Here’s the Boring Part of the Story

Shortly after speaking to the surgeon that performed the trachelectomy (probably on a spaceship somewhere just above Houston because that’s what aliens do to abductees probably), we realized that the trek to Houston from San Antonio may no longer be feasible. The “what ifs” started surfacing…We had initially planned on shacking me up in an AirBnB location in Houston at 24 weeks pregnant, but were really concerned with cost and travel at that point of my pregnancy. We also wondered, if my pregnancy was so high risk, what if there’s an emergency and we can’t get to Houston? No one in San Antonio knows us or our case, which could be dangerous! We had no idea just how high risk the pregnancy was…

Dr. Mildred Ramirez, the MFM at Texas Children’s Hospital, was amazing in the short time we met her. I met with nurses, a nutritionist, a geneticist…we just felt so at ease with the standard of care at the hospital. I mean, they house the number one Neonatal Intensive Care Unit specializing in Cardiology. Did I botch that name up? Probably. We voiced our concerns to her, asking for a referral to someone local. She linked us up with Dr. Peter Nielsen at the Children’s Hospital of San Antonio, which mirrored their standard of care to Texas Children’s since it was in the Baylor network.

Just a few weeks later (at 17 weeks pregnant), we walked through the doors of Maternal Fetal Medicine office for the Children’s Hospital of San Antonio. Dr. Nielsen was not in, so we met with Dr. James Hill (which did not immediately sit well with me since there was a switch made without us knowing). While we waited to meet with a strange, new face, I googled Dr. James Hill. West Point graduate and retired Colonel? Okay, yes. Went back for a MS at Stanford? Yup, right place. (Those aren’t his only credentials, but those are the familiar and quite impressive ones.)

Within seconds of meeting Dr. Hill, we knew we were in the right place. He listened intently as we spoke of our concerns and told our story. He is very methodical, which we appreciated, and also has a dry sense of humor, which was also appreciated. (If you ever see him, do not let his serious demeanor fool you…he’s awesome and can easily make you feel at ease!)

At this appointment, he really said something that drove it home for us. I mentioned our initial intent to stay in Houston at 24 weeks pregnant because we were high risk. His response was, “You’re high risk now“.

Ugh. Wow. 17 weeks pregnant and, to that point, everything was smooth sailing; little-to-no morning sickness (with twins, no less), no issues getting around (except the feeling of being a beached whale while on the couch Netflix and chilling), still going to the gym and walking or doing elliptical with light weights, and I was all belly with two, beefy baby girls. We were so pie in the sky to that point. Any time thereafter I tried to describe the situation, I was met with a look like I had two heads and was making it up that bed rest was needed and that I shouldn’t be driving. You can’t make this situation up and it’s most certainly not a relatable one to the normal baby maker.

We had no idea, but we were in for a wild ride that was yet to come… well, all things considered, our ride was about to turn into an amusement park ride at Cedar Point that hasn’t been considered yet – think Millennium Force meets Demon Drop meets Top Thrill Dragster (which is sinking deeper into the ground, by the way), all of which are combined to make a two-year-long ride. Boy were we happy we made the choice to stay in San Antonio…

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Marijuana Isn’t Legal Yet, But We Can Still Make Dessert

Sometimes things happen to me that inspire my inner monologue to start working like a rusted hamster wheel. One afternoon about a month ago, my inner monologue managed to make me burst out laughing. Luckily though, I was in my car. You see, I get in the habit of looking at people while they are driving. Not to judge, of course, but to make sure no one is watching me put on a killer rap concert for myself in my car. This is also how I caught a man knuckle-deep up his nose one day…he slowed down when he realized he was spotted, but I slowed down too to let him know that I thought it was funny because, why not?

Anyway, as I bust out my wicked sweet beats in my Ford Focus, I checked the car next to me to be sure they weren’t taking in a concert for free. This time, the joke was on me. This guy must have been auditioning for a new Cheech and Chong movie because he was DEFINITELY smoking a joint while driving. For once, I was silenced by what I had just seen. I mean, here I was worried that someone would see me dropping serious beats, meanwhile I’ve got an older man partaking in some earthly wares in the car next to me. Is this legal? Not here. Then I continued to fist pump and rock out because, well, this was the best part of the song.

This leads me to give up an easy recipe for a weedless cherry cobbler.

Weedless Crockpot Cherry Cobbler

So Good It’s Illegal?

1 box of vanilla cake mix (funfetti if you’re feeling festive)

1-2 cans of cherries (2 cans if you’re making it for me because I’ll eat all of the cherries)

8 tbsp’s of butter or butter substitute if it makes you feel like you’re eating on the lighter side like me

Turn your crockpot on hot and empty out those cans of cherries, but be sure you shove a spoon into one of the cans to get some cherries because they’re delicious. Next, throw that cake mix all up in there on top and do not stir. Finally, throw your dollops of butter over the top and put your lid on it before you get tempted to try some more of the cherries.

Let this sit for three hours. Once your inner alarm goes off three hours later, don’t wait for it to cool; get some of that in a bowl STAT! If some of the cherries drip down your chin like molten lava, just remember how delicious and easy this recipe is. And it makes your house smell good.

 

Supposedly, when Stephen King wakes from a wacky dream, he writes it down and this is what most of his brilliant works are based on. What if I did the same and used those ideas for books? I think everyone would think I’m crazy, delusional, or just plain weird…if they don’t already.

I’m inspired with these thoughts after a run-in with a wild dream or two last night. Around 1:13AM this morning I awoke myself, my dog, and my hubby by yelling out. In my sleep-induced haze I tried to explain my dream.

“I was looking under the bed expecting to see a monster, but I saw a cat. I’m sorry I woke you.”

If you’re familiar with obscure and ridiculous B-rated horror from the 80s, you may be familiar with one of those Saturday night specials aptly named ‘Rawhead Rex’. Not familiar? Check it out above or watch the full movie on YouTube and imagine expecting that sex on wheels to crawl out from under a bed in your dreams; you’d yell out too. I’m not sure whose bed it was, though, since I’ve tried to shove everything under the sun under my bed…for cleaning purposes (much to the chagrin of my neat and calculating husband), so I couldn’t tell you where I was or why I was dreaming about this. I had also just watched The Walking Dead, so it could have been there. Who knows.

To adjourn this ridiculous and nonsensical post, I will supply you with a recipe for delicious:

Roasted Parmesan Butternut Squash

1 medium-sized butternut squash, diced
Garlic Powder (a light dusting)
Seasoned Salt (to taste)
1/4 cup of grated parmesan cheese
1/2 tsp cayenne pepper
1 tbsp butter
1 tbsp olive oil
Juice of 1 lemon

Pre-heat oven to 400. Line a baking sheet with parchment paper. In bowl, mix diced squash with olive oil and butter. Sprinkle squash onto the pan, careful to keep the pieces separate. Dust the squash with your garlic powder, seasoned salt, parmesan cheese, cayenne, and finish with the juice of the lemon. Place in oven for 25-30 minutes.

Remove and serve!