Friday, November 16, 2012

Adler James

Adler James was born on Saturday, November 10, 2012 at 11:22am! Yipppeeee. And his birth story is NOTHING like Harper's. As a matter of fact, NOTHING about Adler is like Harper, except, maybe, well, his hair. He has red hair.

We found out we were pregnant with Adler at 15 weeks and 5 days. How can that be? You may ask. If you haven't already, you can read about the story HERE! Harper was conceived through fertility treatments after we were told that we would probably never be able to get pregnant on our own. Well, WE DID. After thousands of dollars trying to conceive Harper, a little less than two years later, we were pregnant ON OUR OWN.

My pregnancy with Adler was very different than the pregnancy with Harper. With Harper, I was sick. With Adler, I wasn't sick at all. With Harper, I was swollen everywhere. With Adler, I wasn't swollen at all. In fact, I was the unusual "You are ALL belly!" phenomenon. And I really REALLY was.

In the six weeks leading up to having Adler, I became extremely uncomfortable at night. It was impossible to sleep. My belly felt so heavy. SO HEAVY. My doctor didn't think anything of it until I went to my 36-week check up and it seemed Adler was growing a little faster than he should have been. You can read about this more HERE! Tests came back normal so on we went with the pregnancy.

At 38 weeks, New York City decided that it was going to throw us for a loop and give us a major weather disaster known as Hurricane Sandy. We prayed I wouldn't go into labor because, at this point, my doctor thought my due date was probably about a week to 10 days off. The bridges between Brooklyn and Manhattan were shut down and there was no way to get into the city to my hospital. Panic overwhelmed me and I sat on my couch for, literally, 4 days straight only getting up to use the bathroom (yes, I'm serious!). I didn't go into labor, thank God!

However, I did go into labor a day before my due date.

Originally, my doctor thought my due date was November 11th, and there I was in the early early morning of November 10th, very similar to how I went into labor with Harper. I woke up about 4:30am (just like I did with Harper!) having to pee, got back into bed, and the contractions were there. I thought I could maybe doze off for a little while but at 5am, I decided that it was maybe time to get in the shower - oh, and I mentioned to my husband that we should call our nanny to get to our apartment because it was gonna be time to go soon.

I got in the shower about 5:30am. I took a long long shower - because it was giving me relief - and probably stayed in a little too long because a little after 6am, I couldn't get out of the shower by myself. MAYDAY MAYDAY - it's time to call backup! At about 6:15am, we had to wake up our neighbor to come take care of Harper, because, well, there was NO WAY we could wait for our nanny to get to our apartment. The contractions were about 3 minutes apart and we had to get to the Upper West Side from downtown Brooklyn - and we needed to get there FAST!!

And this is where panic set in. Before I knew it, it was about 6:45am, and the cab sped off in front of our apartment as fast as he could. On our way to St. Lukes Roosevelt Hospital on 50-something and 10th Avenue - or is it 11th Avenue - Is there an 11th Avenue? SHIT! Is the hospital on 60-something? And as we were going over the Brooklyn Bridge, I looked over at Charlie and said "We aren't going to make it." I was having the urge to push and then panic REALLY set in "There isn't going to be time for an epidural! Oh God, I'm not ready to have this baby without an epidural!! I'm not prepared! I AM NOT PREPARED!!" At this point, I kept telling Charlie "I am scared. I am scared. Sorry Sorry SORRY! I am scared!" Contractions were about 2 minutes apart. And they were so strong that the minute I had time to breathe, didn't give me much relief!

I somehow got out of the cab in front of the hospital and didn't wait for Charlie to pay the driver. I walked in to the hospital front doors sweating and breathing and trying to contain myself (which wasn't working). People in the waiting room to my right were looking at me like I was going to lay down and have the baby right there in front of them. When the contraction passed, I took a deep breath, went through to the elevators with people clapping behind me. I think I even took a moment to fist pump to gain more support from the spectators. Once we were in the elevator, all hell broke loose. I then REALLY started to think there was no way I was getting an epidural.

Triage. I was in triage with Harper for about 3 hours before I went into labor and delivery. They had time to make me pee in a cup. They had time to set up an IV and monitors and all that stuff. Not this time. I was in there for about 15 minutes. Just enough to get an IV in my arm and check my cervix. I couldn't even get undressed myself. No, really. I couldn't. They put me in a room in triage instead of one of the curtained spaces that most people are put in. As soon as I saw the nurse, I yelled out something like.... "Call anesthesiology NOWWWWWWW!!!!" My labor and delivery nurses met me in triage and this is when I started asking (more like yelling at) them "Tell me the truth, BITCHES! Am I going to get an epidural or not?" (Except I didn't call them bitches. Ok. Maybeeeee I did.)

At one point, I looked up at Charlie and HE was crying. GREAT! Uhhh. I need support here. I'm about to birth a baby without an epidural! I think I asked my nurses about 10 times if I was going to be seeing an anesthesiologist. This was when one of my nurses said "If you don't calm down, they aren't going to give you one. We need to work on breathing." And just like that.... They started to help me with breathing techniques. This went on for what felt like hours. HOURS!!! And I kept looking at Charlie saying... "I'm not getting an epidural. I AM UNPREPARED!! I can't do this without one!" Breathing. Breathing. Looking out the window at clouds. Breathing. Breathing. Looking at Charlie and trying to focus but seeing everything blurry. Breathing Breathing. "WHERE THE FUCK IS THE ANESTHESIOLOGIST?" Ok, I'm going to throw up. I'm really going to throw up. "Why are they asking me questions? NO MORE QUESTIONS!"

Anesthesiology is here! 8cm dilated. Oh, Lord. I'm gonna get an epidural. I'm GONNA. GET. AN. EPIDURAL!


And here is where I started telling my anesthesiologist that I was literally cursing him but, now, I love him. And I love my nurses. And I love my husband. And I'm so sorry for being a bitch. And now, I was READY TO DO THIS!!

Before I knew it, it was time to start pushing. One push and they could see his head. about two more pushes and the head was out. Now, wait a minute. At this point, Harper was OUT. Totally OUT. Why is this taking more pushes. My obstetrician tells me to stop pushing. WHAT? Oh, God. Is something wrong? More pushes. More pushes. Baby not coming out. But I remain calm. I definitely was NOT calm when I was pushing with Harper (oh, by the way, I pushed with Harper for 3 HOURS!). About 15 minutes of pushing and he was out! The sensation I felt when he was finally out was something I will never be able to explain. In two seconds, I felt like I could breathe again. I felt my stomach literally shrink back to almost-prepregnancy size. WHAT IS THAT FEELING? I didn't have this with Harper! I look down and I'm like... "Wait, what? That does NOT look like a newborn!" My obstetrician says, "This is DEFINITELY NOT an 8 pound baby!" Baby to scale and what does that say? 10 pounds 6 ounces? WHAT? I just pushed a baby out in 15 minutes? A baby that weighs over 10 pounds?? I'm too small to have a 10 1/2 pound baby!!

But I did. And he's here. And the first week has been amazing. He sleeps at night - 6 hours stretches already! Unheard of. He is such a calm newborn baby. When he was in the womb, I told everyone that he wasn't going to be anything like Harper. Harper is my entire world - she is my mini-me. Adler is the other part of my world - he is a mini-Charlie. And I wouldn't have it any other way.

Sunday, October 28, 2012


My husband and I celebrated our 10-year "meet-a-versary" last week. I can't believe it has been 10 years since we met each other in a bar. It seems like yesterday I met him with his tapered high-water gray corduroy pants and massive sideburns.

We had mutual friends who were dating who thought we'd be a good fit for each other. I played games for about a month - said I'd go to meet him, but wouldn't show up. On the 22nd of October, 2002, I decided I would go out and maybe he'd be there, or maybe he wouldn't. He was, and it was an instant connection, to say the least. He talked about his family, especially his nieces who were then the ages of 4 and 6, and he went on and on about how much fun he had with them and how he wanted children just like them. He talked about how his parents were still married and how he was really close with both of them. And he talked about how he had just applied to Pratt School of Design in New York City.

He called me a few days after we met and that was it. We were inseparable. About four months after dating, I knew I would marry him. I actually know the exact moment I knew. We were in a jazz bar in Norfolk, he looked over at me to give me a look and my ears seriously started ringing. I knew, at that very moment, HE was IT, and 6 months after that, I followed him to New York City after he got accepted into Pratt.

So I know that a lot of stories start out this way. Boy meets girl - they fall in love. Some of those couples get married. Some do not. Some have kids. Some do not. Some fall in love, get married and fall out of love before having kids. Some fall in love, get married, have kids and fall out of love after they have kids. That's just the way it goes, right? It's life.

Aside from talking about my amazing husband and my gorgeous child, the discussion of relationships is my most favorite thing to talk about. I think about how two people meet, whether it is a romantic relationship or a friendship, and I wonder how their relationship keeps going, and how some just fizzle out.

Two weekends ago, my husband and I had promised our little toddler that we would go get icees at this place called Uncle Louis G's in Park Slope, Brooklyn. She LOVES icees. So we made a special trip just for her - swore we'd get her a flavor the color of white like pina colada or coconut so her clothing wouldn't get ruined (yep! I'm one of THOSE moms!). Instead, they were out of those flavors, and she wanted tropical rainbow which, yes, consisted of cherry! She enjoyed every bite and while we walked back to the car both, my husband and I, on either side holding her hand, counting "1, 2, 3" and lifting her up (also one of her favorite things to do), we noticed a couple fighting on the sidewalk. In broad daylight. With two little boys standing next to them on scooters. The husband was obviously extremely angry at his wife and the argument escalated to him yelling in her face (seriously close enough for her to smell his breath) and he stormed off leaving her and her two little boys on the sidewalk. The boys in complete hysterics and the wife calm, as if this obviously wasn't the first time this has happened.

And I got in the car and cried.

