Baby's On The Way

The other day I sent Jen a message with the concern that I would not have anything else to write about. Her response, "not a chance." She was right, as she always is. So this morning, before I got on the train, I stopped into the corner deli by my apartment and got a huge bottle of water and an energy vitamin water, like I do everyday. The man who works there smiled and winked at me when I walked in. Still got it! Ha, so I thought, he was really just checking out my baby bump. He said to me, "Boy or girl? How many months?" I smiled back and said, "Boy, 5 months.." He also asked if this was my first child, I nodded back. He then did the unthinkable, he went for it and gave me-a total stranger, advice! "Oh, the first ones are the hardest you know, very difficult, get ready!" Seriously?! I know I’m hormonal, but really? Ok Houston don't get mommy rage on him, I smiled, said thank you and left. Another one I have to share with you...So I'm at work sitting and talking to Lauren, love her to death, however, her choice of words aren’t always appropriate, especially this time. She looks down at my belly and says, "You know, it's weird, you don’t even look pregnant today. You just look fat." Hmm, Thanks! WTF! Really though? Do you now understand what I mean by giving pregnant women advice, and what happened to “think before you speak“? Anyways, onto something more exciting.....

Today was a big day for me and the babe. He had his 20 Week Anatomy Scan/Sonogram. I was glad because I wasn't going to be dealing with Dr. F today, she sent me to St. Vincent's Medical Center in The West Village, to meet with a different, much nicer, Dr. "F". His name is Dr. Fanz. I took the train down, and arrived 15 minutes early. I was nervous and anxious as usual, once I got in to the hospital, I had trouble finding what floor I needed to be on, since the receptionist was oh so helpful. Don't you see my pregnant belly biatch?! The ante-partum unit, ahh ok this must be right! I was the first patient in the room, it was dark and smelled like bleach. Hospitals creep me out, the room was neighbored by “birthing rooms”, where mom’s deliver, I could hear newborns crying, this made me happy slash scared. Shortly after I was greeted by a nurse who had me fill out some paperwork, and told me to wait for The Faaannz. A couple minutes later I look up and see my eager eyed, 5 foot nothing blondie Angela walking in wearing her signature bright smile. She came all the way down on her day off, to the inconvenient West Side at 8:30 in the morning, to support me, I am so thankful for her. She has THE BEST heart. We sat and chatted til the doc came and got us. He was a sweet man, Asian, mid 40's, I liked him because it was apparent to me that he enjoyed his job. This is more like it people! Someone who actually likes dealing with babies, pfew! I hopped on the bed for my sonogram that I had been anticipating for three months now, looked over at Ang, and she's was just sitting there looking at me, her presence in the room meant the world to me, which I feel like she has no idea, she knows that when I used to go alone I'd get really nervous and emotional, but having her there is so comforting, and being able to share that moment with someone, especially her, means a lot to me. Dr. Fanz squirted freezing cold lube all over my belly, and started the process. Usually sonograms are quick, you see the baby, take a few pictures and you're out the door. Today was an hour long, and I loved every minute of it. I never want these appointments to end, I could stare at him for hours and hours. He showed me each individual organ, he kept saying over and over (in a thick Asian accent) "Oh perfect, very good! Looks very good!" Relief! Dr. Fanz also said, "Oh yes, very big penis he has!" Ok thanks, thank you for that, good to know. He examined baby's spine, neck, eyes, belly button, and his umbilical cord, each time he snapped a shot, he again re assured me that my baby was beautiful and healthy. I asked a million questions, "How's his heart? Does it look normal to you? Is it beating at the right pace? How's the size? Does he have ten fingers and ten toes?" I think I may have annoyed him, but couldn't help it! He was sleeping, his hands were slipped right under his little head and he looked so peaceful. He now weighs 12 ounces, and is able to swallow, make bowel movements, burp, open his eyes, and is sensitive to loud noises, inevitable in this city, but what can you do. Basically he's perfect! Dr. Fanz did a 3D close up shot of his face, its precious! Technology has come so far. His lips look exactly like mine, they have a distinct shape, and are nice and plump. He also has great cheek bones, and a defined jaw line, Jen thinks he has A's nose, I disagree. I can't help but want him to look exactly like me. Probably has something to do with the single mom syndrome. Anyways, I feel much better today, after my last appointment with the dreadful Dr. F, I was happy to see that all is well with my baby. Every time I see him I fall more and more in love, its amazing to me that my love for him just keeps getting stronger. I cannot wait to meet him. So I've got 20 more weeks to go, but only two more months in NYC, pray for me, I need strength, patience, and energy!

Profile shot

He's sleeping, head is resting on his little hand

Close up of his cute face (harder to tell since its a picture of a picture) See the lips?

Life's A Dance

As I look around at the crowds of people trying to get to work on time, I can't help but think to myself, when did this all happen? Its so crazy to me how the path of life changes, I am 100 percent completely a different person from when I lived in Texas.


It feels like yesterday I was living in College Station, going to school, going out every night, with little responsibility, which then, I thought was an tremendous amount. I had it so easy there, living life in a small town with all of my closest friends. The only thing that mattered then was passing classes, and having enough money in my bank account to pay for my bar tab at Carneys. Right now I am listening to Def Lepard’s, Pour Some Sugar on Me, and I am immediately taken back to those days. I miss that life sometimes, I thought so differently about everything. Even though I did go through some hard times, loosing my Papa, mine and A’s break up, stress with school, I still feel like I hadn’t experienced certain things that one should in order to become an adult. Ever since I was a little girl I always thought I knew everything, I was always right, and no one could convince me otherwise. Well let me tell you, I knew nothing. Nothing compared to the amount of knowledge I've gained by living in NY. My family believed in me, that I could make it here and they were right. I believed in my self to an extent, but I never thought I'd accomplish all that I have, and become who I am today all because of a different city. I surely never thought, "Oh I'll be a single mom by the time I'm 22." Fortunately, I had my super awesome Uncle David, who gave me a chance, a few good bits of advice, and I was on my feet. He too, has been here for me thru jobs, moves, and now my pregnancy. When I first moved to NY I lived with him for about three months, in his living room, on an air mattress. He unknowingly taught me my first lesson on making it in here, and that was to be stern and not to take shit from anyone. I am so thankful to have had him then, and am so thankful for him now. He's going to be an excellent husband and father one day, and ladies.....he's on the market!

