and that he needs to get through this for himself. I've offered him my support.
I'm battling with that place we were just before my moment of hesitation. How wonderful all that was. Is there really no going back there? Really, without doubt, we love each other. His deciding to take pills and insistently get high is exactly the kind of poor judgment and decision making that I recognized in him long ago and why know I can't be with him because. Yet I love him. I miss him. I want him to be happy. I'm happy when I'm with him.
I am going to be supportive with him getting clean. But I feel like I can't really be a strong support if I'm confused about where my feelings are.
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