Baby News!

Here's the deal.

November 7th, Deralynn and I will be flying to Denver, Colorado. I will be staying in Craig with a friend I haven't seen in 6 years! She is having a baby shower on the 10th, which is the whole reason I'm going in the first place. I will be there for the rest of the month.
On Thanksgiving, we will get to make a quick 6-hour drive (Yes, I said quick. I prefer 6 to the ever-boring 11- or 16-hour drives) to Salt Lake City, Utah to pick up my husband! He and I will find out the gender of our baby then. Here's how.

November 6th, I have a regular doctor appointment with my OB/GYN. On that day, I will also have an ultrasound to determine the gender of our baby. :)
They will NOT show me the gender, but they will put the gender pictures into a sealed envelope. I will be taking that sealed envelope with me to Colorado so when I see my husband, we can open the envelope together and find out what we will be having! Exciting, right?!

I'm stoked. Extremely. It's going to be super hard though, because I will have to keep it a secret from everyone back home, because we will be having a Gender Revealing Party!

Not sure when yet... But we will definitely be doing something that awesome. Not a baby shower but more of just the gender party. It's so exciting!

That's the only update at the moment. Keep checking, periodically, to see if I have updated more. I will definitely be keeping everyone posted!

It's Okay Everyone! She's gone! *phew*

Here's a little insight into the last few days of my hectic, crazy, absolutely insane life.

According to my ever-so-nice grandmother, I'm now an abusive parent no better than my mother because I'm stressed about my husband being in Utah, and wouldn't give her the details to my bank account.
... Seriously?

Okay. Let me explain.

This crazy ass woman was asking me about my bank account. Some things happened with the Army that my husband ended up having to deal with. Nothing serious. Said thing got resolved, so I started getting happy. This woman starts getting nosy and asking me what I was so happy about. I started to try to explain it to her, and she starts arguing with me about how it's supposed to go and how my husband isn't supposed to be the one to deal with these things. I keep trying to explain to her, but she just gets mad at me and thinks she knows everything because she is a wife to someone in the NAVY and not the ARMY.
So Mrs. I-Know-Everything stomped off saying "Fine, get screwed over!"
I retort with "Fuck you, I know what I'm talking about. Stay out of my business anyway."

Before this, however, she went to my OB/GYN appointment with me. I don't know what my daughter's problem was (I'm thinking that it was the vile woman I brought with me) but she started screaming and hollering and not minding me and just being a very mean two-year-old. It happens, I know. So I take her in the hallway. My hands are full, so I grab her by her arm and lift her up to take her through the door. Once out the door, I set her down. I put my stuff down on the bench in the hallway, pick her up again, and walk her to the bathroom to sit her down and talk to her. I was crying at this point because Deralynn is screaming and the other patients in the waiting room were already annoyed from the office being two hours behind. So I take her into the bathroom, set her on the sink counter, and stare her in the face and talk to her. She had sort of calmed down by this point. I relaxed a little because I had been telling her rather loudly to stop, pulled myself together, gave her kisses and went back to the hallway.
As soon as she saw vile woman, she started acting out again. So Vile Woman took her to the car and drove her around so I could get to my appointment.
Vile Woman is MAD at me at this point and telling me I need to calm down and stop yelling at her and abusing her.
... Seriously? Abusing her? How was I abusing her? Grabbing her up by her arm is not abusive. Getting loud with her (NOT talking down to her. I never talk down to my child. Ever. She's a smart, beautiful, very talented girl and I tell her that every day) is not abusive. Nothing I did that day was abusive.
However, Vile Woman goes to Facebook. Puts on her wall that I was abusing my daughter and everyone in the doctors office saw it and they were giving me dirty looks and she was worried one of them was going to call CPS and that she saw it first-hand.

At this point, I'm fucking livid. Absolutely pissed.

She texts me the next morning asking if I'm bringing Deralynn to the parade, and asking if I was going to stop yelling at her.
I told her to fuck off, and take that shit off of Facebook. I said she would never see my daughter again and that I could raise her just fine without her. I also told her that I hope the disease she GAVE HERSELF kills her. Mean? Yes. I know. But this is the last time this woman does this to me.

