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Don’t sit in a hot tub, and for heaven’s sakes don’t touch kitty litter.(Though the one thing I LOVED hearing was that I no longer had to dump that ammonia-filled bin that my three adorable cats frequented at LEAST three times a day… Anyway, all that “you shouldn’t this” and “you shouldn’t that”… Before long, I was brain-bogged with everything I should and shouldn’t do. I was a tired, caffeine-deprived, organic-eating health nut who took cold showers and wouldn’t eat chocolate for fear of trace amounts of caffeine racing to my unborn baby’s heart. forget the health-nut comment; that was a lie) and sex. I was a raging horn-dog the entire first trimester.

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That same year, I started dating my future-husband, Chad. They wore black from head to toe and black eyeliner half streamed down their faces. I was never so happy as the day I found out I was preggo. If the main character was expecting in some novel newly released on the New York Times Bestsellers List, I had my hands on that book quicker than the press could put it onto the book-store shelves. I wanted to know what to expect, when the baby’s heart would beat, when the fingers and toes would form and I wanted insight into what my body was experiencing.

He had two children and was a full-time dad, full-time lobster fisherman, and had a full-time crush on me. Both of Chad’s girls were teenagers when he proposed to me and before I agreed to marry him, I asked him one important question: “Do you want more children? Not a family picture was taken without their tongues sticking out. Turns out, Chad had no problem saying “Yes” to any new additions to our newly-wed family. I studied every book I could get my hands on, and spent hours on the Internet. I even watched every episode of “Baby Story”, a show on TLC that has real-life baby/delivery stories. You’ve probably seen them all, too.) Needless to say, my DVR was full for months!

But don’t let me allow you to think ANYTHING other than Chad was a pure God-send to me the entire time, and waited on me 24/7.

If I’d have asked to have that cobweb taken down, he’d have done it.

I had more hormones in me than a fertility clinic and was being deprived of sex. ) No seriously, my husband, knowing my history of four miscarriages, had a theory.

And his theory was that “A penis CAN poke out the eyes of your unborn child.” So what do you get when you deprive your wife of sex, caffeine, wine, and chocolate? And you deliver it with a smile on your face if you’re a smart man. the mere mention of weight gain is dangerous business if you live in a pregnant woman’s world.My peers were more into Punky Brewster and New Kids On The Block than Xavier Roberts. Well, Xavier happens to be my FIRST red-headed, yarn-haired Cabbage Patch Kid. It was fun to make Xavier clothes and display them in my 80’s style bedroom.It was way back then that I imagined the fairy-tale life where I would marry, have children, and live happily ever after.Because being on bed rest while eating pizza is a no-no unless you want to gain 100 pounds. Every day took me one day closer to the dreaded labor and delivery that terrifies every first-time mother.But on the plus side, it was also one more day “I’d made it” and managed to keep Lainey safe and sound. I had shifted my “fun” reading topics to medical studies on how early my baby could be born and still survive. Something that many women take for granted, was scaring the daylights out of me.I just couldn’t bring myself to do it, so I let it haunt me for the duration of my bed rest.

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