I Have Some Issues

I did an at-home sleep study a few nights ago instead of the dreaded sleep center test (much less invasive and could be equivalent to slamming your hand in a door instead of your whole arm). They called today and said I didn't have sleep apnea anymore. Good news. The bad news is that based on my survey, the doctor suggests I get tested for narcolepsy. Now, I know for a fact that I've never fallen asleep in an upright position. Well, that's not entirely true, but I can say that I've only gone from consciousness to unconsciousness in 2.75 seconds when a great deal of alcohol was involved.

Now that I'm pregnant I'll have to come up with another reason to lose consciousness in the middle of a sentence or even when eating a donut. Narcolepsy it is, then.

Cheers to you, narcolepsy. And f&@k off, CPAP machine.

Let's Get Physical

For once, I exercised and painted my toes today. Maybe my energy is increasing because I’m nearing the end of my first trimester. Maybe it’s because I took two naps. I don’t know. Nothing to report about my toenail painting experience except that it was non-toxic. My workout was another story.

I made my prenatal debut by following along to Denise Austin’s something-or-the-other pregnancy DVD. The video said nothing about actually needing rhythm to complete. I discovered this on my own about midway through. My dogs hadn’t been fed yet and were swarming around me like sharks. Every time I’d mambo in the direction of the kitchen, they would stand up at attention. After one exhausting skip to your lou series, Rosco got underneath me and almost made me fall down. That’s when Denise Austin started getting on my nerves. She’s annoying on a good day, so imagine my disgust after hearing about the importance of exercise and kegels the entire time.

Even though I didn’t break a sweat or a bone, I’d say it was a successful workout. Now I just need to find me some stellar exercise attire like Olivia…

Stay Away From the Mouth

My gag reflex has turned on me. Literally. I cannot stand to have normal things in my mouth. Even my toothbrush has a hex on me. It just vibrates around, profusely gyrating about, threatening to send me to the porcelain God. Even smells do it for me. If I smell the wrong thing, madness ensues.

It’s really ironic, the mouth issue. I don’t have a uvula (this is not a vulgar thing). I had it removed because of my sleep apnea. I was told I’d never gag, make oinking sounds, or speak French again (not that I ever did any of these things to begin with).

I can only attribute my newfound disgust with oral items to pregnancy. In the meantime, I’m keeping everything foreign away from my mouth and perhaps signing up for a French class or two.

If I Close My Eyes Forever, Will It All Remain Unchanged?

If autism is my cross to bear, it’s a heavy load. I have other things to carry, as well. My hands are full. I’m tired. Will things ever get easier?

Deprivations, Additions, and Things That Make No Sense

I promised I’d chronicle my pregnancy journey for the world to see. As they say, the second one seems to avoid the limelight in a way that would appall the Duggar family. While I do hope to at least attempt a baby book, it’s not looking quite so good for the 50 page pregnancy journal I kept last time for Hayden. I’m a busy gal, ya know.

So, in my quest to have as “green” a pregnancy as possible, some things have changed. I’ve really upped my green smoothie intake. I’ve been reading a lot about raw eating and pregnancy. I’m also avoiding foods I shouldn’t eat. My latest obsession is the Caesar salad I’m not supposed to indulge in. Did I ever mention I always want what I can’t have? Suddenly, food dye seems appealing. I yearned for a Paradise Snow today. Luckily for baby-to-be, it was closed for the season.

Also, I’m terrified of natural cleaning products. I get even more hysterical when toxic products are thrown into the mix. I've considered forcing my cleaning lady to use only baking soda, vinegar, and elbow grease. I’m that paranoid. I can’t help it, those “natural” cleaners smell good for some reason…and I don’t see any essential oils on the ingredient list.

So, my husband cleaned out our vehicle the other day with Murphy’s Oil Soap. And Murphy's Oil Soap contains mercury. I saw the bottle on the kitchen island and went into a psychotic rage. I raced outside and confronted him. No need…the smell was overwhelming. I tossed the bottle (where did it come from, anyway?), threw a little fit, and had to drive the clown car for a week and a half. It took that long for the smell to dissipate from our normal-sized vehicle (even after being scrubbed from a natural cleaner by my pissed off husband). Sigh. My work is never done…

I Had My Titers Done

I know, it sounds like something you’d do in an operating room or possibly to your car. No, I’m not a golden retriever or child in the middle of the vaccine schedule (common to titer testing).

They do titer testing on pregnant women. Yes folks, mainstream medicine conducts titer testing. I got my blood drawn the other day in my OB’s office. They checked my level of immunity to rubella. Apparently that’s a bad thing to have during pregnancy, so they wanted to make sure I was immuned to the disease.

