I’m getting there. Got the posts from this blog over to my .com blog and soooo don’t stop by here any more. I finally have my own .com spot!!

Stop by here instead.

Thanks for following me all over the internet. Literally. Etsy. Pinterest. Instagram. Twitter. Tumblr. Blogspot. YouTube (obxmarathongirl) are just a few. But for plain ole blogging I’ll see you in the new place.


How I Got to Be in the MOF Club Part One

me and eThis is a repeat of my recent BlogSpot post because I am becoming rather attached to the new me. And since I have not finished the MOF Club saga here’s the first part again if you chanced to read it over there.

We were married a year. Be a couple for a year before starting a family sounded like good advice and we found that it passed fast and we were still happy with each other and our life.
So let’s take the kid plunge we reasoned. Don’t worry if it takes months or even a year said the doctor when I quite the pill. And use some protection for a few months until your body has time to readjust.

Barely weeks into commando there was just that one time when protection was too much trouble. And we found out how fertile we were.

I’m just tired and sick. You’re pregnant. No over the counter tests in those days. Finally official confirmation. I got sicker. My days went like this. I woke up, threw up, went to work, came home threw up, went to bed.

I was teaching. My usual lively classroom became a tomb. I dared anyone to talk, to move from their seat, to move in their seat, to look at their neighbor. They created some great art because they had nothing else to do.

I got sicker. I lost weight. A lot. Can’ t you give me something I whined to the doctor. Something safe. I remembered those thalidomide babies all too well. I can put you in the hospital was his reply. I will put you in the hospital if you cannot keep something down. No hospital for me. I had a job that brought in a needed paycheck. Mashed potatoes and I became tenuous friends. Only three months. Only mornings.

Lies. Maybe for some. Not for me. Day and night for months. And months. And months. I’ll still be sick after the baby is born I sighed. Finally around month seven it subsided. Just in time for the no room in the inn for anything but baby part.

This child will be an only I decided. That will be just fine. Get it here safely and let it be healthy and that’s it. I will not do this again. Never.