I've been thinking a lot about the term "single mother" lately. I am a single mom which means I'm flying solo, sort of, like I said I have an extremely large family, but in reality there's no daddy. I can't say there won't be anyone there to teach him basic things, like cowboys and country music, he's got his mama and his granddaddy for that. He is however going to need someone there as a father figure, and that terrifies me that I don't have that figured out. I am a planner, I like everything to be in order, may even have a slight case of OCD. Right now, my life feels a little messy and un certain, and its hard for me to feel together at times. I want someone there for my son, right now! I selfishly want someone to be here for me as well. A would be a wonderful father, if he could just mature about 20 years, and catch up with me. I hope for him to see his son and fall in love, I hope for the fairy tale ending, but who doesn't? I know where you are going with that thought...wrong! I have no desire to be married to him, none what so ever. He is no longer the person I knew three years ago, I don’t know who he is. I’m sure I’d make a few people happy but just because it’s morally right, doesn’t always mean its going to work. I was raised in a Christian home, I went to a Baptist Church growing up, and a Catholic Church as well. I know that I am not doing this the picture perfect way, but I also don't think God would want me to NOT have this precious little angel he sent me five months ago. I choose to have sex, so did he, we both will deal with this. I am going to be a single mom, and I can handle that, I can do this. Please, I am so strong! Like Mr. Sinatra says, “If you can make it here, you can make it anywhere.” A cliche', but so very true. NY has turned me into a strong willed, driven young woman, and even though I'm not as crazy about it as I used to be, I am grateful for the experiences I have taken from it, and especially thankful for all of the lessons I have learned by living here.

This Rollercoaster Ride

I'm en route to work on the downtown W train, awaiting the Prince Street stop. Blue Jean Baby is playing on my ipod, and I am chugging a Vitamin Water “Energy”, to make up for the lack of sleep I got last night. Bino kept me up all night, he likes to rest his little head right on top of my bladder, so uncomfortable for mommy! So, I had about five bathroom breaks from 10PM to 730AM, which is when my alarm went off. My heartburn has eased up, thankfully after a long drawn out process with my doctor. Heartburn is the most uncomfortable feeling, the worst thing I've experienced so far during my pregnancy, I know ladies, I haven't given birth yet, but heartburn is no joke! Everything you eat or drink, crawls back up your esophagus, and burns you like a shot of warm tequila. When I was in Texas I met with my delivery doctor, and he gave me samples of a super strong pill for this problem, I took it everyday and never looked back. That is until I ran out, and asked my doctor here in New York if she would kindly write me a prescription for it, because it worked so well. She had an issue with this, as she does with every other question I have for her. You see, I no longer meet with Dr. White, she moved to Rhode Island because of her husbands job. I am now stuck with Dr. Feldman, a poorly made up, grumpy, and negative lady who in my opinion should not be dealing with ladies with babies. Anyways, she refused to give me the Protonix-the meds my sweet southern doctor gave me for the heartburn. So I'm taking Zantac, and its working for the most part. The point is she wouldn't give it to me, and that drives me crazy. She drives me crazy! It all goes back the accent, also, her tone of voice is rude, she doesn't seem happy with her job, and is never excited about anything. At my past appointment with her, she was reading my baby’s heartbeat, and asked me if I could hear it, I couldn't. So I said to her curiously, "No, do you...?" She said back in a not so nice way, "Yeah I do. That's why I'm asking you!" Ok biatch! Excuse me! Who's paying who here?


Dr. Feldman also tried to diagnose me with, Preeclampsia a condition characterized by pregnancy, induced by high blood pressure, (which I have, but I'm convinced its only because she is such a psychopath and she makes me extremely nervous) protein in the urine, and intense swelling of the feet. Again, I work on my feet for 8.5 hours a day, and I'm carrying a child, my feet are going to swell either way. To determine if I did in fact have this so called “condition”, she demanded that I have about seven different vials of blood drawn, and for me to do a "24 hour urine test". Yay! Shortly after my blood was drawn, my nurse came in a handed me a burnt orange jug, about the size of a 3 liter bottle of water and instructed me to urinate each time into the jug for 24 hours, and I was also given strict instructions to keep the pee refrigerated, to prevent bacteria from growing in it. How beautiful is that?! Pregnancy truly is a magical thing, but it definitely has its ups and downs. I work in Bloomingdale's, we do not have private bathrooms for employees, we share with the customers. They wanted me to carry this jug-o-pee on the train, into work, and take it back and forth with me each time used the restroom? I’m expecting, I pee every half hour! I am super clumsy now that Im preg's, what if I spilled the jug on the train, and pee went flying! Ahh!! I of course followed their instructions, better to be safe than sorry when it comes to baby, but this did not make it any less embarrassing for me. Like I said before, my co-workers see this as a joke, and were laughing at the fact that I had to urinate into this creepy orange plastic jug. Angela, who I work with, is an exception, she has been so wonderful, so supportive and understanding throughout this time, I love her. She was there to witness the Feldman drama, and totally had my back. She's going to be such a good mommy someday. Anyways, Dr. F and told me IF I did in fact have protein in my urine, and my blood work came back positive, then I'd have to be on meds, and I would need to see a specialist weekly for this problem. Lovely! More things I have to worry about, and pay for! Luckily in the end, she was wrong, and all is well with me and my pee! I am now certain that she is the solely the reason for my high blood pressure.

