A Run For My Money

The Final Chapter

2011-05-26T09:50:00.000-07:00

My year long maternity leave is close to ending. I return to work in less than a month. I have spent more time on maternity leave over the past 2 1/2 years than I have spent at work. Admittedly I am a little bit (or a lot, depending on the day) stressed and overwhelmed with the ginormous change that is about to take place in my life, in my family's lives. Obvious things like getting kids ready to be somewhere every morning at 7am. Not being home during the day. Not having the "freedom" that I have now. My kids adjusting to not being with me all day. ME adjusting to not being with my kids. Organizing the cooking and cleaning and maintenance in my home that I do now during the day.

But there's also other stuff.

Like, the realization that I'm now entering the real world and the rest of my life. No more babies. No more maternity leave. This chapter of my life is coming to a close and will never happen again. I hope I've made the best of it. I hope I can look back on it with fond memories and be proud of myself and how I spent these first years with my babies.

It's also made me think a lot about this blog. I find myself writing here less and less. Often I struggle with what to write in this space and how often. Lately, more often than not I've used it as a place to bitch about my inlaws or my husband - boo! I have found this blog to be a wonderful place to get support and help and suggestions from some of the smartest women in the world (you guys!). I would be sad to let it go. But... I think that's where I'm headed. Mixed feelings about that. I have been a part of the IF community for many, many years. I think I've been holding on to this blog to continue to hold on to that part of me but maybe it's time to release it all.

I will not be totally gone, however. I do have another blog that I have been writing for years and years (long before the IF years). And I will continue to write there. I have always been open on that blog about my IF, however I have left out some of the nitty gritty details and many of the deeply personal struggles. Obviously I've also omitted the private matters with my ILs and battles with my husband (only because they read it). Lately I have found myself to be more and more open and honest and "naked" when writing on that blog, regardless of the fact that so many people I know IRL (including family) read it and that can be a bit scary sometimes.

I invite you all to join me at Tarable and to comment your little hearts out, no holds barred.

I also plan on still keeping tabs on all of you. I will continue to read and comment, however I will be ever so cleverly disguised as "Tarable" instead of Tara.

Feels strange to be moving on. It's good though. Change is good. Moving forward is good.

Moving forward.

Long Weekend

2011-05-11T12:38:00.000-07:00

Steve's soccer team is playing in an annual tournament in a town about a 6-7 hour drive from our home (Vernon) on the May long weekend.

Originally I planned to go too, with the kids. Then I changed my mind, thinking it would be too much work.

Then this week I realized that next Thursday morning, Steve will leave and be gone for 5 days.

That's 5 days as a single mom with a 2.5 year old and an 11 month old...

Naturally I went into panic mode and required sedation.

So it turns out that it's NOT too late for the kids and I to join in on this little trip. Heh... *phew*

Except that while I blocked out all Steve's planning and trip details over the past couple of months, he made arrangements to leave on Thursday morning to go golfing in a neighboring city with a teammate. Which just means that I would have to drive to Vernon, alone with the kids on Friday. Which... I'm going to do. But I'm a little bit nervous. But kind of excited about the trip too. The hotel has a pool and free breakfast and we have a kitchenette and there are restaurants and a mall nearby. With a little luck the weather will be decent and we have have some fun.

My concerns are these -
~ the drive, alone with two little, bitty kids.
~ Lincoln's sleeping (I don't want to mess it up)
~ being stuck in the hotel room every night from 7pm on because kids need to go to bed.
~ sticking to my diet
~ getting obsessed with planning for the next week.

Anyone who has any tips, suggestions, tricks, assvice for me? I'm all ears.

Child Care

2011-05-09T15:36:00.000-07:00

I believe I may be on the path to eradicate one of my big wake-me-in-the-night worries. Child care for my return to work which is next month.

Quite a few months ago Steve told me of a co-worker who was hiring a nanny from overseas. This co-worker was interested in doing a "nanny share" with us. The plan was that my kids would go to their house every day and their nanny would look after my kids while her kids were at school all day. It would have cost us half of what sending them to a daycare would cost.

I agreed. Reluctantly.

See, I never felt good about it. A few things bugged me. Their house was in the opposite direction of my house and my work. My kids would not have any other kids to interact with all day. The nanny was yet to arrive in the country and nobody knew what her communication skills would be like. Nobody in this country had ever met her before so who knows what she is like. Nobody to ask for references.

Then things started getting irritating. There was a nanny coming from Amsterdam. Then Vietnam. Then finally the nanny was flying in from Hong Kong. She was going to arrive in March. But then not. Then she was getting here in April. Then April was over and she wasn't here. Then it was May. Then we were supposed to get together with the other couple to finalize everything but that fell through. Nanny was to arrive May 9th (today) but last week that was pushed back yet again.

None of this was helping to make me feel any more comfortable with the situation.

Finally, when the story changed again last week, STEVE (of all people) put an end to it. He told his co-worker that we are out of the deal. She wasn't happy (now she has to pay the full price for the nanny) but I was thrilled - although a little panicky about finding a daycare for a baby and toddler in such short notice. But not to worry, Steve was told by another co-worker of a woman who has two openings for June 1st. STEVE phoned her and arranged for us to go visit the daycare. STEVE did all this!

STEVE!

We went today. When we first got to the daycare Ruby walked right in and sat down and started playing with toys like she'd been there a million times. The woman took Lincoln out of Steve's arms and my Mama's Boy didn't burst into tears!! There were a couple other kids there and they looked content. We looked around and I asked my questions. She had all the right answers. She was very accommodating.

The going rate for my kids would normally be about $1400 per month, but she will charge us only $1100. She will also provide all food and snacks.

People, I WOULD NOT HAVE TO MAKE LUNCHES!!!

When we went to leave, Ruby cried. She wanted to stay. The woman gave her and Lincoln both a cookie and helped them to the door.

It all seems good.

There's just a few small things that bug me and I'm probably being petty.... First, the place is a bit run down. It's an older basement and while it wasn't dirty, it was just in a bit of rough shape. Then again, as I look down at my once clean and plush area rug in my living room I realize, kids wreck shit. As long as they are being cared for in a proper manner and the place is clean and safe, I really shouldn't worry about it not being a fancy, pretty place. Actually one of the mistakes I made with Ruby when she first went to daycare was that I allowed a fancy, pretty place to overshadow my gut feelings and Ruby's reactions to the daycare.

The other thing that bugs me is that maybe the woman was too nice? I mean, she was super accommodating and helpful and I thought, "Is she really like this or is she just trying to get our business?" Sad that I can't trust people and take them at face value. Am I too cynical and untrusting? Steve loved her and thought the place was just fine.

I do think that this will be the daycare we go with. I think I'd probably be able to find some fault with any and every single place I looked into to. It seems like this is the right place. The way it came about, the price, how my kids acted when they were there - I think, I *hope* it is the right place for us.

I want to start sending them there part time in the beginning of June to break them in so that when I go back to work full time near the end of June, it is not such a traumatic event for all of us.

Me, lately

2011-05-04T09:34:00.000-07:00

I am so tired of unloading my dishwasher. I hate it so much. I feel like my head is always inside that motherfucker. Along with sweeping, vacuuming, wiping counters and picking up toys. These are the things that fill my days and I am growing very tired of it.

Ruby will NOT poop on the potty. No matter what I do. No matter what I try. She asks for a diaper every time she has to go.

I hate my new haircut.

When I did my taxes I was getting $575 back. I already owed $300 from a mistake made last year. I have been waiting for the difference for 3 weeks now. I need money so bad. I just discovered that my taxes were "reassessed" and I now owe a total of $635.

Every penny I get goes to bills and food. When Steve adds extra cheese to his veggies I want to scream. And when Ruby says she wants applesauce and then when I open it she won't eat it because she says it's "dirty" I want to cry.

I bought Nabob coffee because it was on sale and I hate the taste of it. I haven't had a cup of coffee in the morning for over a week.

I bought my mom some nice birthday presents and called her on her birthday but she didn't have a nice day anyways, I guess because my dad is sick and he didn't do anything nice for her. I feel responsible, like I should have done more because I knew he'd fuck it up.

My bathroom is filthy.

I bought cheap shampoo and now my head is itchy and my hair is dry and frazzled.

My bank account is wayyyyyy too far into the red. It makes me feel sick. I can't even afford to buy myself a cup of coffee.

I feel like I'm failing at everything right now. Every single thing.

I'm depressed and I just want to be alone, but my kids hang off me and won't leave me alone for a second to release my tears in peace.

Setback

2011-04-29T11:10:00.000-07:00

I felt sorry for myself yesterday so the Universe plotted and gave me a reason to feel sorry for someone else.

Last night (or this morning actually) some motherfucker tried to break in to my 72 year old, recently widowed MIL's house by kicking in the front door at 1am.

She said it sounded like someone drove a car into her house. She got up and turned all the lights on - which likely scared the motherfucker away. When she saw that her front door had been smashed off it's hinges and paint chips had been scattered right across her entryway, she called 911.

It took the police 9 minutes to get there.

She has a bad heart and so on top of being petrified of someone assaulting her, she was scared she might have a heart attack.

The police found a giant shoe print on the front door and some matching footprints in the back yard.

There was apparently a rash of break-ins last night in her area.

WHY her house? Why? That's so not fair.

I feel just awful for her. I can't imagine the level of fear she must have felt. And how insecure she will feel in her own home now.

Steve is going out there tonight to secure her windows and replace her door (which is shattered). She has a house alarm which she doesn't know how to use, but he is going to teach her and insist she start using it.

He may stay the night with her if she needs him.

I don't know what will come of this now. It's a pretty big setback on the road to healing if you ask me.

Slump

2011-04-28T09:09:00.000-07:00

Been feeling a bit tired and blue lately and can't quite put my finger on exactly what it is. I guess it's probably a combo of a few different things.

My birthday is this Saturday. My Mom's birthday is on Monday. My Dad's 60th birthday is the following Saturday. And then Mother's Day is that Sunday. Busy time. And expensive. And I'm broke. And not a lot of time to shop.

Want to hear my selfishness? I just want to enjoy my birthday and not have to worry about planning and shopping for everyone else. I feel terrible for feeling that way. It's just that I haven't had a decent birthday in quite a few years. Last year I was hugely and most uncomfortably pregnant. The year before that I had a 4 month old baby. The previous year I was disgustingly nauseous and pregnant. And the year before that I was in a severe depression after my first failed IVF. Not to mention this past year has been a really rough one. I just want to be a princess this year but there are other people to think about and consider. I'm tired and overworked and worn out and I just want to be selfish and only think about myself.

Otherwise I'm getting tired of being stuck in my house every day. I usually don't have a vehicle and my getting out depends on the weather - which has really sucked for a really long time. Lots of rain and cold air. Hard to take the kids out in the stroller in those conditions.

Happy note - I've lost 20lbs on Weight Watchers. Still lots to go though and sometimes I just want to eat and not worry about trying to be healthy. Also, since dropping some weight my clothes don't fit. I have nothing but oversized sweat pants to wear which is normally ok since I don't get out much. But on the odd occasion that I do go out, I have nothing to wear and feel frumpy and not overly attractive. No extra cash in my pocket to get new clothes, and scared to buy anything because I plan on losing more weight. What to do. I just want to feel good about myself.

Worried about Lincoln. He's really into making strange with people who aren't me or Steve. It is difficult and annoying and frustrating and also quite embarrassing. He screams bloody murder if I leave the room and he is with someone else. He will not calm down and his freakout escalates until I return. I don't know how to fix this and I am worried about what hell we are going to go through when I go back to work in June. This one keeps me up at night. Suggestions?

I suppose these are the trials and tribulations of being a mom of a 10month old and a 28 month old. Nobody said it would be easy, I know that. Just in a bit of a slump and trying to work it out so we can all be happy.

PS: On a really positive note, Steve and I are doing much better. He has changed so much in the past few weeks and I'm so thankful and happy for it.

Improvements

2011-04-05T08:55:00.000-07:00

There has been a marked and drastic improvement in Steve's mood since the The Great Blowup of 2011 - although in this house we are never to speak of that night ever again. Any reference on my part to our big fight is met with a blank stare. He's remarkable that way. He is so good at denial that I swear he has the ability to almost entirely wipe the incident from his own mind. Gone. Sometimes I wish I could do that - instead of reliving it and rethinking it and second guessing and regretting.

He played in a soccer tournament all weekend this past weekend and stayed at his Mom's house. He went to a soccer party Saturday night. I was a single mom all weekend and by Sunday afternoon I was D.O.N.E. Tired and emotional and depressed that my weekend was gone and I didn't get any sort of break to reset myself. As hard as it was, I didn't take it out on him. I mean, he plays on a soccer team and there are commitments that go with that and the tournament was planned well in advance. But when it was all said and done on Sunday evening, I was in tears and told him that that was two weekends in a row that I suffered and didn't get to enjoy myself much. He said (in all earnest), "Why? What happened last weekend??"

Yesterday my dad came for a visit during the day. I was cleaning the house and while vacuuming I lifted up the area rug to clean under it and I said, "OH LOOK! Here's all Steve's problems!"

Steve came home for lunch and we all had lunch together. After Steve went back to work, my dad commented that he noticed a HUGE difference in Steve.

So it's real then. I'm not just imagining it because I want it so badly.

I'm doing my part to make things better too. I am actually listening to him tell me how his day was, or about what he read on some sports page, or about how his mom is doing. How can I complain that he never talks to me if I shut off just because he's not talking about what *I* want?

I'm working hard at not playing the part of the bitter, resentful twat. It hard because I'm really good at it, and I've always believed in investing in the natural talents that we're gifted with.

It feels good to be connecting again. It's so important to me. I'm scared that it's temporary. That it will fade, or that the next big catastrophe will hit soon and we'll be struggling through our next battle. For now though, I'm just so fucking happy to have a little peace and love that I'm soaking in every bit of it and doing everything in my power to hold on to it.

Dreams, letting go, trying harder

2011-03-29T10:33:00.000-07:00

I had a very symbolic dream last night. Amazing, really.

Steve and I were walking down a hallway. We were tired and holding on to each other for support. I felt love for him and coming from him.

A person from my past walked up behind us in the hall. This person is someone that Steve and I almost allowed to come between us in the past. Someone who caused us trouble and pain. I have held on to regret and guilt about the role I allowed this person played in our lives for a a long time.

In my dream this person walked past us. Ahead of us. Looked back at us. And then walked out a door into darkness. Gone.

Steve and I kept walking, leaning on each other. Arms draped over each other. Feeling worn out like we'd been through something physically and emotionally exhausting. A bit damaged. But together. Supporting each other.

It was a good dream. It felt right.

~~~~
My SIL phoned the other night crying. Furious again with Steve. Her relationship with my BIL is over. She has to be out of their house by Friday. She's looking for an apartment to rent. I felt horrible about it. Can't help but feel somewhat responsible. It was an email exchange with ME and my HUSBAND sent it to her spouse. I had a heavy weight on my chest.

But I'm letting that go. This may have been the straw the broke the camels back for them but the camel was on his knees. I am not responsible for their demise or her pain. I am stepping back from both of them. Whatever happens is up to them. I have so much struggle in my world right now, I can't take on their troubles. And what good would it do anyways? I would just be making myself an easy target for blame or resentment - because that would be the easiest way to deal with their problems, blaming someone else.

~~~~
The past few days have been better for Steve and I. He seems to be trying to be happier and kinder towards me. In turn I am trying to be less resentful and bitter and not so much of a bitch. I know I can be a bitch and I know it doesn't help things. We have been trying to talk in a civil and kind manner but that fact that there is talking at all is a good thing.

On the Rocks

2011-03-27T20:09:00.000-07:00

How I wish I was talking about cocktails...

My last post is almost embarrassing considering how far I've gone from any positive feeling in my core in a very short time.

Having two young babies so close together is very hard on a marriage. Having your husband's father die is also very hard on a marriage.

We've been distant. Bitter. Sad. Angry. Distraught. Frustrated.

Or at least I have been. I am only guessing that Steve has been too. I wouldn't be able to say for sure because he does NOT talk about things. Not about anything. It's hard for me. Particularly hard since I am in my house with two kids 2 and under for most of the day. My only means for transportation is usually a stroller. When it rains - which it does a lot here on the West Coast in winter/spring - I am literally trapped here inside my four walls.

I get lonely. I crave support, love, discussions, kind words, emotional progress. But when Steve gets home from work he's not able to provide much of any of those things.

I have felt that he's been harboring resentful or angry feelings towards me. There has not been a kind word offered. There is no touching. No kiss on the cheek. No hugs. Communication only when absolutely required. And even then, it's been cold.

I have been figuratively banging my head against the wall. Not sure what to do. I've tried everything to get him to give it up. Talk. Tell me what I've done wrong. Tell me what's bugging him. He was maintaining that everything is "fine". When asked if he'd go to marriage counseling his response was "absolutely not" - even though he has been seeing a grief counselor to process his dad's death.

Hopefully I'm not sounding too martyr-ish when I say I have given my everything, my all, all my energy and then some, all my emotions, all my goodness - my EVERYTHING to try to be supportive to him and his family, to be a good mother, to be a kind and loving wife - during a really bad time.

However I've been feeling like, to him, I am not worth an effort on his part. I have felt taken for granted.

The other day an email exchange started between myself and my BIL's girlfriend (SIL) as we planned out our MIL's birthday dinner that was to take place this Saturday. Well, as we started going back and forth with our emails, things started to come out. We started talking about the things that have been bothering us. Things that MIL has been doing that have been making our lives very difficult. How our spouses are completely absorbed by her and her grief and how they dote on her and her occasional dramarama. My BIL is the executor to the will and he had told SIL about some financial issues which she was supposed to keep silent about. She confided in me in those emails. Honestly it felt good to have someone to talk to. Someone who understands what I'm going through, who is going through something very similar to me and who knows all the players in the game. Someone to relate to. Someone who was willing to offer a sympathetic ear.

Sometime in the afternoon my phone rang. It was SIL. She said, "Steve's been reading your emails".

In typical Steve fashion - instead of calling me and discussing it, he called his brother. Told him what we were talking about, essentially ruining two relationships instead of just one.

Steve feels that SIL and I are vindictive, evil women who hate his mother.

I have explained that I do not hate his mom. Not even close. In fact I don't like some of the things she does. And I said nothing in my emails that I haven't already said to him.

He told me he's been watching me for a while. Reading my emails and my tweets. He says he knows I talk about him "behind his back". He told me he didn't love me anymore and has been thinking of leaving me for a while.

I explained that what I occasionally say about him on twitter is my way of communicating - in a joking fashion - to like minded friends who can relate to me. Everything I tweet is out in the open and I would never say anything malicious abut him. But he felt otherwise.

Likewise with my email exchange with my SIL.

Besides having to explain and defend myself, I am furious and upset and devastated that my husband has betrayed me and violated my personal life. My personal conversations. My privacy. I am broken hearted that we are in that place.

Obviously there was a lot more detail than this but I care not to get into it.

My BIL and SIL are pretty much done. This was the straw the broke the camels back for them. Why Steve had to involve my BIL I don't know but it was a bad move. My SIL is/was really, really mad at Steve. He apologized to her and she did not accept his apology - which made things worse for me because I know it bothered him but... of course... he wouldn't talk about it. And also, she is my friend and I feel somewhat responsible for what's happening to her on her end of this mess.

To make a really long story a little less long - I had a really big breakdown. Reiterating all the stuff I've been saying to him over the past few months.

He told me he'd make an effort to be a better husband. That he was going to make big changes.

The next day he got off work early. I had errands to run (since I offered to take a birthday lunch/cake to MIL the next day since her dinner at BIL and SIL's was cancelled) I managed to talk to SIL and we decided to meet for a beer with another girlfriend. Steve said it was no problem. I brought him a 6 pack of beer before I met the girls and told him I'd bring dinner home. I was out for a couple of hours. I sent him a text asking if he was doing ok with the the kids. He didn't respond. I called him. He didn't answer the phone.

When I was on my way home he finally answered. He was short with me. I asked what he would like for dinner and he said he already ate - even though it was just dinner time.

When I got home he was back in that bitter, quiet mode. He'd obviously had a hard time with the kids. I know he was frustrated. *I* know what that is like - it is my daily life. He was in a bad mood and quickly so was I. We started to argue again. It escalated. Really escalated. It got ugly. I pushed him to the limit. I knew I was doing it but couldn't stop myself. I wanted him to react to me in some way. I couldn't take the passive aggressiveness anymore. I was so desperate I was willing to take the aggressiveness without the passiveness.

He lost it. I lost it. His eyes were dilated and he was in such a crazed state that I've never seen before. I was scared and mad and sad and very hysterical. Our yelling woke Lincoln from his sleep. Ruby... my precious, intelligent Ruby saw and heard everything. For that, I will NEVER forgive myself. I even have a difficult time typing it out. I HATE MYSELF when I think about her big blue eyes staring at me laying on the floor bawling. HATE. MYSELF.

HATE.