In ten years, my husband has NEVER yelled at me. EVER. Listen, don't get me wrong, he's not perfect. No one is perfect. He gets annoyed with me. He actually got annoyed with me just a few days ago after I asked him to bring some stuff down to the basement to put in our storage unit because I was sick of looking at it. He told me I was being crazy (which, shit, I am crazy because I'm 39 weeks pregnant! duh!) and he told me I needed to calm myself (which made me even more crazy). But five minutes later, he walked me to the door, he kissed me goodbye and he told me to have a wonderful day, just as he does every single morning.

And I'm grateful for the marriage I have. I don't take him for granted. When my husband hurts my feelings, he knows it. And when other people in life hurt my feelings, they know it. That's me, and that's how I've always been. And this is the reason I think I have such long lasting friendships in my life.

Relationships are complicated....

(to be continued)

Tuesday, October 16, 2012

36 weeks.... 38 weeks.... Who really cares at this point!?!


I think we may have found out why I'm so so sooooo tired.

Little man is huge. He is currently measuring what Harper weighed at birth and I'm supposed to be a little over 36 weeks. So what does this mean, you may ask? It means either 1) my due date is wrong; 2) little man is just growing rapidly; or 3) I have the (very) late onset of gestational diabetes. I, myself, haven't gained any weight in about two months, but little man is already over 7 pounds. You heard that right, people.... 7 pounds with 4 weeks to go!

Late last week my doctor thought I should be tested (again!) for gestational diabetes. I was already tested back in my second trimester (most women are) and I was fine. So why was I tested again so late in my pregnancy? I'm not so sure. My doctor said it is because they want to know what we are dealing with, and that he doesn't want the baby to get over 8 pounds. A fetus, at this stage, gains about half a pound to a pound a week. So if I have four weeks to go, and he's already 7 1/2 pounds, and this baby goes to 40 weeks.... well, YOU DO THE MATH. You know how they say a woman's body can handle a large baby? Not so much if a woman is 115 pounds pre-pregnancy and your baby is, say, 12 pounds at birth. This makes for a very dangerous situation. And by the way he is growing, we may very well have a 12 pound baby if they let me go to 40 weeks. And that, my friends, ain't going to happen, if you know what I'm sayin'.

Looks like baby is going to be an October baby after all! Maybe before the zodiac change... because, let's face it, people... I'd much rather have a Libra boy than a Scorpio boy (no offense).

Friday, September 21, 2012



32 weeks and 5 days!! Or wait, is it 35 weeks?

Comparing my picture from last week to this week, it doesn't look like I've gotten much bigger but I must have because I definitely had a presence on the train this week. It's like a domino effect. One person looks, another person looks, and then half the train is looking at me. I sat down on the bus and/or train every single day (roundtrip) this week. Although, I still have to go home from work today, I'm pretty sure I'll also be sitting so I'm giving this week a 100%! BIG change from last week's 50/50!

I was stopped many many times on the street this week, hearing things like.... "Girl! You look amazing pregnant!" and "Your belly is perfectly round and you're REALLY small!" Let's hear it for the little boys in their mommy's bellies! Maybe it is really true what I always heard: "When you're pregnant with a girl, they take all the beauty out of you. When you're pregnant with a boy, they make you look better!" SERIOUSLY?!?

In other news: At Monday's routine check-up, our baby boy was measuring about 2-weeks bigger than originally thought. This is not only possible, but extremely likely. DANG! So while I thought I was looking REAL good at almost 33 weeks, I think I look even better if I really am 35 weeks! Yeah!!

So Friday afternoons and the thought of the weekend always brings the best of intentions. I always have these ideas about what we are going to do with Harper over the weekend. Next week is apple/pumpkin picking! Sounds good, right? Our favorite season in New York is here! Bring on Autumn!

Wednesday, September 19, 2012

Post Labor with Harper

I was literally unable to sit on the floor with Harper for the first 8 months of her life. I totally don't mean for this to be a sob story about the post-labor of my first child. It just was not a good time, and unfortunately, we didn't have any help from anyone. I will not get into the REAL details of my post labor with Harper as I'm SURE most of you don't want to hear it (and I'd like to keep some of my privacy intact! ha!). Let's just say that I didn't fully heal from having Harper for a very VERY long time. And I did not have a c-section. I was in a lot of pain - probably more pain than I even lead anyone on to believe I was in. It hurt to pee. It hurt to take showers. It hurt to wear jeans. If you think about how bad those things hurt, you can imagine that NOTHING else was going on down there (if you get what I'm saying). I was going to the doctor more often post-labor than I had to go pre-labor. THAT was how I spent my maternity leave with my first child. It got to the point that it hurt for so long that I totally forgot how it felt to feel normal down there. And, if you think about it, THAT is enough to make anyone depressed - even the happiest of people.

I took off work for 5 months after having Harper. When I finally went back to work after the 5 months, I had to go to my (amazing) boss and tell him that I needed to take off again for short term disability because, well, it had to do with childbirth. Yes, I had to have surgery. And yes, it was like I had another baby but without another baby. And if you must know, everything is perfect now - but it was a long long road to get there.

There are three doctors in the practice we go to. They each alternate who is on-call for labor and deliveries, so a patient is encouraged to build a relationship with each of the doctors during their pregnancy. I have my regular doctor who I see for my annual exams, and who I saw the most after I had Harper. One of the other doctors was the one who delivered Harper. And the third doctor was the one who performed my who-who repair six months after I had Harper. So yes, I REALLY truly have a solid relationship with each of the doctors in the practice. When everyone was telling me how I needed to change my obgyn when he didn't realize I was pregnant at 13 weeks - THIS is the reason why I didn't switch.

The doctor who performed my repair is no longer with the practice, and a new doctor (whom we like very much) has taken her place. We met her for the first time a couple of days ago when I had my routine pre-labor check up. Even though she wasn't around two years ago, she knew of the situation I went through with Harper. Either she read it in my chart, or the other doctors had briefed her on the situation, but we discussed (AGAIN) about what this birth plan is going to be. I'm scared. The entire practice knows I'm scared. The entire practice knows what I went through before and they KNOW the fear I have that what happened before may or may not happen again. So we are taking precautions. I've been asked if I want to do an elective c-section (which I'm a good candidate for) but I've decided that I will try to have this baby just the way I had Harper.

So since we really have NO IDEA when this baby was conceived, my obgyn has been guesstimating when the due date will be by seeing how much the baby measures through sonograms and ultrasounds. Different parts of him have been measuring smaller or bigger and, up until a few days ago, we thought I was about 32 weeks. At my 28-week appointment, his head was measuring 28 weeks, but his legs were measuring at 30. This time, at my 32 week appointment, his entire body was measuring at about 34 weeks and some days. They estimate he is about 5 pounds now which sent me into a bit of panic thinking how big he could possibly get in the next month. Inducing me is a good possibility, which I don't want to do, but I also don't want a 10 pound baby. The doctor even briefly mentioned that she doesn't think my body can handle a baby much bigger than what Harper was (7 pounds and 13 ounces). I am confident in my doctors that they are going to do the right thing for me to make sure what happened before doesn't happen again.

My husband and I were talking this morning about the baby just as we do every single day. And I told him that I wasn't afraid of the labor as much as I'm afraid of the healing afterwards. But as I said in my previous post: everything about this pregnancy is much easier than it was with my first pregnancy... so that, alone, has me thinking positively. (Please pray for me!)

Monday, September 17, 2012

How You Feelin'?

It's a question I get every single day. How are you feelin'? And the answer is, "Really really good!". It's the absolute truth. At 32 weeks, I feel good. Almost too good. I did some thinking about this exact subject this past weekend, and I think I realized that I probably don't feel any better than the majority of pregnant women at this stage - I just honestly think that my first pregnancy was THE MOST difficult pregnancy EVER and my mind thinks that I should be feeling the same way I did a little more than two years ago when I was pregnant with my first child.

I've just come to realize (or maybe I realized it a while ago) that the two words "pregnancy" and "Harper" do not mix. It took a pretty long time to get pregnant with Harper, and as I've touched upon in previous posts, she was ultimately conceived through fertility treatments. After a few failed fertility treatment attempts, we were finally pregnant, and we were pregnant with twins! After about 8 weeks, Harper decided that she was going to dominate my uterus (ha!) and we lost the other baby. Obviously, it's not Harper's fault - either it was a bad egg or a bad sperm - but little baby B "just wasn't meant to be" as our reproductive endocrinologist put it. And yes, we lost the baby AFTER we heard a strong heartbeat at 6 weeks. It happens, and we are so grateful (!!!) that Harper stuck it out in there for the 39 weeks and 6 days that she did.

But, oh mannnn were those 39 weeks and 6 days (and beyond!!) rough.

I was so sick when I was pregnant with Harper. So so sick. I was constantly nauseated and I puked (a lot!) in my first trimester. The smell of unpleasant things (which was everything) sent me dry heaving to the toilet. I felt horrible and I was hungry, but when I ate, I puked. You know how they call it morning sickness? Well, I had middle-of-the-night sickness. So while my husband was sleeping, I was in the bathroom throwing up with only my orange tabby cat consoling me. I know my husband would have gotten up with me, but what could he have done for me? Nothing! But seriously, how evil is it that I couldn't even sleep without being woken up by nausea? I was throwing up well into my second trimester. And I think I even puked once in my third trimester. Dry heaving happened pretty much throughout the pregnancy.

On top of the puking in my first trimester, I was mean. I was really really mean. I was so mean to my husband. My poor husband. I was mean to my co-workers. I was mean to strangers and friends and family. I still blame it on the hormones because not only did I have the normal pregnancy hormones in full effect, but I was also put on extra hormones from fertility treatments to "keep the baby". And let me tell you, EXTRA estrogen for an already pregnant woman isn't good. I felt like a crazy woman. I'm not one to usually get angry very easily, but I was mad at the world and it sucked!