Today I'm on the verge of tears, my hormones are out of control. I wish I could have stayed in my comfy bed watching Lifetime all day. Instead I have to go out, and face this mean city I live in. Being pregs’ in New York makes all of the side effects a billion times more difficult, I would never wish this upon anyone. In Texas, by all means have babies, where you can relax and enjoy yourself. Also, I’m really not sure if I can handle hearing the obnoxious New Yorker accent anymore, to me its like nails down a chalk board, not to mention dealing with crazy women who speak to me in this accent, and don't know what they want. I sometimes feel like I should just tell them the truth, "Sorry lady, you'll never look like me, I'm 22, and this brush will not dust away your wrinkles. Next customer please.." I know I should be more positive during this but I think I'm allowed to get a little nuts, I have the best excuse off all...I'm pregnant! Something good came out of today, I felt the baby kick for the first time, and I was SO excited! It made me sad though, because I was sitting down at work by myself and I had no one to share the moment with. My first reaction was to jump out of my chair and tell someone, so I ran over and told Eddie, my precious little friend who works for Crème De La Mer. He is equally as happy about this baby as I am, Its so cute, he's always concerned about me being on my feet for too long. He tells me, in his Guatemalan accent, "Sit down! Why you standing!" I adore him. He always tells baby how handsome he's going to be, and every morning he comes over and says to me, "You look so pregnant today", and smiles. (He knows how happy this makes me) I’m lucky to have him.

Another good thing, (I suppose it’s a good thing) that happened recently is that A called me yesterday, about mid afternoon. I was off of work, and just showered, I was wearing my pink robe, and was online paying doctors bills. He answered in his usual monotone voice, "Hey Houston, what's up?" What's up? You wanna’ know "what's up?" What the f us up is that I'm having a baby, and you're the father! I so badly wanted to say that, but I was calm, with him you have to be, A is not a normal human being, he’s a child, a guy, and an extremely immature one. So, I responded casually that I was doing well. He asked how I was feeling, and if the baby was still a boy. No actually its a girl now, his genitals changed over night! Can you believe that?! Yes moron, its still a boy! I told him that I am 5 months now, that my belly's getting bigger, and when my next appointment is. He also asked when the baby was due, I informed him, "February 13th! A month before you!" He said, "cool, I'll call you next week." Great. Thanks for the caring phone call. I truly think he was trying to be nice, and sort of acted like he cared about my life, but from the way he's acted in the past, its hard not to fear for him to react that way to me again. People give me advice all the time on how to be with him, how to act, and how to treat him. The advice I'd like to give them is this right here: go out, buy the book What To Expect When You're Expecting, and read the chapter on "Unwanted Advice". Its a real thing we experience during pregnancy, and its amazing how true it is. Before, when I dreamed of having a baby, I thought I'd take all of the help I could get, turns out I don't care if you think I should try and have lunch with him, and I especially don't need anyone to tell me how to deal with him. Put yourself in my shoes, and think about how you would react.

19 Weeks

I see things clear today. Sometimes New York can make you feel like your on top of the world, other days....I feel alone. It amazes me that I can go on two different trains to get to work, run into the corner deli to grab a bottle of water and a power bar, and not utter a word to anyone. Its a scary place to live. People here keep to themselves, they look out for what's in it for them, everyday here is a business deal. I really miss home, I mostly miss being able to relax. I never knew how many things I took for granted when I was living in Texas. New York has taught me so much about what life is all about. I appreciate the little things people do for me, which is a rarity here. I miss washing my clothes with my own detergent, I have mastered the art of washing dishes by hand, I can now do a full load in 7 minutes. I'm always on the run, even on my days off. Its funny, I used to want to push the old women out of my way, and dread slow crowds in the subway.....now, I pray to get behind a granny going up the stairs. Sometimes I have to stop, take a deep breath and tell myself, Houston you're pregnant and I realize I can't keep up with NY'ers anymore, I've lost my fast paced stride that I used to take pride in. Right now I am on my journey home, I am riding the number 2 express train to 110th street, my five month pregnant belly is popping out of my fitted black tee paired with black maternity slacks. I'm standing over a bench full of men who are pretending they're asleep, so they don't have to give their seat up. Typical. My feet are sore and swollen, and my back feels like someone is taking a knife to it. When I get home, I will head straight for the shower to wash the city off of my body, cook a healthy meal, and wait for Gossip Girl to start. I no longer live on the Upper East Side, I’ve moved west, to Harlem, and surprisingly its nice here, quiet, and my neighbors aren’t as snooty, which I like. I live with Barclay and Brian, the perfectly engaged couple who basically told me I was pregnant that night at Bro J’s. They ever so kindly took me under their wing for the next couple of  months.


My life is so opposite of what it used to be, I feel like a completely different person. Now a days the things that make me happy are, cold bottles of water, Tums, apples, sitting down, long baths, Double Stuffed Oreos, seeing baby boys with their mommies, etc. In my previous life, I bought a pack of Marlboro Lights a week, a bottle of wine for the weekend, and splurged on expensive salads and apps during happy hour. Now, if I spend money its usually only to benefit my little bambino. Its like he puts me on a guilt trip of every unnecessary purchase I am about to make. The other day I was in J Crew and picked up a beautiful silk top, that would look so cute with my baby bump, but then I hear my inner voice telling me that I should be saving that for all of the many diapers, bottles, and onesies that I’m about to need. It‘s true, although saving money while living in this city is almost impossible with rent to pay, I'm already drained, and since I am now eating for two, my groceries have doubled and again I feel guilty if I don't purchase the organic brands. After all there's a human life growing inside me, and I only want him to have the best of everything. This could mean trouble for me in the future, I'm scared of spending all of my money on making this child into a piece of artwork. He's not even born yet and the kid almost has a full Ralph Lauren wardrobe.

