Jenni's blog

Lately, people have been coming up to me to tell me I look a lot less pregnant than my 7 months. They tell me that my stomach is really tiny and that I don't look at all pregnant if it wasn't for that little bump.

Seems like everyone else is having a particularly bad week. Everyone but me. It's only wednesday and I have upset more people than I care to remember, and for once I haven't even tried. Seeing as I personally have had about the best week in I don't know how many years, I've not intentionally been mean or disrespectful to anyone else so far.

And yet, this week alone I've managed to seriously upset and/or anger people because: I wore high heels, didn't wear high heels, raised prices on contracts, refused to discuss whether or not I am going to take/have taken the H1N1-vaccine offered to pregnant women by the government, didn't go to lunch at the time someone else thought I would, answered text messages, didn't answer text messages, ordered a pram, went aquajogging, was too slow replying to an e-mail, talked on the phone, didn't talk on the phone and finally because I translated a contract from finnish to english upon request.

Looking at that list I still don't know who is walking around getting all those people's panties in a bunch, and what on that list justified several people calling me a bitch, awful, stupid, ignorant, inconsiderate, tactless or simply not replying to me at all.

I haven't had the energy or interest to be particularly offended by any of the above, but what the hell is going on? Is it really me and do I need shut down my computer, lock myself inside my house, turn off my phone and only emerge when the kid is going to be born?

On the other hand I've also once been called a good listener and a nice person this week. That came from the only person I would've understood being angry at the world because his prostate cancer decided to make a comeback.

I don't always understand people. Wish I would.

Because it was monday yesterday, I had an appointment with one of my dentists. Since I can't get enough pain as it is, I also had another appointment today, with the jaw surgeon. And an x-ray.

Mondays appointment was all about the mouth piece I rarely always sleep with. It dislocates my jaw, but in a non-painful manner so I hadn't thought much about it. While I was explaining the problem to my regular dentist, a professor who looked like a kiwifruit with eyes materialized from somewhere, and stated in a matter of fact voice:

"No wonder! it's completely fucked up."

I like him. Turned out it was done correctly, the problam is just that the same does not apply for my face. Anyway, he had the authority to give my regular dentist a helluva lecture while he was simultaneously fixing the mouth piece. I have to say that was a show I would gladly have bought tickets for if I wouldn't have been able to see it for free. From the first, plastic-covered row.

In fact, I was so wildly amused by this dental can of whoopass handed to another human being, I think I might have agreed to be part of some study. Professor Kiwifruit thought my 9 years of constant pain that nearly drove me to insanity and/or alcoholism was "rare and indeed fascinating". Let's face it: I am, aren't I?

Tuesday morning started with an x-ray, where a young nurse politely asked me if there was any chance of me being pregnant. I told her that I sure as hell hope I am, because otherwise I may have a slight problem in the lower region of my body. That was the first time she turned her eyes down to my stomach. "Oh."

Oh indeed.

Next up: Superdoc.

He was very delighted to see me, and even more delighted to see me pregnant. One of the biggest reasons we pushed to get me operated a year ago was that it is relatively impossible to consider pregnancy if the girl in the relationship is on teratogenic painkillers.

The x-ray they took a year ago was blurry, and my jawbone so eroded and jagged that they had a hard time seeing where it met the base of my skull. The x-ray today showed that as a result of the operation, the bone had smoothed down and it was clearly visible. Furthermore, for some odd reason there seems to be a layer of scar tissue directly on the jawbone which in turn makes it stronger, more durable and more mobile. The erosion that started 3 years ago and was slowly chewing my jaw in half has stopped. Just like that.

And just like that the right side of my jaw is not only allright, it is better than it has been before. If I'm at all lucky, there's a minimal chance I might get by a really long time with my original face and I could avoid the prosthesis.

Just like that.

After almost a goddamned decade I am released back into the wild, and I cannot believe it. Painless, cured, free and pregnant and if it wasn't for that last thing I'd also celebrate myself completely and utterly shitfaced. For now I'll settle for carrots.

If you could only drink one beverage for the rest of your life (not including water), which one would you choose?

Dark rum. Goes without saying that the rest of my life wouldn't be awfully long, would it?

About a week ago I caught the flu. Which is nice since it's been en route for a month or so, so I figured I'd get it over with in about a week. Finally.

On a related note: having the flu while this far in on a pregnancy causes contractions. Not the nice kind. Anyone who doesn't want to start thinking about graphic images involving bodily fluids, stop reading.

I've sailed through the days with a congested nose and equally clogged up brain, to get home, sleep a few hours and wake up in WHAT THE HELL DID I DO TO YOU, UNIVERSE! POO IN YOUR BREAKFAST CEREAL?-contractions. I've managed to take the contractions like a man, meaning I bitch and whine about it every chance I get.

