Voodoo Child v. 16: it doesn't have to be eternal to be immortal.

A few weeks ago, I walked you through the amniocentisis that I went through. I explained before the actual procedure there was the counseling appointment that I needed to go through; all couples who have an amnio go through this counseling, but most likely in a group rather than in a small individual setting. I couldn't make the group, so I opted for a private session.

As she flipped through her data, I kept thinking to myself that there was a 1 in 300 chance. There was a 1 in 250 chance. The only thing I remembered rattling through my head was "In a room full of 300 women, one of us is going to be affected by the condition." I visualized the group of women and randomly pausing in front of one woman. Would that camera shot pause in front of me? I didn't know if I should have started praying that it wasn't me, or if I should start praying for someone else. Either way, there was prayer involved.

As many of you know I got the all clear and after I got off the phone, I was ecstatic. For a week, I walked around gingerly, pausing every now and then to pat the front of my belly and make sure Bambino/a (we didn't know at the time, right?) was doing well. I played over and over the conversation on my brain that the genetic counselor and I had. "These are the chances. It all depends on when the baby is born, not how old you are now." Thirty-something. I felt screwed. Like I waited too long, and this was my punishment for waiting.

I thought long and hard about the woman who got the call urging her to come in. What tipped me off right away was that the counselor wanted to go over the results with me over the phone. Whenever it's over the phone, it's usually good news. Whenever they want you to come in, it's never a good thing. Someone out there got the call. Somewhere, there are 298 other women, other than myself, who are heaving a sigh of relief. Somewhere, there is someone who is devastated.

It turns out, I know someone who got that phone call. Chromosome deformity. Likelihood of birth, low. Worse than Down's Syndrome if baby survived birth. I felt my heart sink when I got the news. She herself has been carrying this news for a few weeks now. The joys of motherhood dashed? I don't know what my heart would be like if I were here. The person who told me gave me a big hug, and said, you're so lucky. I guess I am.

Voodoo 

Posted by Voodoo Child at 02:12 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

I am sitting on the floor of my living room, sipping white tea with some honey. I have gone through my first box of tissue...and just cracked open my second one.  I slept fairly decently last night, but I woke up at 0530. I couldn't go back to sleep because I was coughing so hard.

As a matter of fact, I'm coughing so hard these days that my rib cage feels like crap and I think I can feel my abs coming in. I need some drugs, DRUGS I say, but there's a moratorium on the good stuff until Bambina comes in. Same goes for my sweet sweet beer.

Anyways, a lot of tea, a lot of cough drops, a lot of tisues (my god, so many tissues)...a lot of sympathy from Husbandido (thanks babe!). But it's been rough. I want to take a nap, I'm so exhausted from not sleeping and all this coughing, but it's nearly impossible. I just hope I can pass out tonight to see if I need to go to work or not.

Speaking of work, I have a new coworker, thank god, who is very helpful, and so much better than the previous one. He's made such a huge impact already, and I'm happy for it. I wish I was going to be here in the Fall to see him do his thing.

Oh I woke up this morning at 0530, right? So guess what I did...I thought I was just going to watch some TV, which I did for a bit, but then I decided to play some video games. Pathetic sight, me, with bleary eyes, sore abs and boogers galore. Supposedly this happens a lot to pregnant women, this post-nasal drip and cold thing. SUCKS. I can handle a cold, but not without a little help!

I hope things will be better tonight. In a meanwhile, where's my blankie!

Voodoo 

Posted by Voodoo Child at 08:26 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

I went to get my haircut today at Hairplay.I've been going there for a few years, first with Twin Name, and most recently with Mama San. I started seeing Twin Name because I needed a haircut badly. I was really happy with her work; I mean REALLY happy with her work, but her charge was $75.

Okay? I don't have a ton o' cash. My money tree? Died. So I did what anyone else would do: find someone else to cut my locks. 

After searching around, getting some OKAY cuts, I finally found a good stylist...back at Hairplay! And she's been cutting my hair. It's not cheap, but I understand why you pay that much money to get your hair done...it's because you get it done the way you want it, and you enjoy your time while you're at it.

So today, I get my chops done, and I see my girl, and bam, the other girl was there too. Twin! Yikes! Not knowing what to say/do, I just say hi. It wasn't awkward, but it was wierd. She kinda gave me a side eye. Ooopsie.