Steve ended up leaving. Saying he wouldn't be back for two weeks and I would be hearing from a lawyer. He returned a short time later when he had called his mom and she wouldn't come pick him up...

In a panic I called my SIL who came over and took Steve downstairs and had a really big talk with him while I cuddled Ruby in bed.

Eventually things calmed down and SIL left.

Steve and I slept in the same bed, with Ruby in the middle. I layed my head on his chest and sobbed. (Ruby was deeply sleeping by then).

Now... now... Steve has once again said he is going to try to be a better husband. And I'll admit today has seen an improvement. But there is some heavy underlying tension. I am afraid to be anything less than smiling and happy even though my heart aches so badly.

We have been torn apart and we need to rebuild. I just hope we have the ability to do it without ruining ourselves. I know that my kids may see us argue again but they will NEVER again see anything so obnoxious as Friday night's events. I grew up seeing that over and over and over. That was my childhood. It's not theirs. It will never be theirs. I promise.

Steve's dad's death has done more damage than I thought it would. And my efforts to help and nurture and care for Steve have been sadly, futile. I cared for him the way I would have wanted to be cared for in such a situation. I've never been through a family member's death before and I did what I thought was best.

I desperately want to have a happy life, a happy marriage. I deserve it. I deserve better that what I've been given recently. I can only do so much, be so much, give so much of myself. It will take me a very long time to heal from this. I don't really know how or where to begin. I am just trying to take small steps forward in whatever way feels the most right.

Note: I do not know if Steve reads this blog or not but I have written this assuming he will read it and I have been completely open and honest and fair and regret nothing I have said here.

Ok, here goes... publish post.

In the cards...

2011-03-21T13:46:00.000-07:00

Long time, no write...

I continue to struggle to balance my life. Being a wife, a mom, a housekeeper, a woman. Needing love, friends, socialization, affection, fun, freedom, quiet. I am busting my ass to keep it all together. Some days I feel like I am rocking this shit - and other days I feel like I'm failing miserably.

I guess that's life though, isn't it? I mean, really - everyone has their own set of challenges and we all just have to find a way to live life the best we can. Life is not easy. Not by any stretch. We have to be able to find joy in the small things, to roll with the punches, and to suck it up and make things work. Let things go that don't matter.

In the past few months I have felt a great surge of spirituality within my self. I can't say that it's a religion or a specific set of beliefs - it's just something that I feel inside and it's hard to explain. I have my own beliefs and feelings and thoughts and I'm working every day at trying to be peaceful within myself - no matter the challenges (yeah, sometimes it just doesn't work no matter how hard I try). It's very interesting and very freeing to challenge my previous way of thinking and to release the thoughts and feelings and beliefs that were not serving me well.

I recently visited my Wiccan girlfriend and had her read my tarot cards for me. I had been feeling like I was losing my... "zen" or my "mojo" or maybe just my inner, underlying positivity. Certain things had been getting to me that I would normally not allow. I was emotionally and physically tired and not feeling as mentally "sharp" as I would like. (Sorry for all the quotation marks but I'm not sure any of these words are exactly what I'm looking for.)

Anyways, she had been dreading reading my cards because of how I had been feeling. But the reading showed that I have a very strong, very positive core. There was indeed a card indicating grief which since we lost Steve's dad only a month ago now, was not surprising. There were some cards indicating that I am seeking a male figure to lean on or to absorb energy from - which I found very interesting because there is no real strong male figure in my life right now and damn, do I ever crave that. There were some cards indicating that there are a lot of people coming at me from all directions and that instead of tuning everyone out (which I do a lot) I need to listen because someone is apparently going to give me something that I need to think about which will bring about a choice I need to make which will make me do a big balancing act and have some difficulty in my life but that will eventually be good for me because I will learn from it. She didn't feel that this had anything to do with my return to work in a few months - she thought it would be much sooner. She felt it had to do with education.

In all, it was a very positive reading and her and I both felt very happy after it was over. Her because she didn't have to give me any bad news, and me because I feel like I'm still on the right track and still all good on the inside.

One of the things she said to me that I have carried with me is this: Negative thoughts and feelings are just that - thoughts and feelings. They do not affect the positivity in your core.

So despite those negative thoughts and feelings (resentment! anger! bitterness! sadness! pissed-offedness!) intruding upon me - I'm still all good deep on the inside.

Lately, in random form

2011-03-01T09:56:00.000-08:00

I had one more little brush with my FIL in the days after his death. A couple days after he passed I had been having a challenging morning. I was standing at the stove, ready to steam an egg in the frying pan, I sprayed the pan with cooking spray and added just enough water to cover the bottom and turned the burner on. When the water heated it separated and formed a heart in the middle of the pan. I suddenly had a strong feeling that he was responsible for it and that he was sending me some love and encouragement. I started to cry but felt better knowing that he was there for me. Since then, the "signs" have subsided.

Death is a strange thing when you're expecting it. It seems that when we lose a loved one unexpectedly, we are hit with all the grief and struggling to deal with it all after the death. But when we lose a loved one when we are expecting it - like we just did - it seems that much of the grief is doled out in a sporadic torrent in the time leading up to the death. Waiting for someone to die is horrible. The anxiety of it, the anticipation, the overwhelming sadness of watching someone deteriorate and imagining/dreading what life is going to be like without them. Then when they do pass, there is almost a relief (accompanied by guilt) that the worst is over. But the feelings of loss and sadness and that aching place in our hearts remain.

Steve and I are struggling in our relationship. Or maybe I should say that I am struggling, Steve seems to think everything is ok. I feel lonely. I feel unloved, unsupported, unimportant. I realize Steve just lost his father and he's grieving but I am still his wife and I need some love too. There are no kisses on the cheek, no hugs, no cuddles, no encouraging words, no thank-yous. Yesterday I had a shitty day and was feeling blue and I mentioned it to him and his response was a snarly, "Why!?" He was clearly annoyed that I showed a crack in my Stepfordness. Steve is a wonderful father and loves his kids so much and for that I am ever thankful. But he could step it up in the husband department. He doesn't seem to think I need it - despite numerous discussions/arguments in which I tell him how I feel and he ignores me by watching sports on TV or pretends to be sleeping. I've suggested/begged that we go for some marriage counselling and he flat out refuses - even though he is seeing a counselor about losing his dad. One more thing that makes me feel like I'm not important enough to him. My only hope now is that I get some counseling on my own - if only I could afford it. (Steve's is covered by his company). Most of the time I just block out my feelings and keep on doing my thing - because it's easier to just accept my fate than to try to fix it sometimes. But sometimes it just really feels bad.

In happier news, I've lost 11lbs. I joined Weight Watchers back in January and it's been working out really well for me. I hope to be able to keep going and get to a place where I'm happy and comfortable with my body. It has been really hard with having 3 other people who usually get put before me, but I've managed to stick to it. I am determined.

Steve's 40th birthday is this Friday. I've planned all kinds of things. I arranged to have someone come over on Friday and watch the kids so he and I can go out for dinner. I arranged a surprise lunch/beers at the pub the following day with all his friends. And I bought him a trip for two to go to Calgary, stay in a fancy hotel (cashed in my airmiles), and great tickets to go see the Canucks (our hockey team) play. My mom and dad are looking after the kids for the weekend. I hope he enjoys it and appreciates all that went into it. I am looking forward to a weekend away.

UPDATE:

Just got a call from my MIL. She tells me that her and my BIL put some money together to buy a travel voucher for the friends who helped nurse my FIL during his illness. They are both retired nurses and they never left his bedside during the last week and they were simply amazing. I knew that they were going to buy them a travel voucher to thankt hem and I had asked if we could contribute to it. So MIL just called to tell me that the voucher was purchased and they were putting all our names on it. I told her that we would have liked to contribute and she laughed at me. No, we can't afford it but we could have found some money for it. It would have meant a lot to me to contribute. I feel embarrassed and sad that they left us out - even though our names are on it.

She also told me that the funeral home called and told her that FIL's ashes are ready to be picked up. I knew she would have a hard time with that so I offered for Steve and I go collect them. She told me that she hoped I wasn't offended but that she wanted his ashes spread on his birthday and she only wanted it to be her and Steve and my BIL and that they would pick up the ashes that day. I told her I'm not offended and she should do what makes her happy. But since I can be honest here, I'll tell you that I'm sad and yes, a little hurt. I loved him too and I did all that I could during his illness to help everyone and be as positive and loving and caring as I could. I feel sad that they don't want me there for his final goodbye. I will be ok, I will get over it. It just adds to the hurt that I'm already carrying right now.

Passing

2011-02-19T18:58:00.000-08:00

My father-in-law went into a hospice last Thursday. Sunday he became unresponsive. We spent the past week at his side. At one point I had time alone with him and I talked to him and told him everything I wanted to say (including the score of the Canucks game that was on that day because he would have wanted to know). I recorded Lincoln blabbering and gurgling and squealing and Ruby saying "Hi Grandpa Stan. I love you Grandpa Stan". When I played it for him he responded to it and turned his head towards my phone and tried to talk and reach. It was bitter sweet and heart wrenching.

He passed away on Thursday morning at 7am with his best friend at his side. I am glad he wasn't alone.

That morning at exactly 7am, Lincoln started crying. He had been awake for 20 minutes already and had been happily playing with his toys on the floor. I couldn't figure out what was wrong with him.

The hospice placed a butterfly on his door as they use the butterfly to symbolize a person's natural transformation from life to death.

The next day after I got home with the kids, I put Ruby down for her afternoon nap. Oddly she was up within 10 minutes knocking on her side of her bedroom door. When I opened the door - she had a butterfly in her hand and held it up to me. It was a beautiful handmade butterfly that she got when she was born. It has been hanging on the back of her doorknob and this was the first time she's ever taken it off.

Steve was given his dad's watch the day he died. The next day the watch stopped.

In my dreams that night I saw him from behind, walking, holding Ruby's hand.

We will miss him. He truly was a special man.

The end is near

2011-02-14T10:19:00.000-08:00

I can not believe the support I get from you guys. You are amazing, amazing women and I can not thank you enough for supporting me through everything I write about. It makes me feel so much less alone. And so much less like an asshole.

After this past weekend I can't help but feel guilty for writing that last post though. Things have changed again and now Steve really does need my support. His actions have become truly genuine.

Steve took Ruby to visit his dad in the hospice on Saturday morning. He was really tired and a little bit confused but he was able to talk a bit to his visitors and he was watching sports on TV. Then yesterday, Steve, myself, Ruby and Lincoln went in to visit him. We were taken aback at the dramatic change in him. He was basically unconscious the whole time we were there. He is skin and bones. He's barely there.

I found it really hard being there with my kids because they don't know what's going on and I obviously had to mother them and try to keep them quiet. It is no longer bringing Steve's dad joy to bring them to visit. He didn't even know they were there and I struggled to keep them quiet amidst my own grief. Steve's brother and his girlfriend then showed up as I was getting ready to take the kids over to my parents house for their naps. They were obviously shocked at the state FIL was in and things got confusing with people trying to figure out what to do and what to say and who should do what and in the kerfuffle we kind of got ushered out the door (by SIL) without me having the chance to properly say goodbye with the kids. I always put Lincoln's cheek up to FIL's cheek and Ruby always gives him a kiss. We didn't get to do that.

And it was the last time they will ever see him.

They aren't going back to the hospice, it's not right anymore. That kinda bugs me - but I know that it only matters to me. The kids don't know any different and my FIL likely wouldn't have known. But maybe he would have. Anyways - the important thing is that I took them for every visit I could while he could still enjoy them. And they said goodbye and gave kisses every time they left. Except that last time - fuck that really does bug me and I'm pissed that I allowed someone else to rush me out before I did what I needed to do.

Steve and I took the kids over to my parents and then returned to the hospice. By that time it was just MIL and FIL there so we had a bit of time to just sit in the room and chat a bit with MIL and just be with FIL. A couple of times FIL stopped breathing and we all held our own breath. But he started back up each time after a minute or so, but it is very laboured.

We know that the end is very, very close. Likely within a couple of days. Almost surely before the weekend.

When we left, I kissed FIL's cheek and told him I loved him. I rubbed his hand and he squeezed mine and then kind of shook it. Then Steve kissed his dad's head and told him he loved him and hugged him. His dad then lifted his arm and wiggled his fingers to wave goodbye to Steve. Both Steve and I believe that he was saying goodbye to us for the last time. It meant so much to us both. But at the same time, rocked us to the core with overwhelming sadness. There have been lots and LOTS of tears since then.

Steve's mom isn't sure she wants to be in the room with him when he passes. But she doesn't want him alone. Steve said he doesn't want to be there either - he just wants to get a phone call to say that it's over.

I do NOT want him to die alone, I don't think anybody does. I would happily be there with him to hold his hand when he passes. I think I am the strongest, most spiritual person in the family for this situation. The problem of course, is that I have two little kids to look after and I have no options for child care. I feel really helpless with being here, an hour away - and being limited as to what I can do to help.

I'm making a pot of turkey soup right now. Because in the aftermath we'll have something comforting to eat. And also because I need to do something wholesome right now to ease my hurting soul.

As if a pot of turkey fucking soup can do shit to make any of this better.

I'm a jerk.

2011-02-09T11:10:00.000-08:00

At risk of sounding like a selfish, mean, ignorant, cold bitch and alienating all my readers - I am going to go ahead and unload a shitload of thoughts and feelings here that may not leave me in the best of light. I have no choice - if I do not let it out I may implode or explode and I can think of no other "safe-ish" place to do it.

Now, where to start...

I guess to catch you all up on the situation, I'll tell you that Steve's dad took a turn for the worse. His body is riddled with cancer. He has it in his brain, liver, lungs, adrenal gland, spine and likely his colon. The doctor who said he would be back on the golf course by the spring gave everybody false hope and I feel he was very irresponsible in doing that and I would like to personally find him and kick him in the balls. Steve's dad was home but is back in the hospital now as he can not stand up and he is too weak to even hold a newspaper. He's been given a catheter and has a bedsore already.  He's got minimal appetite and has lost a load of weight. We were last told that he's got about 6 weeks left. We are all completely fucking devastated. It just sucks. Sucks. Sucks. Sucks.

My MIL has been outstanding. She really has. She's been so strong and I am amazed and impressed by her. Sad that her and I have never gotten along better than we have since my FIL's diagnosis - but I do feel that good will come from bad and I'm happy with this bit of goodness. I have been calling her regularly to check on her, bringing her meals whenever I go visit (which is once a week), and bringing her little gifts and treats whenever I can. She seems to really appreciate it and that makes me feel good.

I wrote my FIL a letter. I wanted him to know how I feel about him and the great job he's done as father to Steve. I wanted him and my MIL to know how I feel and I would never get the chance to say it verbally. They both loved the letter and said my words were beautiful.

I bring the kids to see my FIL at every chance I get. They bring him (and my MIL) such joy and I want him to have as much joy as possible. I also want the kids to spend as much time with him as possible even if they won't remember it later in life.

Where my issues lie are with my husband. (Here's where I make myself look like an asshole.) I feel like he's not dealing with his father's illness very well at all. (I know, I know - we all grieve differently but I think it's more than that) He's always been a softy and an emotional person and he is VERY close with his dad so I expected him to be really sad and to have some struggles. I expected tears and emotions.  But I am starting to think that it's getting out of control and that he's perhaps being a little bit... selfish about the whole thing. Last weekend when we went to visit in the hospital we had a nice visit until we were ready to leave and Steve absolutely fell apart. I stood off to the side of the room with the kids, waiting for him to hug and kiss his dad but he started sobbing and waved me out of the room. I had to pack Ruby and Lincoln (who is now over 21lbs, by the way) out of the hospital and load them into the van by myself. Steve showed up a while later, a complete wreck, sobbing and saying he's never seen his dad so upset. Well, darling... that is because you were so upset in front of him. The man is dying - can we not give him the gift of at least restraining ourselves from falling apart in front of him? He wants to know that we're going to be ok after he's gone - I feel it's unfair to unload our sorrow onto him. He then had me drive to his moms house so he could bawl on her shoulder. She was a bit chuffed at him and told him that we have to just deal with this shitty part of life and he needs to keep his chin up. I also felt that that maybe wasn't fair for him to do to his mom - she's dealing with SO MUCH already. I feel like Steve still wants to be a little boy and for his mom and dad (and brother) to take care of him. He needs to man up a bit.

His family has started leaving him out of decisions and family meetings and discussions because he can't seem to handle any of it. But he gets upset to not be involved. I honestly don't blame them. Everybody is dealing with their own grief and their own problems and trying to make the best of the time they have left and it's hard for them to have to deal with Steve's sobbing on top of all of that.

And if you think that sounds cold... just wait. I've got more.

Steve will use any and all opportunity to elicit sympathy from people. My mom asked him the other day if he's busy at work and he replied that he had to go for a little walk by himself to sort out his thoughts. Uh, not what she was asking. He gets all weepy at the drop of the hat. He'll call me to talk about banking and it somehow gets turned around to him being sad and he'll get all choked up. I mean, I've been nothing but supportive to him. He has been seeing a counselor and everyone around him is trying to help him. And I kinda feel like he's liking it, too much. He seems to LOVE people giving him sympathy. I sometimes think he uses this situation to get attention.

...I'm going to hell.

He is mopey around the house. He cries in front of our kids. He isn't supportive of me. He hates it if I say anything that isn't 100% sympathetic to him and his needs. He is distant from me. He wants me to care for him and the kids and the house and he gives nothing in return - all in the name of grief.

I work HARD all day every day. The added stress and requirements with his dad's illness have added to my physical and emotional work load. I don't complain. I don't. I feel it is my job and I suck it up and I do what I have to do. At the end of the day when I'm tired and yes, sometimes depressed and sad over the situation - he rarely notices. He's too consumed with his own self. It's not about ME, I know that. But I'm lonely and tired and sad and need some sort of comfort and companionship.

Yes, his dad is dying but Steve is still a husband and a father and he has responsibilities to me and to us.

To add to the misery - he recently cracked a rib while playing soccer. Good lord, he's on about it every chance he gets. He cries and complains and fucking whines about it all day and night. The other night he woke me in the middle of the night to tell me he slipped off his pillow and could I adjust him back onto his pillow because it hurt him too much and he couldn't move. Really? And even though he's been to the doctor and he's been told there's nothing they can do for a cracked rib except have him take lots of Advil - he still keeps threatening he's going to take himself to emergency because it hurts so bad. Oh for fuck sakes, suck it up! I realize how painful a cracked rib can be but good lord I am so sick and tired of hearing about his fucking painful ribs and watching him mope around wallowing in self sorrow.

I'm running out of Mrs. Nice Wife. I'm starting to get short with him and frustrated by the little things - like him breathing too loud, or scraping his teeth on his fork, or getting sucked into fucking Facebook like a bloody zombie while the house falls apart around him.  Sometimes my kids get on my nerves because I've been so frazzled by everything else and have little support.

Ok, that's enough - kids are fussing and Steve has called saying he's on his way home for his lunch (which I need to make). I've said enough to guarantee myself a spot in hell now anyways. I had to get it out though. Thanks for listening/reading. Try not to judge me too harshly.

Sleep Training - Progress Report #2

2011-01-17T09:39:00.000-08:00

At risk of writing about it and therefore having it all fall to shit....

LINCOLN IS SLEEPING THROUGH THE NIGHT!!!!

I just can't keep that to myself. I am so so soooo happy about it.

Naps are coming along very nicely too but are definitely not cemented yet. This means that I'm still a bit of a prisoner in my own home (particularly during the week) since he needs three naps a day and they need to take place in his own bed. But if I have to be a prisoner then at least I can be a prisoner who is getting more sleep at night!

Hell yeah!

My mom was over on the weekend and I went out for a couple of hours (FREE! I was FREE!!!). She put him down for one of his naps (the first person besides myself to put him down since sleep training started) and there was absolutely NO problem.

I went to the gym yesterday while Steve watched the kids and Steve put him down for his afternoon nap (also a first since nap training) and there was no problem.

Progress. Serious progress, my friends.

Next weekend I have tickets to see Grace Potter and the Nocturnals (a little Christmas gift from me, to me) and I really would like the kids to stay the night at my parents house. I'm so worried about Lincoln and possibly screwing up his sleep schedule. Also it is a pretty big job to make sure naps are taken at the right time and handled in a particular way and I feel a bit bad putting that on my mom - although she says it's no problem.

It needs to start happening though - Lincoln sleeping elsewhere, particularly at my moms since she is currently my only babysitter.

But... right now I'm pretty excited about where we're at with the progress. It's really very exciting and makes me really quite happy.

Where I'm at...

2011-01-12T13:39:00.000-08:00

The sleep training continues with Lincoln. I have made so much progress from the days of hourly wakings through the night and two 30 minute naps. However, at only 8 (or is it 9?) days into it, we're still a far way off from having healthy sleep habits cemented. What does that mean? It means I continue to be fairly housebound. Linc needs to be put down for each of his three daytime naps within 2 hours of waking from his previous sleep. In those two hours he needs to be given a bottle, fed solids, played with, exercised, diaper changed and whatever else a 6 month old requires. Have I mentioned he's passed the 20lb mark now?? (Oh my aching back!) And in the meantime I have a two year old who doesn't stop talking (bless her intelligent little heart but sometimes I just want quiet) or going and going and going and who hasn't quite mastered the skill of independent play yet.

