3/23

It is 10:30am, Houston time, and I have not started crying yet, folks. It WILL be a good day. Yesterday just got rougher and rougher after I posted. The FOB and I have hit a new all-time low. He refuses to call me so I call him about once a week, just to see if he's still breathing, going to work, and if his blood alcohol content places him in the "fairly sober" category. He said that I just call him to make sure that he feels like shit- to constantly rub it in his face that he's a bad person. Hmmmm.....anyone have any comments for that? I'm not blameless, however. I turn into this crazy, hormonal, pregnant person when I talk to him that has no relation to the sweet, rational individual that I think I actually (well, occasionally) am. I made the mistake of telling him that I still cared about him and he told me: "there is no way in hell that we are ever getting back together." I started crying. He started yelling at me for crying because, clearly in his mind, I'm just trying to make him feel guilty.

My friends keep telling me to not call him. To tell him to go take a giant leap off of a tall building and raise this child by myself. My brother-in-law recommended that I not claim him as the FOB and get a restraining order against him for harassing me. My father is considering castration and I don't even want to think about what my mother would do if they were in the same room. My sister just went to the restaurant that the FOB works at for dinner, with the before-mentioned B-I-L, and they refused to acknowledge each other. The father of my son and my only sister, refused to even say hello to each other. That's how bad it is. But, I can't cut him out. I just can't. I never thought that I would need him emotionally or that he would be so important to me during this process. I've always been an independent woman, but I didn't create Peanut all by myself and it's hard to claim that I did; that he's "my baby". He's not, folks.

To all of the supportive people in my life, please try and understand that I'm doing the best that I can. I know that you get tired of hearing about Leigh and tired of listening to me cry. One day, I hope to not cry. I hope that I can look at my son and feel proud at how big, strong, loving, and intelligent he is. I hope that the second love of my life (after my cat, Honey) will walk into my life and love Peanut and I as much as all of you do. Please, I know that you mean the best, but I need to go through this incredibly painful part if I can ever accept Leigh as the "father" rather than the "lover" or the "friend".

In baby news, I went to see my favorite OBGYN yesterday for my monthly fifteen minute visit. I peed in a cup, was weighed, had my blood pressure checked, was measured from pubic bone to belly button and pronounced the best heifer at this year's county fair. I'm fattening up nicely, according to the Doc. She told me that at my last ultrasound the baby weighed 12 ounces and was in the 84% for his size and weight. Yup, I've got a monster baby inside me. He's big, he's bad and he knows it. I knew my uterus was hurting for a reason! Ligaments, my ass, this kid is stretching out places that have never been stretched before. I'm going to get another ultrasound tomorrow to check his spine and see what position he's in. If his head is pointing downwards, we're all good. If he's still looking up into my rib cage, well, Houston, we've got a problem.