Looking Back July 12, 2011

I accidentally clicked something earlier and all of my old pregnancy posts popped up, so I read though them. Even though I remember writing the words, it felt like I was reading someone else. I couldn’t identify with those feelings anymore. I don’t remember feeling so miserable or scared. I do remember being really pissed at my boss, and not wanting baby G to be premature, but not the terror over giving birth or fear of being a bad mother.

 

I wonder if this is a normal part of motherhood? If the hormones your body releases in response to the baby fuzzy up all of those memories and feelings to make you want to do it again? Maybe happiness just settles the heart? I don’t know. But, if anyone reading this is about-to-pop-pregnant and feeling petrified please read those old posts so you won’t feel alone. Then read this: IT WAS ALL CRAZY SILLY.

 

• I was scared of not being a good mother or of not being able to feel connected to the baby… Ridiculous. Baby G and I have a bond that grows stronger by the day, but the first second I saw him I knew he was my son and felt a completeness.

• I was scared of the birth… Bonkers. He had to come out. I labored for 24 hours to end up having a c-section. I made it through transition and within minutes of pushing, only to have a c-section. 23 hours of that labor were without any pain meds. I think I can speak for the worst of the pain other than pushing and for the c-section experience. I would do it again. I wouldn’t change a thing. If it meant having him here, healthy and alive I’d do it twice. Yes, it hurt. And being strapped down with no food? Sucked Ass. But, honestly, I don’t remember much of it. I remember a few contractions out of the hundreds. I remember a handful of moments of the whole experience. Don’t put too much pressure on yourself to have the perfect birth and don’t fear it too much. Be prepared to know what you want and how you want to handle a variety of situations, be ready to roll with the punches and make decisions on the fly and enjoy the process (however it presents to you). Most of what I remember are pleasant things, a nurse letting me take a shower, walking the halls with my mom (who I didn’t want to come and am SO GLAD she did), G sneaking me a Pepsi, G bringing me cup after cup of chicken broth (trust me, when you’re starving that shit is DELICIOUS) and Popsicles 2 at a time, and watching Alton Brown through contractions. Remember this: you will get through it. It will not hurt as bad as you think. You won’t remember much of it anyway.

• I was scared that everything would change and life would never be the same… Duh! Everything has changed and life is SOO different. And I LOVE IT! I made a lot of money when I worked. We could afford pretty much anything we wanted. We spent a lot of money. I thought I would totally miss being able to blow $700 on clothes without thinking about it or having a $100 romantic dinner just because. I don’t. I’m not saying there aren’t times when I don’t wish we’d have saved more and spent less so that we could take care of unexpected expenses, but I don’t miss that life. This life is so much better. Maybe your biggest change won’t be financial… maybe yours will be sleep or free time or hobby time. You might miss it now and again, but you wouldn’t trade it back. Trust me, this life is better. I love playing with him more than reading while getting drunk in the hot tub, more than having six closets full of clothes (OK, three), more than sleeping until noon on a Saturday, more than daily showers, more than not having to keep an ear open while having sex, more than knitting and crocheting combined and more than midnight Harry Potter premiers. (Keeping honest, I’m totally making this one, because, duh, it’s the last one, but I did miss Deathly Hallows pt 1. I didn’t see it for like 3 weeks because I didn’t want to leave the baby. Me! Miss a Harry Potter! That’s freakin’ love!)

OK, I hope that’s been helpful to anyone out there that’s way pregnant and scared to death. For the mums-to-born-children: I hope you enjoyed reliving that time and can appreciate the difference in who you are. For the good-fucking-God-why-can’t-I-get-pregnant-and-be-worried-about-this-shit-too crowd: I so hope you get pregnant so you can worry about this shit too really, really soon. For everyone else: why are you reading this blog? No, but seriously, leave me a comment and let me know who you are and what about this blog appeals to you. Everyone else can leave comments too (and please do, I’m a total attention whore like that, one comment saying I’m missed and you get three posts, AM WHORE).