As I sit in my bed and await GG I think to myself, A is probably out with friends, drinking, not even thinking that his son is growing inside of me. His mother, who I was extremely close with has been pretty much absent from my life for the past five months. A few casual emails here and there, but no phone contact. You think you know someone, and when things get tough, they run. I am sort of numb from everything that A has put me through, even when he screams and yells at me and tells me that I am making the worst mistake of my life, I somehow don’t feel it anymore. He used to control how I felt at all times, now I only care about making this baby happy, and I cant let his craziness upset me. He has a good heart, but I don’t know where its hiding. It doesn’t make sense to me, he helped make this happen, how could he not want to be a part of it? I understand that its going to be hard, and there’s nothing easy about raising a child, but I know I can do it, why is he so scared? I can’t figure him out, and I’ve really stopped trying, all I do is pray that someday he’ll change his mind, regret everything he said to me, and love this baby, like he should. I know God will make things work the way they’re supposed to, but sometimes my faith is weak, I have to continuously pray for strength. Thankfully I have amazing friends and family who give me the love and support I need throughout this emotional time. Alex and Chelsea are my two best friends in Texas, they are here for me day in and day out. They are always there to reassure me that I have made the right decision. Lindsey is like my fourth sister, always checking in on me to make sure me and the babe are ok. She bought him his first set of clothes, threw me my first baby shower, and pampered me in her last months of living in NYC. My family of course has been incredible from day one, I couldn’t ask for a better support group.

I think I really learned how to be a mother from both of my moms, I got the best of both worlds by having two. Hopefully everything they taught me will rub off on my newbie. My moms taught me how to love, how to be kind, to always reach for the stars. My dad always taught me to stay strong, and to be tough. They are going to be such great grandparents, I know they’re excited. I can't wait to see us with our new addition to the Puryear clan.

There's my little guy, 4 1/2 months

This was just an clip of how my days pan out, stay tuned my fellow bloggers, there’s lots more to come. Next week I have my 20 Week sonogram, where I get to see him up close!

The First Trimester

I was sitting on a park bench in Murray Hill later that day, I decided I needed to call my family first. I dialed Jennifer’s number. My step mom, who has been an active part of my life since I was two years old. She has been there for me through thick and thin, and I knew she would be the easiest to break the news to. She answers the phone the exact same way every time, in a high pitched voice, even if its 4 in the morning. She says, “H-ELLO?” I wanted to hang up, and pretend like this was not happening to me. Instead, we had small talk, and I sort of prepared her for what I was about to say. It came out short and sweet, and surprisingly she gave me a silent response. For about thirty seconds I heard nothing but the cars passing by me on Third Avenue. I said, “Are you there?” She quickly said, “Yes.” and I then explained to her that it was A’s, and told her about my horrendous visit with the doctor, that I was 8 Weeks pregnant, and how nauseous I was. I told her that Lindsey was here for me, and not to worry. She seemed calm, and at peace with the idea, I was relieved. One down, a million to go….

I have a huge family, my dad’s side, my mom’s side, and my step mom’s side, including grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins. How was I going to do this? I called my Dad later that night, he is the most positive person you will ever meet. The only thing that gets him upset is his career, and maybe if my younger sisters aggravate him. When this happens he can only use words like, “dang-nab-it, darn it, and shoot”. But for some reason I was the most nervous to call him. His baby girl, who is supposed to be living this great life in NYC was now knocked up by her ex boyfriend who lives in a different state. What was he going to think of me? What was he going to say? I was panicking. I called him outside of The Food Emporium at 86th Street, as I was waiting for him to answer I was distracted by a homeless man who tried to strike up a conversation with me, and handed me his broken umbrella. Thanks. “This is Gary!” My Dad, also answers the phone the exact same way every time, even though I have programmed myself into his phone, in all caps as, “HOUSTON-YOUR DAUGHTER”. “Hi Dad, what’s up, how are you?” When I call my Dad its usually to track down Jennifer, or to tell him about something great that happened at work…Needless to say, this came out of nowhere to him. My hands were shaking, and I could feel my lips trembling. I looked at Lindsey, and she just patted my shoulder, as if to say, “you can do it”. I said, “Well Dad I have to tell you something, I don’t know if you’ll think its good news or bad news, are you sitting down?” He said, “Yeah baby! What’s up?” Oh Lord here it comes. “Well, you’re going to be a grandpa!” I started to cry. He said, “A grandpa?! That’s GREAT news! What’s the bad news?” he then proceeded to give me one of his famous speeches, telling me that I was going to be a great mother, and not to worry, that I just need to take this one day at a time, and that everything will work itself out. He always tells me how “tough” I am, and for me to just “hang in there”. I listened, and cried more, and he told me how much he loved me and proud he was of me. Thank God! I don’t know what I would have done with any other answer than that. I felt totally fine now.

Lindsey and I walked home, I got in bed and read the book I had bought earlier in Soho. “What to Expect When You’re Expecting.” I read three chapters, shut the book, and decided I needed to call my mother. My mom is a very understanding person, under certain circumstances. She is just like me, she can listen, and give great advice, but she gets worked up easily and she worries about everything. I didn’t know how to go about this either, but I had called two people already and it seemed to be fine, so I figured I could do it. My mom was calm, almost too calm, I told her everything about A and I, how he responded to me, what the doctor said, how far along I was, she just said, “Okay…” I was only imaging what was going through her mind. She was freaking out, but didn’t want to show it. I told her I was tired and needed to sleep…and I got off the phone, I was done making calls for the night, so I curled myself up in a ball, and let more tears out. My mind was racing, A was calling every five seconds to yell at me and tell me that I was crazy for doing this. He kept saying that I needed to “just take care of the situation” and move on. Just take care of it? Really? Its that easy, huh? You helped do this to me! What kind of mess have I got myself in? I started to believe him, that I was crazy, and that I couldn’t do this. At some point, Lindsey came in and ripped the phone from my hands, and told A to lock it up, and stop bothering me. She comforted me, and told me God was on my side, and this is all in his plan for me.