Then once I hit my second trimester, I started to get swollen. I remember it so well, and I will remember it for the rest of my life. Let me just map out some dates for you so you can get an understanding. I got pregnant the end of November. We had a major snow storm in February, and I couldn't zip up my snow boots. And since we live in New York City, we still had some snow on the ground in March. There was one day when I had to use rubberbands (I'm totally serious!) to be able to commute in my snow boots to work. And it was only March! Our baby wasn't due until AUGUST!!! I kept thinking to myself, "This can't be happening! I'm going to be pregnant in my third trimester during the hottest time of the year! How are my legs and feet going to survive?" Well, at the end of it all, they did... but not without pain and not without MANY MANY shoeless days in my office. (I've promised to post a picture of what my feet looked like in my last months of pregnancy, and I will stick to my word! Just not now.)

Harper did not stop moving while she was inside of me. I felt her for the first time at about 13 weeks, and that was the start of it all. She punched, she kicked, she pushed. And I knew, I absolutely knew, we were in for it when she was finally here. And she did not disappoint (and still hasn't!).

I was in labor for 25 hours, which I know, some women go much longer than that. But I was in active labor for about eight. I pushed for three. Yes, people, I PUSHED FOR THREE HOURS! I will always remember that I got the epidural when the sun was going down and she was born at 5:26am just when the sun was coming up! She was here! And things were going to be better, right? RIGHT???

Not so much.

Of course, we were happy she was here with us. But, well, something just wasn't right with me. Physically, I mean. And well, it wasn't until about 5-weeks post labor that I realized it (and after my best friend said).... "What do you mean, you're STILL IN PAIN???" But that's a post for another time......

I heard it a lot during my first pregnancy: "Every pregnancy is different!!" And, in my case, those words, when comparing my two pregnancies, couldn't be any more than the truth! This little boy inside of me now has been, and probably will be, a piece of cake. It's been, so far, the EASIEST pregnancy. Of course, there was the whole "missing the first trimester thing" that you can read about more HERE. But all in all, other than being exhausted, I haven't puked or even felt nauseated. My feet, even at 32 weeks, aren't really swollen. My skin looks great (it didn't look too good when I was pregnant before). And instead of being mean, I've been emotional. Look, my husband will be the first to admit that crying is MUCH better than being a bitch! And while this baby boy moves a lot, he is NOTHING like Harper was while she was in there.

We can not wait until he is born and we can see what kind of baby he is going to be and what or who he is going to look like. We have so many questions that will not be answered until he is here with us in about 8 weeks. So until then, I'm going to keep enjoying this pregnancy and I'm going to keep telling people how wonderful I feel, because, well, I really really do!

Friday, September 14, 2012



It's Friday and I'm feeling very black and white today! Kinda like a cookie. You know, those 50/50 black and white cookies you get at bagel bakeries all over New York City? Yeah, something like that.

So Monday and Thursday, someone offered me their seat during my morning commute. Tuesday and Wednesday, I stood. Today was the day to see if whether or not I'd sit 60% of the time this week, or if I'd stand 60%. I'm starting not to count the bus in my commute because, now, someone is always offering me a seat. I took the unpleasant B54 bus to Jay Street to catch the F train this morning. I stepped on the bus and a white woman about my age looked right at me, smiled, and then kept on sitting. As I've said in previous posts, there are 7 stops on the F train to get to 14th Street. When more people started to board the train at the subsequent stops, I was forced to change which pole I held on to. It was then, at the 3rd stop, that someone offered their seat to me. So would you believe it? I sat 50% of the time and stood the other 50% of the time this week.

Some people have been asking me why I don't touch upon my afternoon commute home. The reason I don't talk about the commute home is because I ALWAYS sit down. The reason for that is because I'm the luckiest woman in the world to have the most amazing boss EVER (trust me on this one, people) and he allows me to leave work at 2:30pm each day (to spend time with my first baby). The trains are just not crowded at 2:30 in the afternoon. This is good for me, because, well, my feet are starting to swell a little bit later in the day.

I've promised myself that I will NOT complain about the swollen feet because I have less than 2 months to go with this pregnancy and the way my feet look with this pregnancy (at 32 weeks) at the end of the day is how my feet looked in the morning when I was 20 weeks. This is a whole 'nother post all together (but you can read a little about it HERE!). Just WAIT until you see a picture of what my feet looked like at this stage when I was pregnant before!

Have a great weekend! Oh, and I'm totally going to be getting a black and white cookie this weekend!

Wednesday, September 12, 2012

31 Weeks (and some days)!


This is what I looked like on Monday during my commute. Cute, right? I'm still managing to fit into some non-maternity clothing, although I'm probably ruining some of my dresses and shirts by wearing them! On Monday, I took a different route to work. I took the route I take home each day. I never take this route in the morning because of all the hipsters I tend to encounter who definitely aren't going to let me sit down. But Monday morning I decided to try it. I walked six blocks to the G train and transfered to the L train at Metropolitan/Lorimer Street. A lot more walking than my usual morning route, but I felt I could do it because it was cooler and not as humid outside. Well, can you believe it. Those hipsters actually let me sit on not one, but TWO trains Monday morning. So I decided Monday morning that for the rest of my pregnancy, I'm going to stop talking shit about the hipsters I see at the Brooklyn Flea each weekend.... or the ones I encounter on the L train going to Williamsburg.

Yesterday, I took the usual morning route. B54 bus (which I NEVER take when I'm not pregnant) to the F train at Jay Street. I don't usually take the 54 bus because it comes from north Brooklyn (aka: bad neighborhood!) and people aren't usually very nice and accommodating to pregnant women or women with children. (Please read previous post from first pregnancy HERE!) I did sit on the bus, but only because there was an open seat, not because someone offered it to me, which is fine. But once I boarded that F Train at Jay Street, I didn't sit for the entire commute. It wasn't until I was at West 4th Street that someone offered me a seat, but only because someone got up to get off at the stop. My stop is 14th Street, so there was no point in sitting down.

Today, I decided to try the route I did on Monday. I sat on the G train because there were empty seats, but I did not sit on the L train. I've decided today that I will NOT be taking this route in the morning anymore. The train was so unbelievably crowded that I hesitated to get on. I had to ride the L train with my hand up in front of my belly just in case someone lost their balance and fell 6 inches into me.

I got off the train at Union Square and I decided to reward myself with a blueberry muffin from Whole Foods. It's the least I can do, right?

Tuesday, September 04, 2012

30.25 Weeks!


Well, hello there. This is me - 30 weeks and 2 days pregnant! And guess what? I stood on the train this morning for my entire 20 minute commute on the F Train from Jay Street in Brooklyn to 14th Street in Manhattan. Between those two stations are 7 stops. Seven stops where people moved and shifted and briefly looked up to see what was going on around them.

One thing I learned today is no one says SHIT to a (very) pregnant woman hugging a pole. You know, the pole that about 8 people hold on to so they don't lose their balance while the train is moving back and forth through tunnels. The people standing look around at the people sitting totally confused, like, "And whyyyy is this woman standing?"

Yeah, I'd love to know also!

Thursday, August 09, 2012

26.5 Weeks!


I will be in my third trimester on Sunday so please don't tell me how huge I look. Ok, whatever... I know I look good. Haha. So please don't tell me how great I look either. What I'd rather you do is comment on how someone who looks like this - almost 7 months pregnant - stood on a New York City subway train THREE days this week while commuting to work. It's currently Thursday, so you may be thinking "ok, so you sat ONE of those days - standing 75% of the time isn't bad!" But I was actually out of commission on Monday with back pain so I didn't even go to work! So yes, each day I've gone to work this week has consisted of me STANDING on the train the entire commute. My train ride is about 25 minutes. I get on the F train at Jay Street in Brooklyn and I get off that same train at 14th Street in Manhattan.

Are you telling me that not ONE person sitting in a seat saw my almost-seven-months-pregnant belly standing clutching a pole?

Would LOVE LOVE LOVE if you could share this. Post on your facebook, twitter, blogs.... maybe it will reach SOMEONE in New York City to make people more aware.

p.s. Please excuse the bathroom shot I swore I would NEVERRRRR take and post on any website or social media outlet. Hey, at least I tried to pretty it up by instagramming it! xo.

Wednesday, August 08, 2012

Back Pain and Pregnant

It is a very well kept secret that I, almost 7 months pregnant, is not usually offered a seat on a bus or train. Yep! You heard that right! More than 50% of the time, I stand on my entire 45 minute commute to work each morning. Crazy, right?

I went through this with my first pregnancy and I used to honestly think that most people were oblivious to what was going on around them and they did not realize there was a pregnant belly standing right in front of them while they checked their emails on their phones, or read their magazines or books, or listened to music with their eyes closed, or whatever else they decided to do while riding public transportation. Now, I think people are malicious. They look right at me and they DO. NOT. CARE. about giving up their seat.

I don't exactly feel the same love for this city that I did before I got pregnant (the first time) almost three years ago. I do not like being pregnant - not because of vanity or anything else you may think - but because most people in New York City are not nice to me when I'm pregnant! I don't know what it is. Sometimes I think people look at me and think "Even though this girl is VERY pregnant, she is in much better shape than I am so I'm going to keep on sitting!" And it's true - I am in pretty good shape for being almost 7-months pregnant. But, dang, people! I can't even get a sip of water from my water bottle while standing because I'm afraid I'm going to lose my balance! It's 90 degrees outside and I have sweat beads on my forehead and I'm STILL standing!

I hurt my back over the weekend trying to lift a box of clothing. Yeah, I know, stupid! I know that now. I actually couldn't go to work on Monday not because I have a job that's strenuous (I'm usually sitting at a desk all day!) - but because I didn't know what my commute to work and back would be like. If I could have been sure to get a seat on the bus and train, I would have been able to work! But most of the time, when I sit on the bus or train, it's because someone is getting off at the next stop - NOT because they are offering a seat to a pregnant woman. It's crazy to me.