While I've heard that actually giving birth is like someone taking a lighter to your lady parts, I only have one thing to say: bring it on. Please. 

(And to everyone who has spent time with me and/or called me in the last few days: sorry for being such a twat. Sorry Mom.)

I also turned a year older on friday, which was extremely painful. I actively dislike my birthday as it is, so I try to avoid it as much as I can. Problem is, other people like to write stuff like that down. And the IT-department has programmed a software that notifies co-workers about incoming birthdays a few days in advance, so good luck trying to pretend it never happened!  I told Sami in advance not to call me that day, as I wouldn't be answering my phone. He thought that was a dick thing to do, and started nagging about it. A few friends of mine were also a bit peeved that I deleted that particular info from my facebook-account and didn't remind them. Which made the whole day just that much nicer.

Still, I do have to admit that when me and a friend of mine used my birthday as an excuse to go out to eat, I really enjoyed it. Because food is all the fun I have these days, and I am rocking that card for all it's worth. Plus, I got flowers, for the first time in a year or two, and even though I'm not much of a girl in other aspects, flowers get me every time, so that was a really nice thing for her to do. Especially as I invited her over to my place for birthday coffee when she turned 26, only to forget in my pregnant absent-mindedness that it was the reason I baked when she eventually came over. I'm that good.

Finally, on sunday when I was through avoiding Life, Sami managed to send me roses and my favourite men (Ben & Jerry) through a friend of ours. That was just about the best thing, apart from himself, that I could've had sent my way.

There will be a picture later, when I get around to taking one.

These weeks fly by faster than deadlines at the office, and holy crap, all of a sudden it's 3 months and I'll be on my way to fitting into my jeans again! It feels like I just sat in that toilet with that pee-stick. And isn't that an image you would like to cherish in your mind, now?

Some weeks ago the child has grown so big that it is supposed to be able to hear a lot of things through the stomach. Like music, and the voices of whoever is talking. That's why it is encouraged to talk, sing and communicate with the kid already. They might recognize your voice to the extent that it, or some song or phrase you've said a lot during pregnancy, will calm them down when they're out. Sounds good, right?

Not so good when you consider the phrase I've been using the most lately is "SLEEP, YOU LITTLE SHIT!" at 3 am. Although if it finally works when kiddo is outta there, it's good enough for me.

I've been back at work for almost a week now, and let me just say negotiating contracts gets a lot more exciting when you've slept a good 4 hours during the course of an entire week.

The contractions haven't stopped, they've actually increased in both amount and intensity. They vary from completely painfree to OH MY GOD SOMEBODY PLEASE RENDER ME UNCONSCIOUS.

So all of y'all who are thinking about alternative methods of birth control, ask me what it's like to experience painful contractions and know they'll continue for another 90 or so days.

Going to the maternity clinic lately has been pretty much like going to any of the multitude of dental/facial experts I've been to during the last decade.

Do you have siblings? What's your relationship like with them? Bonus points if you share a photo!

I have a brother and a sister. My sister is older than me, and she is the kindest person on the face of this planet. She is very careful never to insult anybody, and I think that her compassion is, hands down, her most beautiful feature. Needless to say: I am nothing like her. 

She is every bit as pink as I am black, all the flowers in the world when I am the twigs and rocks, and the grace and carefulness of baby kittens when I am like a naked drunk dude driving a bulldozer. 

As kids, we didn't get along at all. At. All. 

As adults, we get along just fine, even though she is irritated by my blurt-it-out-manners, and I am irritated about her tiptoeing around issues. We're probably not the closest sisters alive, but we get along very well, we like each other, and her dog (who is probably the only other creature on this planet who is just as kind and innocent) is the only one I can stand. 

chillin' in the kitchen

 Obviously, I love both of them to bits.

Then there is 

my younger brother.

He is all blackness, the rocks, twigs and drunken bulldozer-rides too. He is a lot more design-oriented and cares more about his appearance than I do, and this has resulted in 2 things: Most guys, at some point, suspect he is gay (he's not), and all the girls love him. I argue a lot more with my brother than I do with my sister. Mainly because there's no reason to argue with her most of the time, and he can tolerate my mean streak a lot better since he is equally vicious. Still, it rarely gets really ugly. My sister is someone my parents never had to worry about, while I inspired my mother to utter the phrase "Don't tell me about your awful life". She now uses it on my brother. Sadly, this has never prevented our parents to hear about our awful life, with the blogging and all.

I think I have a lot more of a laid back relationship with my brother than I do with my sister, but then again both relationships are so very different from each other that it's difficult to evaluate.

Both of them sometimes ask me for shopping tips, which I like very much. Both of them are very affectionate, which I wish I was too. And between all three of us? We're all completely off our rockers.