For days I felt like I was living someone else’s life. I was forced to just go on, like everything was normal. Everyone at work was worried, and wondering what was wrong with me. My eyes were puffy and swollen, and I was exhausted at all times of the day, not to mention the nausea, it came in waves, and I would get light headed and felt like I could faint. I had to help women pick out lip stick colors, I wanted to scream at them and say, “This doesn’t matter! I’m pregnant! Who cares what color you need!” It only seemed to get harder. Good thing was my boss was so amazing during that time, she let me go home early when I needed to, and answered all of my many questions. My co-workers didn’t really understand why I was keeping my baby, which sometimes made me feel like I had made the wrong decision. I felt like I was the pink elephant in every room I walked into, like every knew and was secretly talking about me. All I wanted to do was quit, and buy a one way ticket to Austin. I seriously thought about it sometimes. My family quickly made the point that I would not be able to do this without my job, and my insurance. I sucked it up and listened to them. I felt trapped, and lost, I wanted them with me and I needed their love and support more than ever during this emotional time. After all A wasn’t present, and choose not to be involved, my friends that supported the idea were all in Texas, I only had Lindsey. Every morning I would look at myself in the mirror and say, “You can do this Houston, you are strong, God has a plan for you.”


I finally found a doctor that was legitimate, and close to my work, it was at Spring OBGYN on Wooster St in Soho, a quick 5 minute walk from Bloomies. Linds of course came to the first appointment with me, I was thirteen weeks now. As we sat and waited in the lobby, we were surrounded by more peaceful things this time, like lavender painted walls, and beautiful, chic mothers dressed to the nines, with their baby bump showing like it was just an accessory added on to their outfits. Of course, their husbands were in tow. Lindsey and I looked like lesbian lovers, waiting anxiously to find out the sex of our baby. They called us back, and we passed down a hallway filled with pictures of babies that had been delivered there. I felt safe, but still worried. Was my baby still in there? Is he ok? I had tequila shots on L’s Bday, before I even knew I was pregnant…shit, I probably messed this up already. They took my blood pressure, it was high, simply because I was freaking out, then my weight. The nurse was sweet, and put me at ease. My doctor came in and introduced herself to us. Dr. White was her name, she looked like exactly like Cynthia Nixon from Sex  & The City. Her voice was calm, and she made sure to answer all of my questions, and assured me that the drinking pre-baby was fine, and the baby would not be affected. She gave me a list of foods to avoid, everything on it I never ate before, so I was glad. She also wrote me a prescription for my prenatal vitamins, and an inhaler, because my asthma had gotten worse since I became pregnant. We then went and did a sonogram. The baby was so much bigger this time! He actualy looked like a baby! His head was huge, and he had a big round belly. I could see him moving on the screen, but couldn’t feel him in my stomach. I started to cry, this time tears of joy. I began to feel like this whole thing was a little bit more real. The nurse asked me if I was going to find out the sex, and I replied, “YES!” She told me she was almost positive that it was a boy. I knew it! I had known from day one that I was having a boy, I don’t know why, maybe because A comes from a family of all boys. What would he think? Maybe he’d be happy now, since I’m having a boy.  A sweet baby boy, I thought to my self and patted my belly, we’re going to be okay baby, we can do this. I looked up at him on the screen, and fell in love all over again.
 

Nine Months and Counting

There we were frantically searching through the aisles at Duane Reade. "Over here!" I yelled to Lindsey. We grabbed two different kinds of pregnancy tests, checked out, and ran home. I placed the stick between my legs, and hoped for the best. Lindsey was talking to me, but it was mumbled and I couldn’t understand her. I sat the plastic wand down, and ripped open the other box. The first test had one line, meaning, not pregnant. The second, had two lines, but one was unclear. Lindsey convinced me that this had happened to her before, and everything was ok, I was not pregnant. I somehow slipped into my bed, and fell fast asleep...
The next morning I woke up alone, L had already left for work. I quickly showered and got ready, and before I walked out the door, I grabbed the two tests and shoved them in my purse. When I popped out of the ground in Soho, I ran to the nearest drug store by Bloomies and purchased one more test, just to be certain. Lauren was working with me. Thank God. I grabbed her and we ran down to the bathroom and took another test, I had explained to her that the ones before didn’t give me an exact answer..

There I was, in a public bathroom gripping a pregnancy test in my clammy hands. I read the words out loud to Laur, "I'm pregnant." HOLY F! How could this be? I don’t even remember the last time I had sex! I’m pregnant?! What! OMG. OMG. No, this couldn’t be. I was having a baby with him? This is not my perfect life! Right then and there, in that single moment, I knew exactly who the father was....

Two months before, he flew in to see me for the night, we hadn’t seen each other in almost 8 months, and I was excited for him to know what my new life was like in NY. We had dated off an on for about 4 years during high school and college. We were a fun couple, young and in love. Like any normal 19 year old, I had visions of us getting married and having beautiful children together.We shared so much with each other, our families were extremely close, and I thought I had found Mr. Right. However, things changed in the end, and we both fell out of the relationship. After it ended, is when he moved away, very far away, as did I..


A took me, Lindsey, and Cady out for dinner in the West Village, for sushi and cocktails. We talked about work, friends, and all the good places to go out in the city. I was exhausted from the weekend, and had to be at work the next day, so we decided to call it a night. As soon as we got home, A got into mine (and Lindsey’s) bed. I went along with this, and blew up the air mattress for her, but I had no notion of us sleeping together, and I didn’t even think there were feelings between us at this point. He was someone who I didn’t really know anymore. A had been living in Europe for two years prior to this, and he was in a serious, committed relationship with a girl, that he met right when he first moved there. He told me they were still together, and I was happy for him. I took a long shower and then threw on an old t-shirt and boxers, and got into my bed. Again, I felt no sexual tension even as I was laying down beside him. One minute later, my life was completely changed..