So far, during this pregnancy, I look pretty much normal except for the huge belly. My legs and my arms look pretty much normal - but my belly is bigger than it was at this stage the first time. We'll see over the next three months if people start letting me sit....


Monday, July 23, 2012

Excited and Angry Goes Together.

I've had to step back the past two months and really let this all sink in. I mean, it's only right. Right? Most women find out they are pregnant at 4 weeks and then they start to tell people at 12 weeks. My husband and I decided we'd do it the same way. We waited eight weeks to make any announcements. Obviously, our families and closest friends knew right away. And, well, since I was showing pretty much the same time we found out, people I see on a daily basis know that I'm pregnant.

So that rash I discussed in my previous post (HERE), was caused by a high elevation of pregnancy hormones, NOT a virus. That blood work and urine sample they took the day I walked my blotchy self to my internist's office would have shown I was about 5 weeks pregnant IF THEY WOULD HAVE TESTED ME FOR PREGNANCY!

Oh, and that obgyn appointment I had? It was my annual exam, and yes, I had a pelvic exam. I told my obgyn that I was having major stomach problems. I told him I hadn't had my period since February. I told him I was seeing a gastroenterologist. That urine sample taken at my obgyn's office - it wasn't tested for pregnancy. I was 13 weeks pregnant when I saw him for my annual exam. Yes, I was in my second trimester!

I have to be honest and say we are angry. Angry at doctors. We are absolutely THRILLED we are pregnant, but we have lost a lot of faith in the medical profession. I want to be completely clear that we saw FOUR different doctors during the first 16 weeks of my pregnancy. I saw my internist twice, two different gastroenterologists, and I saw my obgyn. In those five different doctors visits, blood was drawn three times and urine was taken twice. Not ONE of those doctors thought they should test me for pregnancy. So what was supposed to be a joyous and fun time ended up a time filled of uncertainty and, well, I WAS FUCKING SCARED! Not happy, but scared! And that, my friends, just isn't right.

After finding out I was pregnant on that Tuesday evening back at the end of May (with a cheap home pregnancy test!), I realized in that crazy moment of chaos that I had an appointment scheduled for Thursday with the second gastroenterologist to discuss results from the pending catscan I should have taken that afternoon or early the next morning. Of course, we didn't end up getting the catscan at a hospital. We got an ultrasound at my obgyn's office instead. I called the gastroenterologist who ordered the catscan to tell him, and I quote, "I don't need a gastroenterologist. I need an obstetrician because, well, I AM PREGNANT!"

His response to me was a little less to be desired. He immediately told me I needed a new obgyn, and that he was disgusted at the fact that I saw my obstetrician for an annual exam at 13 weeks pregnant and that my obstetrician didn't realize I had a second trimester fetus in my uterus. He then told me that since I was calling to tell him good news that he could tell me EXACTLY what he thought was going on just one day prior. He told me that he thought I had cancer. He told me that he was worried that I had a tumor growing in my abdomen the size of a small apple. He told me he was angry. And all I could say was.... "I HEAR YOU!! Believe me, I HEAR YOU!" I told him I was embarrassed about the whole situation and I felt like I didn't know my body as well as I should have. And his response was EXACTLY what I needed to hear. He said, "Rebecca, the ONLY person who should be embarrassed is your obstetrician."

So with all this being said, we are a little angry. I'm angry every time I tell the story. I'm angry that I lost 16 weeks of my pregnancy going to doctors and having tests run that were ALL unnecessary. All I needed to do was pee in a cup and have one of those little paper pregnancy tests inserted. The fact that I told these doctors I hadn't had a period since February, but I didn't think I was pregnant because my first child was conceived through intrauterine insemination, was not a good enough reason to not test me for pregnancy!

Now that I've told the entire story.... it's really time to start moving forward.

16 weeks to go til we meet our little boy!! Wonder if he'll be a redhead?

Wednesday, June 06, 2012


It was exactly two weeks ago that we found we are pregnant! And we found out yesterday that we are having a BOY! I know, I know.... you're probably wondering "How can THAT be? Don't you have to wait MONTHS before finding out what the sex of your baby is?" Well, yes, in most circumstances, that is the case. In this specific circumstance, not so much.

And the story begins. And it's a very long story, so maybe you should take a seat.

Back at the beginning of March, I was on my way home and I was feeling extremely warm. It was chilly outside, but I literally felt like my blood was boiling inside. When I got home from work, and went to get undressed, I was covered head-to-toe in huge blotchy hives. They were everywhere. They were on the bottoms of my feet, on the palms of my hands, my torso, my arms, down my legs and all over my back - EVERYWHERE. I did what most people would do. First, I panicked. Second, I called my husband to come home. Third, I walked my blotchy self to the drugstore to buy some Benedryl, thinking I was obviously having an allergic reaction to something. When the Benedryl didn't help, I thought I was dying. The next morning when the rash was worse, I called my Internist. My doctor dismissed the rash as a virus, took some blood work and sent me on my way. He told me I'd be better in a few days. He was right. I felt sick for about five days and the rash was completely gone in seven. Whew.

About a week later, I had the worst stomach ache I've ever had in my life. I wasn't nauseated, I just had a horrible burning in my stomach. Similar to the burning I was feeling when I broke out in the rash. I immediately thought the rash had something to do with it and I called my Internist to come back in. My doctor dismissed my symptoms, told me it most likely had nothing to do with the rash, and then told me to make an appointment to see a gastroenterologist. (Time check: This was about the end of March.)

Two weeks later, I was in to see a gastroenterologist. Some tests were taken, but the doctor coughed my "condition" up to a woman who needed to exercise more (I'm 115 pounds and 5'4), drink more water (ok, so I could do that!), take in more fiber, and eat healthier (again, I'm 115 pounds and 5'4). He then prescribed me some laxatives and sent me on my way. (Time check: Mid-April.)

I didn't take the laxatives because I honestly didn't think I needed them. But I did do everything else he asked me to. I began eating even healthier than I ever have before (I must add that my husband and I never really eat processed/frozen foods. I make everything fresh. Fresh vegetables, fresh fruit, fresh fish, fresh chicken, whole grain pastas and rice is our nutrition!). I started taking Pilates again.

A few weeks passed and my pants were getting tight. Like, tight tight. OUT OF NO WHERE. And my stomach, well, my stomach wasn't feeling any better with the change of diet. It wasn't until I went to put on a pair of shorts I wore at the beginning of April while I was on vacation visiting my best friend in Florida, that I honestly really really thought something was wrong. They didn't fit. It's the beginning of May and I went to Florida FOUR weeks ago and wore the same shorts just fine, and now, they aren't even close to being buttoned.

In the middle of all of this, I had an annual exam with my obgyn. I told him that I was having stomach problems. I laughed about how my size 2 frame was slowly creeping to a size 4 while I was reaching my mid-thirties. I joked about it. Because, honestly, a size 4 at 32 years old (after having a baby!) isn't too bad, right? I was laughing on the outside but not too happy on the inside because I was really starting to think something was wrong. It was consuming my entire life.

So I was depressed for a couple of weeks. Cried to my mom a few times. Cried to my husband, like, every night. My body was looking the EXACT same, but I had a belly. i didn't understand WHY I was so bloated when I was eating so healthy! I know anyone reading this is like.... "Are you an idiot?" But let me make a brief statement before anyone starts to judge. My husband and I were told a little over three years ago that we would NOT be able to get pregnant on our own. Our little girl was conceived through fertility treatments. I injected myself with hormones every day for months to get pregnant with her. I do NOT get my period on my own. Our little Harper will be two years old in August and I've gotten my period THREE TIMES since she's been with us. And if that couldn't be any worse, my husband ALSO had fertility problems.

In the middle of May, my mom and my husband convinced me to get a second opinion at another gastroenterologist. I found this doctor through New York Magazine's BEST Doctor's in New York City article published every year. I chose the BEST doctor to go to for my "condition". I explained my situation over the telephone to a nurse and they got me in pretty fast. A week later, I was in to see a new doctor.

I explained my symptoms to him. I told him everything. Told him about the rash, the stomach aches, seeing my internist (TWICE!!!), a gastroenterologist and what he told me to do. I told him I saw my obgyn for an annual exam. This gastroenterologist was the FIRST doctor in months to ask if I may be pregnant. I told him no and explained to him why I didn't think I was. He examined me and when he pressed on my abdomen, I thought I was going to shoot through the ceiling. It was so much pain. SO MUCH PAIN. He left the examination room for a few minutes, came back in and asked me for the second time if my internist had taken blood work and if I'd gotten results back. They had taken blood work and I told him everything came back fine. He then said, and I remember it perfectly: "I want you to get dressed and sit with my nurse. She is going to call the hospital to make an appointment for you to get a catscan of your abdomen. If they have an appointment for you now, I would suggest you go now. If not today, then tomorrow. It has to be no later than tomorrow. I want to see you again at the end of the week."

At this point, I remain calm. I leave the office in a bit of a daze and as I'm on the train, I'm thinking to myself. I have cancer. I have a husband and a great job and a cute baby, and I'm probably going to die.

The next day, I go to the hospital for the catscan. When they call me back, they begin to ask me sets and sets of questions. One of which is "Are you allergic to iodine?" I tell the doctor that I don't believe I am, but that my dad is severely allergic. They tell me I have to premedicate for 24-hours before testing to eliminate any chance of a severe allergic reaction. At this point, I'm totally a mess. I just want the tests done. I leave the hospital with a prescription for prednisone that I have to begin taking immediately, and I need to come back to the hospital in the morning to begin tests.

I get on the train, completely a wreck. Get home and walk to the same drugstore I bought Benedryl in just 11 weeks earlier. When the pharmacist is ringing me up for payment, she looks right at me and says, "You aren't pregnant, are you? If you are pregnant, you CAN NOT take this medication. This medication is harmful to a fetus." I tell her that I'm not pregnant. I pay for the medication and as I'm walking out of the drugstore, I decide to get a pregnancy test just for the hell of it. I buy the cheapest Walgreens brand pregnancy test. I didn't even buy a two-pack! I bought ONE! I get home and ask Harper to come in the bathroom with me while I pee on the stick. The stick that I know is going to be NEGATIVE... but wait wait..... there is a PLUS. YES, THERE IS A PLUS! WHAT? WHAT? WHATTTTT????

