8:44 p.m. - 2007-06-10

At my prenatal check-up the other day I told my new doctor that I'd had a hysterectomy.

And no, it wasn't a joke. I was being serious. It took me a minute and a glimpse at her completely incredulous face to realize what I'd said.

In all fairness, I'd had a pretty rough day. Ali's had a rash on her hands for the past couple of weeks, and I finally decided that it probably wasn't poison ivy and that she needed to see a doctor. My appointment had been scheduled for a month, and there was no way in hell that I was canceling it, so I figured (dumbly) that the best possible solution would be to schedule one for her on the same day so that I could conserve time and gas. (It's an hour each way.)

I wasn't stupid enough to think that I could handle it all on my own, so I begged my mother to come along for support. (Mental and physical.) She agreed without much hesitation, thankfully.

We made it through Ali's appointment without incident (she had a contact rash from something she'd touched, and he prescribed some cream), but by the time I got to my appointment I was a little crazy. And very, very tired. (Have I mentioned how much I LOVE the first trimester of pregnancy? And having to take 600 mg of Progesterone daily? Which makes me feel like death warmed over? So. Much. Fun!)

So when the doctor asked me if I'd had any previous surgeries, I told her about my laproscopy and D&C in Jan. 'O5. And that I'd had a miscarriage before that. And when she asked if there were any more, I said, "I had a hysterectomy."

Oh, how I wish I could erase from my mind the way that she looked at me. Primarily because I have to see the woman every month for the next 7 months, and she obviously knows that I am not mentally fit to tie my shoes, let alone raise children. Here I am pregnant, about to see my baby on ultrasound, and I'm telling her that I've HAD MY UTERUS REMOVED.

The look said that she thought I was on drugs. Lots of them. And I don't blame her.

Now, I can explain that the reason I said something so stupid was because they always ask about family history, and that my MOTHER had uterine cancer and a hysterctomy. And I could also explain that what I meant to say was that I'd had an APPENDECTOMY, but it doesn't really matter.

I promised her I'd try to bring my brain next time, and that I'd quit the crack before my second trimester.



I took Ali to my parents' house today for a visit and a swim.

My little girl consistently amazes me with her bravery, and never is it more evident than in the water. She is fearless jumping in from the edge of the pool, giggling hysterically when dunked, walking right up to the edge of the diving board and peering down at everyone. (Well, I suppose there's a bit of fear there, since she won't jump off of it without help, but come ON. She's only 20 months old!)

She's as funny as they come, too. And independent. And happy. And perfect. But I'm going to have to save all those stories for later because I've already taken two days to get this entry up, and my child is begging for me to help feed her.

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I am: so very many things. A mother, a wife, a dreamer, a lover of animals and babies, a friend. I've been called a bitch, but if that's what you call someone who stands up for what they believe in and refuses to settle, then I guess the title fits.

loves: my family, horses, a full night's sleep, puppy breath, my daughter's laughter, thunderstorms, bubble baths, makeup, soft sheets, David Sedaris and Augusten Burroughs, wine, massages, the written word, and sour straws.

dislikes: closed minds, depression, pimples, extreme heat, math, panic attacks, black licorice, doing laundry, white chocolate, gin, Bush.