Baby Birds and Books

With Cory away most of the week, I had a lot of time to myself. I didn't do much really. Ate whatever I wanted and slept a lot. :) Wait, that's no different than if he were home...

Anyway, I don't think I've posted about it but this summer, I bought two different hanging flower baskets for our porch. The first basket died because a Momma bird decided to lay her eggs there, and I was scared to water it with the nest inside. We discovered the nest when cleaning up after the flood. No telling how long the eggs had been there, it wasn't long before I peeked in and the nest was empty. By this time, we decide the baby birds were a good omen, because we found out I was pregnant not too long after discovering the bird eggs.

The second plant was destined to do better because it was a basket of New Guinea impatiens, which does better in the shade and handles heat fairly well. I have to take the basket down to water it and one day, there it is, another nest and baby bird eggs. This time around, I decided to try to save the plant. I carefully watered it as little as possible, making sure not to disturb the eggs. I kept it alive through the hatching of the eggs, though the heat was really getting to it this week and it wasn't looking so good.

I took down the basket again to water it like always, but this time, the babies were in a new nest on a different side of the basket. In their old nest, a dead baby. :( So I decided to let the plant die because there was no way to water around two nests. I left it alone until today, when I got home from the airport.

As I took the basket off the hook, one of the birds flew, half heartedly, out of the basket and onto our lawn. I look in and ALL of the rest of the birds are dead. How this one survived, I'm not sure because I think the Momma bird abandoned them or was killed. Or the babies were sick from the start and they died all but one lonely one who kept sitting in the basket waiting for its Momma to come home with some tasty grub.

It was still pretty small, and didn't really seem able to fly yet. More like flop. It freaked me out, I didn't want this one to die, too. Cory & I decided to get it to a box and then we would try to feed it. It let me pick it up and it held onto my hand tightly with its little claws. It seemed terrified, but didn't really try to get away. We dug up a worm and tried to get it to eat it, but no luck. At this point, we decide it's probably best if we just let it fend for itself. We place the bird in our flower bed and go inside.

Getting ready to go to the movies, I look for the baby again. It's still sitting in the flower bed next to the worm I tried to feed it. Right where we left it. I start freaking out that maybe we should put it up high, off the ground, so that maybe the Momma would come back and be able to find it. So I got a different hanging basket and made it a little nest and hung it back up. I hoped for the best and went to a stupid movie, where I sat and worried about the little bird the entire time.

When we got home, the baby was gone. I guess she could fly after all and was strong enough to leave her nest. I hope she is old enough and big enough to find her own food...

If the first basket of eggs was a good omen, what do dead baby birds mean? I know it's a morbid thought, but I've been paranoid all week because I still don't feel pregnant. I just feel fat and tired. :( I think about it constantly, I'll be glad when our appointment arrives on Tuesday.

Books

One of my best friends, who had a baby about a year ago, told me I should read Jenny McCarthy's book "Belly Laughs." She said it was hilarious and I would appreciate much of what she had put into the book, given the topics of my pregnancy posts so far.

With Cory gone (I hear in more ways than one) all weekend, I decided to buy it at Hastings. It's short and easy and not very well-written, but it did have some funny stuff, and it made me feel a little better for how I've been feeling and acting lately. I laughed out loud a couple of times and told Cory he should read it when he has time.

The last few pages are about labor, and how she is freaking out about pooping during the delivery, a fear I've had a couple of times since learning that this happens. Toward the very end, the tone of the book changes as she talks about the actual delivery of her son. I start bawling. Lips quivering at first, eyes tearing up, and then the fucking floodgates. I have no idea why, just like I have no idea why I bit Cory's head off on the phone the day before because I couldn't get the TV to work. Hormones, I guess.

Wow, I really am pregnant.