YAY! And Stuff...

First things first. I am incubating a masterpiece. Duh, you might be thinking. Of course she is incubating a masterpiece. It's that Zube blood. But I bet you weren't thinking that I was LITERALLY carrying The Scream in my womb. Don't believe me? Check it out...



You might have to click and biggify the picture to see the resemblence. All joking aside, I really don't have a freakin' clue what is what. Not even my imagination is that vivid. What I did find out is that there is a little heartbeat in there flickering away and that's all I need to know. Well, that and the ultrasound tech calmed my fear that my Scream does NOT, in fact, have an arm growing out of her/his head. I'm relieved.

I am eleven weeks now and we have a heartbeat. Just a week shy of the second trimester, I've decided to be happy and maybe a little excited. Pass the O'Douls! It's time to celebrate.

And, just in case you didn't know, if you're a little fucked up in the head? And you have a kid? You're still going to be a little fucked up in the head. Apparently having a kid doesn't de-fuck up you. Who knew? Not me. I kinda thought once I had a kid everything would fall into place and I'd be all perfectly awesome in my headspace. Not so much. Deliriously happy? Most times. Scared and confused and self-conscious? Once in a while.

So, I'm in counseling again. And I feel a little stupid about it, to be honest. How many times am I going to have to go to counseling before I'm, you know, done? Fixed? Just a smidge outside of normal? That's all I'm aiming for. I don't know. I'm coming to realize that I'm one of those people who needs a little guidancenow and again when it comes to keeping my head straight. That seems reasonable. People visit the dentist twice a year, get a physical once a year, a pap smear once a year. I go to counseling once every two years. Keeps me healthily insane. And I feel better for it.

PS - Yesterday was the thirteen year anniversary. THIRTEEN YEARS! Wow. The day actually passed with nary a thought about its significance. I just realized it today.

Adventures in Outer, Er, Uh, Rather, Inner Space

In other words, I have an appointment with a psychologist in two weeks. Because bursting into tears at work a few times a day is not something I care to put on my resume. It's probably not normal, even. Once in a while, every one woman army needs to call in for a little back-up.

I talked to my potential counseler over the phone and she sounds wondermous. She's a doula who has worked with Planned Parenthood at abortion clinics as a counseler and specializes in grief over loss of a pregnancy. She has dealt with women in every aspect of childbearing. We were meant for each other. I have a renewed faith in eeny-meeny-miny-mo-ing your way to a counseler in the phone book. Or fate. Who knows? I think it might even be a little of both.

I am so utterly relieved to have admitted to myself that I'm in a little over my head with the sorrow and stuff, I can't even tell you. And I have to thank PaintingChef for Google-talking my ass into what it really needed to do. Friends rule. Sometimes I need to be told by someone else to take care of myself. That's always been a problem for me.

The thing is, you guys, I REALLY, REALLY hope this counseler chick helps me find my voice. Because I am SO hating having lost it. Truly I am.

In the meantime, smooches to you all! I'll keep you updated and maybe someday soon this blog of mine will get interesting.