I went upstairs and immediately called Lindsey. She came and got me from work, I had told my boss I was going to need to take a mental health day, she excused me. We walked up and down Mercer St, and I listened to Lindsey tell me how great of a mother I was going to be, and every pregnant woman that passed us, she would say, “Look Houi, that’s you!” I was terrified and wasn’t sure what to think, or feel. I went through stages of laughter, and tears. We sat down on a stoop and went through the list of who I should call first. My parents? No. I needed to wait until I saw the doctor first. My sister? God no, she’ll have a conniption. Who am I going to call? What the f am I going to do?! L tried to speak words of wisdom to me but I again blocked her voice out of my head and all I could see was a frightening vision of me being pregnant, alone, living in New York City. Lindsey suggested that I called A. It took me a few times to get up the courage to it but, I dialed his number over and over, and kept hanging up before it actually rang. When I finally decided to, he didn’t pick up. My voice was shaking as I left him a message that went something like this, "Hi, its me, um call me I really need to talk to you, ok, thanks, ok bye..” He called back, and the first thing I said to him was, “Hey, I’m pregnant.” Not the best way to break the news but I wasn’t ever trained on how to do something like this. There’s no manual that says, “A girls guide to telling everyone you’re expecting.” Would have been useful at this point. His response was, “Wtf are you talking about? With who?” I yelled back at him, “YOU DUMBASS! Its your baby! I am having YOUR baby!” We argued back and fourth, he told me to abort it, and everything would be fine, and that I was in no place to have a baby. Abort it? Hi excuse me, have we met?

I had called over fifteen different doctors on the Upper East Side, I couldn’t get an appointment for three weeks or more. This was not going to do, I needed to find out fast. One of L’s friends recommended a place for us to go, that promised we could get in quick and easy, the only flaw was that it was in Chinatown, but she swore it was sanitary and safe. Perfect, my very first doctor’s appointment was going to be in historic Chinatown, just what I had imagined. We walked in and were greeted with a yell, “Next!” The writing was all in Chinese and we were definitely the only American’s in there. The fast speaking Asian lady behind the desk was answering the phone, “Chinatown OBGYN, how may I help you?” I felt like I was in an Anjelah Johnson video, and this was all just a joke. “Give me your insurance card, and fill out this paper work, sit down, we call you when ready.” I gave Lindsey a death stare, as tears rolled down my face. We were surrounded by pregnant teens, carrying fake Gucci bags. There were babies screaming, and the place reeked of shrimp fried rice. Finally, they called my name, “Houston…” (she pronounced it HOW-STON) I responded to her, “Its Houston.” I made Lindsey come back with me. The nurse odered me give her a urine sample. I shut the door, and started to pee in a Dixie Cup with little baby ducks printed along the side of it. Before I could completely open the door, the nurse shoved a stick into the cup and ripped it out of my hand. She then walked me to a different room with pictures of big pink vaginas on the walls, so comforting. She told me to take off my pants, and get up onto the bed, and place my feet in the stirupps. I was freezing, and my entire body was shaking with fear. The nurse walks in and announces, “You pregnant!” No shit lady, why else would I be here.


I kept looking over at Lindsey, thinking, she’s just along for the ride, for support of course, but we are in such different places right now. My world had been turned upside down. I looked down over the white sheet covering my thighs, and I see the Asian lady with her head between my legs, about to probe me without warning, I closed my eyes and prayed, asking God, what I was going to do, and to please help me get through this. The nurse said to me, “There’s your baby. Do you see the fetus?” I opened my eyes, sat up, and looked up at the screen, it was a jumbled mess of white and black. I couldn’t feel my body, I had no words, all I knew to do was cry. I looked passed the nurse at L, I said to her “Do you see it Linds?” She nodded with a smile. That was my baby, there on the screen, his little heart was beating faster and faster. I loved him so much already, I knew at this moment I was going to be a mommy. My baby was depending on me, I had to get my shit together. The nurse gave me my due date, February 13th, a day before Valentines Day. She asked me if I was going to keep it….I just gave her a blank stare, looked at L, and then looked back at her with fear in my eyes, and said yes. I was so scared, and didn’t know if I had made the right decision, or if I was going to be ok, all I knew is that there was NO WAY I could picture myself not having this child. Before this I never thought I could get pregnant, because of my obsession with babies, I always feared that maybe I couldn’t have them. I was overjoyed and overwhelmed, but I knew I was keeping him. He was mine, and no one was going to make me change my mind.

The Calm Before the Storm

Lindsey’s birthday crew and I moved to the Brass Monkey for free tequila shots and beers on the rooftop, and then cab-ed it to Tribeca to hit up L’s favorite spot in the city, The Patriot, a dive bar that plays the best of the best in country music, (a rare find in NYC), and if you get lucky you’ll find crowds of hot college grads in pastel polo’s, starched khakis, an a southern twang in their voice. For L and I? Just what the doctor ordered. We were always on the look out for guys that looked like they might be from the south, and or could at least pass for it.

A short story on hard liquor…

Lindsey loves her vodka, I swear she drinks more vodka than water sometimes. That scares me. I always tried to force feed her water, she hates it! I on the other hand, can NOT handle vodka. Unless you want to see me on the bar, on the floor, dancing with the most unattractive male figure in sight, DON’T GIVE ME VODKA. I’ve had rough nights with Mr. Vodka. We have never been friends. I got sick in the back of a taxi cab because Lindsey and I were throwing down v-shots at a bar on the Upper East Side, she and I both thought I could handle it this time. Well…..I ended up bailing on L, hopping in a cab, getting violently ill, when Mohammed my driver pulled up to our apartment, he locked me in, and I refused to admit that the throw up was mine! He then proceeded to call FIVE NYPD officers over, my eyes were bloodshot as I was looking into their flashlights. Mohammed was screaming at me to pay him forty dollars for a cleanup fee, I finally threw the money at him and jetted for the door! I believe that night I also fell asleep, (L and I shared ONE set of keys) and L was locked out of the apt. She was apparently beating the door with her high heels…I never woke up. The next morning I frantically searched for my cell phone, I had 45 missed calls from Lindsey. I look over, she is not in her bed. I have just now realized what I have done. She is not too happy on the phone, and orders me to come and open the door. It is 9AM, and she is in her clothes from the night before. She then explains to me that our two freak show neighbors came home and found her sleeping in the hallway, they ever so kindly let her sleep on their bedroom FLOOR! (A prime example in the difference between northerners and southerners, YOU DON’T MAKE A LADY SLEEP ON THE FLOOR! HELLO!!!!!!) Shortly after, L & I attempt to get dressed, and walk down to Qudoba, the best Mexican hangover food in the city, We spent 3 hours there, gabbing over the night before and refilling our diet cokes. Every night with us, was almost always one for the books.