The Fear March 18, 2011

I have a confession to make… I live in two worlds. One is all happy and joy joy. Seriously, I love being G’s mommy and I love, love, love being at home with him. This is the life I dreamed of.

 

But, the other world is full of constant fear. FEAR! I cannot escape “visions” of terrible things that could happen that would destroy my world. Example: I am always terrified of getting him up from his nap, because what if this is the time that he’s not breathing. Or, last night at the park daddy was was holding Lil G in the air and I was overcome with fear that he’d drop the baby. I see the car seat sliding down the driveway into the road. I see me dropping the baby about 100 times a day. I am terrified of something bad happening to him and I see all of the bad things that could happen. All day. Every day.

 

And, I’m a filthy hypocrite, because I get testy with G when he tells me to be careful, while my imagination runs wild with all of these terrible images so I know why he’s so cautious.

 

Obviously, I don’t want anything bad to happen. And it’s not the same as post partum depression fantasies of hurting the baby on purpose. It’s more all of the ways the baby could get hurt that I would be powerless to stop. The images are visions of dread and horror.

 

I don’t know if this is a normal part of mommyhood, or if our losses have made me crazy? But, I wish it would stop. I want to live in the moment and enjoy and soak up every minute of life with my baby man, but I cannot keep the fear at bay. I spent his entire pregnancy afraid that we wouldn’t make it to this point (or tomorrow) and also thoroughly convinced that once he was born and my body couldn’t harm him, that I would lose the fear and finally be able to just breathe and be. But, alas, no.

 

So, I ask you am I the only one going through this?

Tuesdays are for Meltdowns August 18, 2010

Right, then. I am insane. It is official.

Tonight, I acted like a right loon over nothing. Well, not nothing. But nothing to be acting like a loon over. Apparently the stress has bottled up and chose to release itself quite inconveniently all over G. The one person who’s been there 100%. The man busted his ass all weekend, and I yelled at him over one load of laundry not being done. Because: AM BITCH.

What happened? Well, it started with my dad calling. He asked about me & the baby, but he seemed to have more on his mind. And, he did. He really wanted to talk about whether I thought it was a good idea for him to move in with my mother while he finished school because he was having a hard time making it to school on time because of work and he can’t miss many more days or he’ll be kicked out. Because right now, I need to be worrying about his stress, too. Don’t get me wrong, I care. I care too much is the problem. I worry about my dad. He’s not in very good health, he’s not in very good shape financially, and he’s not very good with discipline and keeping his shit together. So, anyway, I talked to him about his issues. Because that’s what I do.

While I was talking to him, G was getting frustrated, because he had bought me ice cream, that I wasn’t eating and I wasn’t paying him my undivided attention.

So, when we got home, G made a snarky comment about me being on the phone, the pug got under the bed (because the gate wasn’t closed…), I found that she had torn up one of my new chair pads and I spilled my melted ice cream (that I really wanted) all over my birthing class papers.

I Fucking Lost It.

I cried, I screamed, I tried to beat the pug with her leash (she ran under the bed). This is NOT my normal behavior. I completely went psycho. I told G it was all his fault for making the snarky comment, which started the snowball effect. Then I cried some more, until I puked.

I am not proud of this behavior. I do not approve of it at all. I had no control. Seriously, none. I was like a lunatic pulling at my hair, scratching at my face and screaming/crying. NO CONTROL. Scary.

Now I’m all better (besides feeling foolish for behaving that way) and can see that the things that felt so monumental at the time (I really wanted that ice cream) were quite small. But at the time? You’d have thought the house fell down.

So, for the second Tuesday in a row, I’ve behaved like a loon and it’s getting worse. If I make it to next Tuesday expect a change to a full on werewolf or harpy or something…

*******************************

For the record, I’m pretty sure underlying stress was the culprit… you know little things like:

- My boss is illegally withholding my paycheck for no reason and refusing to discuss it with me.

- I have a lot of work that I feel responsible to get done before I leave (potentially for ever) but also feel like I should not do this work, because I haven’t been paid in 20 days.

