Just a word to the men out there, because women don't normally tend to do this.

Never NEVER ask a pregnant woman if she is sure she isn't having twins. Most likely by the time she looks that big, she probably knows. And she will not particularly care to be reminded that her stomach is bigger than she has ever seen it and she can't see her toes when she is standing up.

And perhaps if you are going to GUESS her due date is very close, instead you might ask her when she is due.

Just a little advice. Take it or leave it. But remember, pregnant women can be very cranky. Some pregnant women carry small, others carry big. It's a genetic thing I suppose.

By the way, I've put on approximately 30 lbs so far, but it's alllllll baby weight. No extra weight anywhere else believe it or not. I will be happy to be able to reach my toes again. I miss them. I will be happy to be able to sleep in any position I choose again. I miss sprawling all over my husband to keep warm. I will be happy to bend over and pick things up off the floor that I drop. Right now, if it falls, it stays there until Mike comes along and picks it up. But mostly, I will be happy to have a healthy happy baby in my arms. That will make it all worthwhile.

<a href="http://lilypie.com"><img src="http://lilypie.com/days/050125/0/23/1/-8" alt="Lilypie Baby Days" border="0" /></a>

Okay, so I'm almost two weeks late. Gimme a break. :)

Tuesday, the 19th, was my actual birthday. My husband took the day off since he was going to a meeting at church that night. (You can do things like that fairly easily when you're self-employed, although it didn't QUITE work out as a whole day off - more on that later.) He took me to IHOP for breakfast because I was craving Swedish pancakes. Then we went and did some errands which included buying me some "girl stuff to wear", some clothes, and picking up paint chips to make a decision on what exact color to paint the nursery. In the midst of all this, he got a call from one of his clients who had an emergency plumbing problem that he had to go take care of later in the day. See? No way my husband can REALLY take a whole day off. Something always comes up. :) As he was getting ready to leave to go take care of his client, a car pulls into our driveway. Lo and behold, it is my father. Yes my father. The father who has not remembered my birthday since my mother died. This would be, for those of you keeping score, the 5th birthday I've had since then. He is very pleased that the baby's middle name will be after my mom. So we heard from him three weeks in a row. I am not kidding myself that any of this really has anything to do with me. I know it is all about the baby, but at least he is taking an interest. We shall see how long it lasts. Didn't hear from him this week, so it didn't seem to last too long. Mike was good, though, and didn't leave until my dad did. :) And when he came back from his job, he brought me a banana cream pie from Marie Callendar's. Yay!! For some reason while being pregnant, cake does not excite me as much as it normally does, but banana cream pie sure does. Go figure.

On Wednesday, we had a dr's appointment which I will try to post more on later. More stuff to worry about, but the baby is doing GREAT!!! It is all just a matter of whether she will have to come early or not. We are almost to 28 weeks and that is a 95% chance of survival and of no problems, so everything after that is icing. Of course, we hope she stays in there as long as possible, but to have gotten this far is certainly a blessing. After the doctor, we ate lunch, he ran to check out a job, and then we went to the salon to get a hair cut. I haven't had my hair cut since June before I was going through the "morning" sickness stuff. It needed it. So did Mike's. It's always fun to be pampered, so I enjoyed it. My hair is shorter than it's ever been, but I think it looks cute. :) My friend says I look like a mom now. Is it the hair or the extremely protuding tummy that makes her say so? ;)

Saturday I went out to lunch with another friend and her little munchkin who was almost one year old at the time and now IS one year old! :) That was a nice break from the norm as well.

So that was birthday number 38. My husband didn't faint from sticker shock at how much bras cost nor did he freak out too much about how much the salon cost us. He's a pretty darned good guy. I think I will keep him. :)

And thanks to all of you who remembered my birthday with a message or an email or a phone call or lunch or whatever. Love you!

…I feel like a baby gymnasium.

<a href="http://lilypie.com"><img src="http://lilypie.com/days/050125/0/23/1/-8" alt="Lilypie Baby Days" border="0" /></a>

Two great baseball cities in the World Series is cool, although I think it would have been really interesting to have a team from Texas and a team from Massachusetts playing since the two presidential candidates are also from those states. Oh well. :)

I haven't forgotten that I'm going to write about my birthday. I will do so soon, just be patient with me please. I'm gestating after all.

