My $10,000 Baby

As you all know, I need to lose weight.

As only some of you know, I bought TurboFire - the Deluxe kit. What can I say? I'm a sucker for add-ons. Plus! I got the weighted gloves!! Whoot! I was gonna buy 'em anyway so why not get them with the Recovery drink (which I will not shell out $49.95 per month for thank you very much), 5 additional workouts, the lower body band, and the Turbo Tracker (a guide to record food and workouts in)? It doubles the price of the program but I'll tell ya that it was a great decision. I had everything I needed to get pumped and get started right away.

So, for anyone who's not a professional athlete, they include the Prep Schedule. It's 9 weeks of training that leads up to you doing the HIIT (High Intensity Interval Training) classes. And I said, "Pfffftt!!! I'm no wimp!" But then I figured I would just sit and watch the first HIIT class before I actually did it aaaaand.... yeah... I'm on the Prep Schedule. The Prep Schedule doesn't go anywhere near a HIIT class until week 7. That should give you an idea of how intense it is. The first HIIT workout is only 15 minutes but it's 15 full minutes of jumping, leaping, running, and full-on calorie burning that I know I'll need all 7 weeks just to gain the self-confidence to want to take it on.

But I am one whole week into the program and I will say that I love it. And I'm down 2 pounds!! My appetite is better and I'm sleeping better than I have in months. I'm in love with TurboFire and I don't care who knows it!

I've only had one bad experience and that was last Saturday. There's a 20-minute core workout and it really is ALL CORE ALL THE TIME. Each move engages at least three muscles in your core simultaneously. Seriously, you spend the entire 20 minutes down in a squat with your pelvis tucked. And then you bend and stretch and lean and engage the other core muscles. Like I said earlier, I've learned to watch all of the DVDs before I do them the first time. So after watching this one I knew I'd need support. My core is... squishy. Yeah, squishy.

I called The Boy (He's a personal trainer. Did I tell you that already? Because he is) and told him that I wanted him to work out with me. He was game because TurboFire is one of the few Beachbody products he hasn't personally tried. (He tries to take on each televised fitness program to stay educated about the goings on in his field. Plus, his clients always have questions about the latest, greatest thing in fitness). So, he came over and of course his abs look great and mine are just in there somewhere. We're doing the workout and he's talking me through it and cheering me on and I'm glaring at the TV and trying to block out the sound of his voice so I can remember to breathe.

About 8 minutes in my body turns on me and I think I'm having contractions! But then I remember I'm not pregnant. I'm doubled over and yelling "AAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!" He grabs my arm and asks me what's wrong. Through clenched teeth I yell, "It hurts! Ohmigod! Get it off! Get it off!". So then I stand up but it hurts. I drop to my knees but that hurts. I lay on my side and it hurts. It's just the worst cramp I've ever had and its in my lower abs so it's almost like a menstrual cramp but worst. Keep in mind that I'm flailing my limbs the whole time and I'm groaning so loudly that I can't hear what he's saying.

Finally, he just grabs me and helps me stand. Then he tells me to lay down on the couch. I tell him to sit down with me and then sprawl out across his lap. I'm still clutching my belly so he pulls my arms over my head and he presses on my stomach. I start whining, "Noooooo... don't touch it! Rub it!" and he does. He made me reach my arms over my head to stretch the muscles and I loved him for it. I'm now eating a banana a day to make sure I have enough potassium in my system. Plus, he customized a pre-core-workout stretch program that he wants me to do until my abs are stronger. This is why I keep him around.

Today is rest day but I'm a bit stressed so he cleared me for cardio, especially since yesterday I only did yoga. I'd like to make this a weekly thing - telling you about my progress. I hope you don't mind if I veer off the baby track every once in awhile. But I guess this isn't really veering is it? Every step, every kick, every cramp is all for the baby so she'll have a safe, healthy place to grow in.

Until next time my lovelies.

xoxo

In all the years The Boy and I have known each other, we've yet to do the official "meet the family". Just never got that far, ya know? He is insanely patient and believes that you need to be "sure that this ship will make it across the sea" and I am not nearly as patient and lost interest in the whole thing before we got there.

He has met my family but that was during the time my mom was transitioning into buying a house and I was taking over her townhouse. Even though my mom loves him like a son (and quite possibly more than she loves me) and would give her life if it meant that The Boy and I would be together forever, they don't interact on a regular basis. My sisters can't stand him. They don't really believe he's changed and they know how much gruff I take from my mom because of him. All of my brothers want to punch him in the face (proven by the wall that surrounded me when we crossed The Boy and his female "friend" in the mall last March <--- *this* is a story that I must tell you.) And my daddy, God love him, just wants me to have whatever I want as long as it makes me happy. But he too would punch The Boy in the face if given the green light.