At this point, I think I'm reading the test incorrectly. There is NO WAY. NOOOOOO WAY. I'm looking at the box and I'm looking at the instructions. WHY DIDN'T I BUY A TWO PACK?! This can't be right. There is NO WAY!

I call my husband at work. I'm panicked, to put it mildly. I'm having a total nervous breakdown. I'm thinking of all I've done over the past three months. OH MY GOD, could I REALLY be THAT pregnant? NO. NO WAY. I've drank. I've smoked. I've eaten sushi. I've eaten deli meat. Oh God, I've done Pilates! I've drank Metamucil! I haven't taken prenatal vitamins!!!!! So I'm full blown breakdown. I hang up with my husband and call my mom. Now, I'm REALLY having a nervous breakdown. I won't even repeat what I said because I was in absolute shock and probably said things that I REALLY REALLY DID NOT MEAN TO SAY.

Once I calmed down, I called my obgyn as an "emergency" call. Fast forward to the next morning when I'm in his office with the vag wand up my cooch like I had done MANY MANY times before while I was going through fertility treatments. My obgyn mentions that the baby is probably too small for a regular ultrasound. At this point, we have NOOO idea how far along I am. The internal sonogram shows a baby in my uterus! I see an entire body. Head, abdomen, legs, arms and a heartbeat, the little heartbeat. My doctor says, "You're NOT in your first trimester!" We begin to do a regular ultrasound, and it shows: "This baby is 15 weeks and 4 days. Welcome to your second trimester.... almost 4 weeks ago! You are, definitely, PREGNANT!"

We had our first sonogram yesterday. Today marks 17 weeks and 4 days pregnant with our second child. A BOY! We are shocked and thrilled and excited. Needless to say, we are angry at doctors (more to write about with that). We are happy this pregnancy was NOTHING like it was when I was pregnant with Harper. I wasn't sick at all. I mean, obviously, I had some stomach issues. I went to see a gastroenterologist!! But I haven't been nauseated and no puking! And on top of all of that, I look GREAT. I mean, I REALLY LOOK GREAT. I ate so healthy during my first trimester that I only gained 5 pounds in 16 weeks. With Harper, I'd already gained 15 at this stage. I was exercising and drinking a shitload of water (so my skin looks amazing!), and well, gotta say it again, I LOOK REALLY GOOD.

So since my pregnancy is almost half over (!!!!! - yes, that needs 5 exclamations!), it's time to start thinking about our fourth floor walk up to our 900 square foot, 2 bedroom apartment. More on that later.

But WE ARE PREGNANT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! ON OUR OWN!!! NO more fertility treatments ever again in my life. We are thrilled that we got pregnant the way it was supposed to happen, even if it was unexpected. Unexpected is my life. I'd have it NO OTHER WAY.

Wednesday, March 28, 2012



While I was at the playground with Harper last month, I ran into a mom with her baby whom I'd only seen once before. She explained to me that she was having a birthday party for her little girl and she would like my email address so that she could send us an invitation. I thought it was a very sweet gesture, but I can't lie when I say I also found it strange that she had only met me ONCE and was inviting us to her daughter's first birthday party. I gave her my email address and there the invitation was in my email box a few hours later.

It's a couple of weeks later and I honestly totally forgot about the invitation (which is probably pretty shitty, but oh well!) and our nanny mentioned (and laughed!!) to me that she saw the mom at the playground and she asked if we were going to her daughter's birthday party. Charlie and I discuss the situation and realize that Harper has dance class on Saturday mornings - and while we would have skipped dance if it was actually a "friend" - we decide that we would skip the party and go to Harper's dance class instead. Coincidentally, the next day, I see the mom in the 'hood and she asks me if we're coming. I'm horrible with telling people "no", so I tell her that I need to look at the calendar and get back to her (knowing all along we aren't going).

Within hours, I have an email from her asking me again if we are coming to the party. I write her back just as quickly and explain that Harper has a dance class on Saturday mornings, and while we appreciate the invite, we will be unable to attend. Wait for it.... wait for it....

She writes me back and asks, "Isn't there another day where she can do a makeup class?"

Come again?

At first, I was baffled by this mother's nerve, but then thought that she was so sweet to REALLY just want my AMAZING daughter at her daughter's birthday party. I told her that we would try to work something out, but that we would most likely not be able to attend.

A week later I get another email asking if we had worked something out because she would REALLY love for Harper to be there!

Ok, now it's getting psycho.

The next day, I get an email from one of my REAL mommy friends in the 'hood saying that she was going to a 1-year old birthday party the following weekend to celebrate a child she had NEVER met before. Oh really? SAME PARTY? I think... SO! For a split second, I think that maybe this woman REALLY is just trying to be nice and I am just being a total bitch. So we decide to go. I know, I know.... I AM CRAZY.

A day before the party and I break out in a SERIOUS (I'm talking head to toe, on bottoms of my feet, on palms of my hands, lips swollen, face swollen, 2nd-degree-burn-looking) RASH. Totally another post.... but we obviously CAN NOT GO to this party. I write an email explaining that I'm really sick and we are unable to attend. I was honestly waiting for an email saying... "Well, your husband can come alone with Harper." But THAT email never came.

The email that DID come, a week later, was an email saying she would like to meet up for a gift "exchange". She explained that she had a "goodie bag" for Harper.

Wait, what? Oh yes, you heard it correctly! She even went as far as to ask me if I had a doorman to "exchange" and that she would even meet up with our nanny for the "exchange". It wasn't even about "getting the girls together" for a play-date kinda thing.

So what I'm sitting here wondering at this very moment is:
1) Is this woman for real?
2) Is she THAT oblivious?

These questions are questions I will never find the answers to because I am not responding. The gift I really did buy for her child will be sent back to for a prompt refund! Now, we're $20 richer with one less friend who is a whacko mom. Since, you know, I already have enough of those.
DATE: 05.04.11 TIME: 11:20 AM


So a couple of weeks ago, I was faced with a decision that no mommy wants to have to face. I had to decide on whether or not to take my 8 month old baby to the pediatrician for a cough or if I should take my beloved 6 year old cat to the vet for his inability to urinate. I know that most people would say “Uh. HELLO? You have a baby and she takes priority over the damn cat!” But when faced with this decision, I took my cat to the vet.

Thank God I did. My sweet kitty had bladder stones, which if they caused a full obstruction, he could have died. I know I did the right thing, but days and now, even weeks later, I feel guilty about this decision.

The bond our kitty has with Harper is just amazing. They honestly and truly love each other. When he was sick and unable to walk, all I kept thinking was “He is going to die and all she will have are pictures taken with him during her first 8 months of life.” The thought of that made me so emotional and still does!

Harper went to the doctor the following day and she was diagnosed with a viral infection which totally cleared up a few days later. My kitty, on the other hand, is still battling his bladder stones and may battle the reoccurrence of these stones for the rest of his life.

Do I feel guilty? YES. But I know, without a doubt, that I made the right decision. And knowing we will have him around for another 10+ years makes me happy.
DATE: 08.05.10 TIME: 15:58 PM


I’m going to talk about something I never in my life thought I would EVER talk about. Yes, people…. my thighs are rubbing together so badly that I have chafed skin! It’s my upper thighs, but STILL! There is extremely irritated skin in a place I’ve never had irritated skin before.

A few months ago when I realized my legs were starting to rub together, I calmly told my mom that, well, my legs were rubbing together! She thought this was the funniest thing ever and started laughing hysterically. And not one of those laughs like…. “Awww. My babbbyyyyy!” It was more like…. “Bwaaahahahahhahaah!” One of those roaring laughs, as if to almost say “Sucks for you! Now you know how 95% of the population feels!”

I’ve been using baby powder between the legs each day but it only gets me so far (like not even out of my apartment!). But man, yesterday my thighs were REALLY sore! Instead of getting out a mirror and checking out the damage, I asked Charlie to check it out for me. And he confirmed what I already knew…. “Yep! Your upper thighs are chafed!” To which I replied…. “This shit is embarrassing!” I got the same “Bwaaahahahahahah!” laugh that my mom gave me months ago and the laugh was only followed by the comment, “Are you kidding me? You talk openly about your hemorrhoids and you’re worried about your thighs chafing?”

So while I’m admitting all of this… I have to add that I actually wore my husband’s underwear to work yesterday to stop the legs from rubbing together. Good thing all this weight has allowed me to be my husband’s size! Ahhhhhhh!
DATE: 07.30.10 TIME: 10:10 AM

Through the last 38 weeks, it’s something that comes to mind everyday and is talked about between Charlie and I at least 3-4 times a week. Why did we get so lucky? Why did we get pregnant with fertility treatments so quickly while so many women dealing with years of infertility are still not pregnant. What did we do to deserve this?

Even before we started trying to get pregnant in October 2008, I knew we would have problems. My mom had problems getting pregnant, and with that came a wonderful older brother who was adopted as a newborn before I came along. I was always really small and very active - a dancer and a cheerleader - and doctors would tell me and my mom that I would eventually get my period when I gained a bit of weight. They weren’t even concerned that I was almost 16 years old with still NO PERIOD. Even after getting my period, it never came when it was supposed to - and at 20 years old, after countless stained clothing - I was sick of not knowing when I was going to get it on a regular schedule! My doctor’s solution to this was not taking tests to see what the hell was wrong, but to put me on birth control to regulate my system.

