Crashing down from Vegas

Apparently, if you spend three days laughing your belly button off, you are then required to balance it out with an equal amount of sporadic and rather constant crying.

I. Can’t. Stop. Crying.

Songs on the country station, urine tests at the OB’s office, Design Star–you name it, I’ll bawl about it. And this isn’t the nice little teary up crying, this is the full blown, sob down the front of my shirt, cry fest.

I have realized in the past week that I most certainly need to stop having babies. Apparently, all those side aches and stomach cramps in Vegas weren’t as related to the laughter as I thought they were. I can’t seem to sit in an upright position for more than about twenty minutes without this baby snuggling up to my left kidney.

(For the record, kidney’s are not made to be cuddled. They are made to be left alone so the owner of said kidneys are free to do little things like walk from one side of the house to the other without hollering out in pain.)

And so, to add to my current state of Niagra, I am now living with the very scary realization that I am incapable of taking care of anyone. My sweetheart is hell bent on being both mom and pop, but I can’t seem to convince him that the mom part needs more than an hour a night. Not sure what I’m going to do about that, no doubt I’ll think of something. A blow up doll to make lunches and accompany June to time-out, that would probably do it.

If you’re in the mood to pray for someone today, consider including my kidney. I know at least one of us would appreciate it.


  1. Oh, I am so sorry. Booo. I honestly don’t know how you made that trip in the pain you were in. I will only mock you a little now. 🙂

  2. Ribs aren’t meant for cuddling either. I cursed my sweet baby so many times because she would not leave my ribs alone. Ever. I remember one morning waking up and being in so much pain I couldn’t take a breath without doubling over. Oh, the pain! But then after what seemed like three elephant gestations, she was born. And now… she’s totally smiling at me and I hardly remember how bad it hurt.

    Sorry. That isn’t true. I absolutely remember every single second of how much it hurt. I will never forget and I will never let her forget either!

    • Please don’t make me come rescue that baby. No really, don’t make me. Well, ok. I’ll come rescue her.

  3. I will pray for your kidney!

  4. Oh sweetie I’m sorry you’re hurting! And bawling. Stupid hormones! And stupid pain! What can I do for you? Bring you some Red Vines? Rub your feet? Hold your baby?

    Love you!

  5. I shouldn’t have any more babies either, mostly because I’m a raving lunatic, but the pain thing sucks too. I’m sorry you’re having kidney issues, suck. Since my baby’s only two months, I can still very much feel your pain! Good luck though, it’ll be over soon (although it feels like it’s going to last FOREVER)!!

  6. I knew you must be hurting when, at one point, you actually stood on your head to relieve the pressure from your lower back. While I was impressed with your acrobatic skills, I couldn’t help but wonder at the extreme discomfort that must have led to it.

    I suggest that the minute that baby is born, you ground it. (And I’m sorry you can’t stop crying. Seriously, kidney pain and hormones are the kind of combination that would have most of us cranking up the water works. What does your doctor say?)

  7. Oh, Annie. (I’ve begun to start all my comments on your blog with that phrase. We’ll call it a tradition.) I have so been there. No two ways about it: pregnancy sucks. But at least it’s temporary. Can you imagine how awful it would be if it were open-ended? “Oh, don’t you worry about a thing, little missy! That baby will come out when it’s good and ready! Could be 9 months or 19! You never really know until it happens!”

    I’ll be praying for both your back and your kidney momentarily. (For me, it was the ribs. Twin B, who happened to be ConMan, plucked my right lowest rib with his toes like it was a fine guitar string. I could almost hear the ting-ting-ting with every jab.)

    And also I’m insanely jealous of your Vegas weekend, even if it did render you emotionally hypersensitized.

    Feel better, okay?

  8. I am soooo sorry Annie!
    I hope you get to feeling better and yes will add you to my prayers!

  9. Best Birth Control Ever.

    I heart you. Can I bring you a Diet Coke today? Please?

  10. I’m sorry, baby.

    I told E today, bring your kids swimsuits tomorrow, and we’ll let them all lost in the back yard with the sprinkler. Then we can sit and relax and drink liquid crack, and you can cry all you want!

    Love you!

  11. And i can’t spell or type. I meant let them loose…not lost.

    And for the record, I am NOW craving strawberry iceceam, not NOT.


  12. I hope you’ll last until you get here so you can lay down for 3 weeks. My poor baby.

  13. Awwww… hoping you’re feeling better, Annie! (hugs)

  14. Sorry about the kidney. For me it was the ribs.

    Love Design Star but it has never brought me to tears.

    And I have already chided Kristina for coming to Vegas, my town and not saying hi. Whatever.

    • annie valentine says:

      I DID NOT REALIZE YOU LIVED IN VEGAS. As the self-proclaimed president of the Linda fan club, I consider this a huge tragedy that I might not recover from.