Back to June 28th, 2009. We were dancing to “Wagon Wheel” and screaming the words at the top of our lungs, not minding the odd stares we are getting from the fifty year old men sitting at the bar behind us. The place is dirty, hard wood floors, bull heads hanging on the wall, and a string of bras dangle across the back bar. Cady, Lindsey, and I went crazy every song a came on, Kyle was our DJ for the night. Thankfully we had the whole bar to our selves. I'm pretty sure Brett, Cady's beau thought we were out of our minds, he had a blank look on his face the entire night. Bartenders were forcing shots down our throats and we got wilder and louder each time. I'd look over at Lindsey, she was in a sheer state of happiness, success! Five AM had rolled around, we decided to pack it up and go home. We head back up to our UES Apartment, and cuddle up next to each other in our queen size bed that we had been sharing for the past 6 months.

The next day was a drag for the both of us. Lindsey and I had a ritual, every morning that we woke up hung-over we got food immediately, whether it be EJ'S, Qudoba, or her all time fave Energy Kitchen, and head straight for Bloomies on 3rd for the famous Forty Carrots Frozen Yogurt. Lindsey was way more into this than me, she would go to Forty Carrots every day, three times a day if she could. Her favorite flavor was strawberry and plain, with rainbow sprinkles, AND an extra side of them to dip in with her spoon. I like coffee, with a side of rainbow sprinkles. Another bonding experience between L and I: the fact that we are both equally infatuated with sprinkles, is a little bit scary, and a little bit awesome. We are sisters, and best friends. We know everything about each other, inside and out. She was my rock during our time together in New York. Without her I would be completely lost, and very confused.....Thank God for Lindsey. We had rolled out of bed looking like comlplete hell, Linds would wear these horrible grey fleece sweatpants, that embarrassed me even when she wore them around the apartment, she had her hair in a hat and a pony, and an oversized fraternity t-shirt from her school, with the remains of her make up from the night before. I on the other hand would try to put my self together, of course in fresh makeup, jeans and a pink oxford polo, and large sunglasses to cover my the bags underneath my eyes. We were some pair Lindsey and I. Scanning every floor, dreaming our wardrobes were complete with DVF Wrap Dresses and Chanel flats.

Back in the real world we were getting ready to meet Barclay and Brian, two of the nicest people you will ever meet. We love them, and secretly envy them at the same time. We met at Brother Jimmy’s on the corner of 77th and 2nd Ave. I was exhausted and had no desire to go, but being that it was the last night of Lindsey’s birthday celebrations I had no choice. As we sat at a table in the back, watching all of the drunken fools sing karaoke to The Backstreet Boys, and a string of songs by Journey, I began to feel a little queasy. It wasn’t from the alcohol, and I really had much to eat for dinner, and that night was especially hard for me to down any type of alcoholic beverage. I was talking to B, B, and L about how weird I had been feeling lately. Extreme exhaustion at random hours of the day, pains in my lower abdomen, I had missed my period, but that wasn’t out of the ordinary for me, I was always irregular. I told them about the lemonade cravings I had been getting, even in the middle of the night I’d wake up dying for it. I also was moody, and terribly nauseous at times. Barclay shouts out, “Are your boobs sore?”, I screamed, “So sore! I cant even sleep on my stomach!” She replies, “Put your beer down darling, you’re pregnant.”

Pre-Bino

It was June 28th, 2009, a warm and breezy summer night and we were headed down to Meatpacking to celebrate Lindsey's 23rd birthday. STK an NYC hotspot famous for their tender steaks, a flashy downtown crowd, and rail thin models, was the location of our first over priced beverages of the night.

Lindsey and I met 2 years before, over Craigslist. She was moving to New York to do an dual internship with Chanel and W Magazine, I had just moved from Texas in hopes of becoming the next Bobbi Brown. The only way I agreed to live with her was because she was a sweet Southern Belle from Georgia. We had something in common, I knew we'd be friends. Lindsey met me for drinks in Hells Kitchen, where I was throwing back Pear Martini's with my two adorable Gay's, Jayson and Kieran, or as they liked to be called, KierJay. I was a little nervous for Lindsey to meet them, I wasn't sure if she had been exposed to the lovely world of gay men, like I had. I was raised with a gay uncle, and a plethora of gay friends in high school. Un easy at first, Lindsey seemed to warm up to them after a few drinks. I was also nervous to tell her, KierJay would be sleeping on our living room floor, if we decided to get an apartment together. They begged, and I couldn't say no to them! They were my first friends here! When Lindsey slipped off to the bathroom J whispered in my ear that tonight was the launch of a gay porn magazine, and it was obviously going to be an X rated show. I was terrified for her sake. I thought, she'll think I'm insane and tell her parents I'm some crazy girl who likes gay porn! Luckily she still wanted to live with me, and the next morning we signed our lease together. I then told her, they would be living with us temporarily and it would cut down our rent. She agreed.

From then on L and I took New York by storm. We settled into our first apartment in Brooklyn, in a cozy little neighborhood called Crown Heights. We lived there for approximately 2 months, after getting my laptop stolen out from under me at our local coffee shop, and realizing we were the minority. The four of us parted ways, and promised to keep in touch. I was sad I wasn't going to be able to catch the drag show at Barracuda every Thursday night with K&J. But, Lindsey and I were so excited to be moving into the city! We moved to a small studio on East 60Th St, and 1st Ave. I raved to everyone about our Upper East Side pad, when really it was a grimy Midtown East apartment with one closet. We shared the side of our building with Scores, the strip club, so glamorous. However, we lived in a prime spot for our jobs at the time. Right next to Barney's, where I was freelancing for Bobbi, and Chanel was equally as close for L. We were both miraculously maintaining 3 jobs each, she took on W Mag, Chanel, and Deans, a restaurant we both waited tables at in Tribeca. I did the waiting tables gig with her, Bobbi, and Domino Mag. Somehow we still managed to blow all of our money on expensive French Martinis at PJ Clarke's, it was walking distance from our crib, so needless to say we were regulars on Friday nights. The bartenders were our best friends. I'd play Johnny Cash, and Lindsey would play Frank Sinatra, and we'd dance around like we owned the place. I even managed to meet someone there, who I became shortly obsessed with. He looked just like Vince Vaughn, we talked for a few months, and then I realized he was just a typical NY/Yankee/East Coast ass. (Believe me, they have their own special category)