 I go 'head, and just ignore it. I clearly have a better time with my new girl, but dang. It's like running into your ex when you're ballin' around with your new boo and you didn't even tell them what's up. :-|

SO what is it about hairstylists and breaking up with them? It's not like you got all intimate and stuff, it's not like you swapped secrets and hugs and then you backstab them. It's not like you're homies for life. Homies for $75 bucks maybe.

But still. Anyways, I thought I'd share. Anyone else got any good Hairstylist Break Up stories? Hit the comments, foo!

Voodoo 

Posted by Voodoo Child at 08:40 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

I got an email a few days ago from Slipper and she said that we all had to go to a meeting. The Merit Awards, actually. I thought we were getting some team award. Pretty fresh. I put it on my calendar. The day comes (yesterday), and I get down to the meeting a little late. True to form, I spend a few minutes wrapping up stuff and then heading to the gathering.

Sitting there by myself (see what happens when I come in late), the ceremony goes as planned. I feel wierd sitting there by myself, but that's life. They announce service awards. I wonder why we were all asked to come. We normally go anyways, right? I wait for the Team Award. We don't get it. Hrm. Service Award. Don't get that either. I wonder where my group was. And then they start talking about the Technology Award, and mentioning that the winner used it in tutoring.

In my infinite wisdom, I'm thinking, "Who else does tutoring on campus?" Wait...I'm the only one on campus that really does that. Then they keep talking about the person. My ears start to get red. Hot red. Oh shit. That's me.

There are over 200 people sitting there, a lot of people far more talented than I, and of course, natch, a lot of people who I'm far more foxier than. I joke. Not really.

They call my name and I go up to get the award. I feel strange. I should have dressed up, I told myself. I should have fixed my mop head. Oh well. I get a plaque. And surprise, a check. W00t.

Pretty cool for just doing my job.

So here we are at 23 weeks. Intriguing. Moving and stuff. I debated about telling people only because I thought it was going to be a  neat little secret to keep to myself, but nah, it's all over the place. My appointment went well yesterday, and the doc said, "Halfway there!" Yikes. She's right.

Can I introduce you to my best friend? Here she is. The pillow, not the lady, you dork. Anyways, see how happy the lady is? That's how happy I am when I get to sleep with El Snoogle! Even Husbandido loves the Snoogle. Did I get paid to do this commercial? Of course not, but if LeachCo wants to kick down some endorsement funds, I'd be happy to accept them. If you have a gnarly acting pregnant lady around you get her this pillow. Seriously.

I'm looking forward to summer coming down the pipeline. It's been nice to enjoy such good weather these last few days, but it's going to be even mo betta when it's quiet, I can get work done, and I can have my ass  handed to me by Buff Bagwell, my brother, in Scrabulous. Jerk.

Anyways, back to work. Where's that student who went to get lunch? She's taking forever. Better bring me a snack.

Voodoo 

Posted by Voodoo Child at 12:03 PM | Permalink | Comments (5)

It's nearly the end of the semester, a few short days, as a matter of fact, and it'l be here before we know it. And before you know THAT, it'll be August and the kids will be back (and I'll have another one to add to that batch o' kids!).

As of late, life has slowed down, thankfully, and I can focus on what I need to do with life at work. I hate taking work home, and I've been doing a lot of that lately, but not lately. Often, I'll bring it home, and never take it out of my bag. Oh well.

Weekends have been taken away from me too...and it seems like if it's not one thing, it's another. I've been doing evenings too, and that's not always as fun. I have to admit, I'm a complainer. You haven't already figured this out? I am. But you have to remember this: I'll bitch, and then get over it once the event starts and then it's all good in the hood. Tonight is Filipino graduation. Two nights ago, it was African American Recognition (I so love the Black National Anthem). Next week Latino Grad, and then....the big Graduuations. Six ceremonies, and you got it, I'm at each one of them.

Here's another complaint: I have a cold. Nothing major, just a cough. Boogers. But not as bad as Patient Zero, Husbandido. He has full on Man Flu. You know, the kind where it's ALL so bad. Poor thing. Then I get sick too? Geez.

Bambina's Room? No movement on it. Sheesh. We should have at least cleaned it out by now! But that's life. We have no real plan, I suppose that's the problem. Maybe I should have a sit down with Husbandido, the engineer. I think that means we'll have to go out to dinner and discuss our plans.

I got my first Mother's Day Card yesterday! So schweet. Thanks Tiyan and Dizzles.

Okidokes, I'm going to check some email and wait for Yuck Mouth to pick me up. Darlington Meeting coming up soon!

Voodoo

PS: Next book: Julie and Julia. 

Posted by Voodoo Child at 09:40 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)