First, I’d like for you to take my history into consideration. I was NOT breastfed, didn’t have 50 vaccines like kids now do, and got my shots 20 or so years ago. I’m a child of the 80’s. In order to be considered immuned to rubella, one must carry antibodies higher than 9. Mine were 208. Yes, 208. Consequently, five years ago during my other pregnancy, my level was 179. So, the tests are fairly accurate and if anything, time has only added to my immunity.

Here’s my question, CDC. If mainstream medicine is using titer testing to determine whether an adult holds immunity to a disease, why can’t we do this for our children before they’re over-vaccinated or considered “parasites” because some of us choose not to “beat a dead horse” by continually jabbing our children when it’s not needed?

Feed Me Mexican

I wrote this earlier in the week...

Just do it. I’ll eat it from your hands, do a song and dance for an enchilada, guzzle some refried beans with a spork, WHATEVER. If I don’t slow down, this baby’s gonna come out wearing a sombrero and drinking a Corona Light.

One of my best friends craved sandwiches during her pregnancy. So for Christmas, what did I do? Instead of a turkey and swiss, I gave her Bad Santa. This movie has the most hilarious sandwich jokes in history. I owed her at least that.

Now it’s my turn for payback. I just can’t help it though, nothing satisfies me more than vegetable fajitas with a boat load of sour cream. I fully accept quesadilla love offerings. Need a girl’s night out? I’ll DD…you can have the margaritas, just leave the salsa and chips for me.

Here's to you, M...

A Gift For My Son

I’m sick, I’m tired, and now (drum roll please)…



There comes a time in your life when you think of others before yourself. This is one of those moments. Having a child with autism has put a lot of my dreams on hold. I quit teaching to focus on giving my son everything he needed and deserved. The shopping trips, dinners out, vacations…they all disappeared. Life as I knew it was enthusiastically replaced with stool tests, supplements, and ABA workshops. My desire to have another child was also placed on the backburner. As an only child myself, I desperately wanted to give my son the gift of a sibling. For so many reasons, really. For companionship, fighting over Lincoln logs, or even knowing that someone would “have your back” when you went to school with a bad perm or new unflattering glasses. And, for me, it was difficult (if not impossible) to blame my actions on my cats. Now, a sibling…that would’ve been promising. Shouldn’t everyone experience this joy?

Well, God intervened and decided that it was time. Though the circumstances aren’t to my liking, I’m pregnant. Being a pessimistic person by nature, random thoughts have popped in my head (with the same response as I’d give a giant bird shitting atop me). These crappy thoughts have ranged from concerns about finances and time management to the health of my baby.

I think you have to go through something before you can truly understand it. I’ve never given too much thought to siblings of autistic children. Now that I’m going to have one, I think about it all the time. How have children who’ve come before my unborn baby done with the difficulties of autism? I wonder how it’s affected them in the long run. Will they be the caregivers of our autistic children when we’re dead and gone? How can I ensure that my new baby will be healthy and not succumb to autism? Of course, I have my opinions. Avoiding vaccinations will be my first line of defense. The government and pharmaceutical companies may have taken my first child, but I’ll be damned if they get another one.

As my head fills with questions about the future, I periodically snap back to reality (with more force than the time I rear-ended a pick-up truck while throwing away a toothpick). I think about the things that I know will happen. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I’m already experiencing food cravings. No pregnancy is complete without a 3 a.m. snack attack of waffles and peanut butter. I’ve been hand selecting my friends who’ve been on Santa’s “Nice List” to accompany me through the hell of delivery. I’m not-so-eagerly awaiting what can only be thought of as karma-like morning sickness and stretch marks.

Maybe I would’ve waited a few more years. Perhaps the timing is bad. But really, in the end, it’s not about me. It’s about what’s best for my son and baby-to-be. In the next eight months (God, that sounds like forever), I’ll be exploring ways to prevent autism and sharing my reckless thoughts, (possibly) unwanted opinions, and lots of good information. The least I can do is portray my story to the world. After all, I know my child won’t be the last baby born into an autism family.

All I know is that this little lady (I have a feeling it’s a girl) is going to be as controversial as I am. A handful, indeed. Already, she’s indirectly said, “Get ready world, here I come! And what are YOU going to do about it, Mom?” So, what am I going to do about it? Take one step at a time, I suppose. Pray like mad for the health of my child. Try my hardest to deliver and raise a healthy child so that my son will have the gift that I never had. It may not be my timing, but look out world, she’s (or perhaps he’s) on the way.