So after nine years of straight birth control, Charlie and I decided it was time to get off the pill and try to get pregnant. Only getting off the pill didn’t bring excitement - it immediately brought worry - because after that last period on birth control, I went 82 days without bleeding. And the irregularity continued for 6 months just as it did when I was a teenager. I was only getting my period when put on hormones to induce it and obviously NOTHING was happening other than meeting new doctors hoping someone would say “Oh wait. Something is wrong.” But no, what I got instead were doctors telling me I needed to wait a year (even though I wasn’t even getting my period AT ALL). I even had a doctor tell me that I wasn’t getting pregnant because she thought I had an eating disorder. Yes, really.

After nine months of only 4 periods (2 of them induced with hormones, all cycles lasting more than 45 days, 2 cycles twice that length), I decided to take matters into my own hands and I scheduled an appointment with the best Reproductive Endocrinologist (RE) in the city of New York.

This week marks one year that we met Dr. T and his staff at the Sher Institute in New York City. We walked in to his office praying and hoping that he would be the doctor to tell us that something is obviously wrong - that birth control wasn’t the cause of this - that he was going to “fix” everything - and that he was going to get me pregnant. And the first day I met him, that’s exactly what he did. He even got added bonus points for asking us “What took you so long to come see me?”

I’m sure that many REs tell their patients these very same things. After a few tests to find out exactly what was the cause of us not getting pregnant (my horomone levels were of a woman aged 35-37, not a woman of 29) and to add even more insult to injury, my husband also had infertility problems on his end. We thought we were doomed. But our RE kept reassuring us that the treatments were going to work! And we believed him every step of the way. Of course there were moments of doubt and extremely sad days where we thought, “What if this doesn’t work?” and “What if we aren’t able to have a biological child?” But in the grand scheme of things, we tried our hardest to remain positive even after two failed cycles of treatments.

Our third treatment worked and here we are. But we are always going to be one of those few couples who understands and knows what it’s like to not be able to get pregnant on your own – that some things in life just don’t work out exactly the way you thought they would. But we also know that we are the few fortunate couples who didn’t suffer for years through treatments, and for that, we are entirely grateful – but it still doesn’t stop us from feeling for those couples who have been going through treatments for years and who still aren’t pregnant. We couldn’t be more excited that we are going to have a baby any day now and we wish for our infertile friends that they will soon be able to have this experience.
DATE: 07.21.10 TIME: 10:56 AM


I’m no stranger to attracting unsolicited attention to myself. I remember being a teenager walking through the mall with my mom and she would ask me if I realized people look at me A LOT. Not just look, but stare, and stare while turning their heads. I never realized it because I guess it’s always been a part of my life. I was blessed as being part of 2% of the population born as a redhead. As I got older, I started to be approached on the streets or in malls (by men and women) to just be told that I look interesting. Obviously, I got the “Damnnnnnn girl! You are FINE!” outbursts from random men. But I’ve also got times where men have come up to me to say, “I had to just stop and tell you that you are gorgeous. Have a great day.” And it’s always been flattering, to say the least. I never really dated a lot of guys growing up - I was always a bit shy and modest about my body and the way I look.

Being pregnant is a different ball game, and the players are pretty much all men! I always knew that pregnant women attracted a lot of attention, but I never knew to what extent. And let me tell you, I’m not sure if it’s just the openness of New Yorkers or just that fact that I already stand out because of the red hair - but men are EXTREMELY interested in talking to me about my pregnancy. Much, much, MUCHHHHHHH more than women. They ask me when I’m due, what I’m having, how I’m feeling, if I’m tired, if we’ve picked out a name…. the questions go on and on. And they ALL end their questions by saying, “You just look GREAT!!!”

The first open comment made by a man was when I was just entering my second trimester at about 14 weeks. I was just starting to show, and a black man about my age walked past me in Union Square while he sang the lyrics to Salt n’ Peppa’s “Push It”…. it went a little like this….. “Ohhh baby-baby. Bababaabbbyyy. Ohhh baby-baby. Bababaabbbyyy.” Men have made comments in passing me on the street “Looking GOOD, mommy!” I even had a man make a comment in an Office Depot last week telling me it was “too early to be shopping for back-to-school supplies.” I’ve even had a group of teenage boys pass me while one said, “Look. She’s havin’ a baaaabbbyyyyyy”, and the others in response to his comment said, “Awwwwwww.”

Why is it that men are more interested in a pregnant woman than a woman is? It’s quite an interesting question that I’m not sure anyone will ever be able to answer. For now, I’ll just marvel in the attention for the next 3 weeks.
DATE: 07.16.10 TIME: 10:41 AM


Swollen feet are nothing new to me. I grew up watching my mom and my grandma struggle with their swollen feet. My feet even got swollen every once in a while during the summer towards the end of the day. But NOTHING prepared me for what my feet would look like pregnant, in the summer, in 90 degree weather. My feet are SERIOUSLY twice the size they usually are. I’m not exaggerating.

And they hurt!

You can no longer see bones in my feet (even in the morning). My best friend is telling me to wear flip flops. Haha!!! Um, yeah. That would be GREAT if flip flops actually fit my feet. They don’t. I have the other best friend swearing by Birkenstocks because that’s all that worked for her. I have to be thankful for Birkenstocks and the fact that I owned four pairs of them before I was pregnant from when I was trying to be a hippie 10 years ago. I never got rid of them because, as ugly as they are, they were always so comfortable. Now, they are a necessity.

So let me just explain my feet to you a bit so you can understand how bad this swelling really is. My Birks are the narrow ones. Birkenstocks sells regular and narrow. I have a narrow, skinny foot so I own four pairs of narrow, size 39, Birkenstocks. When I wore them before pregnancy, they were tightened to the very last hole. As a matter of fact, I even think I have a pair they punched a hole in to make them tighter! Over the past few months they have gone from the last hole to the very first hole. They are the BIGGEST they can go and when I take them off, you can still see indentations in my feet from them being too tight. It’s the craziest thing ever.

I don’t exactly let it bother me, because, really, what can I do about this? NOTHING. The only few things that bother me is the fact that 1) I will not wear short dresses; 2) it’s hard to walk; and 3) I can’t wear anything but Birkenstocks! I enjoy sending picture messages to my closest friends with captions like “just when you thought it couldn’t get any worse!” and “they might as well be deformed at this point!” Whether or not they think it’s funny I will never know because they usually don’t respond. I think they are in absolute shock that their friend who has always had really pretty feet (look, I can say that because I know it’s true! I have great looking feet when I’m not pregnant!) now has feet that no longer really look like feet!

My best friend who swore by Birkenstocks is now assuring me that my feet are going to be back to normal about 3-5 days after I have the baby. So I have about 30 days left of this! Not too bad, right?
DATE: 06.27.10 TIME: 09:40 AM

As I’ve said in many previous posts, I walked to my train station before I was pregnant. Once in a while, I took the bus…. but it wasn’t too often. Most recently, the extra weight on my frame plus the heat/humidity has basically forced me to ride the bus. The bus station where I wait is right across the street from our apartment and I see many of the same people each morning waiting for the bus while I say hello and move right past them to walk to the train station. Over the past 8 months, I’ve actually had a couple of women comment to me “So, I see you’re slowing down a bit!”

At about 30 weeks, the time came to wait for the bus every morning which I absolutely hate because 1) it proves that I’m now immobile when I swore I’d be walking until we’d be calling a car to take us to the hospital to deliver our baby; 2) the bus is so crowded in the morning that it takes about three minutes for people to get on and off at each stop (which is why it usually takes LESS time to walk than ride the bus!); and 3) the bus I ride is NOT coming from a good neighborhood.

So here I see the bus making it’s way down the street while it’s about to come to a halt at our bus station. Everyone at my station who are waiting tell me to go on the bus first. First, the bus driver does not lower the bus so I can my way easily up the first step. Then when I get on the bus, I have the pleasure to encounter three teenage girls who are sitting in the “disabled” seats right at the front of the bus. The disabled seats are for those handicapped and otherwise “immobile” passengers who can’t squeeze through the 30 people standing in the middle portion of the bus (because there are NEVER any seats available). As soon as I got on the bus, one of the teenage girls took one look at me and waved her finger while yelling “BACK OF THE BUS! YES, YOU, BACK OF THE BUS!” She couldn’t be but 17 or 18 years old. And look, I have NO PROBLEM making my way to the back of the bus, while squeezing through people, when I don’t have a huge ass belly poking out in front of me. There was NO physical way I could go anywhere but right where I was, and there were about 15 people at my bus stop waiting to get on the bus after me. So I stood there for a quick second before someone in another “disabled” seat offered me theirs.

And it totally doesn’t stop there.

As I made my way over to one of the six seats, the same girl who yelling at me to move to the back of the bus, started yelling….. “Would everyone look at this! Look at this 15 year old girl expecting someone to get up for her when she is pregnant! She can’t be but 15 YEARS OLD!” As I sat down, I looked over to this girl, took a deep breath, and said…. “I am NOT 15 years old. I am almost 31 years old, bitch, so have some respect!” And yes, I totally called this girl a bitch for everyone to hear me - it just came out without even thinking about it. I think she was a bit stunned because she didn’t say ONE SINGLE word after that and her friends, under their breath, where like….”dammnnnnnn!” Of course, she had to get the last word while getting off at her stop where she muttered under her breath “BITCH” to me.

And I was fine. Completely fine. Until I got off the bus and called my mom. As soon as I heard my mom’s voice, the tears and hysterics came. If I can recall correctly, I was trying to say something along the lines of…. “I want to walk but I can’t. I just want to be able to walk again!” Not sure if my mom was even able to understand what I was saying because I was crying so hard.

So as a bonus to this story (I know it’s getting long. I’m wondering if you’re still with me at this point!), I was actually on my way to my obstetrician for my routine checkup. I cried all the way to the doctor’s office while I was on the train. People around me were probably thinking to themselves that my “boyfriend” broke up with me because, you know, I totally look like I’m 15 years old and wayyyy too young to actually have a husband and money and a mortgage and cats (yes, I HAD to throw the cats in there). I somehow was able to control myself as I walked into the doctor’s office, but the tears started again when Charlie walked in to meet me. And they started again when my nurse came to get us out of the waiting room.

