In The Words of Weird Al, "Eat It"

For starters, I'm not an idiot. So NO, she's not getting fat. I say eat everything in sight, and bring me some if you're getting take out. And bring some ice cream with that, please.

The Toilets of Oconee

So without doubt you've heard or read Courtney's account of our trip down to Clemson and the scare with the cramping/bleeding. Yes, I was scared, no I didn't check game scores from inside the RV, and yes we have some great friends who were very good to us during a difficult situation.

But, the rest of the story must be told, for that's why you're reading THIS blog! First, here we are! Second row up from the "BI" in Bi-Lo. right behind the kid in the white t-shirt.

I'm in the second row of stands, at halftime, enjoying CJ Spiller say something completely incomprehensible (this kid is on the Dean's list? no way he can read..) about the ACC Championship he wants to win. Okay, I'm really enjoying the Rally Cats... 31 seconds until the second half starts.

I get a text from Courtney. It says "Bad News..."I feel similar to when a doc calls me in the middle of an operation and says "XYZ is broken, come in here and fix it before the patient wakes up." Except this is much more powerful, because I actually care. I take 2 seconds to make a plan. I realize I did not bring a doctor, so I have no plan. I am then Carl Lewis sprinting. I jump over our friends without excusing myself. I am Jim Brown, splitting Coach Gaudio's wife and daughter like I'm going through a defensive line (sorry, folks) and running halfway around the coliseum to find her... crying. This isn't new, she's a cry machine. I say let if flow.

I'm a do-er. So, we hustle her over to a nurse, and they summon an ambulance. While we wait they take a bit of a history. You know what a history is, right? Name, age, symptoms, what did you eat today, has this been happening lately, astrological sign, who did you vote for, etc... She gives all the answers. I'm taking mental notes, and thinking "this isn't good news, please let her be confused." I stay quiet and do lots of arm and head rubbing. I am petting. I stop petting because that's probably annoying. I tell her it's going to be okay. I know I'm going to be okay no matter what. I don't know about her. I lie and say she will. The ambulance shows up and we take a short ride to Oconee Medical Center, the hospital in Seneca. I have no idea where any of this is, we're in the sticks...

Anyhow, I get her registered and then they tell me what ER room she's in. I just go back there like I own the place... but there's no Courtney in there. I give a quick knock and step in room 16, taking mental note that 16 is my lucky number. NOT TODAY. Where is she? AND WHAT IS THAT GOD AWFUL SMELL? I call her name thinking there's no way they put her in a room with a rotting corpse. She's in the room next door. Whew, let me out of here.. I go through the door, and everything becomes clear. Or should I say tears came to my eyes? It some how, some way, smells worse in there. In the history, it dawns on me they never asked "when did you last go #2."

So yes... we drove 4 hours, shopped at an outlet mall, bought her new black shoes, ate a crappy lunch at said outlet mall, sat through half a Clemson basketball game in the best seats known to man, then took a 15 minute ambulance ride... so my wife could take a massive Pericolace induced dookie in the Oconee hospital ER restroom. Two movement later (sort of like a symphony orchestra, yes) problem solved. We got an ultrasound to confirm "I gotta poo" cramps feel just like "I gotta problem" cramps. Hey, it's all about the journey.

I love my wife (who will be increasing her fiber intake), my unborn child who looks a bit like those Grateful Dead dancing bears, and my friends who went pretty far out of their way to make sure we were okay and taken care of.

Go Deacs!

The Amazing Expanding Boob

So last night we spent another couple of hundred dollars on "belly accommodating" clothing. I was pleasantly surprised at the, uh, "prettiness" of the clothing available. Of course, one had to leave Target and head to an actual maternity store to find clothes that don't look like they were made for the Virgin Mary. Maternity Store = more expensive. YAY!

Today I'd like to inform you on the breast growth situation. Did I say growth? I was mistaken. There is an explosion of breast in my house. See below for reference. I very much respect my wife, so I won't be posting any pictures of her heavy hangers, but I have found one picture of a very similar female before and after being pregnant for your reference.



Isn't this quite the windfall? I mean WOW! How much fun am I going to have with these?

I'll tell you how much fun:

These new breasts should come with a sign that says "Touch Us, You Die." Apparently, they're sore, all. the. time. So, while the amazing growing breast is fun to see, I've finally learned that I'll be touching them about as often as I'll be touching Heidi Klum's.

Maternity Clothes

Maternity clothes... ah the joy of comfort while you grow.

Here, I name things more expensive than buying a whole extra wardrobe called "maternity clothes:"

1) An aircraft carrier
2) 50 Cent's house
3) A new baseball stadium
4) An interstate highway bridge
5) A divorce...

So, with that list mentioned, ever how expensive, I'm very much looking forward to Courtney wearing maternity outfits. I have found the following pictures of women in maternity clothing for my own personal reference of what I have to look forward to:




This looks like it's going to be pretty super!


Did I mention her breasts are getting HUGE? What a benefit! More on that later.

Primer

Hello everyone. I thought it might be important to let all of our friends and family in on the other half of the story. Courtney is doing a great job telling you or pregnancy/baby preparations from her point of view. Here's my side (or the rest) of the story.