*sigh*

Then there is the devastation of my father-in-law's terminal cancer diagnosis. It has been so trying (not to mention heart shattering) on the family. My husband and his dad are particularly close and it's so sad to see how much this hurts him. I have been busy trying to be everything I can be to those who need it during this time.

Yesterday there was a "big" doctors appointment. My FIL was going to find out if the treatment to shrink his brain tumor is working and if it would be worthwhile to continue treatment. We were all sick with worry what the outcome would be. Steve and I had been to the house with the kids to visit him on the weekend and I was a little bit surprised at how sick he was. He could barely find the energy for one word sentences. He was in and out of sleep the whole time were were there. He had been refusing to eat and fighting with MIL to take his medication. So you can understand how shocked we all were when the doctor told him he was very happy with his progress and that he should be able to golf a round within 3-5 weeks. I did not understand how this could be! But apparently in the past few days he's gotten stronger and has eaten a bit and scans show that his tumor is shrinking a bit. This has offered up some hope for everyone (especially Steve) that we all might get a little more time with him, some of it quality time where he is physically and mentally able.

My girlfriend who is starting up her own photography business has offered to do family pictures for us for free once FIL is a bit stronger and able to be up and about. I hadn't thought of it but what a wonderful idea. I am so excited about this and hope that we can make it happen.

And, because I don't like things to be too easy, I decided to rejoin Weight Watchers. I figured my life struggles aren't going anywhere anytime soon and I am packing around a lot of extra weight which I truly do not like - so why not just go for it now. I'm a bit of an emotional eater (understatement) and with all the stress and emotion that I have in my life right now, a bit of direction and control is just what I need or I could really be in trouble. No, I can't afford it nor do I have the extra time for it but with some encouragement from a friend I decided that I needed to do this, now, for me. It is hard for sure with everything else going on around me, but I deserve to feel good about myself and my appearance and so I will pinch pennies and find the time to do the program and I WILL be successful at it.

Right now I have both kids napping. It takes a bit of work but I have been able to make that happen every once in a while and I enjoy it so very, very much. A bit of quiet time during the day is so very needed by me right now. And so if you'll excuse me, I'm going to lay here on the couch and stare at the roof for whatever quiet time I have remaining...

Sleep training - progress report #1

2011-01-05T13:10:00.000-08:00

I gotta say, sleep training is going really well. Like, amazingly by-the-book well. Lincoln is catching on beautifully and his crying is minimal. I never expected it would go like this. I like to think that it's at least partly because I'd done some reading and some sleep training before officially implementing the sleep consultants sleep plan. I'm already aware of sleep cues and the white noise machines that I bought for both kids' rooms are also a huge help.

Sometimes I feel a bit silly that I paid all that money for a sleep plan and wonder if I maybe jumped the gun. But then I remind myself that there is indeed valuable information in Lincoln's plan that I wouldn't have had otherwise. And I would have continued to doubt my strategies every time he cried. Now I know what to do and the plan, written by a professional, gives me the confidence I need to be sure that I'm doing the right things.

I know it's only day 3 and things could go blatantly wrong at any time - but from all I've read the first 24 hours are the hardest, and they weren't that hard, and it's gotten better each day. We're working on making him go through two sleep cycles for his naps instead of one. And we're down to two feeds in the night (this includes his 10:40pm dream feed), with plans of cutting out the middle of the night feed next week. His crying has really scaled back and he doesn't scream like he used to.

For some reason with all of this, I am more tired than I've ever been. Even though I'm starting to get a little more sleep. I suppose the stress is maybe catching up with me, and it's probably going to be a long time before I actually feel rested when I wake up in the morning.

But honestly, it just feels really good that something that is going right right now. It's been a long time since something positive has happened. I am desperate for something to just go right for us and I'm clinging on to this, our sleep training progress amidst a whole lot of wrong.

Sleep Training

2011-01-03T09:15:00.000-08:00

I got Lincoln's "sleep plan" this past weekend. Sleep training is the last fucking thing on earth I feel like doing right now. The last thing. However, I paid the money for the plan and having Lincoln sleep better would greatly improve our lives. And so today, I put the plan in motion.

I am scared though. With the heaviness in this house lately I have been so stressed out. Almost to the point of being manic sometimes. I get sooooo wound up, feeling like there are a million things I need to do. I recognize that I am feeling the need to control everything I can because of the things that I can not. Still, I can't help myself. I'm afraid I won't be strong enough to handle the crying that is going to inevitably come with the sleep training. I'm afraid the stress will overtake me.

We've been doing a lot of driving back and forth to the hospital over the past two weeks and I that has been making me feel even more out of control. I've been doing all the driving - which is an hour each way through city traffic. I've been trying to manage kids naps and meals and playtime and behavior through all of it, which has been no easy task. Sleeping in the van and eating drive through chicken mcnuggets is ok once in a while, but I stress that it's happening too much. I try to plan ahead but there is so much going on inside my head and out that it's all I can do to just hang on by my fingernails.

Hopefully now that the holidays are over and there is a bit more structure, things will level out a bit. Also, Steve's dad is likely going to be sent home from the hospital tomorrow. So our visits will become weekly and they won't be at the hospital anymore (God willing). It will make things a little easier visiting at their house.

Over the past couple of weeks I've pretty much weaned Lincoln from breastfeeding. It's been beneficial to me and him. He's sleeping better already with the increased calories - and I'm less tied down and able to function a little more effectively. I've also started him on solids which he loves (except peas, that's my boy!). He's "only" awake 2 or 3 times a night now. Still his naps are junk.

As much as I don't want to do the sleep training, it's now or never. I need to start within one week of getting the plan. And really, what would I wait for anyways? It's not like things are going to change any time soon.

I'm hanging on to the fact that today is as close to a fresh start as we're going to get so I'm going forward with whatever needs to be done to get Lincoln sleeping better. While I'm at it, I'm going to take advantage of this being a "quieter" week and working on getting everything clean and organized and my family in a better place (along with my headspace), so that we can go forward as best we can with what we're given.

New Year

2011-01-02T16:26:00.000-08:00

Well, it's now 2011. We've finally moved past 2010 which was such a difficult year for us. I am very excited for a fresh start.

It seems though, that the cancer in my father in law's brain (and now lungs, back and kidneys), didn't get the memo that we were starting fresh this year. The cancer is still there and it is refusing to respond to treatment. This is usually one my favorite times of the year - after all the hoopla of the holidays is over and I can get down to improving my life in various ways. I love January and the fresh start that it brings.

But at the end of December 31st, 2010, when the clock struck twelve and the calendar rolled over - the pain and sadness and heaviness did not abate. The cancer is still there. We are all still hurting. And how can we look forward to 2011 with too much hope and happiness when we know it will likely be the year we lose Steve's dad, my father in law, the kids' grandpa?

Grandpas

2010-12-30T08:13:00.000-08:00

On Boxing Day my parents came over for a visit. We spent the day together and had a nice time during the day.

Then at about 3pm, right on cue, my dad started drinking.

He continued on for the afternoon and early evening, alternating between going outside to smoke pot and going downstairs to get another beer out of the fridge - eventually getting to that place where he is a blabbering, slobbery, retarded, annoying ass.

I am on edge when he gets like that because although he means no harm to anyone, he is just so obnoxious and I don't want him around my kids. Ruby has become very nervous of him - not because he's ever done anything to harm her but because she senses that something isn't right.

At one point he looked adoringly at Lincoln (through his bleary eyes) and told him that he can't wait until Lincoln is a little older as he can picture Lincoln at their house, following him around outside, hanging out in the yard.

And I envisioned my dad walking around the yard with beer in his hand and "secretly" going into his garage to smoke pot and coming out wreaking of weed - while Lincoln tootles around taking it all in. Not my idea of a healthy grandpa/grandson relationship.

I made appies that night for us to enjoy while we watched the hockey game. Mushroom turnovers, spring rolls, chicken wings. Steve stared at my dad in disgust while he gorged on the wings and the "apple turnovers and cottage rolls" as he kept calling them.

And I sat across the room watching him with a heavy, heavy heart. All I could think was that this, THIS is going to be the only grandfather that my kids will know.

Processing

2010-12-29T08:31:00.000-08:00

I'm going to go ahead and say that this Christmas was not a great one. My husband was in a very, very bad place, unable to pull himself together for more than a few minutes at a time. I spent the entire night from Christmas Eve through to Christmas morning holding him and offering any comfort I could while he cried out all night, in gut wrenching agony. The words and sounds of pain coming out of his mouth broke my heart over and over and over. That level of grief scared the shit out of me. I've never experienced anything like it and I never want to feel that again (although I'd be a fool to think I'm safe from it now) I felt truly scared. Scared of what, I couldn't put my finger on exactly but I had an overwhelming feeling of being absolutely terrorized.

Ok, maybe I do know what I was scared of... I was scared that there was nothing I could do to fix this and that we'd have to just experience it - as awful as it is. I was scared I wouldn't be strong enough. I was scared of what was to come. I was scared of this much sadness. I was scared that I was too close to being able to imagine what it would be like to lose one of my children.... (there, I said it) Why that thought kept crossing my mind I have no idea.

Christmas day after opening gifts we packed up and headed out to see Steve's dad in the hospital. It's an hour's drive from our house. On the way, I felt that we were given a sort of a sign... It's probably going to sound a bit strange coming from me but here's the story...

I'm currently reading "The Shack" by William P. Young. When I picked it up a month or so ago I had NO IDEA what it was about, and didn't realize it was so spiritual but I've been in a rough place lately and figured I would give it a go, who knows maybe it would provide me with a bit of guidance or some sort of light. I won't get into all the details of the book except to say that in the book the characters refer to God as "Papa".

As we were driving down the highway towards the hospital in a state of absolute despair, a white van pulled up beside us and then pulled ahead. Written on the side of the van in giant, bright red letters was "PAPA". Now, it was some sort of plumbing company or something but I couldn't help but to feel that maybe someone was with us and helping us through a very difficult day and that we weren't facing all this alone without any help from... above(?).

I tried to relay it to Steve but I don't think he was in a place where he could process it. I also mentioned it to his mom and my parents and nobody seems to have the feeling that I did and maybe they all think I'm a little bit crazy. Perhaps they're not far off.

But I believe in that sort of thing.

And if it can help me a little bit, then I can help Steve a bit and we're all a little better off.

Related perhaps slightly to the above story - or more likely to the fact that my antidepressants have started to kick in (thank goodness I got those when I did!), I've been able to get myself to a slightly better place. I've decided to make the best of this horrible situation. I've decided to that we were given a gift on Christmas eve in that we were notified that we have limited time left with a loved one. I'm grateful that he wasn't taken from us suddenly, leaving us longing for things we wanted to say, things we wanted to do, hugs we wanted to give and get. I choose to make the absolute best out of the time we have left with a special man and I will have no regrets when he does pass. I want to make sure that my children get to spend as much time with him as they can. I want to be as kind and helpful as I can to my mother in law.

My heart breaks to think that my kids will not have him in their lives but I will do whatever I can to make sure they hear lots of stories about him and make sure they know how much he loves them.

Things have also picked up a bit for Steve. He's reached out for help which is something he's never done before. He's getting some grief counseling through his company's employee assistance program and he's called some friends to let them know what he's going through and everyone is coming together to help each other.

If nothing else, I think this tragedy will help bring us all closer.

I can't allow our lives to be destroyed by this - and Steve's dad wouldn't want that anyways. There is going to be a new "normal" once again. A difficult "normal", but we need to make the best of what we are given.

Cancer

2010-12-24T21:49:00.000-08:00

Christmas eve, 2010... My father in law has been diagnosed with three cancerous brain tumors.

He's been given 3 months to a year to live.

We are completely gutted.

My husband is devastated. My heart is shattering to see him so completely heartbroken. His dad is his hero. His best friend. His dad is a good man. This is wrong, all wrong.

My kids won't know their grandpa. A man who loves them so very much.

Christmas will be in the hospital this year, and it's likely our last one together with him.

I don't know what to do. I've never been through anything like this before. I feel useless. I feel helpless. I feel scared. I'm so so so sad.

I wanted this to be a good Christmas, Lincoln's first.

Things had been looking up. Steve and I were doing better. He was his old self again, lovable, happy, joking, caring - I was so excited about that. I was feeling better. I was getting help with Lincoln's sleep problems. Things were going to get better. I felt hope.

How dare I to have felt hope.

I want to fix it but I can't. I want to say all the right things but I don't know what to say. I want it all to go away.

It feels really bad right now.

How do I go through this?

Letting Go

2010-12-22T13:52:00.000-08:00

I'm going to let go of breastfeeding.

Oh let the breastfeeding advocates descend upon me and tear me apart, limb by limb, via blog comments.

I started having trouble keeping up with his appetite a couple of months ago and had been supplementing him with one bottle of formula per day for a little while now. His appetite has only grown and my milk supply hasn't. I was up to two bottles of formula per day and have recently gone to three.

I have a love/hate relationship with breastfeeding. On one hand it's so convenient to always have food with me and to never have to worry about packing around bottles and formula or trying to figure out ways to heat a bottle on the go. And there's the bond. Yes, I believe breastfeeding my son has given us a special bond, and I have some very special memories of he and I nursing.

On the other hand, I get a physical feeling of depression/anxiety while I am nursing. It is not caused by my thoughts but from the actual sensation of breastfeeding. Also, I struggled with being the sole person responsible for feeding my son - especially with a busy toddler to chase. It is nice to be able to put him in his daddy or his grandma's arms and hand them a bottle and let someone else feed him when he is hungry - which is often.

I have long since put away the breast pump. Never to be used again. Ever. (Good riddance, Motherfucker!)

When I nurse him he is hungry such a short time later - less than two hours. With a bottle of formula he'll go three. I need the extra time, I really really do. I have diminishing milk supply which I realize I could correct by drinking copious amounts of herbal tea and taking supplements but I'll tell ya, I've got enough things to try to remember and take care of every day.

So it seems like we're on the path to weaning. There have been times in the past that I've thought about it but it made me feel too sad/guilty/not ready. But I think I'm ok with it now.

Since yesterday...

2010-12-17T13:53:00.000-08:00

Well I've gone ahead and starting making changes. Why wait for January, right? I'll have a head start on all the resolutioners.

Sleep consultant is paid for and booked. Got an email from her and filled out my client history sheet. I now wait for my phone appointment for our in depth interview and then my much awaited sleep plan sometime thereafter.

I did not consult with my husband prior to booking her. I know he doesn't see the problem as being as dire as I do - he thinks "we" are making progress so "we" should keep on with what "we" are doing. When I told him I had spent the money and booked her I was met with the expected passive aggressive response. Whatever.

Then... after reading all your comments on my last post, I started putting some serious thought into the possibility that I might be suffering from some mental health problems - namely PPD. Jeez, you guys, I really did not want to go there. I've been ignoring those suggestions for a while now. I just kept thinking that once things got better, I would feel better. But I see that things aren't going to be "better" for a while yet. And besides, I've had some pretty wicked anxiety attacks lately, along with stupid thoughts, self doubt, guilt, fear, blah blah blah. All the hallmarks of depression. I had sworn years ago that I would never go back on antidepressants (having spent most of my 20's on them), but your comments got me thinking about it and that maybe it might not be such a bad idea to get me though the short term.

So I made an appointment and went to see my doc today.

He doesn't feel that I have PPD, but that I do have "regular" depression. Meh, half a dozen of one, six of the other. Not sure what the big diff is but whatever the case, he's prescribed me some antidepressants and I got a side order of Ativan for those tough nights when I'm laying in bed with a racing heart and racing thoughts. He offered me 0.5mg tablets but I told him he better make them 1mg. I'm no rookie to this.

We had a talk about Lincoln's sleeping. He suggested I hire the particular sleep consultant that I have already hired - which made me feel good about my decision to do that. He said he hired her for both his children. He asked what exactly is happening and I told him Lincoln is awake on average 6 times per night and has a couple of 30 minute naps per day. He asked if my husband helps out at all. I told him "Yes, he gets up one of those six times in the night". He said, "Well your husband is going to have to step up - and you can tell him I said that. He is going to be doing a lot of the work when you get the sleep training plan and he might as well get used to that idea now."

Oh how I wish the doc could have told Steve that himself instead of me telling him. Steve bristled when I relayed the message and then suddenly had to hang up the phone. I've spoken with him since and he's changed his tune, saying he'll do whatever needs to be done to help. We'll see. Talk is cheap.

I'm hoping the antidepressants are going to help me think more clearly, feel stronger emotionally, allow myself to feel less guilt, and not not let stupid little things - like Steve's inability to experience empathy - bother me.

Next up? I'm either getting a GC for the running shoes I asked for for Christmas or I will be taking more money from our line of credit (that I'm not supposed to use) and buying them myself. I want to take up running again. Running made me feel good and I could blare my music nice and loud and just escape, alone, for a while.

(I've said this before but I love you all so very much and do not know where I would be without you. Thank you so much for caring and for taking the time to post your so very thoughtful and helpful and supportive comments. I send a big hug and kiss to each and every one of you.)

Time for change

2010-12-16T08:31:00.000-08:00

Back to your regularly scheduled programming...

I'm in a bad place. I'm hanging by a thread, twisting in the wind. I am crying out for help and nobody is listening. I don't know how much more clear I could be to those around me that I need help. I tell Steve every day how badly I am struggling. I have told my inlaws at every opportunity that I get. I have told my parents - who seem to be the most concerned about me, and the most sympathetic. But nobody is stepping up to offer help. And things are growing worse. Things are getting dire.

Too many things have gone wrong over the past few months and I've had to deal with them all myself and I am getting to the breaking point.

I have been making a little progress with Lincon's sleep problems and I am encouraged when I see that progress, knowing that I'm responsible for it - but it's far, far from being anything close to acceptable. Last night was a particularly bad night with him. And I've had a particularly bad morning.

I am sleep deprived. Frustrated. Irritated. Resentful.

My marriage is not good - although Steve would never admit such a thing. We are little more than room mates. Co-parenting. I try to talk to him about it but he walks away from me. Literally, walks away from me. It feels so disrespectful. He wants me to magically be happy. Solve my own problems. Solve my kids problems. And leave him out of any of the tough stuff. You've heard of "fair weather friends", he is my "fair weather husband". There is no effort on his part to work on anything between us. He does nothing to make me feel loved, wanted, attractive, appreciated. I do not have the energy to do whatever needs to be done on my part to try to make things better.

I'm lonely.

My appearance makes me sad. I feel like a fat, frumpy mother of two who has let herself go. In fairness to myself I haven't really let myself go so much as I have had no choice but to put all my efforts and energy into other places. And really, nobody cares what I look like anyways. Nobody sees me. I don't get out unless it's to the grocery store and the clerks there don't care that my ass is fat or that my hair is flat, or that I only had time to put on mascara. My kids don't care. Steve doesn't seem to either. I feel invisible.

The past few months have taken a serious toll on me.

I don't like where I'm at. I need change. For the sake of myself, for the sake of my family.

I've come to realize that nobody is going to help me, I need to help myself.

I can not wait for the new year to start to fix this. I need to get on it right away.

I am going to contact the expensive sleep consultant and hire her. Today. Fuck it. It's expensive and I can not afford it but I am bearing the weight of this problem alone - if I have to pay someone to help me, so be it. I can not read any book fast enough or thoroughly enough to solve this on my own. I will put all my effort into getting Lincoln's sleep habits on track, and therefore getting some sleep of my own. I need to be able to think more clearly, feel less sluggish and tired and worn down.

Then, I'm going to work on regaining my life, or should I say creating a new life for myself since whatever my life has been in the past is no longer applicable. One step at a time. The marriage. My weight and appearance. My social life. Not necessarily in that order.

Its time I started caring for myself and stopped waiting for someone else to do it.

Happy Birthday, Ruby

2010-12-13T18:45:00.000-08:00

We interrup the regularly scheduled whining to bring you something different.

My daughter, my angel.

She turned two today.

Today is a special and very happy day.

Then the wheels fell off

2010-12-12T20:08:00.000-08:00

Just when I thought I was getting somewhere.

Steve got a stomach flu. Then Ruby got it. Then I got it and it was baaaaad. The kind of flu where you leave your dignity in a heap on the bathroom floor. It was so bad I was having flash backs of being in the hospital in labour with Lincoln. Four days later I am still recovering. In the meantime, all sleep logs have gone by the wayside. I don't know if I'm coming or going and I'm just getting by any way I can which means some co-sleeping has been happening again.

And on top of it all? Lincoln is as miserable as sin and not sleeping worth a shit. The reason seems to be a little white lump that I can see poking through his gums. Not quite through yet, but I expect him to cut his first tooth any time.

Today, I thought I just might be having a nervous breakdown. I am so exhausted both physically and mentally. Maybe more in the mental department.