Obviously, most of you reading this are my closest friends and family, and know that I might quite possibly be the happiest and most social person in the world, so as soon as my nurse saw me, she was like….”Whoa!” She couldn’t even take my blood pressure because I was such a mess. My doctor came in who I have to add is seriously the best doctor! He’s young (39 years old), gay and Jewish! What more could a young, liberal, Jewish pregnant woman ask for, right? He takes one look at me and quickly asks what is wrong. Sobbing, I get out the words, “bus,” “teenage girls,” “seat,” and his first words were “Ghetto Ass Bitches!”. And that was it, I started busting out laughing while snot was pouring out of my nose, as he added “FUCK ‘EM!”

I tell him the whole story, while he shares with us his stories about the discrimination he has experienced on his commutes, which is just UNREAL considering we live in New York City, one of the most liberal cities in the world! I told him that I would have been like, “I’m a DOCTOR, bitches! What do YOU have to say for yourself!” But it’s not too surprising since every city has their own ignorant, disgusting people who have no feelings for other people surrounding them, people who are different from them.

Whether it’s discrimination against a religion, race, sexual orientation, or in my case PREGNANCY, people in this country need to be more compassionate to those around them. I think we’d benefit from this simple gesture and we’d all be a lot happier in our lives if we didn’t harbor so much hatred for others.
DATE: 06.17.10 TIME: 15:38 PM


And not HOT in the way you are thinking. Although, my husband would say I’m the hottest pregnant woman ever. I’m talking about the hot that causes beads of sweat to form on your face and between your boobs.

The past few weeks have been extremely difficult. Let me map my past few weeks out for you to give you the gist of what has been going on.

1. A woman I work with is always cold. It can be 90 degrees outside and she is in a little sweater in our office. People come in to our office and the first thing they say is….. “Aren’t you hot?” To which I reply….. “Look at my belly. What do YOU think?” It has been a constant struggle to control the temperature in our office. If it gets about 73 degrees, the woman I work with turns off the AC. There have been times where I have found myself screaming out…. “If you turn it off, I think I may die.” So what happened then is whenever I left to use the bathroom (which is often when you are 30 weeks pregnant!), she would turn off the AC and I wouldn’t realize it until it was 78 degrees. *Breakdown #1. (To be continued in future post. And it will be good, I promise you!)

2. My husband and I realized that we could not go this summer without an AC in our bedroom. We have a large unit in our living room on the opposite side of the apartment, but we decided that this summer was the summer to get a unit that will cool us (ME!) in our sleep. At about the same time we decided this, we also decided to buy a 46 inch flat screen television at Best Buy (completely besides the point, but whatever), so we decided to buy the TV and the small AC unit together so they would delivered together. Let me explain that it was Memorial Day weekend and possibly the hottest day we had so far this year. So my love decided to spend the extra money to have the items delivered THAT night (I think he just wanted the TV immediately, but again, WHATEV!). The AC arrives and I’m dancing around the apartment thinking of how comfortable I am going to be sleeping when I hear my husband call out from our bedroom….”Ummm. Baby? Uhhh… the unit is dented. It has to go back.” *Breakdown #2.

3. We decided to take a birthing class to get us (ME!) ready for labor. I didn’t want to do it, but my love said “the more we know, the better off we are!” In other words, “the more I know, the better off I am, but the more YOU know, the more scared you will be!” Hmmmm. We arrive at our “intensive” birthing class - 12 hours of class spread between 2 days. We walk in the room to find out that the AC is…… wait for it…… wait for it….. BROKEN. So yes, I sat in a fucking dungeon of a room, 30 weeks pregnant, 2 days in a row, for 6 hours, with 7 other pregnant women and their husbands, with a broken AC when it was 90 degrees outside. *Breakdown #3.

4. Last weekend, we went home for my baby shower to be held in Virginia Beach which is where both me and my husband are originally from. We go to hail a cab in 85 degree weather to get to the airport right before the skies are about to open. I even said…. “Wow! It’s going to pour! We better get a cab fast!” We get a cab, get in and just as I predicted, it starts to rain. And I’m not talking DOWNPOUR rain, I’m talking WINDBLOWING rain. Like, I’m talking the rain that comes more into your car than outside on the street. Ok… ROLL UP the windows! Then all of a sudden it started to get VERY hot in the car. My husband says to the driver…. “Can you put on the AC?” To which Mr. Cabbie replies….”ahww sarry sur. AC en cab broken.” *Breakdown #4

5. We board the flight to Virginia Beach. We are both very excited to be going home. It was the first trip we were making to VB since the holidays when no one but our families and my best friend knew I was pregnant. We walk up the stairs to our puddle jumper that seats 50 people and as we settle into our seats, I look at my husband and say…. “It’s hot.” He tries to calm me by saying “Once the plane gets going, it will get cool.” Does it? NO. NO IT DOES NOT. So as we are in the air on our 52 minute flight, at about 30 minutes I start to get a little panicked. You know that panicked feeling you get when you feel your skin is about to bubble? That panicked feeling where you feel your blood is literally boiling inside of you? Yah, that was me. And before I knew it, I was dry heaving. My husband (God bless him) had my ipod out of my ears, the puke bag open and in front of me all while grabbing the emergency instructions to use as a fan. Once the flight attendant noticed what was going on, it was smooth sailing from there. She ran and grabbed me a paper towel obviously soaked in melted ice because it was freezing cold. *Breakdown #5.

And yes, this all happened within two weeks of each other. I will not even mention the un-air conditioned subway cars and buses. I won’t even tell you how I hung out with my brother the first day we were in VB when it was 92 degrees outside and he had no air conditioner in his car. HA! Let me just tell you that it’s been HOT. And it’s only June. And I have 8 more weeks to go! Please have mercy on my 8-months-pregnant soul!

*Yes, crying was absolutely involved in all breakdowns.
DATE: 06.03.10 TIME: 15:39 PM


As many couples do when purchasing their first home, Charlie and I sat down and went through the pros and cons of the specific apartment we wanted to buy. The pros listed were the neighborhood, the space, the mid-sized building that already had many children for our little one to be friends with, and many many more pros that I could go on and on about. Among the cons was the walk to the train (we would probably need to take the bus) and the four flights of stairs we would have to walk up (no elevator building) to get to our apartment - and those were about the ONLY cons for the apartment.

Since we moved into our apartment two years ago, we’ve had quite a bit of visitors. Family and our closest friends have come to catch a glimpse of our fabulous apartment in Fort Greene, Brooklyn - the one we purchased in hopes to start our family. And every day I hear the same question from these people: “How you doing with all those steps!”

I never in my life would have believed how hard it would be to walk up four flights of stairs when i’m 7 1/2 months pregnant. The amount of stairs is exactly 50 (yes, I’ve counted) but that’s not including the steps I have to climb from the subway platform to the street (63! And yes, I’ve counted those too). So, each day I have to climb 113 stairs to get from my train to the couch in my apartment. Which, I must add, used to not even take the breath out of me!

But it’s a whole different ball game now. At the end of the day, my feet are so swollen that you can’t see my ankles! But one good thing has come of them! I’m pretty sure those 113 steps have contributed to the fact that I still DO NOT have any cellulite on my booty! For real - so BE JEALOUS!
DATE: 05.21.10 TIME: 14:32 PM


This week has been quite debilitating, to say the least. I woke up Monday feeling a little under the weather. I thought I was just exhausted from having a visitor over the weekend, but I really felt as though I was coming down with something. I made it through the day on Monday - fell asleep on the couch at about 8:30pm. You would have thought I woke up Tuesday feeling great, right? WRONG. I woke up dizzy. I could have SWORN that I all of a sudden had two black and white cats (if you don’t already know, I have a black and white tuxedo cat and I have a big fat orange tabby cat). I went to work thinking I’d be fine and that I just got out of bed a little fast. Made it through another day at work. Well, early Wednesday morning rolled around and I woke up and the room was spinning. I closed my eyes and it was worse. I had to pee (just as I always have to in the middle of the night) and I had to wake up Charlie to help me get to the bathroom. I crawled back in bed and a few hours later was begging Charlie to write the email to my office to tell them I was not coming in.

I spent the entire day on the couch unable to focus on anything. I thought rest would help, and as the day went on, it did! Until Thursday morning rolled around and I thought I could conquer the world all over again. I did my regular morning routine just fine, but as soon as I made my way down my four flights of stairs and walked outside, I was unable to look both ways before crossing the street. THIS is when I got scared and felt something was wrong.

Good thing I had a regular check up with my obgyn. They took my blood pressure and everything was completely fine. Measured the baby - also completely fine. So the next thing to do was to send me to an internist. My obgyn didn’t think it was pregnancy related (Thank GOD!) and that I was just harboring some kind of virus.

Internist thought the same thing and sent me to an Ear Nose Throat specialist who figured out that I have a middle ear infection. An infection that actually has NOTHING to do with the pregnancy and will NOT harm the baby until I get so dizzy that I fall. The doctors I saw were completely shocked that I even made my way into the city (by subway!) that morning. They basically told me I was out of my mind. I even had my internist tell me that if I wasn’t pregnant, it would be FINE if I fell in the street (not even kidding. He REALLY said this) but that since I was pregnant, I was putting my baby in danger.

GREAT… I’m already a horrible mom! Charlie had to come get me at the doctor’s office. They wouldn’t even release me until he got there to walk me home.

