Now Fortified with Iron

I've been eating Pop-Ice by the handfuls lately. I know, I know -- those 15 calories of frozen high-fructose corn syrup times 4 or 5 a day is doing so much to promote the physical and dental well being of my unborn and I. But when it hits the lips, it tastes so goooood! Ice too -- oh how I love ice. Sometimes I look forward to my water or soda being done, only to eat the ice at the end. I know which gas stations in town who have crushed ice and those who don't. Oh what a hay day my dentist will have with me next month.

Ice you say? And a weird taste in your mouth too? Why Julia, could you be low on iron? Low and behold, what's that you say Dr. OB -- exceptionally low levels of hemoglobin? Take an iron supplement? One iron supplement and 24 hours later, I drank a glass of ice water without so much as peaking under the lid to see how much ice there would be to crunch later. And while the verdict is still out, the whole "I think I'm going to suffocate and my heart is going to leap out of my chest" episodes only occurred once yesterday, which is at least 3x less than most days. According to my own research (because we all know that the internet is the most reliable source for all of your medical information needs) if your iron is low enough it can cause shortness of breath, rapid heart rates, and heart palpitations. Hmmmmm!??? If only we could have tested my blood before we spent all of that money on a cardiologist and wore the stupid heart monitor for 2 weeks. Sigh!

Perhaps its all psychological, but if one $5 jar of iron supplements is going to make these next 2 months a bit more pleasant (not to mention protect my teeth from certain doom), I'll take it.

To add to my new fortified state of being, my thoughtful husband purchased me my very own bean filled Batman pillow last night in order to make sitting through 2 hours and 45 minutes of queer pirate antics a bit more comfortable.

Now equipped with iron AND the superhuman powers that are certainly transferred when I cuddle up with my new superhero pillow, perhaps I'll be able to take on and defeat my arch nemesis -- mouthy schizophrenic almost 3 year old. Ooooooooo! (As I type, she's playing in her room, screaming at the top of her lungs, "Nooo...this is MY messy room!" repeatedly -- and there is no one else in her room with her.)