I've never felt quite so defeated.

Reinforcement

2010-12-09T07:11:00.000-08:00

I just got to the part in the book where I realized that I am reinforcing Lincoln's night waking habit by going to him every time he wakes. Duh.

I know he's not hungry every 3 hours (that's what we're up to now) but I'm afraid to not go to him and feed him because I'm afraid of that awful crying happening in the middle of the night. (Also, what if he is scared and lonely in his bed and he just wants his mom and she doesn't go to him and he decides he can't count on her anymore and so he decides he doesn't love her as much anymore.... Isn't that what a big part of this is, after all??? )

Except last night I was so tired. Exhausted. He went to bed at 6 and I was tending to him at 8pm, 11pm, 2am, then 3am...

At 3am I was so exhausted and tired of all this sleep training shit that I went to him to make sure he was ok. He was. I was not. I was too tired. My own sleep deprivation is accumulating at a rapid rate and I just couldn't keep getting up with him for no good reason. I'm not using a monitor with him because his room is right next to mine and I can hear every peep he makes. So I simply closed his bedroom door, went back to my room and turned on oscillating fan to drown out some of the noise and I went back to bed and fell right to sleep. I remember hearing him at about 4am but he wasn't screaming.

He woke up at 6am this morning and I fed him and he went back to sleep (wish I could have but Ruby was up at 5:45 and sneakily ate a slab of almond bark while I fed Lincoln).

I feel like this might be a breakthrough for us. Particularly for me. I realize I'm not doing anyone any favors by running to him every time he squeaks. By shutting his door and walking away (if only for 3 hours), I realized that I can actually leave him at night and nothing horrible will happen.

Tonight, I may take the next big step and do the door closing, fan turning on, hiding under the pillows at the beginning of the night, not the end. Time to start reinforcing some better sleep habits. Enough is enough.

Is this normal?

2010-12-07T13:50:00.000-08:00

I decided to hold off on the sleep consultant until I gave sleep training a good try on my own. And upon many people's suggestions (many of you, the health nurse, my midwife) I bought "Healthy Sleep Habits, Happy Child" by Weissbluth. I like his theories and I believe in what he says but good Lord I can not read it fast enough. My spare moments are few and far between and I've barely just made it into the 3rd chapter!

Does crying it out ever NOT work? Is there a chance that he may not be teaching himself how to fall asleep but instead just falling asleep from pure exhaustion? And in the meantime am I just fucking up his life? (and mine).

I can only commit to doing it during the day because I have another child to consider and letting Lincoln scream through the night would wake up Ruby for sure and then my troubles would be two fold. So does that mean that the progress will be slower? I'm guessing it probably does.

And anyways I've made leaps and bounds with him at night, though it's still far from ideal. We've got the bedtime routine down pretty good and he's going 3 or 4 (and once even 5!) hour stretches in between feeds.

Daytime napping is the really big problem right now and that's when we cry it out (he and I both). I took video footage of him "crying" (SCREAMING) in his crib. Today he did it for an hour (I checked him at the correct intervals - which actually seemed to make it worse). Now I have the proof I need to exonerate myself when the police knock on my door because the neighbors have called to report a child being tortured. "Officer I wasn't burning him with cigarettes! I swear! I don't even smoke!"

No really, I did take a video of it. Is this normal? This is at about the 45 minute mark. After I took this video I went and took stock of the medicine cabinet to see what I had that might be effective in rendering me to a comatose state.

(Disclaimer: Baby screaming in video. Maybe don't watch at work or if you are sensitive. )

I played it for Steve and he said..... "Don't do that."

Ruby NEVER cried like this - that is all I have to compare to. Is that why it seems so over the top?

I just talked to my MIL and she said it wouldn't be good to let him cry too long and that maybe I should try a little whiskey. I told her, what a coincidence because I was actually just thinking about having some. But apparently she meant I should give it to Lincoln. Talk about old school. Just for the record, we don't do that anymore .... right?

It is during these screaming fits that I feel like I need professional help. Both for him and for myself. I need therapy and he needs professional sleep training. Or am I just being a big wuss? You'd think I was the first woman to sleep train her child, I know...

Progress, and... not

2010-12-03T09:08:00.000-08:00

So I did a bunch of research. I spoke with a health nurse. I emailed my midwife. I looked at a bunch of books. I talked to girlfriends. I searched the internet high and low. And what I thought I would do is take little bits of everyone's advice and put together my own little sleep training plan for Lincoln.

And it worked. Sorta. Well, a little bit. The progress we made was in the napping department. He has gone from taking maybe two 30 minute naps a day to taking two or three naps a day, ranging from 30 minutes to an hour and a half. And he's in his crib for those napst whereas before he was just where ever I happened to have him - bouncy chair, swing, floor, my bed. There was a bit of protest from him and we had a little bit of crying it out. But it was minimal and I was feeling terribly smug about myself and my talents as a mother.

My big plan was to get him used to his crib during the day and then eventually, I figured, he would start to get used to it and start sleeping in there at night. I have started putting him down in his crib after a little bedtime routine (which was previously non existent) and two nights in a row he slept for a couple of hours at which point I gave him a dream feed and laid him back down. Then he slept for another couple of hours before waking and me bringing him back into my bed (and then waking every hour or two for nursing).

Except there was the one time at nap time that he did more than a little fussing. It was a big old cry/scream it out. And even though I went in to check on him at regular intervals he screamed for 45 minutes before falling asleep and then only staying asleep fro 10 mins. (I realize this is minimal compared to some babies.)

Then last night when I put him down he went into cry/scream mode and it lasted 30 minutes. He was awake within an hour and then an hour after that. And he ended up in my bed at 11pm.

And I've discovered that I don't know if I can handle this. My anxiety kicks in full blast when he's screaming. My heart is crushed. I have all kinds of doubts about what I'm doing and if I'm doing it right or if I'm fucking him up - because I'm doing my own thing and not a regimented, structured plan.

He is so attached to me and I feel like I'm betraying him and hurting him by doing this. He loves me like nobody ever has. It blows my mind. Nobody has ever been that happy to see me before in my LIFE. He giggles and squeals when he seems me. He grabs on to me and nestles his head in my neck. The sound of him nursing at night, eagerly drinking and gulping his milk makes me feel like I'm doing something so good for him. And when he's nursing he reaches up and holds on to me.

And I feel like I'm ripping all that away from him by making him cry in his bed, alone.

Yes, I realize that perhaps the problem is mine. Perhaps I have some issues that need to be worked out. I want us all to be happy and healthy. We're not that right now.

I feel like I can't do this alone. Or even with Steve - who will go along with whatever I choose, pretty much. (Although he struggles with the crying too, which doesn't help in making me feel stronger)

I feel like we need an intervention.

I am considering enlisting the help of a professional. A sleep consultant. A friend of mine used Helen Sands and had great success. My midwife highly recommends her and strongly suggested we use her. She said that it would be a Christmas gift to Lincoln. And I trust my midwife more than anyone else in the world when it comes to my babies.

The thing is, Helen is really expensive. And I don't have much money - I could scrape it up of course. But I am such a state of anxiety and self doubt right now I don't know if I should go ahead with it or not. I feel almost like a failure if I can't get him sleeping through the night on my own. Maybe I could just buy one of the books that have been recommended to me and just force myself to go with it. But Helen Sands does extensive research into your particular circumstances and developes a plan specifically for the individual family. And there is some support too. I feel like I could use the support.

I feel depressed and anxiety ridden this morning. Don't know which way to go with this. I have so much self doubt no matter which way I turn. I just wish someone else could make some decisions for me and point me in the right direction.

Perhaps I just answered my own question...

The Jig Is Up

2010-11-30T08:32:00.000-08:00

Lincoln had his tests and urologist appointment yesterday.

He does not have kidney reflux. In fact, his little urinary tract works beautifully. Everything is in the right place, everything flows in the right direction. He does have phimosis but the urologist thought it didn't look too bad. He feels that with the continued use of cortisone, he should outgrow it within a month or so. He does not want to circumcise Lincoln, and would only do that as an absolute last resort (I am so glad). He also felt that Lincoln's second UTI may not have been a full blown UTI. That there was such a small amount of bacteria detected that it likely just some bacteria from his foreskin and he probably didn't need to be treated. So it's not as bad as we all thought.

They did take a urine sample to see if he has a current UTI and will call me by Friday if he does.

As an added bonus, the urologist examined Lincoln when he found out about Steve's fertility problems due to his undecended testicle and hernia surgeries. Lincoln's testicles are right where they are supposed to be and his little body is perfect.

I am so grateful and thankful and happy.

But... this means that the little bugger has been stringing me along all this time with his crying and screaming fits and his constant nursing throughout the night and his fussiness through the day.

He has been only taking two 30 minute naps a day. Then up nursing all night and awake at 4:30am for an hour or so and up for the day usually around 6am or 6:30am. He becomes a delirious, screaming lunatic each evening, and sometimes is a fussy cranky little shit all day long. He can NOT fall asleep without my boob in his mouth. I thought he was needing the comfort for his discomfort but if he's not in any discomfort then perhaps his sleeping habits have just gotten out of control and I need to take control in order to save this family from it's misery.

I am now full on doing research into sleep problems and sleep training and all that goes along with it. A girlfriend used Helen Sands for her son when he had similar problems and she swears by her. I read the plan and I'm worried it's too harsh. Or is that what it takes? Anyone use that method? Anyone have success with any other methods? Any good books I should read? Any techniques or suggestions?

Bring it on. Send me all your wisdom and advice! I want it all - good, bad or otherwise. I want all the info I can get so I am confident in the path I choose. I want to end Lincoln's misery. And mine. And Ruby's and Steve's. (And everyone else who comes in contact with us).

I also wanted to say that I love you all. Thank you for all your kind comments and emails in regards to my last post. You sent me your great wisdom and concern and caring and it meant so much to me. I felt a little less alone and a little less scared and a little more supported. I do not know what I would do without you all.

Frazzled

2010-11-24T09:57:00.000-08:00

I am ready to lose my shit.

Lincoln no longer eats every two hours through the night. He's now eating every hour or less. Which means I am barely getting back to sleep before he wakes up again. One night of that would suck and then you'd recover and get on with life but it's been going for almost a week or more like that. My patience is so fucking thin I feel like I could snap. I am so close to snapping.

Ok, maybe I have snapped once or twice. Screaming at the top of my lungs and punching the wall. In front of my kids. I'm a fucking loser.

Ruby is repeating repeating repeating repeating herself in a high pitched voice. She wants to wash her hands or brush her teeth over and over and over and I am trying to put Lincoln down for a nap and/or make him stop crying/screaming. She gets frustrated when she can't have my immediate attention and she just stood in front of me and pour out her water onto the carpet - one of her favorite tricks. She wants to smash the computer or my blackberry or the telephone - because she knows it rattles me. I feel sorry for her because I am so frazzled and short with her sometimes. I hate myself for that. It's not her fault.

I put him in the bassinet two nights ago because I thought he could maybe smell my milk or maybe we were waking him up every time one of us rolled over in bed or whatever. He was still up every hour or less and I thought maybe it was because he is grossly too big for the bassinet and he couldn't move around. Yesterday I drove an hour to my parents house to pick up the pack'n'play. Tried that last night will even less luck.

I'm constantly, desperately trying to search for an answer

I tried starting him with some formula to get him to go longer between feeds at night. Two nights ago I gave him a bottle of formula before bed and he didn't wake up for 3.5 hours which I thought was a HUGE success. Too bad the rest of the night he was up every 45 minutes. Last night, tired of breastfeeding all night, I gave him a big bottle of formula which he finished at 4am. At 4:55am he was up again and wanting more food from me.

I don't think it's hunger. I think he doesn't know how to sooth himself and needs me to sooth him back to sleep every time he wakes. I also don't know if he's in pain or not with another UTI. I'm so tired of guessing what's wrong.

I am so tired in the night and I get so fucking frustrated when I'm up so often when I need sleep so bad. Bad thoughts go through my head. I have considered (however briefly and not lucidly) leaving. I thought I could just go get in my van and drive away. Leave Steve with the kids. Everyone would be fine I'm sure. When he cries in the night I want so hit something. I want to punch Steve in his sleeping, fucking face.
I feel alone. Nobody can help me. I am afraid to show my frustration and exhaustion to Steve because it seems to annoy him. He just wants things to be happy and great and when *I* am the cause of it not being happy and great he becomes quiet and distant with me. When I am reduced to a crumpled pile of sobs and tears on the side of the couch at the end of the day he completely and utterly ignores me - either browsing Facebook or watching TV - on the other side of the couch.

Lincoln's urologist appt is on Monday and it can't come soon enough. I want things to be better. Once I know what is wrong with him maybe I can figure the rest out. I am so afraid of where I'm at right now. I'm scared and tired and depressed and fragile and can not seem to solve this problem on my own no matter how hard I try.

Not Today

2010-11-20T16:07:00.000-08:00

Going to Ikea on a Saturday isn't something I usually care to attempt with a toddler and a baby but since my mom wanted to have a little day out shopping, I managed to get the kids dressed and fed and diapers changed and loaded in the van and at Ikea by 10:30am despite being up every 45 minutes to feed Lincoln last night.

As I drove to Ikea I was dreading a little that I would have to spend the day listening to my mom whine and complain and cry about how awful and annoying and terrible my dad is. Not that she's wrong - I'm just really sick of hearing about it.

When I was walking towards the entrance of Ikea I soon realized that I wouldn't have to hear about my dad all day from my mom because he was with her.

Normally... whatever. I don't let him get to me. Or her for that matter. But today? Today I'm tired and my patience is low and I'm still thinking about how to dry the duvet on my bed that Ruby poured an entire bottle of water on. And the first thing out of my dad's mouth is how Ruby should be wearing a hat in this weather.

Not today, Dad.

And then as I look at my mom she rolls her eyes in the direction of my dad.

Not today, Mom.

And then for some reason my parents think that this is going to be an all day event in Ikea and they are taking their sweet mother fucking time looking at every single thing and taking forever to make a decision on whether to purchase one package of spice jars or two. They seem to have forgotten that I am on a limited budget as far as time goes and before long both kids are going to need to eat and nap and it will get ugly if they don't.

My mom asks why I seem to be in such a hurry. I remind her of the kids. Oh yeah.

So she tries to go faster but my dad is still lagging. Taking out his spectacles to read what scent this package of tea light candles is.

They're red. It's Christmas time. Probably cranberry or cinnamon. Stick your nose in and have a sniff. Move along.

There are the typical, "See what I have to deal with". And "Ugghhhh". And "I feel like I'm being smothered, why can't I have a day out by myself." from my mom.

I don't know mom. But guess what? Not today.

My dad offers to buy me breakfast because it's only .99 cents. Not today, Dad.

My one purpose for going there was to find a wooden table and chair set for Ruby and Lincoln for Christmas. The only one I liked was pretty beaten up which means it would end up that way in my house too. No big deal. I'll find a set somewhere else.

But my dad has to come over and say, "What about that table?" I say, "no". He points to another one (with giant pink chairs and bright green table." I say, "I'd rather have something that doesn't look like a circus puked in my kitchen". He rolls his eyes. "What about that one..." I explain that while I can clearly see ALL the tables and chairs, none are what I want so pointing to each different one doesn't really help me. My dad explains to me that the one I like is only beat up because it is on display. I have to explain to him that the wood it is made of is too soft and it would eventually get destroyed in my house too. Thanks for ALL your advice though.

He won't leave Ruby alone. He's over the top with her. He's pushing her in an Ikea cart and spinning her and letting the cart go. I allow it once. Twice. I tell him to STOP when he narrowly misses some other shoppers and the cart crashes into a display. He whispers something to Ruby about Mommy being mean or wrecking their fun or something. For fuck sakes not today, Dad!

I tell them privately about Ruby dumping water on my bed. He brings it up to her and asks her about it, trying to shame her. I tell him we don't do that. He asks, does she not need some scolding for it? I explain that the scolding was done when the act of dumping water was done. Then we move on. We don't talk about it in front of her and we don't keep bringing it up to her. We don't want her to think it's cool so she might think about doing it again, nor do we want her to be made to feel bad repeatedly after it's long over. He says sarcastically, "Oh, that's a good way to handle it" and rolls his eyes. Because, you know, he's an expert on raising kids? He certainly wasn't involved in raising any...

So for the love of God... not today, Dad.

We get to the checkout and I do the self serve thing because it's super quick and I just want to escape. My mom chooses the longest/slowest lineup because she "doesn't know how the self serve thing works". So I wait. And I wait. And I wait.

And my dad offers to buy me "lunch" because he can get two hotdogs for $1. I decline. He sits and eats them himself. While I wait.

I tell them it was nice seeing them and bye-bye but they want to walk me to my van. They kindly help me load the kids up while being obnoxious with poor Ruby who just wants to go home to bed (she actually asked to go night-night). My mom says she would like us all to go for coffee somewhere....

Not today, Mom.

I am clearly in no position nor mood to sit in a coffee shop with the two of them who so obviously hate each other, while Ruby is exhausted and struggling to behave herself and Lincoln who has pooped in his diaper and is 15 minutes away from having a screaming fit because he needs to be breastfed - which I do not want to do in a coffee shop.

Uhhh, not today.

Instead. I said goodbye and cut the day short and headed home where I ate too much lunch because I was feeling emotional and frustrated and tired and if I didn't stuff food in my mouth, I would be crying instead.

Today is not my day.

No, not today.

The Plan

2010-11-19T13:15:00.000-08:00

Before Lincoln got his first UTI he was, what I would consider to be, a "good" baby. He was happy and content and he occasionally slept through the night. And the nights that he didn't, he was only up once between 3 and 4am - giving me lots of rest. (Well, I probably didn't think it was lots at the time but looking back...)

And then just before he turned 3 months old he got that first damned UTI and it's been downhill since then. He's fussy and he cries and SCREAMS a lot. He's got chronic diarrhea (I rarely change a pee only diaper, but we are on that change table every couple of hours). And the eating... the eating feels like it's non-stop. Generally he eats every two hours - around the clock.

Because of the constant feeding, he's been sleeping with me in my bed (as previously mentioned). I did try to get him back in the bassinet but discovered that he's seriously outgrown it. So if I want any sleep, he stays in my bed. I don't even bother sitting up to feed him during the night anymore, I just roll over and stick a boob in his mouth.

I'm afraid that... I'm creating a monster.

I think he's seriously attached to me - which is a good thing. But can also be a bad thing. He seems to get quite upset when I'm not around. I left him and Ruby with my mom for an hour on Monday and when I returned he was screaming. I left him with Steve for one hour this week and when I came home he was screaming. I am afraid to go too far from him and nobody (including Steve) wants to be left alone with him.

I do pump once a day and give him one bottle a day so that he's used to a bottle. So technically someone else could feed him if I was "unavailable". (And as I type that I realize that I need to get Steve to be giving him his one bottle a day - so that they both get used to each other a little more.)

I've decided that I will not try to change anything until after we have an official diagnosis from the urologist and then have done whatever needs to be done to prevent him from getting any more UTIs. And once that is done and he is healthy I am going to start giving him a little bit of formula in a bottle once a day or so. And he's likely going to be ready for solids at that point so we'll give that a go. I'm hoping that since he'll be feeling better and he'll have a little bit of the higher caloric food in his belly, he might sleep a little longer and eventually I will get him in his crib in his own room. My big fear about putting him in his crib is that he's going to be so used to being in our bed with our warmth that he is going to feel like he's sleeping on a cold slab in his crib and he's not going to be happy about it. (I'm open to any suggestions on how to fix that problem.)

And if I can get all that to happen then maybe, just maybe I will get a little more sleep. And I might even regain a very small bit of personal time. And perhaps... just a little bit of my sanity.

The Lately

2010-11-16T13:01:00.000-08:00

Last week I had to take Lincoln back to the doctor because the medication he was on for his third UTI was making him very very sick. He had explosive diarrhea, severe gas and I also assume from his screaming and back arching and kicking his legs that he had the bad stomach cramps that is also associate with that particular medication. My doctor told me that he had sent the pediatric urologist another referral telling him that Lincoln was an emergency and we need him seen before November 29th.

Then on Thursday I saw what my boy would be like if he wasn't sick with a UTI or having his insides explode from medication. Oh he was sweet, and happy, and laughing and not fussy and NOT screaming in pain. It was pure bliss. I had the best day on Thursday.

Friday he started being fussy again and I phoned the urologist office myself leaving a message begging for him to be seen ASAP as I know he is going to get sick again and it's only a matter of time. I phoned two more times on Friday only to get voice mail and have yet to hear back.

Saturday the screaming started again so I packed him up and made the drive to Children's Hospital. Two separate pediatricians looked at him and both immediately said he has phimosis (foreskin too tight) and they felt that was likely the reason for the infections. I saw him pee and his penis ballooned up with urine before the pee came out so I could see how that would force urine back up into his plumbing - causing infections.

The good news is that it may not be kidney reflux. The bad news is that he may need to be circumcised - which I know is a touchy, opinionated subject for some people. I'm not particularly interested in where you stand on that issue either, I didn't want my son circumcised. End.