- I do not feel ready to have this baby.

- I repeat, I do NOT feel ready to have this baby.

- That pug is really going to have to go.

Contractions** July 9, 2010

Well, folks, I been havin’ contractions. Not the up high Braxton-Hicksy ones, either.

Nope I been havin’, the low pressure and pain ones. The ones I expect are “early labor’ish.”

Here’s the thing about me… I typically don’t seek medical attention unless it’s “necessary.” Meaning: I don’t want to bother doctors for nothing then feel foolish for calling in over something normal. *Please note: I am aware that this is lunacy and in fact my doctors are paid well for taking these calls and expect to receive them. This does not change my fear of calling them.*

So, my paper from the OB says to call in if contractions come more frequently than 4 an hour. It does not specify if that means one hour of more than four or if this is experienced for multiple consecutive hours. Which leaves me feeling like since they stop for a couple of hours at a time then pick up at a rate of right about 4 an hour for an hour or two, then stop again, maybe I should not call… It is the weekend afterall.

On the other hand… what if? What if I wait too long and it becomes real labor and they can’t stop it? I’m only 31 weeks. Which is way better than 29, but still I don’t want him to be born so early and have to be in the NICU.

OK… if this keeps up, I’ll call in the morning.

(Watch me do all this worrying, and it’s nothing and I end getting induced at 42 weeks or something… That would be my luck.)

**Called, was told to keep track and if I experienced another hour with five or more go to L&D for an NST. Otherwise he’d check me out on Thursday. **

Am Boring and Lame and Stressed May 15, 2010

I’ve been a little grumpy and negative lately. Sorry ’bout that. Turns out I don’t handle stress very well and hoo-ha am I stressed. You wouldn’t think so, but a whole lot of issues are weighing on me right now… Like what?

• The hubs’s injury… I’m worried about him. I think he’s pushing himself too hard. I think he’s not taking enough anti-inflammatories. I’m just worried. Not that he won’t make a full recovery, he will. But that the process is going to be overly difficult/painful.
• Work… Yeah, I hate my job. Well, not my work, or co-workers or clients. Mostly just my boss. Well, I’m kind of burnt out on one client and their insane requests, but mostly it’s my boss. I really want to tell him to go shove it. But, of course, I can’t do that. Need to earn and save as long as I can.
• Money… really worried about not having my income. I make a good bit of cash. We will struggle and be poor. OK, not POOR, but not where we are today. It is scary.
• Baby G… starting to worry he will come early. Had some pain after walking Ikea today and for just a few minutes I was afraid it was labor. I just have a feeling he’s coming early. I might be wrong. I probably am wrong, but… still I  Have A Feeling.

I realize this is the same shit I was just whining about. Promise to remove my head from my own ass at some point and write about something of substance. Like baby kicks. Or how I still break into tears when certain songs play on the radio because “fuck I miss my Bean” or how I now think Bean was a girl because was Twilight obsessed and now am Black Eyed Peas obsessed (my boy loves the Fergie-Ferg).

I probably won’t get my head out of my ass.

Don’t count on that.

I’m Considering Myself Punished April 29, 2010

So… this morning I woke up to wet. Sweet smelling wet. Watery, textureless, sweet smelling wet. Every. Freaking. Where. (OK, everywhere was really just my underwear and a little on my sheet, but it was enough to freak me out.)

Naturally, I went to work.

Because, it can’t be bad if I’m at work, right. They’ll tell me not to worry and come in on Monday as scheduled. Not right. No, the nurse on call said “come in right away it might be amniotic fluid!” Because that definitely calms an anxious mother. So, I got there, she did the ph test, not amniotic fluid… WHEW! Just a yeast infection. No big deal, then. Great.

But, just for shits and giggles let’s take the vitals. OK, whatevs, my vitals are perfect for a skinny chick, they are normally CRAZY good for a fat girl. Except today. Today my BP was 150/110. So, let’s wait 10 and take again… 140/111. Mother fucker! There is now talk of admitting me into the hospital. FUCK!

