Stop and Smell the People

Baby Diaries: Road Trip!

I always have to say this up front for your SASTP newbies: My wife, Anna, writes “The Baby Diaries.” When she’s done she turns me loose to make my comments in [brackets and bold]. Heeeeeeere’s Anna…

For starters you need to know I am sitting in the “massage chair” as I write this – Mike loved this birthday present so much, he sat in it too long and bruised his back. So I am keeping the chair warm. Don’t you love it when a plan comes together?

Okay, on with the latest installment of “The Baby Diaries.”

Some women cry when they are pregnant. [Um, when they’re pregnant?] I mean they open up the floodgates, sound the tsunami alarm and ride the wave of endless heaving sobs. Not me. No, my raging hormones turned this preggo into a laughing hyena. Just about ANYTHING could set off my giggling fits which were uncontrollable bouts of laughter that contort your face until you look your absolute ugliest… and you can’t stop laughing. And since you are pregnant… laughing this hard, well, it means you are probably going to release a toot of flatulence… and pee just a little, too. [Charming.] Although you would normally be horrified, you find this funny too and the cycle keeps spinning. Bottom line, you had better find a bathroom quickly.

But when I sat in my Dr.’s office a little before Christmas, it was no laughing matter. We were talking about whether I should make the trip to see Mike’s family in Ohio the day after Christmas (also my birthday). It would take some TEN hours in the car to get there. Well, it’s ten hours for normal people. But when you are six months pregnant and you stop every ten minutes to go to the bathroom, it could take a lot longer.

“Dr., are you sure I should make the trip to Ohio. That’s a long time in the car. Perhaps it’s not good for the baby?” I asked, very concerned (and hoping for a certain outcome.)

“You’ll be fine. Just stop every couple of hours and walk around,” he said. [He saw right through her.]

“Dammit!” I thought to myself. Mike was in the room so I had to hide my displeasure. [THAT was trying to hide it?]

“Anna, have you been there before?” The doctor asked. (Looking back, I think it was planned. I think he and Mike worked it out before hand. I walked into a trap.) [So you're paranoid too? Lovely.]

“No,” I said. That’s right. World’s worst daughter-in-law because in the nearly three years of marriage, I had somehow never visited Mike’s hometown.  It’s a strange thing in my family. We love to be together. The married-ins complain all the time that we Crowleys are one sided in our affinity for all things family because…we never visit theirs. I write this with a scrunched up nose and squinted eyes and that say, ‘I’m sorry but I can’t help it…sort of.’ [So pathetic.] But it got to the point, that even my own aunts took me aside and said, “Anna. Marriage is about sharing. You need to go to Ohio. I am sure they are talking about you behind your back: ‘Mike got married and his wife has never come to visit.’ You don’t want to be thought of as a Southern you know what!” [NEVER!]

And please don’t get me wrong. Mike’s family could not be nicer, more welcoming or kind. [Here’s a tissue to wipe that brown stuff off your nose.] I just have issues. And those issues were compounded by the fact that during my pregnancy, if I could have become a shut-in, I would have. I hated leaving the house. HATED IT! My protective instincts were in over drive. So a ten-hour, multi state trip seemed like a life-risking event. Ahhh pregnancy.

The morning of the 26^th, Mike and his son Trevor and I piled into the car and headed north. I volunteered to drive the first leg. Think less martyr, more control freak. [Think TOTAL control freak.] And I don’t know, but somewhere around West Virginia, my mood lightened up and a simple highway sign triggered a laughing fit. We were approaching Gassaway, West Virginia. Gas-away. Call me a 12-year-old, but the earthquake started. [I’d like to apologize to all 12 year olds for this sweeping insult.] I unleashed a belly laugh so hearty that it was hard to keep the steering wheel steady. Trevor and Mike looked over at me with horror. What happened to the prim and proper, rules oriented, type “A” Anna? Who was this? Toot! Toot! Pee Pee! I just kept laughing. [I just kept chanting under my breath, 'Please don't kill us, please don't kill us, please don't kill us.']

“Help me!” I managed to squeak out. “It hurts.” More laughter. More swerving. Mike and Trevor now look scared which only made me laugh harder.

“Anna! Get off at the next exit!” Michael shouted. [I wouldn't call it a shout as much as a last gasp cry for life.]

The next exit was Gassaway! This sent my laughing fit to the next level. My stretched out abdominal muscles ached. I gasped for air. And I kept laughing as we rolled into a gas station. The belly laughs gave way to giggles and finally deep breaths in and out. It was over.

And so the drive went. Drive. Stop, walk, bathroom. Drive. Laughing fit. Repeat. For Trevor, it became a game to good to resist. What could set me off? Could he set me off? And he did.

Morning gave way to afternoon and we began driving through darkness Somewhere around Pittsburgh. My maternal instincts returned. As heavy rain started to fall, I couldn’t help but feel a great deal of anxiety. And when a low fog clung to the miles of highway in front of us, I was sent over the edge. Danger. It’s a terrible feeling when you are pregnant. Instinct + hormones + emotion + fear = one crazy preggo in the passenger seat. It’s best not to talk to us in this condition. There were even tears, but finally we pulled into the driveway of my sister-in-law’s and walked through the door.

My first stop was the bathroom where I cried for five minutes straight. [Good times.] Over what, I have no idea. But I cried, wiped my face and came out to greet everyone. And no sooner did I finish my hellos that Mike’s sister whipped out a fully engulfed birthday cake that she made just for me.

It was my first clue that I am a self-absorbed jerk. Mike’s family is selfless and so considerate. I felt completely enveloped by love and support. It was amazing.

The fait accompli was when Mike’ sister showed me to my room and I slipped into softest flannel sheets I’ve ever touched in my life. I snuggled in as the electric blanket kicked on and thought, “I am in heaven. I will stay here and have my baby.” [Fait accompli? Who are you trying to kid?]

We had four wonderful days with Mike’s family that included a raucous family dinner, a beautiful tea/baby shower, and long talks around a fireplace. In fact that’s where Mike and I were sitting, when I had a just taken a too large a bite of cake. He whispered, “Get enough cake there?” Instant laughing fit. I thought I would choke. Mike’s sister asked, “Is Anna okay?”

“Yes,” he said, “but I should probably help her off the couch so she can get to the bathroom.” I made it in time. Mostly.

[I swear if they would simply bring an actual pregnant woman into high school classes and have her laugh uncontrollably until she farts and pees herself, teen pregnancy would come to an end.

This concludes yet another classic real-life diary from our pregnancy. Thankfully, today the baby and I are the only ones who toot and pee unexpectedly. And, I'm thrilled to have the baby to blame it on.

If you’d like to read all of Anna’s “Baby Diaries” just click that phrase in the Word Pile in the right column.

Peace… MR]