The pediatricians told me that having an appointment with the urologist on the 29th is already really soon and there is pretty much no chance that we would be getting in any earlier (which explains why the pediatric urologist's office hasn't returned my calls). In the meantime I have some cortisone to apply a few times a day in hopes of loosening up the skin, and giving him a slight chance of avoiding circumcision.

And it turns out he didn't have another UTI. But maybe you can understand why at the first sign of pain I threw him in the van and headed to the emergency room. 3 UTIs in 7 or 8 weeks is too many. And I'm pretty stressy. I'm on edge waiting for the next UTI to materialize.

It's taking a fairly substantial toll on this household. Steve and I are at each other's throats too much. Steve is afraid of being left alone with Lincoln in case he has one of his screaming fits - which means that I don't get time alone to do... much of anything. Taking 10 minutes for a shower sometimes seems like I'm asking for the world. Steve's life goes on relatively unaffected and I feel resentful and unappreciated. Ruby is acting out and cries "Mommy up!" every time Lincoln squeaks because she doesn't want me to go to him. I'm exhausted from all that and other issues that are pressing - such as my parents marriage (why is that being dumped on me anyways?), my dad's alcoholism / drug addiction / personality deterioration (he is a wreck and destroying any joy of spending family time together), my own self esteem (WHY won't my weight come off???), my loneliness (having a social life was hard with one baby - it's nonexistent with two - especially when one is sick), my job (have I posted about that disaster? I can't remember) and so on...

I know I'm the mom and it's my job to care for my kids no matter what sacrifices it takes and I'm fully on board with that. I also appreciate all that I have in the world and I know how fortunate I am. I have been really working hard on being positive and being a good person and putting good karma out into the world.

Some days, though? Some days I wonder if I'm going to make it through. Yes, I know I will. I'm tough and I'm resiliant and I love my kids so much and that gives me more strength than I could have ever imagined. But some days... some days just make me question everything.

Good and Bad

2010-11-02T13:55:00.000-07:00

The Good: My vertigo appears to be GONE!!! I am so bloody happy I could shout from the rooftops!!! I felt like the treatment I had a week ago took care of it but was still getting some weird... wobbles(?) in my head. They've slowed down considerably but I went in to see my physiotherapist yesterday anyways. He tested me on both sides and both were NEGATIVE. Oh I was so fucking happy I hugged him. I feel so much better - and people have noticed. Saw the inlaws and my parents this weekend and both commented to Steve how much better I seemed and how my eyes were more clear and how much happier I was. No shit. Try being dizzy and have room spins for 7 weeks and see how cheerful you feel. I'm thrilled to be feeling better. And it's a good thing because...

The Bad: Lincoln finished a 7 day regime of antibiotics last Thursday for his second UTI. I got a call on Friday from the pediatric urologist saying he had an appointment for November 29th. A MONTH away. Then Saturday, Sunday, Monday he was super cranky and the inconsolable SCREAMING was back in full swing. I brought him in to see the doctor yesterday, was told to get another urine sample - which I brought in for testing today and guess what? Yep, he's got his THIRD UTI.

HIS THIRD UTI IN TWO MONTHS.

My family doctor said that he is going to personally phone the ped urologist and get him in sooner. I mean, clearly something is very wrong. He wrote me ANOTHER prescription for Lincoln but I'm not to get it filled until I hear from the doc as they want him to grow the bacteria a little more so they can test it for something or other. In the meantime the children's Advil is now officially free flowing in this house. My poor little guy.

I am so glad that my head is clear so that I can be on my game for whatever is to come in the next few weeks.

Update...

2010-10-21T12:18:00.000-07:00

Between vertigo, Lincoln's feeds and a very busy mind, I got little sleep last night. In fact, at 3am I got up to go pee and a few minutes later realized I had started cleaning the bathroom - which is what I do when I'm pissed off or stressed out. I promptly sent myself back to bed.

Anyways, Lincoln does indeed have another UTI. We are heading to the hospital this afternoon for a renal u/s. When the results are in from that we will be headed to BC Childrens Hospital for more tests and possible surgery. The doctor suspects he is having problems with the valves between his bladder and his kidneys so that when his bladder constricts to make him pee, some urine is being shot back up into his kidneys.

We are also being referred to a pediatric urologist.

Possibly the scariest part of it all? My BIL is coming to babysit Ruby this afternoon while I take Lincoln for tests.

Desperate times...

Sick baby

2010-10-20T17:04:00.000-07:00

I wrote a big long post this morning about my vertigo (which I still have). I was just waiting for a spare minute to finish it off and edit it.

Then this afternoon I got a call from my doctors office letting me know that Lincoln has another urinary tract infection. And suddenly my vertigo doesn't matter anymore. Except for making the next few days harder than they're already going to be.

Lincoln had a UTI a few weeks back and I was warned by my doctor that if he got another one he would need a "full workup" (a shitload of tests) and would likely need to stay at Childrens Hospital for a few days. So since then every time he made a peep I worried.

Then a couple nights ago he started screaming. I don't mean crying. I mean SCREAMING. After an hour I threw him in the van and drove to the hospital emergency. When I got there he was sleeping and I couldn't imagine taking a sleeping baby into emergency, trying to convince triage that he needed to be seen.

The next night was an exact repeat of the night before.

The next morning I took him to my doctor. We did a urine sample and the doctor told me that if he has an infection that it would be "strike two" and he will need to go to Children's Hospital.

Well... strike two.

I was told by the doctor's receptionist today that if he is screaming I should take him to emergency, if not he will be seen tomorrow morning by my doctor. After that we will likely be headed to Children's Hospital.

Stressed? Who me?

I can't help but think of Steve and how when he was a baby he had some problems with his testicles which ultimately resulted in some severe scarring which resulted in our male factor infertility. It's not the same issues but still. A mother thinks all kinds of things in a situation like this.

I'm sleeping with two men...

2010-10-12T16:21:00.000-07:00

Scandalous, huh?

To elaborate, the two men in my bed are my husband and... Lincoln.

I started out co-sleeping with him when he was first born because it was easier for me to feed him and care for him when I was recovering from childbirth. At about 2 or 3 weeks I put him in his bassinet beside my bed, and all was well.

Until...

I got vertigo and he got a urinary tract infection.

I brought him back into my bed because I was worried about his fever and wanted him close so I could monitor him.

He got better but my vertigo never really went away. I can NOT sleep on or turn to the left side or the room spins - and that is where his bassinet is.

So he's stayed.

I don't worry about rolling on him and crushing or suffocating him because I am pretty much eye to eye with him in bed and I'm such a light sleeper (especially with vertigo) that any time Steve so much as shifts, my arm shoots out to make sure he doesn't get too close.

Needless to say, I'm not getting a whole lot of quality sleep these days. But then again I don't think that moving him out of my bed would make things any better for my sleep quality/quantity. In fact, I think it would be worse.

But... I feel like maybe I should get him out of our bed. Because while it might be easier now, is it going to be even harder to get him out the longer he's there? Does it matter? Should I just take the easy now while I need it? I mean, it's damn hard doing what I do, is it so wrong to make something easier for me, for now? If he was sleeping through the night it wouldn't be a question - he would be in his own bassinet if not his own crib in his room. But he's getting up at least twice in the night to eat - sometimes more (God help me), and in between his feeds he is restless and he grunts and groans. And if I didn't have vertigo, it would also not be a question - he wouldn't be in my bed.

I'm torn as to what I should do about it all right now.

The supportive wife

2010-09-30T10:07:00.000-07:00

Steve's vasectomy is today. He's nervous. I suppose I would be too if I were a man and had never been through 2 IVFs, two difficult pregnancies and had delivered two babies within 18 months - neither with any pain medication. Poor bastard has had it too easy, no wonder he's afraid of a little nip in the nuts.

But I, being the supportive wife that I am, went out and bought all the supplies that the doctor required he have pre-procedure (it's a "procedure" nowadays, not a "surgery". It takes 15 minutes and there is no scalpel involved).

I happily went to Walmart and picked up the extra strength Tylenol, extra strength Ibuprofen, antibiotic cream, gauze and gel packs.

He also needed a pair of snug fitting undies and an "athletic support" which he is to wear over the undies when he goes for the procedure.

When I got home and realized I had bought the jock in youth sized xs, I had myself a good laugh. Steve didn't think it was funny. Nor did he laugh when I suggested that maybe that might be the size he will need AFTER the procedure.

I have since returned the jock for the right size - Mens XL (wink wink, nudge nudge). Ruby proudly rode around in the cart at Walmart holding it up for everyone to see while yelling, "Daddy GOCK! Daddy GOCK!". We're so charming.

Anyways, in an effort to be as supportive and caring and helpful as possible during this somewhat scary time for my husband, I went through his supplies and laid some of them out for him last night. In the kitchen... on the chopping block...

And he's still not laughing.

It could be worse... right?

2010-09-28T15:22:00.001-07:00

Despair. I thought I was feeling despair. That's cute.

I should KNOW better than to say stuff like that because sure as shit as soon as it leaves my lips (or my fingertips), then it then becomes a big open invitation for the Universe to say, "Oh yeah? You thought that was bad? Wait till you get a load of this..."

I was diagnosed with severe left side horizontal BPPV. And despite two visits to my family doctor and 3 visits to a physiotherapist who has been performing the *"Epley Maneuver" on me, I still suffer. In fact I am sleeping pretty much sitting up, can not sleep on my left side, must not bend over, look down or up or tilt my head to either side.

That's a load of fun with two little kids.

Like when I bent over to help Ruby put on her shoes and I had an "episode" and fell down.

Or when I leaned over to pick up Lincoln and I lost my balance and stumbled.

And the looks you get when you are standing in line at the grocery store with your kids in the stroller and you rock back on your heels.

If only that was all I was dealing with. But no...

A day after the vertigo returned, I noticed that Lincoln had been super fussy. And warm. I took his temperature and realized he had a fever. One which Tylenol wouldn't bring down. Which is a bad thing. Babies that age are not supposed to get fevers.

So with vertigo, I was in and out of emergency rooms with Lincoln no less than three times. The first night we were in the hospital until 2am. Two different nurses took turns trying to get viles of blood out of his chubby little arm, poking him three different times and digging around in his arm trying to find a vein while I had to hold him down and he SCREAMED and SCREAMED. They gave him a catheter which was NOT a good time either. And before we left they gave him an antibiotic injection in his little thigh.

The whole time I wanted to die inside for what he was going through. And each time I tried to lay my head beside his naked, little, overheated body the room spun hard and I had to clutch the hospital bed.

That night there was pretty much no sleep.

Vertigo is aggravated by fatigue.

Then there was a blur of more emergency room visits, physio treatments for me, doctor and pediatrician appointments.

Eventually it was determined that Lincoln has a urinary tract infection (from **bubble bath?!!??). He will be on antibiotics for a week. Hopefully his diaper rash will clear up soon too.

During this time we found that Ruby had a giant boil (GROSS!) on her ear - which disturbed me greatly but I didn't have the energy to fuss too much about it and it thankfully went away.

Over the past week or two any little bit of normalcy or routine that I had established has been completely wiped out. We are in full on survival mode. Ruby has eaten more meals of goldfish crackers than I care to admit and Lincoln has been reverted back to sleeping in my bed with me at night and has spent far too much time in his baby swing. There have been moments when I was sure I was not going to survive, yet I dare not be so foolish as to label this time with anything such as Hell, Purgatory, or ABSOLUTELY FUCKING BRUTAL. And I dare not say that I am feeling despair. Because... I know that things could be worse. And I do not wish to temp the Universe to show me how "good" I have it right now. So I will endure. I will survive. I will get through this.