Here are the Messages from here on.

Her: "You need to get over your stress about trey"
Me: "I'm not stressed about him. You need to keep your fat nosy ass out of my money business. You don't need to know anything about his back pay or his active status. I hope that disease you have kills you."
Her: "It's not the first time you've used get to hurt me in not gonna fight with you."  (Remember those lines, people) "Yesterday you successfully alienated your friends who care about you. I LOVE YOU. but if you want me dead you got it. I survived what they did to me for you Ashley and deralynn you don't need me so I'm out of here. Goodbye"

Me: "Bye."

Her: "I'm gonna kill myself and its your fault live with it"

Me: "Oh, woe is me."

Her: "You are a hateful bitch no better than. Your mother"

Me: "Okay."
Her: "You use people until they piss you off I've had enough of being used. You still owe grandpa all the money we given you guys to help you 2 out with cars and insurance and rent. You can't go around using people and not expect to have to pay them back."
Me: "Okay."
Her: "Grandpa didn't mind because he loves deralynn and he likes trey but you he doesn't trust because you keep doing this. You are not stable mentally"
Me: "Okay."                          --Remember she said she wasn't going to fight with me?--
Her: "I'm getting rid of every baby thing you have stored here and NO YOU CAN'T COME GET IT. I'm getting rid of all memories of you and your children."
Me: "Lol. Okay."
Her: "I'm not opening my heart up again to a cold hearted bitch lime you again  Fuck you"
Me: "Okay."
Her: "You might as well have been Michaels daughter your just like hi."
Me: "Okay, if you feel that way."
Her: "Yes I can't let myself be hurt by you anymore and ALL of your friends are gonna get tired of your bullshit too. You have hit me, kicked me, slapped me. Got the school to call CPS on me. Told me to die. Kept your baby from me. And yet I forgave you. Well forgiveness doesn't come easy mow and your daughter is the one who's gonna suffer. Ashley told me what I witnessed yesterday isn't the first time you've done her that way"
Me: "Okay."

Couple days later,
Me: "From this point forward, please do not contact me in any way, shape, or form, or I will be forced to file harassment charges. Thank you."
Her: "Fuck off."
Me: "Okay."
*TEN MINUTES LATER*
Her: "You are dead to me do not text me again you will NOT treat me like this ever again"


--- End of Conversation -- 

Really?
I told her to not contact me in any. At all. And she's been getting people to tell me things from her.
I'm keeping record of all of it, and I'm filing charges on her.
I'm hurting her? Constantly?
Funny, when I finally started talking to her again after she got pissed off at me for leaving the Army, I told her that I was done with the drama. One more time and we were done. She did it again and I'm done. But yeah, that's only the first couple days.

Then about two days ago I went to the ER for this horrible pain I was feeling in my more-than-nether-regions. NOT. FUN.
I thought it was baby's position when I woke up that morning. It kindof hurt but not extremely, so I just let it go. The longer the day went, the worse it got. Finally at about 5pm I went to the ER and got taken to labor and delivery to make sure it wasn't contractions.
.... Trust me. It's not contractions. I've had them.

Well, after Tylenol #3 (The good stuff) and some Antibiotics, I had to pee. REALLY BAD.
Turns out it was a kidney stone. A rather large one. -.-
FML.
Sucked. I never had the back pain that goes with kidney stones. Never had any signs or symptoms. It just hurt in my girlyparts and that's all I knew... But it's out. I'm on antibiotics to make sure there is not any infection or anything.

Anyway.
I'm going to call my husband now. I have more to type about my ideas for the beebee, but I'll get to those later.

Officially Facebook Free!

Facebook is gone. Too much drama.
There is always someone who thinks everything is about them. No matter what it is.

Facebook asks: "What is on your mind?"
My answer: "It's days like these that I need you. Here. Not across the country. Fuck you, army. Just fuck you."