So Sunday, when I went to his flag football game, I didn't expect that I would have an impromptu meet-and-greet with his family. All I wanted to do was strike up a conversation with the two young ladies that were there. It was a very windy day and the three-year-old girl they had with them was cold and hungry. I'm nothing if not prepared so I offered to let her wrap up in my blanket and my banana for a snack. The team had a case of water (and I would fight the man who denied water to a child) so she was all set.

Then half-time came and I was so excited because I thought it was over. I was tired of being cold and ready to go but stuck it out. By now, I've met the young ladies' two brothers and I know that they've come with their dad. We missed most of the game because we were talking but our boys brought it home 14 - 6. With a win like that you can't help but be excited that its over. Get out on top, I say. But one of the girls assured me that there was another game.

My heart broke. I told her that I respected her but I just had to know for myself because when The Boy asked me to come to the game, he didn't say that there'd be two of them. So, when he walked off the field I said, "The Boy, is it over now?" and he replied that the one game was over but they had another immediately following on the opposite field. Then he picked up the toddler I'd been playing with all day.

It clicked.

This little girl was his niece. Which would make these girls his sisters. Those are his brothers. And that man... staring at me... with The Boy's eyes and nose... that's his father. Things were officially awkward. At least for me. The Boy had already walked away like I hadn't been made the focus of his entire family's attention. I felt a fury boiling up inside me and it was stoked by the constant staring. So, I left.

Later that night, he texted me to thank me for coming out to the game which I appreciated. But I also told him how weird it was to have unknowingly been around his family that day. At first, he thought it was funny and that I was overreacting. But I told him that I would never want to meet his family that way (meaning by accident). And that I think it inappropriate for me to meet them at all. I feel like things are already complicated and adding family to the mix would just compound upon it while putting bonds in place that don't need to be there.

I don't know if he agrees with me and I really don't care. Right now, I don't even want to be around him. It's all just too weird. Plus, I'm thinking that he's around too much anymore. I can't be sure of what's in store for us individually but I am sure that I don't want to re-visit having a relationship with him. Not right now.

First, I want to say 'Hello!' and 'Welcome!' to all of my new followers. Thank you so much for coming and leaving your imprint on my humble space. If you're on Twitter then let me know and I'll gladly follow you. I won't ask that you follow me because I don't really use my twitter account to talk about infertility, my miscarriage or my desire to be an SMC. But I won't *hate* it if you decide to keep up on my daily goings-on just because you think I'm cool. :)

Now, on to today's post. I started it on March 31st and have been editing it since then. It was intense for me to write down. We all have our reasons for wanting to be parents and we all have an idea of what we would do differently. I would do everything differently.



My mother is a liar.

I've known this since I was eight years old.

Her lies are the foundation of our - now - very estranged relationship.

Whenever I confronted her with evidence of her falsehoods, she lambasted me mercilessly. I let it go but I never stopped thinking about it. And as time progressed, she continued to build upon her lies by making excuses.

She lied to me about who my father is. Wait. No, that's not completely accurate. She lied to the federal government about who my father is.

And now, I have to pay the price.

It started with a dresser in my room. I was bored one day and found myself playing on the floor around the backside of my furniture. And that's where I saw them. The initials R. E. S. I asked my mother what they meant and she casually claimed that they belonged to my father.

That couldn't be right. I lived with my father in that very house! I knew his name as well as I knew my own and his initials most certainly were C. U. Jr. Mine were J. S. U. Right? There must be some other explanation.

So, I asked my grandmother (who was living with us at the time). She immediately sent me back to my mother for an explanation. I asked again and again and she continued to insist that she had not told me that those initials belonged to my father. Obviously, I'd misheard her and now I was twisting her words and accusing her of lying to me.

Back to my gramma I went. Confused, angry and on the brink of tears. She told me to listen to my mother and that it would be ok. Not too long after that I had to go into the hospital for major surgery. Normally, a child can rely on their father or a sibling for resources but I couldn't. My blood type was different from theirs which essentially meant a lot of waiting.

We moved to a new town to be closer to the hospital, so that when things began to fall into place we'd be ready. All of our medical records, passports, and personal documents were out on my mother's bed. She was preparing to enroll us in the new school. I snuck into her room and shuffled through everything until I found my birth certificate. There it was in bold, scripted type, signed, sealed and certified by the District of Columbia. R. E. S. was my father. I was never even given his name. Legally, I carried my mother's maiden name.

I ran to her in anger. Screaming at the top of my lungs I asked her why she lied. Who was R. E. S.? Where was he? Did he know about me? Did he love me? Why did she take me away? Why did she give me someone else's name? She told me that she never lied. "Not once did I make you call [C. U. Jr.] 'daddy'. You chose to".

Yes. She was making it was my fault. I had made the choice to call him daddy. I had made the choice to take his name. She just didn't want me to feel different from my sister or schoolmates. That's why she went along with it.

