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?
DATE: 05.07.10 TIME: 10:49 AM


If you knew me, you wouldn’t deny that I’m a high energy person. I walk fast. I work out. I was a dancer and cheerleader when I was younger. I opt to take a brisk 11 minute walk to my subway stop instead of taking a bus. I do pilates and I go to the gym and take classes that force you to ride a stationary bicycle so fast that when you’re done with the 45-minute class, you feel like your legs are going to fall off. I’m a woman who is lucky enough to say that my thighs have never rubbed together - EVER. I’ve never in my life been above 116 pounds except for that super short time in college where I didn’t know how to cook anything other than pasta. I know, I know what all of you are thinking….. “Pooorrrr Becky! Poor Becky put on 20 pounds because she is pregnant and will probably lose it immediately after she pops that baby out!” I know you’re thinking this because my mom has flat out said it OUT LOUD! HA!

So with that short explanation, you can understand my frustration when I say I’ve somehow become immobile over the past couple of weeks. Really! Once in a while, Charlie will leave with me in the morning because he has to be a work a bit earlier than the usual 10:30am time. I have to be at work at 9am because I work in the corporate world, so of course, I’m commuting with the rest of the corporate population to get to work at 9am while people who work in the creative world get to straggle in to work at 10:30am! Me, bitter? NO.

As we make our way down the four flights (that will be covered in a post soon to come) of stairs in our lovely Brooklyn apartment building, I remind my wonderful husband that I can not walk as fast as usual and that walking will add 3-4 minutes to the commute. He understands and says he has no problem with that. Until we get half way there and I realize he is looking at his watch WAY. TOO. MUCH. I tell him to go ahead of me - that I don’t want him to be late - that I am having a hard time keeping up with him. And before I know it, the person I love more than anything in the world decides that he is going to walk ahead of me and allow his pregnant wife to walk the rest of the trail alone. Booooo.

Honestly, it didn’t bother me too much. I just enjoy making a joke about how Charlie is usually a very calm person and takes his time with things. It’s one of the reasons I fell in love with him in the first place because he grounds me. But come on! I’m usually the one saying…. “YO! What the hell is taking you so long! MOVE IT!” But now that I’m the one moving slow, it’s time for him to GO! GO! GO!

Don’t feel too bad about me walking alone. I called my mom and bitched to her instead. I only had 5 minutes left to walk, and when I walked down those stairs to catch my train, my beautiful husband was there waiting for me.
DATE: 05.05.10 TIME: 19:54 PM


The reason I decided to really start talking about my experiences on pregnant-commuting is what happened to me a couple of days ago. I hate rain. I hate rain even more when it’s Monday. My walk to my subway station is about 11 minutes (add 20 pounds to this and you get me taking 4 minutes longer to walk to that train station!). So yes, 15 minutes of walking to the train and when it’s raining, this does not make me a happy person.

After my 15 minute walk to the Q train at Dekalb Avenue… I was wet. I was hot. The hair was frizzy. And I could literally feel my feet swelling by the second. I stepped on to the train which, if I may add, did not have the air conditioning pumping! Whew.

The train wasn’t too crowded and as I made my way on, I noticed the seats closest to the door I entered sat two Asian guys, early to mid twenties with their ipods on and the third seat closest to the door sat a black woman in her early 40’s reading a newspaper. Both guys glanced at me and decided they were going to take their morning nap on their ride to work. The woman definitely did not see me. A white man in his early 30’s standing against the door looked at me and asked, “Do you want to sit down?” I was a little shocked since, honestly, people don’t really ask me this question when, well, THEY ARE STANDING! Of course I want to sit down, jackass! I’m literally feeling beads of sweat forming on my upper lip and between by boobs (which have grown literally two cup sizes in the past 6 months!). I look at him with a bit of confusion and he says to me, “If you want to sit down, I will make them get up.” I tell him “Thanks, but I’m good,” and I end my statement by saying, “People are very preoccupied in New York.” To which he responds, “That is no excuse. YOU should be sitting.”

I continue to stand just daydreaming to myself as I’m crossing over the Manhattan Bridge when all of a sudden I hear a woman yell, “OH YOU HAVE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME!!” I look over because I actually forgot for a moment that I was pregnant and standing and I wanted to see the drama that was about to go down. But the drama was surrounding ME. The black woman reading her newspaper - the one sitting in the third closest seat - the one who definitely did not see me - was NOT happy. “YOU need to be sitting down!” she yelled. Me, a little flustered, somehow quietly made my way over to the seat. She then yells out loud, “Does everyone SEE these guys? YOU SEE THEM? THESE GUYS SITTING THERE ACTING LIKE THEY ARE SLEEPING WHILE SHE IS STANDING RIGHT IN FRONT OF THEM!?” She then (swear to you this happened!!), took her rolled up umbrella and hit both guys in the shins. And then said, “You both should be ASHAMED of yourselves!” This whole spectacle completely made my day.

Now, if you all are wondering if I get this reaction a lot. The answer is no. But I do have to say that black women between the ages of late 30’s to early 50’s are much more voicetress than anyone else I’ve encountered throughout my pregnant-commute.
DATE: 05.05.10 TIME: 13:13 PM


Well helllooooo there. Here we are. I should have been doing this months ago….. but I promise I will have you all caught up in no time.

I am currently 25 1/2 weeks pregnant with our first child - a little GIRL! It was a tough road getting to this point, and I’ve battled with my own inner demons on whether or not I should share with the world my infertility battle. So yeah, all you bitches who were asking me “when are YOU going to have a baby?” should be ashamed of yourselves! DOH! My husband (Charlie) and I have decided that we are PREGNANT and we are not going to focus on the past, but rather we are going to focus on the future. And the future is we are having a sweet little baby girl in three months! Yeaaaahhhhhhh!!!!

My experience being pregnant in New York City has been quite an interesting one already. My mom and Charlie enjoy hearing my stories each day about my commute to and from work. Whether or not I was offered a seat on the bus or train. What were people’s reactions to me. Whether or not the person was annoyed at offering their seat. And WHO offered their sacred seat for me, a pregnant woman, to sit.

The first time someone offered me their seat, I was exactly 15 weeks pregnant. I had a teeny belly at this point, and honestly, if you didn’t know me, you probably would have thought I just had a bit of extra bloat from brunch. I was wearing a pair of black leggings, a fitted gray cotton turtleneck, a leather jacket and a pair of boots. A black woman, probably in her 40’s or so, offered me a seat on the bus on a Sunday afternoon. Charlie was with me. I thought it would be easy-peazy from then on! Wow was I wrong!

Listen, I’m not going to complain (or maybe I will a little), but rather, I think each day is a new experience but it is pretty ridiculous that sometimes people look directly at me and directly at my 6-months-pregnant belly and go on reading their books or magazines. The best is when people close their eyes to act like they are taking a nap! Yes, people really do that!

So here I am!

I love writing, but I slack off sometimes (most of the time!) on my other blog:

I’m hoping I can keep up with this one! Enjoy! Oh, and FYI, I love comments! xo.