And when it's over I am going to be kicking some ass because life will seem soooo easy. Right?

~~~

*The Epley Maneuver is extremely effective in treating vertigo. It is suspected that I had vertigo on both my left and right side which is why the treatments haven't fully worked yet.

**WHY did I not know that bubble bath is a leading cause of UTIs in kids??? I swished Lincoln around in the tub with Ruby while she was having a bubble bath, trying to kill two birds with one stone. The bubble baths are now gone. Nobody gets bubbles anymore - despite Ruby's protests..

Despair

2010-09-21T11:07:00.000-07:00

I am struggling with being a mom of two kids so young. Ruby is going through the terrible twos and Lincoln is a baby who requires much love and care from his mom.

I've been doing my very best to keep it together and some days I do pretty good. Other days I go to bed dreading waking up the next day.

A few times I've felt sure that post partum depression was creeping in. With my long history of depression and anxiety, that scares me. These kids need so much from me, I can't afford to be depressed.

So when I got a severe case of vertigo two weeks ago it totally leveled me. Vertigo is the most awful awful awful thing to get. I could not care for my kids but I had to find a way.

I have lived in fear over the past two weeks that it would return. And this morning it did.

I was up half the night with a fussy Lincoln. Then at 5:30am as I was feeding him again, I turned to my right and the whole room let loose on me. I quickly took the medicine that I was given to combat vertigo but it has not helped me. I tried to ignore it and just go on with my day - because I don't have much choice to do anything otherwise. But as I was bent down helping Ruby put on her shoes, the room spun hard on me and I fell.

Since then I can't stop crying. I am fucked. I am so afraid I will have this for the rest of my life. I can't function. I am nauseous. I am exhausted. I can't sleep because when I close my eyes the room spins. I don't know how I can take proper care of my kids when I feel like this. They need me to be able to look after them and I can barely move.

I have a doctors appointment this afternoon but have little hope for any resolution.

I feel total despair right now.

Goodbye - for real this time

2010-09-17T12:33:00.000-07:00

Last year at this time my midwives held their annual potluck picnic. Everyone who had a baby with them in the past year is invited and everyone mingles and chats and compares notes and of course it's a nice way to say goodbye to the women who cared for you during pregnancy and childbirth and the ugly weeks afterwards.

Last year Ruby and I attended. When I walked away I had a big lump in my throat, feeling sure that I would likely never see these women again - for obvious reasons.

Little did I know that I would become pregnant shortly after that picnic. Hell, when I look at the calendar it might have even been that very night!

And so this year the four of us attended the picnic. A mom, a dad, a daughter and a son. The family that I never thought I would have.

But mere hours before the picnic, Steve had a consultation with the doctor that is going to perform his vasectomy.

His VASECTOMY.

I spent TWENTY THOUSAND DOLLARS to get pregnant due to MALE FACTOR INFERTILITY and my husband is now going to get a VASECTOMY. Do you know how weird that feels??? There was a time when I was gutted at the possibility of living childless for the rest of my life and trying to figure out how I would come to terms with that and now I am sending my husband for a VASECTOMY.

He has less than 1% viable sperm for Christ sake!

Yet, here I was at the midwive's picnic for the second year in a row. I do not want to attend next year's picnic. Nor any subsequent picnics in the future.

So a vasectomy it is.

Still. The irony. Right?

When I walked away from the picnic this time and loaded up my family into my minivan, I did not have the lump in my throat. I knew that this was indeed goodbye... again. And that this time it was going to be goodbye for real. But this time it was on my terms and not at the mercy of infertility.

And I do perfer things to be on my terms.

I love Lincoln

2010-09-03T07:45:00.000-07:00

Have I mentioned that? Honestly, I don't think I have. Not here anyways. And I need to.

I wrote a LOT of posts about how the surprise pregnancy totally blindsided me and how I had a really hard time processing it and trying to come to terms with the fact that I would be the mother of two when at one point I thought I would be childless for the rest of my life. And then how lucky I was to finally conceive and then give birth to Ruby, and how I made myself come to terms with the fact that she would likely be an only child and I had made that seem very appealing in my head, because that's what you do. You learn to accept and love the life you have.

And then I wrote a lot of posts about how hard his pregnancy was and how much I was not enjoying it. And that was so true. I'm not going back on that - the pregnancy was definitely stressful and physically taxing and downright painful and very unpleasant. I am just not one of those women who really enjoys being pregnant.

I also may or may not have posted about how much I was (am) in love with Ruby and how I didn't think I could ever possibly love another child the way I love her.

And now, 9 weeks into this I can not IMAGINE my life without Lincoln. My god I am crazy in love with him. He is my special little gift and I am ever so thankful to have been blessed with him. He is sweet and snugly and a true little mamma's boy. I couldn't be happier. My heart is bursting full.

I think I just needed to make all that clear.

Everybody's hungry

2010-08-26T12:54:00.000-07:00

Today both my kids were hungry at the exact same time. And there was no putting either one of them off - as I can sometimes do. It had been over two hours since Lincoln ate and he was ready to fill this house with the screams of his milk demands, and Ruby was late for her nap and on the verge of a catastrophic meltdown.

If I fed one and not the other the sounds of the freakout from the one not eating would distract the other and then nobody would eat and then nobody would nap and then I would want to stab myself in the eyes.

I have had a brutal week with the two of them and was ready to do whatever it took to make them both happy.

So, I fed them both at the same time.

Let me clarify...

Lincoln needed to be breastfed. Ruby needed to be spoon fed.

I didn't know I could do it but I suppose desperate times call for desperate measures.

I sat on the couch and leaned forward putting my boob in Lincoln's mouth and while holding it there with one hand I put Ruby's lunch on the table in front of me and had her stand beside me while I spoon fed her with my other hand.

It was a very precarious situation and the slightest of false moves could have aborted the whole operation. But I managed.

I can't believe I managed.

How I am able to pull off this whole gig somedays simply amazes me.

Send help (or vodka)

2010-08-23T12:50:00.000-07:00

I am woken up at 7:19am to Ruby crying - as she does every morning. I drag my exhausted ass out of bed and go to her as quickly as possible to prevent her screeching from waking up Lincoln. I walk into her room and cheerfully say "Good morning, Ruby!!"

And she screams at me, "NOOOOO!!!!!!"

After wrestling with her and finally holding her down to change her diaper we head to the kitchen where she demands to be fed yogurt.

By this time Lincoln has heard the ruckus and he is crying. He wants to be fed. At the same time she does. NOW.

I manage to bounce him until I get her yogurt down and give her a granola bar to run around with and smear all over the furniture while I nurse him.

The cup of coffee I made myself to get through the morning sits cold on the counter.

She soon gets bored and comes over with "Darla" (her doll) and sits beside Lincoln and I on the couch. "Darla" then scratches Lincoln in the head with her hard plastic hand. This upsets Lincoln and before I can get Ruby and Darla distracted and removed from the situation (baby attached to my boob), "Darla" headbutts Lincoln.

Lincoln screams. I mean he screams!!!! High pitched, heart wrenching screams. Like I've never heard him scream before and I wonder if he's seriously injured.

In the meantime, Ruby stands and stares at me while she shits in her diaper.

I settle Lincoln and put him in his bouncy chair which is on the kitchen table which is the only place he is safe from Ruby and/or Darla.

I wrestle with Ruby again to change her diaper and barely prevent her from flinging her shitty diaper across the room.

Later I manage to get Ruby to go down for her morning nap and pray that Lincoln will sleep too so I can have some time to myself to reset and recharge. Except Lincoln is fussy today (maybe something to do with the earlier attack from Darla). So I spend Ruby's nap time feeding, changing, bouncing Lincoln.

Normally he might have a nap in his baby swing but it got broken last night.

Before I know it Ruby is awake from her nap and yes... crying.

I interrupt nursing Lincoln to get her up from her nap.

Since it's now noon and Ruby's had little more to eat than a kids yogurt and half a granola bar, I ask her if she is hungry. She tells me "eat!"

Apparently by "eat" she means she'll have 3 bites of lasagna and then chew up and spit out her 4th bite, then pour her sippy cup out all over her highchair. Lunch is over.

Lincoln continues to fuss. He wants to be rocked (Damn, I am missing that swing).

Since I am holding and rocking Lincoln, Ruby stands in front of me with her arms up saying "Mommy knee?? Mommy knee??" If I was able to put Lincoln in the baby swing I could hold her on my knee. Then again, if Lincoln was in the baby swing she wouldn't want to be on my knee. When I explain to her that I can't pick her up right now she decides to empty out her toy box. She does it by staring at me and removing each toy then holding it high above her head and then SMASHING it to the hardwood floor. Toy, by, toy.

I decide that I need to get us out of the house for some fresh air and exercise. It is then that I realize that Steve has driven our only vehicle to work and left the stroller in the back of it.

I'm trapped in my house with a fussy 2 month old and a renegade toddler.

This computer has now been unplugged 6 times.

Wheels

2010-08-10T13:49:00.000-07:00

Remember all that identity crisis stuff I was going through when I traded in my Jeep Wrangler and bought the station wagon? How I felt so good that time when I was driving around in the station wagon all alone with the tunes cranked and the windows down until I remembered I was driving a station wagon and then I rolled up the windows and cried all the way home?

Well somewhere along the line I became "ok" (resigned) with the station wagon.

And then Lincoln surprised us all and suddenly with two kids under two, two car seats, a tall husband and a double stroller... that station wagon quickly became too small.

I started asking Steve if we could get a minivan. Yes, I was ASKING for one.

I talked to a few people about it and everyone was really freaked out and opposed to even the thoughts of a van. A few people even made fun of me. Everyone suggested we get a crossover or some sort of SUV. And I looked into that, I did. But I found that the smaller, more affordable SUVs had little more room than we already had in the station wagon. And the SUVs that would meet my needs were huge and since neither Steve nor myself are high level drug lords, they weren't something we could afford.

It took a little convincing to get Steve to agree to the minivan. But with the back seat full of car seats - Lincoln's being rear facing - the front passenger seat had to be pushed all the way forward. And any time we went somewhere and Steve had himself a few cold ones, he found himself riding in the passenger seat. At 6'2" his knee caps were almost touching the windshield.

And so we headed out this weekend minivan shopping - which incidentally I don't recommend with two very young children because although I thought any salesman would take pity on us and give us a smoking deal, the fact is that by the time I found what I wanted I would have agreed to any deal - good, bad or otherwise - because I was so on edge waiting for the next meltdown, tantrum or feeding session.

Anyway, after a full day in and out of dealerships and test driving and signing and signing and signing paper after paper. This bad boy now resides in my driveway...

You know? I love it. I feel none of the ego busting self pity that I felt with the station wagon. In fact I feel even better now than I did driving the station wagon. Maybe it's the black on black. Or the sweet stereo for me to listen to my loud, raucous music. Or the feeling of being up high when I'm driving. Or maybe it's just the relief of not having to drive home from the grocery store with my groceries piled on my lap.

Or maybe I've just arrived at the point in my life where I don't give a fuck what other people think and I'm just happy to have something we all fit comfortably in.

Also it's nearly brand spanking new which is a bonus.

Whatever it is, I like it. I'm cool with it.

And I'm dying to go on a road trip.

The Door Incident

2010-07-28T13:41:00.000-07:00

Last night after dinner Steve and I decided to go for a walk. So after rounding up and strapping down the kids we headed out, me pushing the double stroller. It was hot hot hot outside, making the double stroller extra work to push. I was sweating and tired.

While walking we decided to stop at Booster Juice for a smoothie.

Walking up to the door we were discussing what kind of smoothie we should get.

We got to the door of Booster Juice and Steve opened it, walked through it and then let it close behind him... leaving me standing just outside with the big double stroller. I stared/glared through the glass door at him thinking he would quickly realize his mistake and turn around, apologizing.

He didn't.

I watched him walk through the store, up to the counter to order.

There happened to be a group of 6 men standing just inside the door who all saw what happened and when they realized Steve wasn't going to come open the door, one of them jumped off his stool and opened the door for me.

I thanked him - which made Steve turn around and realize what had just happened.

He laughed sheepishly and said, "Oh I thought you were going to just wait outside."

Outside? In the sweltering heat? With two babies? When it's cool and air conditioned inside?

Really?

I could have made a big deal about it but I didn't. It wouldn't have done me any good. I did let him know that it wasn't very nice of him but he totally brushed me off.

How I really feel about it? It made me feel really bad. It hurt my heart. I'm the mother of his two babies and I work hard to keep every one happy and cared for and it's hard, hard work. And I'm tired everyday but I keep doing what needs to be done to raise two happy healthy kids and a maintain a decent marriage. And I do try to care for my marriage. I'm always trying to think of ways to show him that I love him despite being exhausted and not always wanting to put in that extra effort.

Him letting the door close in my face made me feel really unappreciated, uncared for and unloved. Like I don't matter. I don't want to feel taken for granted.

I would also like my kids to grow up seeing that their parents love and respect each other - something I did not get to experience.

I know he has it in him. When I met him and for the first few years of our marriage, he was a doting husband. He would fall all over himself for me. Now, not so much. Am I to blame? Maybe a bit, I know I can be a naggy bitch sometimes.

I know it was probably just an absent minded man thing and I should let it go - and I will. I know that I'm over analyzing it and that may be due to hormones and fatigue. I know it wouldn't have felt as bad if I wasn't pushing our two kids in a double stroller after a long day of looking after them, or if he had realized his mistake and apologized instead of making up some bullshit excuse.
There's no point in discussing it with him because he's not a discusser. So instead I will analyze it to death in my head. Make a mountain out of it until it eats me up and I have a meltdown. Write about it to death in a blog post. And then maybe wait until my hormones shift and I can laugh it off like he did...

What it's like

2010-07-21T15:05:00.000-07:00

Ever wonder what it would be like to juggle life with a newborn and a toddler?

Here... let me give you a glimpse of what it's like...

Things were running fairly smoothly today. Early this afternoon the baby was napping and the toddler was getting antsy so I thought it would be a good time to take her outside with me. I would water the grass and catch a couple of rays and she could play with her outside toys. I left the baby in his swing close to the open window and door.

It went great, for a while. Then perhaps I was enjoying the sun's warm rays on my face just a little too much. Perhaps I dared to close my eyes and turn my face towards the blue sky for just a few seconds too long. For when I turned back to reality I found this...

I thought, "oh crap, she's going to get the bum of her pants dirty!"
But before I could do anything about it, I heard crying coming from the open window. I quickly popped into the house to check on the boy and found him like this:

As I was attempting to calm him, I heard something at the front door. I turned to find this dark figure looming in the door way:

A mud soaked toddler was about to race through my (somewhat clean) house while my newborn baby screamed his lungs out. I managed to get her back outside where I could strip her down while juggling the baby in my arms...

A short while later as I was patting myself on the back for getting her in the tub and getting her cleaned and changed and then managing to also get him like this:

I was faced with this:

And sadly, it was far to early in the day to have one of these...

2 weeks

2010-07-11T10:07:00.000-07:00

We had our two week post partum appointment last week.

I felt so good when I walked out of the midwife's office after it was over. It was a really positive appointment that made me feel really good and really... ok.

Lincoln, who was back up to his birth weight at one week old - gained an additional 1lb1oz in his second week, bringing him up to a whopping 9lb14oz. And how did he get there? From breastfeeding! I did that! I feel really proud considering the hell I went through with Ruby and her BFing issues. He's a little rockstar breastfeeder! In fact, my midwife suggested that I maybe start pumping off a little of my extra milk and start giving him a bottle once a day. She said that if I wait too long to introduce a bottle that I may have a struggle getting him to take the bottle at all. This will also give me a tiny little bit of freedom should I need it (oh I need it). She assures me that it will not turn him off BFing, he will not have "nipple confusion" and that he will continue to be a breastfed baby. (I realize there are lots of strong opinions on this and just to be clear - I'm not interested in hearing any negative ones - it's right for me, it's right for us and that's all I care about.)

She also said that he is a really good candidate for a soother since he just wants to suck and suck and suck and sometimes he just wants to hang off my boob and his mouth pools with milk but he's not swallowing it and he chokes. He just wants something in his mouth.

Also - gripe water is totally ok when he has a tummy ache.

All these things seemed to be controversial and I never thought I would hear the midwife not only ok'ing them but actually suggesting them. And all these things are going to help me and make my life a little bit easier - and I'm feeling pretty good about all of it.

I feel like I've gained (regained?) some confidence in myself and that feels really, really good.

10 days

2010-07-04T15:11:00.000-07:00

He's 10 days old now.

I've thought about writing a post so many times in those 10 days but my moods swing so dramatically that whatever I wrote, I knew I would hate myself for it a few hours later and either delete it or write another post reneging it.

The first week was the worst. I was so fucking emotional I was crying all. the. time. I was certain there was NO WAY I was going to survive this.

I was stressed over Ruby and how I've "ruined" her life. I cried every time I looked at her, overwhelmed with guilt.

I was embarrassed of myself for how I acted while I was in labour. I cried and screamed in pain and I begged to die. When it was time to push I at first refused because I said that I just couldn't. I begged the midwife and/or nurse to get him out another way, any other way. I felt ashamed acting so out of control and it ate me up a bit.

I was uncomfortable with breastfeeding. Remember I pumped for 6 months with Ruby because she refused to breastfeed. Lincoln is a champ in that department but he sucked so hard it hurt (I cracked and bled). And I felt trapped by it - sitting on the couch feeding him for hours and hours in a day. Not to mention the wild emotions that were released when I was in the actual act of doing it. I also felt shy about doing it. My boobs are bigger than Lincoln's head and I found it extremely difficult to be discreet which really bothered me.

I felt pain and immense fatigue from the birth. I was so tired and shaky and had zero appetite. So even though I was hungry and knew I should eat - I couldn't. And that made things worse. I was soooo weak.

I thought/imagined that Steve was disgusted with me. Both my appearance and my emotionalism.

Ruby acted like a demon. She was already going through a "phase" when Lincoln came into the world but I managed to blame myself for bringing a new baby into the house for her behavior. I felt like a horrible mother because I was actually incapable of dealing with her. Her whining and crying and often rotten behavior almost put me over the top.

I was overcome with fear and anxiety of how in the hell I'm going to look after both Ruby and Lincoln when Steve goes back to work later this week.

After a particularly tearful visit to the midwive's office, one midwife said she would refer to me to post partum mental health.

Later that day the midwife who delivered Lincoln called and talked to me about the birth and explained that it really was normal and I did and said nothing that I need to be ashamed of.

I let Ruby go to my mom's house over night when Lincoln was a week old. Of course I felt like I was pawning her off and hated myself for it but the next morning I felt refreshed and more clear.

And in the past few days I feel like things are improving. My body is healing. I'm getting the hang of Lincoln. I bought a breastfeeding cover. I'm not quite as sleep deprived feeling. I'm working on helping Ruby through her phase. The guilt is fading. I'm able to do a little more.

I feel incredibly lucky to have such a good baby. Lincoln is kickass good. He's not fussy. He doesn't cry (unless he's really, really hungry). And a few times I have had to wake HIM to feed him in the night. Sometimes I only have to get up with him once or twice in the night. (I didn't want to write this paragraph because as soon as I hit "publish" he will turn into a sleep depriving demon, I just know it)

I probably won't need the mental health appointment. I can probably work through this.

And yet still... at around 5 or 6pm each day I am usually in fairly rough shape. The tiredness hits and so does the depression. The tears are easy to fall. It usually lasts until I go to bed. But I know that when I wake up the next day (or sometime in the night) I will likely feel better.

I just have to keep on keeping on and hope things keep improving - however slowly.

Finally...

2010-06-25T19:33:00.000-07:00

June 23rd started out like this...
I was officially one full week overdue and feeling every bit uncomfortable as I looked.

I had an appointment with my midwife that afternoon. After an exam and discussion she asked if I would be interested in taking a labour inducing "cocktail" that is made up of natural ingredients and very commonly used in Europe. I had heard of the cocktail before as a friend of mine used it and had success. I figured it couldn't hurt and so she gave me one ingredient that was not readily available at health food stores.

If I was to take the cocktail I was under strict instructions to call the midwives prior to taking the first dose so that they could plan out their evening. I was also to have someone the house to look after Ruby. And if/when I went into labour, I was to head to the hospital after I had two hard contractions within 5 minutes.

So I went and bought the rest of the ingredients for the cocktail. I had my mom at the house with her overnight bag. And I advised the midwives I was going to go ahead and take the cocktail.

I took the first dose at 5:15pm June 23. By 7:45pm my contractions had started although they were fairly mild. I took the second dose at 10:15pm and went to bed. I woke up at 12:45am June 24th with some stronger contractions. Steve flew out of bed grabbed the bag and headed for the door. I wasn't sure we were ready to go but since the hospital was a bit of a drive to get to, I agreed to go.

We called the midwife to meet us at the hospital.

Contractions got stronger on the way.

By the time I was admitted and wheeled into my room at about 2am, the contractions had eased up and slowed down a bit. I was only 3cm dilated.

The midwife on call had me sit in the jet bath for a half hour or so while she tried to catch some sleep down the hall.

After the bath I layed down on the bed and dozed off. I woke up at about 3am to a stronger contraction and then a "pop" feeling. I stood up and realized my water had broke (what little of it was left).

Steve buzzed for the midwife.

Contractions just got stronger from there.

And stronger.

There was no time for any sort of pain medication except the gas and after a couple of puffs I didn't think it was doing anything to help the pain and only making it harder to breath so I gave up on it and suffered through some pretty severe pain.

And by severe, I mean that I begged to die.

Pleaded.

At 5am, I was fully dilated and was told to push. I cried and begged for them to get the baby out some other way - any other way - because I did not feel I had it in me to push. I again begged to die.

How I ever found the strength to push I will never know, but at 5:14am Lincoln Ross Roberts was finally born.

He weighed in at a whopping 8lbs 13oz...
His dad was bursting with pride...
Lincoln had a little nap in bed with me, then was given a bath and then we got him dressed and 8 hours after giving birth we headed home. I just didn't see the point in sitting around the hospital for whole other day and night.

I felt like I had been in a bad car accident and was (still am) completely exhausted but we're making it work. I'm just so happy to have that part over with and to have my new baby boy home.

Is that a light?

2010-06-22T09:17:00.000-07:00

Yesterday's NST was "textbook perfect". The boy is happy and healthy. And he REALLY loves his mom ALOT because he apparently never wants to leave my belly.

I am hoping this is not an indication that he will still be living in my basement suite when he is 30.

They booked me another NST for Friday. And an AFI/US. AND... and an OB consult. We were told to come prepared to be induced. Although the hospital's policy is not to induce until 41w3d and I will "only" be 41w2d on Friday, my midwife tells me that the OB who is working on that day will likely not wait until Saturday.

I really, really didn't want it this way. I wanted it to happen naturally. I really wanted that experience. I do feel a bit sad about the whole situation - but also somewhat relieved that there is a light at the end of the tunnel. My god, I thought it would be long over by now.

I "broke the news" to my mom last night and she said she would take Friday off work to care for Ruby. She did mention that her co-worker was being extra psychotic lately (she takes it personally no matter how much I tell her it's so obviously not about her) so she was a bit apprehensive letting her know she wouldn't be there on Friday but did say that it would just have to be. I'm hugely relieved that we don't have to bring Ruby with us.

And Steve has booked 2 weeks holidays starting this Friday.

Now I just have to get myself through 3 more days.

5 days OD

2010-06-21T09:30:00.000-07:00

At 5 days overdue I'm struggling to stay positive.

Yes, I know this won't and can't last forever, but every day it goes on it gets harder and harder.

One of my biggest struggles is with Ruby. I find it difficult to care for her while I'm this pregnant. My body is hurting all the time and my energy level isn't very high. I feel terrible that I'm not the mommy I want to be to her right now. I know she senses it too. She deserves better, my little angel. My best is not good enough right now.

Also - I'm struggling with the fact that I don't have local childcare for her. My daycare closed at the end of May and I don't know how to find someone else to take care of her for just once in a while. Most daycares don't take kids for just a day, or a few hours here and there. And I don't know enough people locally or have the resources to find a babysitter. I couldn't just leave her with some stranger.

The only person I have for looking after her is my mom and she lives 45 minutes away and works full time. She LOVES looking after Ruby but doesn't like taking time off work because the woman who covers for her is a psychopath. That and she actually doesn't like taking time off for anything. (No question where I inherited my work ethics from)

Today I have another NST and an AFI (amniotic fluid indicator) and I have to bring Ruby with me because my mom took a day off last week while I had these same tests done. Luckily Steve is off today so he's coming with us and is going to look after her while I have my tests but the situation isn't ideal. Who wants to be toting a toddler around a hospital?

I have a midwife appt on Wednesday and I will have to bring Ruby with me to that too.

And then sometime this week I will possibly (likely) have an obstetric consult to schedule an induction. Who will look after Ruby then? Steve will probably have to work. My mom will be working. I'm stressed about it. What will happen? I know I can't bring her with me to the hospital by myself.

Yesterday I had my ILs and my parents over for BBQ for Fathers Day (thankfully it was short and sweet and everyone was well behaved). My MIL was asking my mom if she was taking holidays soon. My mom explained that Steve would be taking 2 weeks vacation when the baby was born and then she would be taking one week after that but that she was "on call" to come look after Ruby when I go into the hospital to have the baby. Then she said, "But I'm really hoping it's just a quick in and out, one day thing." So that she doesn't have to take more than one day off work.

Well fuck, Mom. I can't control the circumstances of the baby being born - as much as I would like to. And it just adds more stress to know that's how she feels about it.

Adding to the stress - she lives 45mins to an hour away. The hospital is another 45 minutes in the opposite direction. The hospital is in the middle of the city. So none of it is easy or convenient.

Depending on how today goes with the NST and AFI I was thinking that it might be better (for me) if my mom took her holidays this week so that she could help me with Ruby and babysit her when I need to be at my appointments. But I know she wants to spend her time off with the new baby.

And on top of all that did I mention that I'm now FIVE DAYS overdue? Aside from all the childcare issues - I feel extremely uncomfortable, in pain all the time and having a really hard time keeping my chin up. I'm finding it harder and harder to keep myself occupied and to not think about the when and the how and the where and all the rest of it. And I'm just aching for it to be over and to get on with the next part - which I also fear and know will not be easy, but at least I want to get on with it.

Ok, that concludes my whining for the day. Off to do my hair and put on makeup and get dressed and push on with my day.

NST, U/S, Pelvic exam

2010-06-17T10:14:00.000-07:00

I'm now officially overdue.

Yesterday's ultrasound showed that the amniotic fluid is indeed a little bit low but not low enough to induce.

The NST showed that the little dude in my tummy is quite comfortable and happy and under no stress whatsoever. He apparently has no intentions of leaving any time soon.

A repeat NST was booked for Monday just to check that the fluids aren't dropping and that everything remains good.

Midwife appointment showed that my cervix is soft but not dilated and posterior. It's shortened a teensy tiny bit but nothing substantial. The midwife commented on how high up my cervix is and maybe that's why the baby hasn't actually settled into my pelvis yet (although some days it sure feels like he's trying). His head is against my cervix but my cervix is up high. So, not too sure what that all means. I was assured that even though I'm not dilated or effaced and the baby isn't settled into my pelvis that I still COULD go into labour at any time. That gave me a tiny bit of hope.

Last night and this morning I had the feeling that I would get just before I get my period. Yes, this would have excited me except that this has happened so much over the past couple of weeks that I no longer think too much about it. Last night and this morning were stronger than the other times but the feeling has abated now, as it always does. I suspect the feeling may have come from being poked and prodded so much yesterday.

And that is all I`ve got.

The latest

2010-06-15T06:00:00.000-07:00

My due date is tomorrow.

I have never been this pregnant before. Ruby was born 3 days before my due date.

I gave up on drinking all the raspberry leaf tea because... well... it's not pleasurable and after a few days of drinking 3 cups of it a day and nothing happening I gave up on it. I realize it's probably more of a longer term thing but whatever.

I had a stretch and sweep done (good times!) last Wednesday.

I've now been for 2 acupuncture appointments in which I was "induced" and nothing has happened. Cue the sound of a toilet flushing and 110 of my hard earned dollars going down it.

Ruby poured water on me while I was laying in bed this morning, soaking my sheets. I stared at it willing to somehow have been MY water that broke. No luck.

Steve has been sick all weekend. Man sick. You know what that means? The world might just be ending. He had the nerve to suggest that it might have been brought on by the stress of worrying about when the baby was going to be born. Lucky for him I was buckled into a moving car and there were no sharp objects within my reach and although I could have reached over and strangled him or punched his eyeballs until he could no longer see - he was driving so I may have put my own life in jeopardy. Poor Ruby would have been an orphan.

In the meantime this means that during his two days off (Sunday, Monday) there was minimal to no help with Ruby. And he's been up all night, two nights in a row, giving me a play-by-play of his bodily functions. "TARA, something is really wrong with me!!!!" Really? Because something has been really wrong with me for the past 9 fucking months and I haven't experienced all that much sympathy so get the fuck out of this bed and go lock yourself in the bathroom until you deal with whatever the hell it is that ails you.

Oh, and maybe the next time you order fish and chips, you won't consume an entire tub of tartar sauce and/or maybe you should send the fucking fish back if it is grey and soggy instead of washing it down with another beer. Just a thought.

Anyways, I go into the hospital tomorrow for an NST (Non Stress Test) and an ultrasound. I had this done with Ruby when I was 39 weeks pregnant and it resulted in the discovery that I was low on fluid, she was in distress and I needed to be induced (she was born a few days later). Apparently there is a chance of that happening again, so... maybe something will happen on Wednesday.

And if not, I will be allowed to go 10 days overdue before any further action is taken.

In the meantime, I am miserable.

Thank you, that is all.

Is this normal??

2010-06-10T10:09:00.000-07:00

I don't know what to do with Ruby. She's making me nuts. My god I love her more than I could ever express but I am not having a good time lately.

She has all sorts of toys to play with but she doesn't want to play with them - even if I play with her. She wants things that are mine.

I can no longer do anything on the computer as long as she is awake (she's napping now). It makes her crazy and he NEEDS to push all the buttons. I have sent so many nonsensical, half written emails because she is reaching over me slamming on the keyboard.

I can't do housework because she doesn't want me to. When I try to prepare a meal she will wedge herself in between me and the counter and push me away from it. All while whining.

She wants me to pick her up - but only if I'm standing or walking or trying to do something. If I try to sit down with her she gets pissed and whines. It doesn't work well with my current physical condition.

If I am on the phone she wants the phone. She will fight me to push the buttons while I'm trying to talk. This goes double for my Blackberry. She's obsessed with it.

She doesn't want me to wear sunglasses - she wants to take them off, put them on, give them to her dad, break the arms off them, put them on me, stick the arms of them into my eyeballs.

I can not sit at the table and read the paper, she wants up and will cry and whine until I let her up onto my lap - she will then proceed to grab the paper and throw it all over the floor.

She signs food or drink and then will only eat a few bites before she throws it all on the floor. But when I try to clean it up she hangs off me and cries.

Sometimes she wants ME to eat her food. And she loses it when I won't. But she doesn't give up. She will push it in my face and smear it on me or my clothes until I take it away. Then she cries.

There is no television watching. I have tried every cartoon ever made, I've tried the Doodlebops, the Yo Gabba Gabba, Sesame Street - whatever. She couldn't give a shit about the TV. Yes, I know this is supposed to be good but my god sometimes I would give anything for a few minutes of peace.

When I eat she whines. She acts like she wants what I have but when I give her a bite she spits it on the floor (oh my god I can't tell you how crazy that makes me). She wants to play with my fork (smashing it on the plate). She doesn't want her water, she wants mine.

When I have to go pee I try to occupy her and then I race to the bathroom but she's never far behind. In the time it takes me to pee she can unravel an entire roll of toilet paper, pull out every tampon and pad I own and thow them all over the bathroom, eat a half a bar of soap, empty the garbage and wave around the toilet brush.

She also started biting me again. Yesterday she bit my nipple. No, she's not being breastfed - she just somehow knew to pick the most painful and vulnerable place on my body. Oh, and it was while I was on the phone.

And it's not the same when Steve is home. She's much better behaved for him. She doesn't bite him or act like a little psychotic maniac with him (usually). Is it me? What the hell can I do different? What am I doing wrong. What. The. Fuck??? I'm fairly limited right now as to what I can do with her. Not to mention it's been raining pretty much every day since I have been off work so there's not a lot of going outside lately either.

Maybe she's bored or maybe she's not burning enough energy - or maybe she just plain enjoys tormenting me?

Honestly, I am being reduced to tears. I don't know what to do. I'm 9 months pregnant and I'm in constant pain and discomfort and I just can't keep up. My mental health is being tested.

What's going to happen when I have to look after a newborn too? What will happen then? What will happen until then? I'm going crazy and I'm getting really scared of what my future looks like.

39 weeks

2010-06-08T07:49:00.000-07:00

I am on the left, the fridge is on the right. Just in case you were confused...

At 39 weeks I have gained 30lbs less than I did with Ruby - although the latest pregnancy picture I have with her was at 36 weeks so I have nothing to compare to.

I'm done. I'm soooooo done with being pregnant. Forever. I am looking forward to not being an invalid, in constant pain and discomfort all. the. time. I will never do this again and I am very much ok with that.

I officially finished work. I was done with going in to the office last Tuesday and my obligation to assist via telephone and email was over on Friday. I haven't heard a word from them. No, "thank you for your extra efforts" no, "good luck, let us know when the baby arrives". Nothing. They can kiss my ass.

I have been drinking the organic red raspberry leaf tea like crazy for the past week. Praying it's going to do something for me. I also have an acupuncture appointment for this Thursday evening, hoping to get something happening with that. And although it's really hard to walk, and I pay a dear and painful price for it - I've been trying to at least get out and walk around the block with Ruby in the stroller every evening.

I have no idea what this is going to look like from the other side, but I'm very ready to be done with this phase.

Reality

2010-06-07T16:37:00.000-07:00

I now have TWO carseats in the back seat of my STATION WAGON.

I have been waiting for the fact that I am going to have TWO children (18 months apart) to sink in. Somehow being one week away from my due date and feeling like I am walking around with a full keg of beer somehow sitting just under the skin of my stomach hasn't quite made it real enough for me.

But the few minutes that I just spent standing, staring at the back seat of my car looking at two carseats and imagining what it's going to be like when they're occupied... I think that may have done it as far as reality goes.

Headed in the right direction

2010-05-27T15:37:00.000-07:00

Looks like the boy is headed in the right direction after all. He's just nowhere near being engaged but that's ok. Ruby's head never did engage until she was on her way out.

Two more days of going to work. The final day on Tuesday is going to be maximum stress but I will get through it knowing it's my last one.

Tomorrow is Ruby's last day of daycare. I'm actually excited about that. I find the whole daycare routine very tiring and a little stressful.

37 weeks

2010-05-26T15:28:00.000-07:00

Get this... I've been so stressed about work partly because I felt sorry for my boss and the mess she was going to have to deal with after I'm gone. Neither of us feel that my replacement is capable of doing anything more than just the basics so my boss has been on me to teach her how to complete a month end. I've been stressing about showing it to her and about time running out.

She had yesterday off so I asked her this morning when she might have time to go through the month end. She told me not today because she really wanted to get caught up in her work that she missed from being off yesterday. Fair enough. But then she told me she'd be off tomorrow as well because she had a big party to go to tonight... not sure she'd feel like coming in in the morning.

Really?

Know what that means? That means that I no longer give a shit about any of it. She clearly has her priorities. I have mine. I will ensure that my needs get met.

I advised her that the only day I would agree to actually come in to work next week was Tuesday as that was the crucial month end date and I had already agreed to it. She fussed a bit that I wouldn't be there Monday... but too bad, Party Girl. I then agreed to be available only via email thru to next Friday. I won't be coming in at all next week other than Tuesday. And they will be paying my full salary to that point as well. After that - they're out of luck.

Then I'll be using my 3 weeks vacation they owe me (at full salary), and THEN I'll be on mat leave. Sorry, no room for discussion on any of this.