So, I walk my happy ass to L&D making calls as I go “Come home, I’m in the hospital.” & “Cancel my meetings for today.” & “Can’t pick up the C’s, being admitted.” etc… I get there, and the nurse starts trying to run an NST. I’m 21 weeks. It doesn’t work. I freak out because hello, she’s acting like there’s a problem. Then she says “you sure you’re due on 5/10?” (Well, I would have been if that baby hadn’t died…) Uh, no I’m due 9/10. “Oh, you can’t do a NST on a 21 weeker!” (I refrained from strangling her)

Then she started my continuous pressures… 105/64… 103/58… 104/55. Anything look a little odd here? Yeah, they’re SPOT ON F’ing perfect. So, the nurse says “they did your pressure wrong, your arm isn’t shaped so that you can do it on top, there’s nothing wrong with you let me go find a dr.”

She found a doctor, he let me go home.

But, I’m taking this event as my “don’t go counting your chickens just yet” warning. Duly noted. Please don’t send anymore helpful warnings my way…

The Fear is Back in Town* April 28, 2010

G surprised me with the bedding set I’ve been eye’ing. So, I had to set it up (sorry no pics the man hogged our laptop last night, so I couldn’t get them off of the camera) just to see what it looks like. Just to see the bed as it will look when MY BABY sleeps in it.

* Here is generic photo of bedding like ours. Will upload actual photo when I have access to my laptop and camera…

Then it hit me.

Bad move Minta… Surely you are tempting fate now. Not quite to viability, not even having had a 20 week anatomy scan, setting up baby beds. Bad Minta! If it all falls apart now you have to fold up precious sheets and bumpers. You will have to take them back to the store and explain that you don’t need them anymore. You’re in too deep. It it all falls apart now there’s a whole room that needs emptied, not just a few photos, books and cards to put away. What are you thinking?!??!?

This would be about the time when the tears started. Because, of course, I should be setting up a nursery safely about now. Spring Baby was due 5/11/10. I should have a baby already sleeping in these cute little sheets. Bean should now be nearly five months old. History is not on our side. History says no baby is coming home.

So, G comes in to find out why I’m crying in the baby room (still not nursery). And I very inelegantly explain the above through snot and tears. To which he says… if the worst should happen, I’ll take it all down and have it all out of the way before you get home from the D&C. He still thinks it’s a little inch long D&C’able babe. He doesn’t realize this baby is nearly a foot long. This babies feet are bigger than Bean’s whole body was when he died. There is no D&C at this point. We are now talking C-section or induction or labor without induction. But no matter, we’re talking delivery. Dead or alive the only way this baby is coming out is delivery.

G is now thoroughly freaked as well. Fuck!

So, yes, I’m being rather morbid. You would think that setting up the bed would make things feel more real and tangible. But in fact, bringing out The Fear and my natural moroseness.

(Baby actually seems to be doing well, heartbeat still rocking out at 150′ish bpm and either hiccuping or kicking the shit out of my bladder today. Have no actual current reason to fear the worst… Fingers crossed and finding wood to knock on now, damn, where’s that G when I need him!)

A Monday Type List March 29, 2010

OK, in a rush and not too much to say anyway…

- Moving: 85% done. Small stuff left. Was not allowed to lift anything all weekend. Felt like a great lump. But, GO G!!! That man deserves a medal.

- Work: Sucks so much ass. Cannot wait to leave this place.

- House: So much to do. So much money to spend, gah!

- Pregnancy: Nothing new to report. Very busy over the weekend, baby not very active over the weekend. Kind of worried about the effects of moving stress on bebe. Trying not to worry about it. I’m only 16 weeks. Most women don’t feel the first movement until 18-20 weeks. Not feeling doesn’t mean anything right now… Wash, rinse and repeat.

The One in Which I Yell At God February 18, 2010

Having another one of those mixed bag kind of days. I’m really mourning my Bean today. I cried all the way to work thinking about him. There’s a song by The Fray that always gets me to thinking about him (and usually shouting at God, I’m sure the people driving near me think I’m psycho) and it was on not once but twice on my way in this morning. Now I’m listening to it again, and crying. I just can’t comprehend how God could let so many of my babies die. How could he take my precious Bean?