<a href="http://lilypie.com"><img src="http://lilypie.com/days/050125/0/23/1/-7" alt="Lilypie Baby Days" border="0" /></a>

Has the curse of the Bambino finally been lifted?

Too soon to say.

But they are sure looking like a team of destiny to ME!

Go Red Sox! Go win a World Series for the first time since 1918. You earned it.

My favorite band has reunited and made an appearance on Regis & Kelly today. Yay! I was soooo excited to see the ORIGINAL Duran Duran for the first time in about twenty years.

What, you ask, does this have to do with John Kerry? Let me explain.

There's this little debate thing going on here tonight at Arizona State University. The President had the courtesy to arrive yesterday. Kerry was supposed to arrive last night, but he changed his mind (sound FAMILIAR?????). Instead he arrives right in the frigging middle of Regis & Kelly. And of course the stupid local news has to break in so we can see him get off his plane. Do people really care about that?

Anyway, by the time he managed to get off the plane, they had already shown most of Duran Duran. I did get to see a little interview time and a bit of Hungry Like the Wolf before they faded to credits. But I totally missed out on their latest single and whatever else went on before the commercial break.

I AM SO MAD!!!!!! Kerry SUCKS.

<a href="http://lilypie.com"><img src="http://lilypie.com/days/050125/0/23/1/-7" alt="Lilypie Baby Days" border="0" /></a>

If I had known you weren't coming back, I would have spent that last day you were here at home sitting on the floor with you, your head in my lap, stroking your velvet ears and scratching under your chin like you love.

If I had known that last week was your last week on earth, I'd have cherished every moment and not taken for granted that you would be here tomorrow and all the tomorrows that came after.

If I had one more day with you at your best, I'd follow you around and memorize every little silly thing you used to do, like rolling around on the carpet on your back making your Bobzilla sounds, or sitting with your paw up, your head tilted to one side with that silly smile that was always on your face.

If I had one more day, I'd turn on the video camera and catch everything you did on tape so I could look at it over and over again, like the way you get the girls singing with you in three part harmony in the morning or the way you turn around and around in circles when we're pouring your food in your dish.

If I had one more day, I'd hold you and hug you and pet you and tell you how much I love you and how much you mean to me and how much losing you has ripped a huge hole in my heart that will take a long time to mend.

If I had one more day, I'd give you all the best table scraps and not make you share them with your sisters.

If I had one more day, I would cherish it with all my heart. The only problem is, one more day would never be enough.

I never took you for granted silly Bob. I loved you every day. I just regret that I didn't realize you'd be gone so soon. You're not really gone, though. I see you in every room. I hear you. I feel your fur under my fingers and your tongue on my hand. I remember all the silly things you did that made us laugh and how much joy you gave us. We're all sad today. Even your sisters are moping around, looking out the window, I think maybe wondering where you are. The pain will lessen as the days and weeks go by. But the memories will stay in our hearts forever.

If I had known you weren’t coming back, I would have spent that last day you were here at home sitting on the floor with you, your head in my lap, stroking your velvet ears and scratching under your chin like you love.

If I had known that last week was your last week on earth, I’d have cherished every moment and not taken for granted that you would be here tomorrow and all the tomorrows that came after.

If I had one more day with you at your best, I’d follow you around and memorize every little silly thing you used to do, like rolling around on the carpet on your back making your Bobzilla sounds, or sitting with your paw up, your head tilted to one side with that silly smile that was always on your face.

If I had one more day, I’d turn on the video camera and catch everything you did on tape so I could look at it over and over again, like the way you get the girls singing with you in three part harmony in the morning or the way you turn around and around in circles when we’re pouring your food in your dish.

If I had one more day, I’d hold you and hug you and pet you and tell you how much I love you and how much you mean to me and how much losing you has ripped a huge hole in my heart that will take a long time to mend.