~~~~

In the meantime, I had my 37 week midwife appt today. And well I'll be damned but they think this baby is breach!!! WTF!??? Last week the midwife wasn't entirely sure if he was head down or not. This week, the midwife said she'd be willing to be $50 he was breach.

I have an ultrasound tomorrow to confirm.

Today's midwife said that versions are usually done before 36 weeks but they could take a shot at it trying to turn him if I wanted. Yes, I would want that. C-section and breach delivery were briefly discussed.

Trying not to think too far into it until I know for sure.

Stress vs. Cash

2010-05-23T07:14:00.000-07:00

On Friday I had another "spell" at work. This one wasn't nearly as bad as the one I had on Monday but I wasn't about to sit around and wait for it to progress. As soon as I started noticing some problems with my vision I left work and headed to the doctor, this time my family doctor as opposed to a walk-in.

He pretty much ruled out a TMA (mini-stroke) which made me feel a WHOLE lot better about things. He suspected that I'm probably getting migraines with aura - which is what I suspected also. To be safe though, he is referring me to an optamologist and then to someone to check my arteries.

Honestly though, these "spells" have coincided with some fairly heavy duty stress at work and I can't help but feel that I'm having stress-induced migraines. That place is killing me right now. The girl that was hired (far too late) is just NOT working out. And the pressure is on me to make sure that every aspect of my job is going to be taken care of once I'm gone. I don't feel like that's even possible. I've expressed my feelings to my boss(es) and advised them that they are likely going to have to bring in the girl from half a country away who used to to my job. Unfortunately egos are in the way and nobody wants to admit that they fucked up. Nobody wants to ask for extra help.

So the pressure remains on me.

As hard as I'm trying to just not care and to just say fuckit! and walk away - it is stressing me out. I care about my job and about the work that I do. I've worked SO HARD to get it running smoothly and for me to be at the level of knowledge that I'm at. Being a professional is important to me. I know I'm going to have to let it all go. But I'm expected to pull off 6 more working days before I'm free to call it quits - with the grand finale being month-end which is the peak of stressfulness.

I have given my bosses the letter from my midwives stating that I'm to stop working immediately. However... they have dangled this carrot: if I continue to work at least a couple of hours a day and make myself available for training and assistance via telephone and email - they will continue to pay my full wage.

Considering the financial "situation" that I'm in due to $20,000 of IVF, a year of mat leave wages (60% of my regular wage), another year of mat leave wages on the very near horizon AND the costs of TWO kids in diapers coming up... I need the cake.

So although I feel that it might be in my body and mind's best interest to walk away from work and start my mat leave immediately - my bank account says otherwise. If I can just get through 6 more modified working days, I can walk away feeling like I've done everything I can do for both work and my wallet.

I'm gonna try.

36 weeks

2010-05-19T06:20:00.000-07:00

Had my 36 week midwife appt yesterday. She was quite concerned about my "spell" and of course if it happens again I am to head directly to emergency. Do not pass go. Do not collect $200. The fact that I couldn't form a coherent sentence is what has everyone quite concerned.

In the meantime, she checked my cervix and it is shortened, soft (she could have put her finger through it if she wanted to... not sure why she'd want to), and facing forward. I remember being 39 weeks with my last pregnancy and it being long and hard and closed (I believe I used the term "rusty steel trap"). She said that if went into labour tonight, she would not be surprised. She also said that if I was already in labour, she would be telling me, "Not long now!".

This could mean something and it could mean nothing. I know.

In the meantime she wants me to be finished work. She is writing a letter to my boss to advise that I should be done. I have made a deal that I would come in and work a couple of hours each day and then take my laptop home and be available to help from there. That's where we stand now - my boss said that in a couple of weeks we'd reassess... uh... yeah in a couple of weeks I'm long gone. I'm not going to be available after June 1st.

Right now I'm frazzled with the stress of training my replacement, working full time, keeping up a house, meals, laundry, etc - Ruby was sick last week, Steve and I fought this weekend, and yesterday the daycare lady drove over my stroller with her van (she doesn't want to replace it, thinks her husband can "fix" it). I'm maxed in the stress department. Not to mention I'm extremely uncomfortable, I feel like I'm peeing every time I walk, and standing up makes me feel like I need to take a poop. What I really want is some time to rest and catch up and feel good before I go into labour. I'm not due til June 16th but if the boy comes early I'm fucked at this point. I'd rather be bored and have too much rest than to be running out the door to the hospital carrying my laundry basket so I can fold clothes on the way there...

Anyways, I expect that the shortened hours will help. I hope they will.

My home "photographer" sucks. I am not overly crazy about the following photo but I've been so slack at taking milestone pictures of my belly this time that I thought I better just suck it up and post this or I'd end up with nothing. Here's the 36 week belly shot.

(Fuck, do I look rough):

Health concerns

2010-05-18T10:10:00.000-07:00

When you don’t keep up your blogging and don’t update on the things that are going on on a regular basis, when you do want to write an update there seems to be a lot of back story to explain to get to where you are.

I’m too tired to fill in much of the back story so here’s the Readers Digest condensed version:
I’m due in 4 weeks. HR didn't bother hiring someone for me to train until just two weeks ago. Even if she was as smart as a whip and was honest on her resume about her skill level and was actually capable of doing the job, I still wouldn’t be able to cover everything. However, she is VERY difficult to train, doesn’t seem to be catching on, doesn’t take notes, doesn’t ask questions, does things wrong then gets pissy when she’s told she needs to correct something. She is frustrating me beyond belief. I am worried about my job and what is going to become of it when I leave…

…which may be sooner than later.

Yesterday was a crucial day in the payroll cycle (I do payroll, did I mention that?). She was fucking around, being difficult and stupid. I was stressed. And tired. And I had a headache.

And I had this weird little spot on my eye, a tiny dark spot in my vision. I ignored it. Carried on. Then there came to be a larger spot in my vision. It was a dark spot surrounded by sparkles. Then it started growing. And it got to the point where I lost vision in my right eye. I was hot and sweating. Actually I was soaked. I tried to talk to my boss to explain it to her and I suddenly couldn’t speak. I was confused and was trying to sound normal but weird words were coming out that made no sense. I sounded drunk.

So I called my midwife and she demanded that I be seen by a doctor ASAP to have my blood pressure and everything else checked.

That meant I had to leave work hanging with only the non-capable rookie to close out the payroll. Stress.

The doctor checked me over and said my blood pressure was fine, my eyes were fine, my heart was fine, my throat sounded fine (?). So I suggested that it was probably just a migraine? He said it was possible but that it could also have been a TIA. A mini-stroke.

He said I COULD go to emerg and have a CT scan to make sure. I said I didn’t want to go sit in a disgusting ER room for hours unless he thought it was absolutely necessary. He said that if it happens again that I MUST go. I agreed.

My midwife asked why the hell I am still working. She said that I should/could be off right now, resting. It’s a whole other ball game with a toddler to care for while you’re pregnant, let me tell you. I’m super stressed at work and home (Ruby was sick last week). I’m super tired. I am not feeling good. But if I leave work now, this place is fucked. And why do I care? Not sure exactly. Because I do like my boss and I feel bad for her. And also, I’ve worked 7 years to get this job to the place where it’s at now and I see it all going for a big old shit in 60 seconds flat after I walk out the door.

Still? What’s more important? Obviously the health of my baby and myself. It’s just hard to walk away. Oh maybe I have some control issues too. That might be a small percentage of my problem. Oh and also maybe some martyrdom that I inherited from my Mom. Yeah there’s definitely a bit of that.

Anyways, I have a midwife appt this afternoon and I vow to do what she says. If she says no more work, then I will agree to no more work. Should I disobey her orders I may find myself in the middle of a divorce anyways. Steve’s not cool with what’s been going on. There may be a chance that I come in a couple hours a week to help/assist/cry over my mess of a job. Or else I will be assisting over the phone or via email. In any case, I know my hours are about to be cut way back.

I still have 3 weeks vacation time owing to me for this year so if I have to stop working I will technically be on vacation for 3 weeks before starting mat leave. Since I’m due in 4 weeks, that would work out ok. I thought I could get away with working longer but maybe not.

I will post again with a post-midwife 36 week appt.

Procrastination

2010-05-10T09:48:00.000-07:00

In the past few months I’ve been super organized and on top of everything I possibly can. I’m all about getting things done and not procrastinating. Yes, I could leave those dishes in the sink and the smashed goldfish crackers on the floor because I’m really tired and need to rest but the rest doesn’t feel as good when I can see that pile of orange crumbs out of the corner of my eye.

I’ve been keeping Ruby’s room clean and tidy and I’ve set up her toddler bed so that when she’s ready, it’s there and it’s not a big shock to her. I make Ruby’s lunch every evening and make sure her daycare bag is replenished daily with diapers, wipes and a change of clothes. The toys get put away neatly every night after she’s gone to bed.

I’m on top of laundry. The car is cleaned and vacuumed. The kitchen table, counters and coffee table (and anything else with a smudge on it) are wiped clean every night. I vacuum/sweep the floor on a regular basis. Even the yard is clean and tidy and the grass is mowed (no, I do not do the mowing).

So WHY then can I not get my shit together and get ready for this baby??? I’ve done some things in preparation but have I done enough? For the life of me I can’t remember everything I need to do to be ready. I still have 5 weeks before my due date, yes – but I am just so laid back and in no hurry to get organized like I was with Ruby. I know that’s probably normal with your second baby – but I feel like such a procrastinator!

I HATE procrastination.

I would feel so much better if I could get his room all ready, his clothes (what few of them I have) all washed and put away, the art hung on the walls, the furniture organized.

I just can’t seem to get it together yet.

I’m hoping that when get back on maternity leave I will get things done then. It’s looking like I will be off two weeks before my due date. That should give me plenty of time to get everything done, right?? And I will get this big urge to nest right about then and I will have all this extra energy, right?? And he won’t come before I’m ready for him, right??? And if he does, I can make due, right??

I need to write down the basics of what needs to be done/purchased and tackle it. I just wish I could remember what the basics are right now.

Good day

2010-05-01T07:18:00.001-07:00

I had a nice birthday.

I woke up in the morning to two cards on the table - one address to "Mama" and one to "My Best Friend". Inside each one was a new charm to go on my Pandora bracelet. So he came through after all. Of course I got all teary and went and hugged and kissed Ruby and thanked her for her thoughtfulness, and she of course had no idea what the hell was going on and looked at me like I had lost my mind. I then phoned Steve and work and thanked him.

When I got to work there was a box of Timbits sitting by the coffee machine. No, they were not there for the purpose of my birthday, but it was a score to have a couple of them with my morning coffee.

My good friend M left a bouquet of flowers and a box of East Indian sweets at my doorstep (despite threats of egging my house).

My grandma phoned.

My mom came and picked Ruby up after work and took her overnight.

Steve and I went out for dinner - just the two of us. It was nice. He made me laugh a few times which hasn't happened for a while. After dinner we thought we'd try out the casino for something fun/different to do. We wandered around that place for a good half an hour, totally unsure of what the hell to do. Ended up sitting down at a slot machine and losing $20 in a matter of 20 seconds - maybe faster. And then we were freaked out and tried to leave but got lost and couldn't find the doors. Total dorks.

Home early, in bed by 9. But it was nice.

I kept making a big show of appreciation to Steve for making my birthday nice. I like to make a big fuss when he does good. And what do you know, he's already thinking about Mother's Day.

And now today? Steve is at work and Ruby is at Grandmas house.

I HAVE THE WHOLE DAY TO MYSELF!

For some reason I hadn't even thought about this and I'm not really sure what to do with myself. Oh I have a million things I could do, it's just that my time is up at 3pm PST today and I need to carefully choose how to spend my time as to allow for maximum enjoyment.

So if you'll excuse me now, I have a newspaper to read, and scrambled eggs to make/eat without someone hanging off my pant leg or someone else stealing the sports section.

Good day to you all.

Random

2010-04-29T12:05:00.000-07:00

~Had an U/S last week to see if the placenta had moved away from the cervix and indeed it has. The tech told me the baby was about 5lb3oz – which at 32 weeks had me freaking out a bit.

~Had a midwife appt yesterday and was advised that the tech’s math was wrong and the boy is only about 4ish pounds. Much better. His head is in the 64th percentile – which I’m cool with. His legs are in the 88th percentile. Another long one. I’m ok with that as long as the head stays a reasonable size.

~Got my hair done yesterday for the first time in a long time. Haven’t had it cut in about 7 months and I haven’t had it colored professionally in quite a few years. I was nervous about getting it done but it turned out quite nice and I’m pleased with it. Haven’t been able to get a picture of it since I got home late-ish last night and this morning when I was trying to style it I had a monster hanging off my pant leg so I didn’t get to do much more than straighten out the odd kink.

~Having some struggles with my relationship with Steve lately. I’m so frustrated and upset when we don’t see eye to eye. He’s not a talker so I try to ask a million questions of him to try to sort things out. But he will always say “nothing is wrong”, or that I’m being a bitch about things or that I have misunderstood something he said. He’s a really bad procrastinator which right now is making me insane considering I am freaking out a bit and need things to get taken care of. I can ask him a million times to fix/clean/paint/move something and in the end I will do it myself. I think it would make him feel bad for not doing it and allowing his 7 ½ months pregnant wife to do it but it doesn’t seem that way. I’m not sure where to go or what to do about our struggles. (This is the fairly glossed over version of what's really going on)

~My 35th birthday is tomorrow. I should be in Vegas committing heinous debaucheries that I would regret for the rest of my life, but I will instead be going out for dinner with my husband while my mom babysits. Still not a bad deal. Steve said he would grab me a card tonight and then maybe on Sunday he will get me a present. Why can’t he understand how much it would mean to me to wake up tomorrow morning with something special waiting for me? I’ve told him as much. I do know I will be disappointed, so I’m prepping my mind for that.

~Really getting stressed out at work. I wanted to be done on May 28 but since feet were dragged in regards to hiring someone to replace me, I am going to have to stay on into the first week of June. I know I’m not due until June 16th but I would have liked a little time to myself before life gets crazier. Also I don’t feel confident in my abilities to train someone. And I no longer have an office but a cubicle and everyone in this office can hear every word I say and will hear me word for word while I’m training someone. I feel self conscious about that. My replacement starts this coming Monday and I am dreading it so much.

~I briefly mentioned this in my last post but to elaborate – my daycare is closing at the end of May, permanently. I am SO SAD about this. I went through so much hell trying to find a good daycare for Ruby and I really like the woman that cares for her now. I wouldn’t have been able to afford (nor would I have wanted to) continue sending Ruby there full time while I am on mat leave but I did plan on sending her there once a week or once every 2 weeks. I was looking forward to having a potential “babysitter” for the odd day if I needed to do something. Now I have nobody again and have to start all over. Not to mention that first week of June when I had planned to be off but now have to work?

~Thanks for all your support on my past couple of posts. It means so much to me. Really, it does.

Questions

2010-04-19T20:49:00.001-07:00

Can my marriage survive 2 kids? A newborn and a toddler?

Can it survive the rest of this pregnancy?

Will I ever feel well rested again?

Does Ruby know something now? Is that why she is constantly biting, scratching, pinching and hitting me.

Will I ever have a clean house again? Will I stop caring?

Should I get my hair cut now or wait til after the baby is born? What about a cut and color?