I never let it go. I badgered her until she helped me find him. And then, one day, the mail came and it was for me. In the box was a moderately cool toy and a letter. I gave the toy to my sister to play with because all she ever wanted was what belonged to me and I opened the letter. It was from R. E. S. He said that he thought about me everyday and that he missed me all the time. He was in the Army like my mom had been and told me all about traveling the world - skiing in Germany, fishing in Switzerland, and even being bored in Oklahoma.

He sent a recent picture of himself and one of the pictures he still had of me. I was just learning to walk. I had on white shorts and shoes, a pink t-shirt, and a king-sized baby afro. It was the most recent picture he had. He didn't expect me to call him Dad but he wanted to get to know me and he hoped that I would write him too.

I was elated! For maybe 10 minutes, I could see this whole romantic drama unfolding where he would come and claim me as his child and I would have two houses, with two rooms full of stuff, and two families that were mine! And then I had a lot of questions that I wanted answered. Like, why didn't he come find me? Why wasn't he a part of my life all the time? Did he want me? Did he have another family?

My mother pretty much stayed out of it from that moment on but I also never forgave her for lying in the first place. Many years and many more incidents would compound on this whole nightmare. And to this day, she maintains that she never lied or withheld information. I was content to ignore her and her refusal to admit wrongdoing.             

Then I lost all my personal documents.

On March 31, I had to take the day off to obtain all of my legal documents because (foolishly) I let my passport expire. The new HR rep here at work discovered gaping holes in the documentation records for all employees who were employeed between 2004 and 2006; I am among them. I've moved no less than 5 times since I began my employment here and 30% of my apartment is still unpacked and in my attic (I downgraded to 600 sq ft from 1105 sq ft).

A wise person would have made these documents easily accessible. A procrastinator probably dropped them into one of 37 boxes thinking she'd find a proper place for them later. I am the latter.

I went to the Social Security office to request a new card and everything went incredibly smoothly. I was 5th in line and getting a new card with my same information was as easy as LOOKING THIS GIRL IN THE FACE AND TELLING HER THE C. U. Jr. WAS MY FATHER. What?!? Seriously, my SSN information has the wrong man documented as my father. Do you know what the reprocussions are for lying to the government? Jail time. That's it. There's only one option. It's just a matter of how much time they think you should do.

So, now I'm in the process of having all of my records edited. It's hard and time consuming and completely troublesome. I wonder if my mother ever thought about the effects her actions would have on me or if her only concern was to make her life easier?

I think that I still have feelings for The Boy. I have felt this for quite some time. Maybe I'm misinterpreting it? I don't know. But I can tell you that I get insanely jealous thinking about him being with anyone else. Or talking to someone else. Don't let me catch him *flirting* with someone else! I caught an obligatory glance of his Twitter feed and got so bent out of shape that I unfollowed him. It's petty, I know.

Now, I'm not acting on it... technically.

That is to say that we're not in a legitimate, "dating" relationship. However, we are back to being sexually active. Only this time with protection. So. Much. Protection. He is so paralyzed with the fear of having a child that he won't look at me without a condom on. Which is fine because I'm really not ready to broach the topic of having a child with him.

Although, last night he wanted to go there. I put the kibosh on it quick. I just can't. Not with him. Not yet. I'm still not ready.

We are still learning each other in the smallest ways.

He didn't know I was ticklish. I figured that to be the most obvious thing about me but he accidentally found out last night. It got him slapped. Someone had to teach him that you can't live your life tickling people unexpectedly.

The Boy has a love for ice cream that I'm sure I never noticed. Yeah, he asked for an ice cream cake for every celebration, but everybody likes ice cream cake! I mean, he's a personal trainer for goodness sakes! He, of all people, shouldn't be shoveling that stuff down. But he does it at record speed. And isn't the least bit ashamed.

In all the hours that he spent with me, he never broke our conversations to answer his phone. Which if you know anything about our past relationship, is a great achievement. Many conversations have been had about his phone. I've turned blue in the face screaming about his phone. Tears were shed over that phone. All because he needs to feel important. And the sound of his phone ringing gives him that. I think he finally understands that his choice to answer the phone left me feeling unimportant. Maybe he does listen when I talk?

I can't tell you exactly what this is or if it will go anywhere. All I know is that I like things just the way they are. Right now, we're having good fun. We laugh, joke, have lunch, and generally enjoy being in each other's company. Like, this past weekend, we made a bet (I missed his football game and I said it was because he didn't tell me when & where to be). I lost. And I paid up. I tried being a good sport about it, but that's not really in my nature. 8^)

So that's it for now. I guess I'm not as strong as I thought I'd be. I really don't care though. I'm having fun right now and I won't let my worrisome side ruin it.

By the way, if you follow me on Twitter then you'll notice that I follow a lot of children advocacy groups including ones for adoption. But the one currently closest to my heart is Greater Hope for Children. I don't know why I didn't ask you guys before but please follow them. Especially, if you have a good number of followers. The more people that know about the challenges that these organizations face, the greater the chance of them getting the financial and social support they need.

Love and Hugs,

Jen