Somehow that translates into: "My Dr. Appointment fucking sucked and I need every single person to ask me if I'm okay!"

In reality, that post had nothing to do with the doctor (Why the fuck would it?), anybody involved in the doctor, or any specific person, for that matter. The only person who should have been asking me anything was my husband, who in fact, I was talking to at the time.
When I got asked how it was, I replied with "It was fine."
And apparently that means I have an attitude and every body I know is going to get mad because I don't want to go into little bitty details.
Funny, I got called a hypocrite, too. By the person who I thought was my best friend.
Let me explain.

When people get on Facebook, they put statuses like "I wish I had someone to talk to."
And when they get responses like "I'm here, what's wrong?"
They answer, "I don't want to talk about it."

What. The. Fuck.

So when I put the status about the Army, apparently I'm trolling for sympathy. You know what? Here's the fucking conversation.

So-called friend: "Hey everything ok? How'd the Dr appt go?"
Me: "It was fine."
friend: "O ok well I'm just checking on u Bcuz of ur post earlier."
Me: "If I wanted to talk about it I would have."
friend: "W/e Jessika I wad just worried abt u but don't worry I won't make tht Damn mistake again"
Me: -Completely dumbfounded, by the way- "You and all the other goddamned nosy people can leave me the fuck alone. If I wanted to talk about the shit I would have said something. It has not a damn thing to do with you or anyone else. So the attitude that you just got with me can kiss my ass."
friend: "I was just checking on u, and u got attitude first, I was worried abt u I would've let it drop if u had just sd I'm fine and u know tht, I'm sry if u r pissed @ the Damn world but i did nothing t u and know it and if u didn't want ppl asking if u were ok u shouldn't have posted it on Facebook. U always point tht out to other ppl..."
Me: "Did you not see the IT WAS FINE part of the message? And no, you read it as attitude. So check yourself. Then fucking try again."
friend: "Whatever... I'm done"
Me: "I have no idea what the fuck crawled up your ass, but if you read the post completely instead of being nosy it says FUCK YOU ARMY. I figured anyone with common sense could figure out what the problem was."


What's funny is this, I do point things like that out on other people's Facebook. However, only if they're trolling for attention. I was not trolling for attention. I did not ask anyone to comment, I did not ask anyone to talk to me and I did NOT fucking say I was having a goddamned bad day. I'm just tired of it. Other people starting drama for me. I'm done with it.

I'm leaving for Colorado on November 7th, and to be completely honest, I don't know if I'm coming back. I hate it here. I'm tired of everybody trying to fucking tell me how to raise my child and what I should and shouldn't do in public. I'm tired of getting fucking yelled at because I'm just a soldier's wife and can't do shit about the problems that my husband's unit has. I don't feel ENTITLED to shit like your old ass does! 

"Waa! Navy Wives don't get any kind of help from the Navy for schooling!"

No. You don't. Why the fuck would you? You didn't get up and get deployed and defend our country. You didn't sign up, why would the Navy give you help for school? According to the military, all you do is suck the dick of a sailor. (Or soldier, or marine, or airman, or whatever branch your spouse is in.)
So stop telling me what I need to go do to get our shit straight. It doesn't matter what I do. I'm just a fucking civilian to the military and they don't want my opinion. Stop feeling so entitled to shit that you didn't earn, and stop telling me what I need to do to get it straight. There's nothing I can do. Being a military wife is NOT the hardest job in the military. Trust me. I've been on both sides. Being the wife is NOTHING compared to leaving your family for months at a time with a possible chance of not coming back. You don't know that feeling. I don't know that feeling. Only the SERVICE MEMBER knows that feeling. You want to earn some shit? Get off your ass and do it. It's that simple. Really.

The members of our military are already getting fucked around with enough. They really don't need your cranky, I-Want-Everything-He-Gets ass getting in the way.

It Almost Rips My Heart Out

You've seen the movies, right? The Delta Force guys or whatever. They get a call that they have to go. It never says where, how long, or why. For some reason, I feel like one of their wives right now. However, there are major differences.