G has been talking about going back to church lately, but I’m just not ready. I’m still too mad and hurt and pissed.

 

I found God on the corner of 1st and Amistad Where the West was all but won All alone, smoking his last cigarette I said, "Where you been?" He said, "Ask anything." * Where were you, when everything was falling apart. All my days were spent by the telephone that never rang And all I needed was a call that never came To the corner of 1st and Amistad * Lost and insecure, you found me, you found me Lying on the floor, surrounded, surrounded Why’d you have to wait? Where were you? Where were you? Just a little late, you found me, you found me. * But in the end everyone ends up alone Losing her, the only one who’s ever known Who I am, who I’m not and who I wanna to be No way to know how long she will be next to me * Lost and insecure, you found me, you found me Lying on the floor, surrounded, surrounded Why’d you have to wait? Where were you? Where were you? Just a little late, you found me, you found me. * The early morning, the city breaks And I’ve been calling for years and years and years And you never left me no messages You never sent me no letters You got some kind of nerve taking all I ever wanted * Lost and insecure, you found me, you found me Lying on the floor, Where were you? Where were you? Lost and insecure, you found me, you found me Lying on the floor, surrounded, surrounded * Why’d you have to wait? Where were you? Where were you? Just a little late, you found me, you found me. Why’d you have to wait, to find me, to find me?

 

 

The Fray says it so much elegantly than I have ever thought to. But, that is my prevailing question… Where the fuck was God when I needed him? Sure as shit not with me, not saving my babies or providing some kind of comfort. I keep asking, and I get nothing in return. Nothing. But, that makes sense. For years I went to church, I prayed, I volunteered, I did private devotionals and studied the bible with friends. I got nothing for that, too. Actually, I got less than nothing, I got six dead babies. For the last time: “I’m not fucking Job, I can’t take this shit. I am very weak and very apt to give up on you for good when I give and give and get shit in return. It’s not supposed to work this way. If you’re not keen on losing me forever, I suggest you fucking find me on the quick!”

 

Right, so, bad day. Probably I shouldn’t be playing my hormones by continuing to listen to this song over and over. Which brings us to the next subject, I’m feeling a little “unstable” hormonally, a little “fuck you, I do what I want.” This is not conducive to living a productive life.

 

In much better news… 11 week scan tomorrow. If it goes well, I’m probably coming out of the closet to extended family, friends and work over the next week or two. I hope it goes well. I promise not be so lazy posting the pic this time.

Getting Antsy January 19, 2010

I’m getting really ready for that ultrasound on Friday. I feel so much more than I ever have before, and I need that confirmation that everything really is going well. Or, I need the early heads up to stop with the hope BS. But, either way I need to know.

G is basically of the opposite mind. He wants to just sit back and assume all is well unless we get some indication that it isn’t. Which, had we never experienced the hell of missed miscarriage I might be game for. But, considering last time I walked around with a dead baby inside of me for two weeks before finding out and then another five days afterwards, I’m going to have to disagree with him. Since he’s never had to walk around with something that he knows is dead in his body he can’t understand my perpetual need to know. I guess that’s what I’m most freaked out about, I want to know and at this point, if all goes to hell, I don’t want to have to pass it. I’d rather have a D&C and have it over with.

Obviously, my first preference would be for nothing to be wrong. My top pick would be that we have a stunning heartbeat and the baby measures spot on, and Dr. Groll lets me have weekly ultrasounds and every week goes perfectly until he boots me to the regular people’s OB who has a hard time understanding why I didn’t just start with her because my pregnancy is so freaking perfectly uneventful. That’s what I hope for. I’d be happy with much less. I’d be ecstatic with less. I’ll be deliriously happy if the end result is a living child of good health.

But that fear is just nagging me, and nagging me. Friday CAN NOT come soon enough. Even if G won’t be there (but I hope he changes his mind).