Baby needs a new pair of shoes!

I'm in the midst of a FREAK OUT. Not just right this second, but for probably about the last week...

We are broke. I mean, brokety-ass-brokety BROKE.

Thankfully, we make all of our bills, but that's it.
There's no savings, and there's no emergency fund.

We don't even make enough to pay real rent, so it's a good thing we're living with my in-laws.

We're having a baby. HOLY MOTHER OF G-D.

I don't know what to do. Ironically, we can't bring in any more income, or we'll lose the Medi-Cal that we have for the baby.

Even if I could work, my doctor has said that I shouldn't, and my poor husband was trying to find a 2nd job BEFORE I got pregnant, and couldn't find anything to save his life.

Now, even if he could FIND something, he wouldn't be able to take it, because we can't afford to lose the medi-cal, but we also can't afford to not to bring in more dinero....

Ummm, yeah. Stuck between a rock and a poor place.

In an effort to try and do what we can, we consolidated all of our credit cards (all of which save for one, was in my name because of my husband's lack of credit history) and started what the company calls a: Debt Management Plan-DMP, which will reduce our monthly out-go of credit card payments by quite a bit.

We were hoping to put that money we "saved" toward an emergency fund and toward saving for the baby, BUT now we're terrified that my husband's car is close to death.

If the "CHECK ENGINE" light comes on one more time, I'm going to lose it.

We're hoping the car will at least eek out for another year....oh, please, little car, hear my cry!

But even with saving that bit of money every month, it still doesn't allow us to become financially stable enough to move out.

Especially with the credit consolidation now.

My credit history which I spent 10 years building, is now dust, and will be for the next five years.

I'm jobless, credit cardless, credit historyless, and pregnant.

Excuse me while I collapse into panic attack/coronary.

I went from bringing in a full-time income, having a great credit score and an established credit history to THIS, in a ONE YEAR.

I have never been this dependent on another human being (that being my husband) in my life. It's terrifying. I don't like it.


That is not to say that I blame my husband for any of it (and I'm so thankful that he doesn't blame me EITHER), or that I would change anything really, it just blows my mind how quickly things can shift.


We just don't know what to do.
We desperately want to find a way to move out of my in-laws house.

Not because it's a horrible place to live, but because we just want to not feel like failures, but at the same time, we know it would be idiotic to try and leave before we're truly stable, not just for our sakes, but for the sake of our child as well.

Until we can find a way to make a substantial second income, or be granted a miracle, we'll be camping here for a while.

Most of the people in our lives have been really supportive of our having to move in to my husband's parents, but then there are those that treat it like we ended up here because we were irresponsible assholes, who didn't try hard enough, which is really unnerving.

Worse than that though, are the people who assume that because we're living with the 'rents, who happen to be "comfortable" shall we say, that all of our troubles are over, our bills are being paid, our debts are settled, and now we're just lazy.

Yes, we live with my husband's parents, and yes, it is a pretty swank place to live, and yes, they have helped us, BUT they are NOT just handing out money to us like confetti...

Ummmm, I WISH.

Who wouldn't want someone to come in, fairy godmother-style and say: Don't worry! I've got this!?

But alas, that is not so.

They have their own financial ecosystem to maintain, thank you.

We pay are own bills, and on one income (particularly in So. CA), it's pretty tight.
We are not whiny and spoiled, I promise.

Some people just like to run their mouths...ahem.

If that wasn't enough, my husband's parents really want him to go back to school.
Which, in theory, is great.
I want my husband to be able to do that too, but given the current state of things, the idea of adding another mountain of student loans to the range of financial clusters we ALREADY have paralyzes us both with terror.

But that is another post for another night.

I don't have the strength for it now.....

Pregnancy is a pain in the ass.

I know. I KNOW. How dare I, right? I feel guilty for even typing it, let alone THINKING it....

but it IS. It's a pain in the ass.

There's the mind-numbing fatigue, the complete loss of your previous abilities to focus, remember and/or retain information, there's the copious amount of vomiting, plus gas and heartburn. And don't forget the peeing. ALWAYS peeing.

(I'll save the skin and bodily changes for my next post....Oooh, something to look forward to!)

I am so tired, that all I do is sleep.

Women who work/go to school while pregnant are now my new superheroes. I don't know how they do it! They deserve medals and parades.

The other day, it took me six hours just to get dressed, write an email, and put away 3 baskets of laundry. 6 HOURS, people. I don't have other children or a job, that was all I did all day...

And I was exhausted!

I have also become dumber. I can't remember how to spell things, I have difficulty paying attention, My husband has to repeat himself, it's a mess.

Oh, and the vomiting: There's no "glow," just shades of green and broken blood vessels all around my eyes and across the bridge of my nose. Food is the enemy and I've gotten to the point where I'm slightly afraid to eat. I've started picking foods based on their ease of regurgitation.

Gross, but totally true.

Next, we have gas and heartburn--

With the way I've been belching and farting, you'd think I was a trucker! My favorite part? I seem to have no control over any of it. I'll open my mouth to speak, and instead, out comes a loud rumbly burp. In the middle of a quiet restaurant, no less.

It's 3:30am and I'm wide awake with heartburn and and stomachache. Damn Italian.


Finally, there's the peeing. I probably pee every fifteen minutes. Going an hour between bathroom breaks is like marathon status.

If I cough too hard, I pee a little.
If I throw up, it's a sure bet that I will pee.
Good sneeze? It's over!

So I've started wearing pads 24/7...and it's early in my pregnancy still. By the end, I'm going to have to drop all pretenses of dignity and just give into Depends. Shudder!


Pain in the ASS, I tell you!

But that's okay. I'd go through all of this tenfold to have our baby.

It's always been said that you have to work hard for what you really want, so armed with my super absorbent pads, my prenatal vitamins and my chuck bucket, I say:

LET'S DO THIS.


That, however, does not mean that I won't bitch about it from time to time, no matter how grateful I may be for this opportunity.

I'm sorry, but peeing your pants while puking your guts out is  like salt in the wounds....just mean!