Let me explain the problem.

Trey is in the Army Reserves. Basically, he has to hold down a real job while Active Duty does whatever they want because they can't get "fired."

Cool, whatever. He has a good job. It pays well. His unit doesn't have any more slots for a 25S, which is his MOS. I'm not explaining that part. Look it up. He has to re-class to another MOS. He chose 25B. (Again, look it up.)

He got a call Thursday morning saying that his classes were scheduled. Cool.

They told him that the flight was scheduled and everything on the Army side was taken care of. Even better.

They told him that he would be leaving Friday morning at 11AM for Salt Lake City, Utah. What the fuck?

So now our Thursday is spent frantic trying to get his boss to approve the leave ON a day that he was scheduled to work. We have to get everything for the car taken care of. We have to make sure his hair is in regs. We have to make sure everything is going to be okay on my end for the next couple of months. Fucking... Fantastic... 

Luckily, he got paid yesterday, so money wasn't an issue. 

We drove to the airport this morning. (Well, I drove.) We went to the gate with him and hugged and kissed and what-have-you, and he was gone. 

It was so fast, really.

We didn't have time to eat together like planned. We didn't get to sit at the terminal with some time to wait and hang out. It was just there, through security, to the gate and then they were boarding. -.-

I didn't have time to cry. I haven't had time yet. I don't even know if I will. I have a few months for it to kick in.

Phase one is 22 days, Phase two is 22 days, and he won't get orders for Phase three until he's in Phase 2. So there is no telling how long he'll be gone.

Fun, right?

No.

It sucks. I'm trying so hard to be strong for my baby girl, because she doesn't understand that daddy will be gone for a long time. That is the part that hurts.

Ugh.

I can't do this.

No Fun For You, Missy!!

How do I explain this one? Well, how about I just start at the beginning.

Last Wednesday, I was sitting in the library. My morning classes were over, and I was just waiting for my evening class. I was writing a paper, and was just about to start on my speech that was due. I'm 16 weeks pregnant, so when I gotta go pee, I gotta go NOW. Well, that feeling hit. I went to the bathroom and I saw the most horrifying thing a pregnant woman will ever see during her pregnancy...

Blood...
A lot of it...

I almost immediately started crying. I called Trey, who was at work. I told him. He said, "Okay, let me wrap this up and I'll be there."
I started walking back to the library, and my foot came out from underneath me. I hit the ground, so of course at this point I'm crying. I walked back into the library with tears running down my face to get all my stuff packed up to leave. The librarian noticed the tears and immediately ran up to me and gave me a hug. I told her what was going on and she let me sit in a back room out of the middle of the public eye.

Fast forward, Trey shows up. I get to the car. We get to the ER. They do another ultrasound. The technician was going to tell us the sex of the baby (without us having to pay $100), but the feet were in the way so she couldn't get a good view. Butthead Baby. Anyway, after the ultrasound she walked out. About two minutes later, she walked back in WITH THE DOCTOR. Red flags went off. The Doctor never comes in with the technician unless there is something wrong.

We were right. He tells us that there is bleeding around the placenta that looked recent. In other words, that was where the bleeding was coming from.

I knew I wasn't losing my mind. They gave me bed rest until I got in to see Dr. Cooke. They told me to go to his office first thing in the morning and see what they say. When we got there, they did another ultrasound. (This is the third one in a week. I had one the Friday before the incident.)

According to his techs, they couldn't find where the bleeding was or had been coming from. To them, everything looked absolutely normal.

Which is a good thing, right? Well, yes and no. A good thing, because that means there is no more bleeding. A bad thing, because they don't know what caused it, so they don't know if it's going to happen again.

Fun.

He took me off bed rest but gave me two weeks of pelvic rest, which means no sex. WHAT?!

NO. SEX. FOR. TWO. WEEKS.
Are you kidding me?!

Well, if it's for the health of the baby, I guess I can follow that. But that SUCKS!