If I had one more day, I’d give you all the best table scraps and not make you share them with your sisters.

If I had one more day, I would cherish it with all my heart. The only problem is, one more day would never be enough.

I never took you for granted silly Bob. I loved you every day. I just regret that I didn’t realize you’d be gone so soon. You’re not really gone, though. I see you in every room. I hear you. I feel your fur under my fingers and your tongue on my hand. I remember all the silly things you did that made us laugh and how much joy you gave us. We’re all sad today. Even your sisters are moping around, looking out the window, I think maybe wondering where you are. The pain will lessen as the days and weeks go by. But the memories will stay in our hearts forever.

I've dreaded this day for a long time, yet I knew that sooner or later it would have to come. I was hoping it would wait until much much later, but to everything there is a season, a time to be born, and a time to die. <lj-cut>

Mike and I have been married almost 14 years. For not quite 13 of those years we have had the privilege of living with three very special "people." Before we were ready for children, and then once we began trying and didn't have the luck to get pregnant for quite awhile, we had our four-legged children to love. And love them we did and do. They have brought immeasurable joy to our lives. I know some people say, they're just dogs, but not to us they weren't They were our babies, our kids, one of the most important parts of our life. They have their own little personalities, each very different from the other, and the three of them had a special chemistry with one another and with us. They have their quirks and their neuroses and their little annoying things they do, but we can't help but love them because that's the thing about dogs. Love them, and they give you unquestioning love in return. They don't care if you're late home from work. They don't care if you're in a bad mood. They don't care if you are busy with other things all day. No matter what, they greet you at the door, happy to see you, ready to give you so much love. Sometimes they give you so much love that it drives you crazy, but when you need it, it sure feels good to have it there. They have their little things they do over and over again that never cease to make you smile or laugh. No matter how sad you are, they're always there to cheer you up. That is why it hurts so much when they have to leave you. How can losing one of them not leave a big empty hole in your heart? I sure don't know the answer to that one, especially today.

Bob the Dog showed up in our driveway one weekday morning about 10 years ago. We heard a dog crying in our front yard as all the kids were arriving for school. He looked healthy enough, so rather than let him get run over by a car, Mike put him in the back yard. Our two girls quickly chased him around the yard, one bit him in the butt, he yelped, then went down on his back as if to say - Okay! You're the bosses! I get it!! And that was that. We tried to find out where he belonged but to no avail. We tried to find him a home, because surely we didn't need THREE dogs, but long before that ever happened, he wormed his way into our hearts. A Rottweiler mix who didn't have a mean bone in his body, but he did have a bobbed tail, so we dubbed him Bob since we had to call him something, and it stuck. If Majerle is the queen, and Lady is the princess, Bob surely was the court jester - the comic relief to the two ladies of the court. Sooner or later, we realized that it wouldn't be the same with just the two girls. Bob made the family complete.

Yes, Bob was part Rottweiler, but I don't really think he was aware of it. When it came to protecting the house, he left that to Majerle and when the chips were down, Bob hid in the bathroom. But we loved him anyway. We had the three dog chorus, the ringleader of which was Bob. In the morning, he would get them started with his signature sound which sounded like a cross between a growl and a howl and really sounded more like an old jalopy trying to get its engine to turn over. But it got the other two going, and we had the morning chorus to tell us each morning that it was time to get up. Sometimes saying, "Bob sing!" would get him going, and sometimes he would just start all on his own. When I was trying to teach him to sit, I was also teaching him to shake and he never quite figured out that they were two separate commands, so whenever he was told to sit, he would and lift his paw at the same time. Silly, but totally adorable. Bob was one of those dogs who was always happy and in a good mood. The world to Bob was a place to explore, to get treats, and to be loved and give love. The only time I ever saw him snarl was when Sparky was living with us. So we learned, Bob cannot have other boy dogs living with him.