The days of Domino were the highlight of my time in NYC. I had just moved here and my dear Uncle David, had the hook up, and got me the job. I was clueless, thrown in with the wolves, but caught on quick. I was the Fashion and Beauty intern, and was working under the Fashion Assistant, who was in charge of two very important lives and schedules. The Fashion Director, and The Beauty Editor. Coffee runs at all hours of the day, running to shoots with 20 different colored pairs of tights, filing look books, and rummaging through the beauty closet. I got to meet celebrities, and people I had only dreamed of meeting. I once got to attend an event at The Box on the Lower East Side, where Mischa Barton was taking interviews and speaking about the launch of her new line for Keds. I had a press pass with Domino, and pretended I was an editor. I went up to interview her but I had thrown back so many cosmos in line that I froze up when she said hello to me. Jayson attended the event with me, he boldly said, "Sorry Misch, shes just been obsessed with you since you were little. Do you mind taking a picture with her?" I could have killed him. I walked out happy, drunk, but very happy, with a signed napkin that read, "To Houston, Love Misch, XOXO." I met Heidi Klum once at the launch of her skincare line for Guthy-Renker, she came up to me and said, "Hi I'm Heidi." We then compared nail polish colors, and discussed the anti aging products in her line. Went to the launch of Paris Hilton's Hair Extensions for Sally Hanson, that was not at all interesting, she tried to put a sentence together, I ended up leaving before it was over, embarrassed for her. The best moment of my life was when I got to meet Bobbi Brown for the first time. It was the launch of "Customizable Beauty". I was wearing a black Ralph Lauren cardigan and my favorite pair of Seven Jeans, pearl earrings, pearl necklace. I perfected my make up for hours. Before I walked into the office, I broke out in hives, and had a small asthma/panic attack. I caught my breath and confidently walk through the doors of 575 Broadway, up to the 4Th Floor. There she was, chatting amongst other beauty editors. She was smaller than I expected, wearing Seven jeans as well, and her signature pink scarf. I walked around the room nervously, trying to avoid her, and there we were standing right in front of each other, I had to say something. I put my hand out to shake hers, and introduced my self. I could feel sweat running down my back. She smiled, and asked who I worked for. We chatted a while, and expressed to her my love for her line, and that I had idolized her since I was 13, and that was why I moved to NY in the first place. It was all a little blurry after that, I remember looking down at her writing me a letter of recommendation to work for her line. This was my golden ticket! I clenched onto the letter, we took a picture together, and I jetted out the door, called every person in my phone book! Those were the days.....

After about 6 months of me interning there, the fashion assistant was moving to another magazine, and they had to fill the position fast. I was asked to temp until they hired someone. Then, Domino truly became my life. I had to quit Bobbi, and drop the restaurant. All of my meals were consumed quickly in the Conde' Nast cafeteria. I would sometimes spot Anna Wintour and her posse sipping thru straws and sucking back on diet coke. The women in this cafeteria were not normal. They had yogurt, or clear soup for lunch everyday. Stick figures walking in Louboutins and size 0 Chloe dresses. Needless to say, I felt like an outcast. I knew about fashion, and style, but not like these people. To me splurging was at Banana Republic on a nice dress and a pair of shoes from Nordstrom Rack. Picture a room full of anorexics, all dressed like they just walked out of Carrie Bradshaw's closet. I remember getting scowled at for picking up a piece of bread, or standing in the sandwich line, oh and God forbid I get the frozen yogurt too!

Shortly after accepting the temp position, I became slave to my boss. She was tall, lanky, blond, an NYU graduate, and her knowledge of fashion was beyond me. I would get into the office at 7AM every morning, I was literally the only one on my floor, the receptionist still had two hours to arrive. I'd unlock my bosses door, straighten her desk, open and sort her mail, and have her Skinny Vanilla Latte hot and ready for her by 9, or whenever she'd decide to stroll in. I could hear her slamming her things down on her desk, and right away say, "Houston, darling?" Id jump out of my seat in my last season Tory Burch flats, and scurry into her beautifully decorated office. She had gifts from every editor in the building, fresh flowers from her boyfriend, who I was convinced was gay. She'd give me a list of things to do for the day, week, month. I'd schedule her lunches with "The Chanel Girls", at Fred's every Tuesday at 1. Book her flights, hotels, cars for whatever shoot she had to attend. I knew everything about her, I could tell you every account number she had. I could do her expense reports in 20 minutes. I would RSVP her the shows she requested at Fashion Week, the ones she didn't go to, I would slip my name on the list, and try to go on my lunch breaks. She was the most intense person I have ever worked for. I once used colored tacks, when I was putting up different looks for a story we were working on. I worked on this for countless hours, trying to perfect it, I even had Lindsey come in and give her opinion. I left it in her office and left for the evening. The next morning I get in, and she had beat me to work. She was sitting with her arms crossed staring at me. "These tacks!", she screamed. "They're blinding me! Why did you choose the colored ones?! We always use clear! Fix immediately!" Sometimes I could hear her and the other editors laughing about me, and how I wasn't even near being qualified for this job. I remember feeling so small, but knowing I'd worked so hard for her. I interviewed for the full time fashion assistant position. She laughed in my face, and I tried to explain to her that I was being serious, and I really wanted this job. Her eyes were mean, and her voice was cold, by the end of the interview she had me in tears. I decided this was not meant for me. I am a sweet person, I like to shop on the sale rack, and I enjoy eating a cupcake or two if I'm feeling down. I needed to move on.