I woke up this morning with a runny/sneezy nose and watery eyes. What a mess this week has been. I’m so happy it’s weekend. All I’ll be doing is laying on the couch with my kitties and trying to convince the baby in my belly that I didn’t mean to cause her any harm.
DATE: 05.18.10 TIME: 12:59 PM


I was not one of those people to write a mass email telling everyone I work with that I was pregnant. As a matter of fact, i waited until about week 14 to tell anyone in my department and the only other way people knew in other departments was because they actually SAW me. I didn’t even tell some of my closest friends within my organization. I don’t know, I still just felt a little weird (and worried) and honestly, I didn’t want to boast about the fact that I was having a baby! (You never know what other people are going through with their own fertility. Remember that!) With that being said, I am almost 7 months pregnant and there are MANY people who still have NO idea I am pregnant, let alone VERY pregnant.

So while taking a walk around the work-neighborhood yesterday, I ran into someone I hadn’t seen in quite some time. Someone I used to see on the regular but he had transfered to a department I don’t regularly work with. As I saw him on the street, he exclaimed (as MANY people have been doing lately), “I HAD NOOOOO IDEA YOU WERE PREGNANT!” Then the inevitable question came (just as it always does): “When are you due?”. I always cringe at this question because I know (must be repeated: I KNOW) the next thing out of this person’s mouth is going to be…. “WHAT? BUT YOU ARE SOOOO SMALL!”

Other than my previous post of a friend telling me I’m the size of someone 9 months, I have not once heard that I’m big. In fact, I’ve been getting an extremely opposite reaction. Almost to the point where it’s starting to give me a complex, SERIOUSLY. I honestly believe that telling a pregnant woman….. ”OH MY GOD, You are SOOOO SMALL!” is just as bad as telling a pregnant woman….. ”OH MY GOD, you are HUGE!”

This all goes back to the simple fact that all you have to do is tell a pregnant woman…. “YOU LOOK GREAT!” and leave it at that! Trust me on this one.
DATE: 05.14.10 TIME: 14:31 PM


A couple of years ago, my best friend was pregnant with a little girl while my husband and I were just beginning to try to start our family. She was pregnant right around the same time I am now (baby was born in June, while I’m due in August) and I was lucky enough to see her quite a bit throughout her pregnancy because she was pregnant during the holidays, and I went home to Virginia Beach for her baby shower. I have to look back at that time and seriously apologize for the way I may have made comments to my bestest friend about her clothing and shoe choices. I remember specifically asking her why the hell she was wearing a wrap sweater, to which she replied “It’s comfortable! Shut the fuck up!” And I explained to her that she needs to be wearing some form fitting stuff because by wearing a bulky wrap sweater, she was making herself look bigger than she really was! Which ok, might have been TRUE, but I was being totally insensitive.

So yesterday, I had dinner with one of my dearest, closest friends. Someone I’ve known almost just as long as I’ve lived in New York City. This someone is a person who would NEVER hurt my feelings on purpose and I know her comments are all in good fun… but I gotta talk about it!

Coincidentally, my friend knows someone (a co-worker) who is also pregnant. When I first met my friend for dinner last night, I began to ask her about the woman she works with because I knew she was just about due. She confirmed to me that “yes, she is due on May 22nd (which is in ONE week).” I was like, “Wow! She must be super uncomfortable! Is she still working? Is she huge?” My friend calmly replies, “She is about the same size as you.”

NOW, hooooooolddddd uppppp! Um. I’m 27 weeks pregnant!! What do you mean SHE LOOKS THE SAME SIZE AS ME? I should in NO WAY be looking like someone who is about to pop out a baby at any time. Whew. I let it go. Breathe. Breathe. I mean, what am I supposed to say?

It gets better……. After we ate our dinner. I was trying to talk myself into not getting an ice cream sundae. I mean, when someone tells you (27 weeks pregnant) that you look like someone who is wayyyy more pregnant (39 weeks pregnant) than you are, do you REALLY want to eat a fucking ice cream sundae? I think not!

Before we left the restaurant, I had to get up and pee because I have to pee even when I don’t have to pee (a topic to be discussed in a future post). Look, it was the end of the day, my legs were swollen and honestly, it was a bit hard to walk! I came back to the table when my friend explained to me that she needed to go downtown in a couple of weeks because she wanted to purchase something at a store in Soho. I told her to wait for me - that I’d go with her! Which she replies to me…. “Oh yeah, right. I can see you waddling around Soho. Suuuuureeeee!” A little shocked, I asked…. “Are you serious? I AM NOT WADDLING! Am I really waddling?” She started laughing and said…. “Maybe a little?”


So let me tell you. There are many many things I’ve learned in these past 6 months, but what I’ve learned the most is that when you see a pregnant woman, you need to tell them how beautiful they look and how ALL the weight is in their belly. It does not matter if their face is twice the size as it was BEFORE they were pregnant or their ass has become a shelf! It doesn’t matter! Because chances are, no matter how hard it was for a woman to get pregnant and no matter how bad she wanted it…. she will always feel a little insecure about the extra weight she has been putting on to support the growth of this being inside of her.

And with that being said…. No, no, no I do NOT want that ice cream sundae. Give me a piece of fruit, please. And actually, maybe I’ll skip that piece of fruit too. I could certainly hold off on that extra 100 calories in that banana!
DATE: 05.13.10 TIME: 15:02 PM


I honestly do not know ONE pregnant woman who thinks it’s ok for some stranger to walk up to them and touch their pregnant belly. So please tell me WHY so many strangers feel this is ok? Do I walk up to you and touch YOUR belly? NO. So why are you going up to pregnant women touching theirs?

I’ve been pretty lucky so far not to encounter this to an extreme. For the first five months, the only person touching my belly was my husband and my RE nurse (and she is allowed because she helped to produce this little growing being inside of me!). The first person other than these two people to touch my belly without asking was my closest friend in NYC. I was about 20 weeks pregnant, and it was a little shocking at first. I actually blurted out….”WOW! you are the FIRST person other than Charlie to touch my belly!” She was like….”Oooopppsie! Is that ok?” To which I replied, “Yeah! You’re one of my closest friends!”

A couple of days later, a woman who works for the same organization I do, but does not work in my department, saw me in the elevator and her hand immediately gravitated towards my belly. Not good. NOT. GOOD. AT. ALL. It took me everything I had to not brush her hand away. I was extremely uncomfortable and what was worse is that WE WERE IN AN ELEVATOR!!! I couldn’t back up. I couldn’t move forward. This woman had her hand resting on my belly for a little too long. But what the hell was I supposed to say? It wasn’t like she was a complete stranger. I couldn’t be shitty. I work with her!

A few days ago, I had dinner with a friend I hadn’t seen in a few months. It was the first time she’d seen me since we found out we were pregnant. She actually asked to touch my belly - which I thought was sweet considering I would have been fine if she just went for it.

But, really, people. Watch the hand. Just because you see some pretty pregnant woman, it does not give you the right to touch her when she may not want to be touched. Just ask. It’s common courtesy! It’s almost too bad the baby can’t stick her hand out of my belly button. THAT will give you a shock now, wouldn’t it?
DATE: 05.11.10 TIME: 17:46 PM


Last summer, as I was starting fertility treatments, someone who doesn’t work in my office (but who works in a different department), seemed to think that I had a baby-bump going on. She came by to drop off some documents, and I was sitting at my desk minding my own business - wearing a form fitting white tee shirt and some white and red striped cigarette leg (skinny leg) pants, when all of a sudden I heard her ask out loud, “Is that a BABY BUMP I see?” She was obviously talking to me since there was no one else in the room. Shocked and unable to speak all I could mutter were the words….”Uhhhh. Huh? What?” She quickly apologized and explained that it must have been the way I was sitting.

Now let me explain the fact that before I was pregnant, I was a size 2. Now, ok…. size 2 with pretty decent sized tah-tahs (32D if you need to know), but yes, a SIZE 2!!!!

I quickly walked into my colleague’s office, in complete and utter shock and asked…. “DO I LOOK PREGNANT???” To which she busted out laughing and asked me if I was crazy. I replied back, “NO. I’m not crazy. But * is!” My colleague tried to calm me by explaining the fact that “in NO WAY do you look like you have a baby bump”… and that "you take pilates 3 times a week (for crying out loud!)”. But I swear that ever since that day, every time I see this woman, I think to myself… "the nerve!”

Now, what’s even more funny is the fact that now I’m 26 weeks pregnant, this woman still comes in our office about 2/3 times a week and she has YET to mention the fact that I have a baby bump going on. A DEFINITE baby bump! Does she really think that MAYBE I have been having a little too much fun drinking beer the last six months, or what?
DATE: 05.10.10 TIME: 15:50 PM


Once in a while, I’ll hear over the loud speaker on the subway train “If you see a handicapped, disabled or pregnant person enter the train, be courteous and offer them your seat.” Sometimes I think that the train conductor can see me getting on and they have this feeling that no one is going to offer me a seat to sit in on my commute to or from work.

Now, listen. I usually REALLY DO usually sit on the train. But today was a no-go. I calmly stepped on to the train to only realize that everyone and their mother (literally) had their eyes closed on their way to work. I guess they were exhausted from the day-before weekend activities. Maybe it was because they didn’t get enough sleep last night. Maybe they drank too much wine at their Mother’s Day celebration. Whatever the reason, I stood on my 20-minute ride to Union Square.

But there was one man that did see me. This white man, probably in his early 40’s or so, was standing in front of a seat which sat a woman friend. I know they weren’t strangers because this man did not shut his hole my entire 20-minute subway ride to work. They were obviously friends or colleagues and the way the woman was positioned was a perfect angle to possibly give her “friend” a little favor, but in no way was she in any position to see me leaning against the door for support. But again, her male friend did see me.

So what I’d like to know is if any one believes it was this man’s obligation to alert his woman friend to the fact that a pregnant woman was standing only a few people away. My mom says “no, the man was under no obligation to alert his friend of your presence.” I completely disagree! If I were sitting down in front of my husband while he stood, Charlie would MOST DEFINITELY alert me to the fact that there is a pregnant woman who should sit down.

Either way, he didn’t tell his friend. But for some reason him glancing in my direction every time he stopped talking to take a breath really annoyed me! I felt that he might as well have been sitting and looking at me.

Any ideas?