He just turned 11 last month. Not young for a dog by any means, but certainly not old enough to think about losing him anytime soon. But yesterday morning, when he got up, he wasn't our normal happy go lucky Bob. He drug his feet to go outside with Mike to get the paper, his head hanging low, no smile on his face, and even old arthritis-ridden Majerle beat him out the door. All day he laid around the house, moving from place to place, I assume in an attempt to find a place to be comfortable. He didn't cry, he didn't moan, he didn't complain, but in his eyes was not the joy I usually saw. In his eyes I saw a dog who was very sick. Finally, last night, Mike took him to the animal clinic. Their first diagnosis was pancreatitis and they put him on IVs because he was severely dehydrated. At first we had hope that he would pull through. No calls all night, so we took that as a good sign. Mike went back to the clinic first thing this morning in case he could be moved to a vet's office where the cost was a little less, but he wasn't doing well enough to do that and there had been no change through the night, in fact, it appeared he'd gotten worse. He was in so much pain that as Mike sat stroking him and he woke up, he cried. Mike wanted to cry, too. They gave him a 50/50 shot saying he had to get over the pain hump. Mike finally came home. Later in the afternoon we got a call from the vet and she told us that they couldn't get any urine out of him and they had drained a lot of fluid from his abdomen full of white blood cells which means infection. Things were not looking so good. They could do exploratory surgery, but there was no guarantee they would be able to do anything even then or even that he would make it through the surgery since his kidneys were in jeopardy. And anyway, all of that would cost thousands of dollars. So what to do? Well, what we did was cry a lot and avoid the decision we knew we had to make for a little bit. But soon it sunk in. We had to let him go. So, we both got in the car and went to the clinic to spend some time with him. He was pretty sedated on morphine to help with the pain, but I'm positive he knew we were there. We petted him and kissed him and talked to him and told him how much we loved him and how much joy he had brought into our lives and then finally it was time. It was quick and painless and then there was no more suffering.

The vet opened up his abdomen after it was all over and found a very inflamed intestine and a tumor. It was probably cancer. And there was nothing they could have done. At least we don't have to second guess our decision and wish we had spent the money to try to help him. We knew we had done the right thing. Of course it being the right thing does not make it any easier to lose your friend. So I've been crying most of the day. I know the pain will lessen, but for now it just hurts a lot. For both of us.

As we were sitting there in the music room trying to come to grips with our decision, I felt like I had been transported back four and a half years to the hospital room and my mother telling me that she wanted to do what I wanted and having to let her go. Having to let her make her choice about when to live and when to die. It's not a feeling I like. It's not a decision I wanted then, and it certainly wasn't a decision I wanted today. But I guess that's life and part of growing up. Sometimes we make decisions that are right, but don't feel very good when we make them even though we know we are doing the right thing. Our instinct is to hold tight to the ones we love, not let them go. But death is not our choice really is it? It's just a part of the circle of life.

So here I sit, missing my little baby boy BobDog. So much. I will never forget him. I'm sure there will be other dogs in my life that I will love and cherish and cry and mourn for. But this day is for him. Goodbye sweet Bob. You were an awesome dog. Thank you for gracing our lives with so much joy. We were lucky to have know you. Now, go play with Grandma. She's waiting for you in heaven. Mommy and Daddy love you.

<a href="http://lilypie.com"><img src="http://lilypie.com/days/050125/0/23/1/-7" alt="Lilypie Baby Days" border="0" /></a>

Mike got a phone call yesterday from, of all people, my father. Timing is a tiny bit suspicious to me, but I haven't quite put my finger on how it could be more than a coincidence yet. I have a few ideas, though.

Anyway, seems the woman he is married to and her sister (one of the sweetest people I know and mother of my high school crush) had a falling out, so they decided to just start going to another church. I have a theory on what the falling out could have been about, but I could be totally off base. As for old friend that keeps calling, he says he doesn't want to talk to him. I think that's totally rotten of him as the old friend is just worried and wants to make sure he is okay. It wouldn't hurt him to talk to him and let him know he is, but then my father has never been one to act like a mature adult.

He asked about the baby (it's been 4 1/2 months since we have heard from him mind you) and wanted to know what the gender was. He said, "I knew it was going to be a girl!" He didn't ask the name and Mike didn't volunteer it. He also said he wants to be there when the baby is born. Herein lies my problem.

This is how I feel. If my father had been acting like a father and taking part in my life for the past four years, or even the past four months for that matter, then I might be more willing to allow that to happen. However, I feel like him being there will just put more stress on me and I don't want it or need it. Mike says if I don't want him there, then he'll just call him after the baby is born. It seems, in a way, cruel to shut him out of the birth of his only grandchild, but, I tend to feel that when I'm in labor it's got to be all about me, Mike, and baby - not about the man who is my father even though he hasn't acted like it in years. Am I being selfish? Maybe. But is that not my right? I want this to be as calm an environment as I can make it, and him being there will not help. Mike will be there. My very close friend will be there. And maybe Mike's mom will be there. That, to me, is plenty. Well, if Mike's dad wants to be in the waiting room, no problem with that. Other than that, I don't want a lot of people around. I have NO idea what I will act like in labor, and Mike and my friend have been warned. :) I think they can handle it without taking it personally. Besides, at this point, we have no guarantee that I'll make it all the way to labor. That is my goal, though. It would really kind of suck if after going through all of this and knowing this will be the only time I get to experience it, I didn't get to experience it. There is something that seems to be very special about it.

But I digress, this post was supposed to be about my father. So back to the phone call. Mike got on his case a bit about not communicating. But then again, he has to wait until the witch is dead…I mean GONE, before he can call. :P

The one thing that I feel very strongly about is that if he is not going to be a consistent part of my daughter's life, then he will not be a part of my daughter's life. I don't want her a few years down the road asking me why grandpa is hardly ever around. That is not fair to her. I'm an adult and I can deal with it. Not understand it necessarily, but deal with it. But it's not fair for her to have to live on the emotional roller coaster that he's had ME on the past few years. And you better damn well believe NO ONE is going to hurt my baby if I can help it.

Okay, breathe now. Comments, support, constructive criticism welcomed.

I got a call while I was on the phone long distance to England from an old friend of our family (that would be the family of my parents and me) so I let the answering machine pick up and said friend went ahead and called Mike on his cell phone.

After I got off long distance I called Mike and he told me what old friend wanted, so I called him back. This is someone I've known all my life, grew up with his kids, etc. etc. Anyway, the old friend and HIS family go to church where my father and THAT woman go. However, apparently, father and his (ahem) wife haven't been to church in the last couple of months. This is especially odd since her mother, her sister and brother-in-law go to that church and her nephew is the minister. On top of all THAT oddness, father and wife are not returning old friend's phone calls (or anyone else's for that matter) to find out what is going on. And her family doesn't even know what the deal is. Even weirder, they don't answer the door when anyone goes over to check on them.

They were seen at old friend's sister's church (are you still following me here?) about two months ago, but old friend was not sure if they had been there since, so he was going to check on that for me. I figure if they haven't been to church, I will get Mike to call and see if my dad answers the phone. If not, then I think it's time to call the police to do the old "check welfare". And if she gets scared, GOOD. If anyone else has any ideas, please feel free to give them to me. After all, he hasn't even bothered to call his ONLY child who is carrying his ONLY grandchild since he found out I was pregnant 18 weeks ago.

Something is just not right with this situation. Old friend asked me if I thought she had mental problems, and well, yes I certainly do. But the scary part of that is that she could possibly be harming my father. So I think it needs to be checked.

My family was never really dysfunctional until he married her, and I'm not too thrilled about it! Anyway, enough. I'm happy to listen to any suggestions anyone might have as to the best course of action.

The Good News is that tomorrow we will officially hit 24 weeks and that means that she has a 50/50 chance of survival which will go up each week (each day even!) if for some reason she decides or someone else decides that she will come early.

Mommy (that would be me) is now breathing a bit easier. Little miss baby is squirming and wiggling and basically being a pest to let me know she is definitely in there. But I can live with that.

I also had another one of those crazy cry at the drop of a hat for no particular reason other than I miss my mom days, but that is to be expected.

And who would ever of thought I would be HAPPY to gain weight? Well, life is crazy sometimes, huh?

Speaking of that…well, we'll leave that for the NEXT post.