Am I too old to be doing this 2 young kids thing and be good at it?

Will Ruby resent me when I have to spend so much time and energy on a new baby?

Will I be able to train someone to do my job properly before I go on maternity leave?

Will the ultrasound on Wednesday show the placenta has moved? And that it is still functioning properly?

Will we be able to pay our bills?

Will we ever get a second vehicle?

Will we ever get the brakes fixed on our first vehicle?

Will I get treated special on my 35th birthday next week?

What about Mothers Day?

If I'm so much smaller with this pregnancy, why am I getting new stretch marks?

Will the Canucks have a good playoff run?

Why did my daycare lady have to decide to close permanently at the end of May?

Will I be able to breastfeed this time?

Will Ruby EVER cuddle with me? Will my son be a cuddler?

Will he be a "good" baby?

Is this going to be as hard as I'm sure it's going to be?

Am I mistaking fatigue for depression? Or depression for fatigue? Or am I feeling both?

Can I do this?

Will I ever feel "ready"?

Does anyone have a crystal ball?

Lost

2010-04-11T15:12:00.001-07:00

I'm in a weird place with this blog. Not sure what to write about. Feel kind of lost in limbo as I don't really feel like I fit into any one slot or with any particular community.

Granted I spent my share of time in the trenches of IF. Going through 2 IVFs have marked me for life and I will always be attached to the IF community.

Then with the successful IVF, I was still attached to the IF community but also to the Parenting After IF community. And maybe some Mommy Blogs too. Although you always lose some readers when you make that transition from one side to the other.

And then came the surprise pregnancy. Well that just seemed to send me to the dark side where fewer and fewer people can relate to me and therefore I'm in a much, much smaller group of commrades. Throw in the struggle I've had with accepting the pregnancy and I might even venture to say that I've been shunned somewhat by whatever small group of followers I still had.

Oh I know there's a few of you troopers that still come here from time to time to see what I'm up to - and I love and appreciate every single one of you.

But now what do I write about? Sure there's the odd post about IF when it comes up. And there's the odd post about parenting Ruby. There's the odd post about my current pregnancy but I don't have a lot to say since this isn't my first rodeo and I'm kind of just rolling along. It's not as if I don't know what to expect like my last pregnancy and I wrote about every little thing that happened to my body - hoping somebody could explain it. And if I wrote about all the things I struggle with NOW? Well...

*tap* *tap* *tap* "Is this thing on???"

So I don't know where to go from here. Thought about throwing in the towel and just moving on, but that doesn't feel right either. I seem to have lost my blogging groove and I have no idea how to get it back.

Tether Straps

2010-04-03T14:14:00.000-07:00

Steve usually has Mondays off but was asked to work this coming Monday. We need the extra cash so we tried to find childcare for her since I also work on Monday. I asked the daycare lady but she's closed since it's Easter Monday. So I thought I would ask my mom, since she talks about how much she wishes she could be Ruby's babysitter and always jumps at the chance to spend time with her.

She said she would love to look after Ruby on Monday. So Steve got the go-ahead to work.

Then my dad got involved...

The back story is this: We have been storing some furniture in my parents basement while we rented our basement out. But that disaster was over some months ago and we've been working on getting our basement back to normal. We just haven't had the ways or means to get our two couches and one bed back to our house. My dad has an old work truck and recently picked up a a trailer to attach to it though, so he can haul our furniture for us. We just needed the opportunity.

Since tomorrow is Easter Sunday we're going to my parents for dinner. My parents suggested that Steve and my dad load up the furniture while we're there for dinner and then the next morning they will drive it to our house, babysit Ruby for the few hours that they're needed and when Steve gets home he and my dad can unload the furniture and they can be on their merry way.

Sounded like the perfect plan. Until...

My dad called me yesterday and says that when we come out on Sunday he would like to get Ruby's carseat out of my car and put it in his work truck. That way Ruby could spend the night there on Sunday and "they" wouldn't have to get up so early on Monday morning.

I told him I wasn't sure I was comfortable putting Ruby's carseat in his work truck. I told him that there are a lot of straps and hooks that attach the carseat into the vehicle. That it's not easy to hook up and that most vehicles these days have a latch on the back seat to attach the carseat to. I asked him what year his work truck is.

1996

And it's a beater.

Yeah, Dad, I'm not crazy about this idea. Your truck isn't exactly made for a carseat.

And this is what he said, "Well if it doesn't have the right latch, I'll just tether strap it in". By which he means using the tie-downs that he uses to hold things such as tools and etc in the back, he will just strap the carseat down to the truck seat.

Bah! Why go to the trouble, Dad? She's old enough now, why don't we just throw her in the back of the pickup and she can ride back there with the furniture. I'm sure she won't fall out. It'll be an adventure for her!

What the fuck is wrong with him???!!!

Firstly, it's hard enough for me to ask for help in the first place. For him to complain that it's too early in the morning and to ask me to do this is ridiculous.

Secondly, how is it that he thinks it is acceptable to just strap the carseat in using tie-downs??? This scares the shit out of me! What else does he think is "ok"? Doesn't exactly make me feel comfortable with leaving her overnight there. Ever. Even though my mom is strictly the one responsible for her when she's there, he is still there and the years of alcohol and drug use/abuse are taking their toll on his brain. And he comes up with some of the most fucked up ideas and it's hard to shut him down once he gets on to something.

When I discussed this with my mom later (she wasn't aware he had phoned and made such suggestions), I asked, "If he thinks that's ok, then how is it that I'm almost 35 and still alive today?" And she explained that it was because he had zero involvement in raising my brother or I when we were little. He decided to step in when we became teenagers and we had already zero respect for him and revolted against him - which caused a whole lot of ugly.

In the end, Ruby is NOT staying the night on Sunday. If he/they can't help with the furniture then fine, it will stay there until we get another opportunity. If HE finds it too early in the morning to babysit his granddaughter for a few hours then HE doesn't need to come (HE wasn't asked in the first place). If my mother can't say no to him and his fucked up ideas, then I don't need her help either. I will find another solution to my problem. I always have and I will continue to do so.

28 week comparison

2010-03-25T10:50:00.000-07:00

Just for fun, I thought I would compare pictures of me at 28 weeks pregnant.

And by "fun" I mean to say that I enjoy torturing myself by obsessing about my weight and appearance and then putting pictures of myself on display and opening it up to world to comment and torture me further...

I didn't weigh myself throughout my pregnancy with Ruby and as I've mentioned probably no less than twenty-seven times, I gained 68lbs. Because I didn't weigh myself as I went along, I have nothing to compare with this time around. Thus far in my current pregnancy I've gained 27lbs. I would think (hope and pray, beg the Gods) that I am not going to gain another 41lbs in the next 12 weeks. So I *THINK* I'm doing alright - or at least better. I know one thing for a fact, and that is that there have been considerably less cheesecake slices consumed to this point.

Still, I needed to post the two pictures so I could look at them, compare them, pick them apart, dissect them, obsess over them.

The angles are slightly different so that doesn't help but I think, I *THINK* my face looks slimmer with #2. Also it may be a different bra, but my boobs look smaller too - a fact that Steve has also noticed and commented on. I like to think my ass looks smaller too but that could be the difference between jeans and black pants. I'm also apparently doing a better job of makeup application than I was 18 months ago...

Pregnancy #1

Pregnancy #2

28 Weeks

2010-03-23T09:50:00.001-07:00

With 12 weeks left to go, I suppose I should start getting organized for Junior’s arrival. Currently his bedroom looks like a good place to film the next episode of “Hoarders”. I'm expecting A&E to call me any day now.

While we did move the spare bed and computer desk out, we have been using that room as a dumping ground for items that we don’t have a place for and/or that we don’t want Ruby getting her little hands on.

I did buy a piece of art to hang on his wall that is, according to both my parents, too harsh for a baby’s room. No, it’s not teddy bears and fire trucks - it's definitely not made for a baby's room, but it's got some edge and it's different. Not to say he won’t have teddy bears or fire trucks – I just want to decorate the room a little less traditional. It’s got great colors in it that I can decorate a room around.

I also bought him a 3-pack of t-shirt onesies the other day. My mom bought him a onesie and a pair of jeans. Other than that (and a few neutral hand-me-downs from Ruby), the boy has nothing.

I’m wondering if anyone who has any experience with having kids this close together could weigh in here and give some advice on what I can get away with NOT buying.

I was planning on keeping the boy in a bassinet in our room for the first 3 months like we did with Ruby. By that time Ruby will be 21 months old. I was hoping that at that time I could get her a big girl bed and give the boy her crib. I have to buy her a bed eventually anyways and it would be nice if I didn’t have to buy another crib AND a bed. Is 21 months too young for a toddler to be in their own bed???

Also, I have the Quinny travel system. Complete with the car seat and stroller. I’ve also got a little convenience stroller that I use for the mall and such. I was going to sell my Quinny stroller to get some money to buy a stroller built for two but realized that I can’t sell it as I need the baby car seat that goes with it. (And also I love it a LOT). So do I NEED a double stroller? I suppose I do. Do they work well? Are they as cumbersome as they look? Anybody know of any good ones? Any suggestions are welcome.

I went and had my 1 hour gestational diabetes test yesterday. The nurse asked me (twice) when I was due. When I told her, she made a comment indicating how LARGE she thought my belly was for someone 28 weeks pregnant. Thanks. Isn't that just what every pregnant woman wants to hear? Why do people feel that their opinions on my appearance are just SOOOO valid and SOOO important that they just absolutely MUST tell me how big I look? I don't get that. And this was an older woman who according to her, has 7 grandchildren. I'll bet her daughter-in-law just *adores* her.

With Ruby I took a belly picture every 4 weeks. This time I forgot to take one at 24 weeks. Things are just so much more hectic this time around. So here's my 28 week picture:

(Steve thinks my boobs are smaller this time around. Now THOSE kinds of comments about my appearance I do not mind at all.)

Happy times

2010-03-18T18:23:00.000-07:00

My daughter is just the sweetest little angel lately.

Recently we have been having some very special moments that make me feel like I've really done right as a mother thus far. I was lucky enough to catch such a moment on video tonight. I wanted to share this in order to spread the good feelings and warm your heart and soul. Now you, too can feel the complete and utter joy that I get to feel so much lately.

Assessment

2010-03-08T14:28:00.000-08:00

After a couple of days of lower back, tummy and leg aches – which would normally indicate an oncoming period, I had a little bit of bleeding on Sunday morning. I figured I knew the explanation for the bleeding (sex) but since it’s never happened before I thought I should call it in.

Lucky for me, my favorite midwife was on call and she asked me to explain everything that had happened over the past week – then she asked me to meet her at the hospital for an assessment. This time I got to completely bypass the dreaded ER and head straight to L&D.

My mom made the 45 minute drive to come and look after Ruby while we were out (she then went on to tidy my kitchen and cook me dinner) which I felt totally guilty about, which is probably stupid.

The assessment revealed that the bleeding was from a very sensitive cervix getting “poked” (midwife’s choice of words, not mine). She also said that because my pregnancies were so close together and also that I had ligament problems with my first one – my pelvic floor is hanging like a hammock (nice visual). And that my body didn’t get enough time to recover properly between pregnancies. Because of this there is a lot more aches and pains than usual – and everything is magnified. (Also explains why I pee my pants a little bit every day).

I also brought up the gym since it seems that nobody in my family (Steve and my parents) agrees with the frequency that I go there or how fatigued I am afterwards. I thought I would settle it once and for all and prove to everyone that I was right and they were wrong (my favorite), except it didn't exactly work out in my favor... The midwife asked what I do and for how long and was horrified when I told her. Apparently I should NOT being going 3-4 times a week and doing 45 minutes of cardio each time, sweating my ass off and getting my heart rate up between 150-160bpm. She said that if I want to keep going that I should be going 2-3 times a week, NOT getting to the point of being breathless/sweaty and not allowing my heart rate to go over 120bpm. Well what’s the fucking point then?

I could almost cry over that one. While the gym didn’t make my body feel overly great (nay, it made my body huuuuurt), I did get a high from it and it helped release my stress like nothing else. I also had the notion that I was doing my future self a big favour and getting a jump on my post baby recovery. Instead I was *contributing to the physical problems that my body is having with this pregnancy.

I brought up my worries about weight gain and how I was trying to prevent gaining 68lbs like I did with Ruby. She asked how much I’d gained so far and when I told her 22lbs, she was impressed and said that at this point that’s good. She said I could gain another 20 and it would still be perfectly ok. That made me feel a little better anyways.

She suggested that I’m doing too much and trying to keep on top (in control) of everything. She advised that I slow down a bit and try to enjoy my life, my family and the rest of this pregnancy. I’m not to worry so much about everything. Let some things go. That’s hard but I will do it if it will make my body feel better. (Not sure what’s going to happen to my mind or my self esteem.)

She strongly advised that I get some acupuncture which I know I said I was going to do before and never got around to it but this time I really will.

She suggested that I go for physiotherapy for my weak pelvic floor. Apparently there are therapists who specialize in pelvic floor recovery. I will start with the acupuncture first.

She asked me to take a couple of weeks off work to rest and get feeling better but I vetoed that.

After all was said and done, I felt better that I had been properly checked over and the baby is ok and so am I. I have an explanation/diagnosis for my more-than-normal discomfort. I have a bit of direction as to what I can and cannot do (even if it sucks).

I have to remind myself that this isn’t forever – in the grand scheme it’s just a small pocket of my life and I need to try to suck it up, make the best of it and try to make it as tolerable as possible.

*I know lots of people exercise lots when they’re pregnant and I’m not saying anything about that. This is about me and my individual case.

Dinner Torture

2010-03-06T09:14:00.000-08:00

I don't know what's wrong with my inlaws but they seem to get off on torturing me.

Steve, Ruby and I went out for dinner to the Keg on Thursday night to celebrate Steve's birthday. We were joined by Steve's brother and girlfriend. They arrived in a cloud of tension, apparently they were cocktailing the night before and were hungover. They were also apparently fighting with each other and not in the most festive of moods.

If Steve and I had our way we would have been at the restaurant at 5pm as to avoid being at the restaurant at the witching hour - Ruby's bedtime (6:30pm - 7pm). Unfortunately BIL and SIL couldn't get there until going on 6pm. And then of course then there was the extensive examination of the menu, and sending the waitress away a few times because we "aren't ready to order yet". My dinner arrived at about 6:30pm just when Ruby had eaten all her raisins and goldfish crackers, had played long enough with the provided crayons and was pretty much fed up with sitting in the highchair. She was fussing and the feeling that I'd had all night that my parenting and her behavior were under a huge microscope ("she just threw a cracker! Pick it up, we're not the only one's in the restaurant you know! She just put a crayon in her mouth! OMG stop her from doing that!!! She is still saying "that" all the time??") increased exponentially. I tried to scarf down what I could of my meal before having to take her and walk around the restaurant to keep her happy. I got some "looks" from BIL and SIL. They were clearly embarrassed of us - even though nobody else in the restaurant even noticed us.

Yes, they are older than us, have loads of money and no kids.

I noticed them looking over my shoulder when I was paying my bill to see if I left a big enough tip (I always leave a bigger tip when I have Ruby with me).

They were also all over us again about what we're naming the baby. They seem obsessed with it. Remember what happened last time? I wanted to keep Ruby's name a secret until she was born and they found out what it was and totally upset me? And they're on about it again! I would have thought they would leave it alone. We keep telling them we're not sure yet, but they don't let up. I wish they'd let up. Why would we tell them if we're not telling anyone else??

But the "best" part? Was when SIL started asking about me going to the gym and somehow it came up that I had to start wearing Steve's t-shirts to the gym because my t-shirts are getting too tight around the belly. (Why do I set myself up like that?).

BIL looks me over and says, "I'm surprised even his shirts fit you."

Steve is 6"3 and 220lbs. He wears mens XL shirts.

Like my self esteem was just soaring so high that I needed it knocked down a little.

It wasn't the enjoyable night out that Steve and I had hoped for and deserved. We were both stressed and frazzled by the time we got home.

My feelings of needing/wanting to hibernate and be completely anti-social until the baby is born (and possibly beyond) has been re-affirmed.

Hospital Visit

2010-03-04T13:56:00.000-08:00

You know what gets on my nerves? People who whine and complain all the time with nothing positive to say. And if you look back at my last few posts you will find that that has been me lately. So yes, I am annoying myself and getting on my own nerves and that is why I haven’t posted in a little while.

It's just a fact though, that I’m finding this second pregnancy really difficult for a variety of different reasons.

A couple of times in the past couple of weeks I was going to do a big ra-ra post, drenched in positivity and encouragement and boosting myself in the right direction. But the urge to write something like that seems to take so much energy. Right.

And so you might expect THIS post to be that ra-ra post but it’s not. I wouldn’t even be posting but I think yesterday needs to be recorded. (For what reason I’m not sure.)

Tuesday morning I woke up with some pain/aching in my back that radiated through my belly (for the record I knew it was not early labour). It came and went in waves so when I wasn’t feeling one of those waves, I felt fine. About halfway through the day though, I threw in the towel and went home to bed. I slept for 1 ½ hours and felt good but as soon as I got up I was hit with another wave of pain/discomfort.

I called my midwife just to let her know what was going on and from what I described she was stumped. She finally asked if maybe I could just possibly have a stomach virus and I said I supposed so – even though I felt fine in between waves. We left it at that as I had an appointment the next morning anyways. But throughout the evening I kept getting that yucky pain/discomfort and it woke me up a few times during the night.

The next day at the midwife appointment we discussed the pain and how it felt and where it was coming from. She thought I might be having a kidney problem. A urine dipstick showed that I had some protein in my urine.

She decided she wanted me seen at the hospital by Labour and Delivery. She called ahead and said she was sending me in for an assessment and she was advised that I would have to be admitted through Emergency and then they would send an L&D nurse down to get me. She then sent me off to the hospital with my medical records and letter saying that I was to be seen at L&D.

And then I got to the hospital and checked in at Emergency where the admitting nurse decided that I didn’t need to go to L&D, that they would treat me there instead.

And so I spent 4 ½ hours at Emergency. I was given a urine test, several blood tests and then an ultrasound that was smaller than my laptop. The doctor administering the laptop ultrasound admitted to me that he isn’t a radiologist and can’t really see if something is wrong or not. He did point out the baby and that the baby had a spine.

Great. Thanks.

I spent the majority of the time in the waiting room waiting for my test results. The last time I saw the doctor he told me that so far nothing was wrong with me but there was another test yet to come back.

Eventually I just got up and walked out. It was stupid being there. I was treated like just another whiny loser – which believe it or not, I’m not. I don’t believe in going to emergency unless there is an… emergency. I wouldn’t have been there unless I was given orders to go. I would have rather been at home laying down than sitting with the sicky, yucky, fucked up people surrounding me in the ER.

Or better yet, I would have rather been at L&D getting proper tests done and leaving with either a diagnosis or some sort of assurance.

Anyways, today I feel a bit better. The pain has subsided for the most part. I do feel a bit crampy / periodish today but I’ll be damned if I’m going to complain about it to anyone. If anything major happens like my uterus falls out, THEN I might go ahead and call someone. Until then, I’ll just keep my suffering to myself (and maybe the internet).

Strain

2010-02-18T13:08:00.000-08:00

I went to the doctor today about my shoulder. I have been having such sharp, ripping, tingling pains in it so much lately. I was up half the night last night because of pain when I move even the slightest bit. In fact, I shed tears over it.

My doctor is a completely separate entity from the midwives that I see during pregnancy – but after explaining my pain to him he said that it is pregnancy related and it’s a muscle strain. As I figured. And there’s very little one can do about it. Also as I figured.

He was, however, very sympathetic as his wife recently had their second baby and they now have two that are 18 months apart. He said she had the same problem with her shoulder and that it is aggravated by carrying a toddler. Hers apparently got so bad he had to inject her muscles with something or other.

He suggested physiotherapy and/or massage and/or acupuncture. I’ve got a lead on a good acupuncturist in my area (thanks M) who also does deep tissue massage and I am going to book in with her ASAP.

I also mentioned in passing about my Symphisis Pubic Dysfunction and his heart really went out to me. He said that’s a terrible thing to deal with and that because I will have pain with every movement that I’d be having a hard time keeping my weight down.

Ring-a-ding-ding! Yes sir.

Although of course I got all defensive – thinking that I must look fat if he’s noticing that I can’t keep my weight down and I went on to tell him that I’d been hitting the gym 3-4 times a week and suffering with the pain afterwards because I NEED to do it.

Anyways, I just want to say that I feel very very sorry for people who suffer from chronic pain. It is terrible and takes a toll not only physically but also mentally. It is seriously dragging me down to be constantly hurting – even when doing the most menial of tasks (like rolling over in bed). I managed to get to the privacy of my car before I burst out in hysterical, pregnancy-hormone, over-tired, feeling-sorry-for-myself tears.

Feeling a bit better

2010-02-16T13:49:00.000-08:00

Thanks, everyone, for your kind comments on my last post.

Things have improved a bit – as they always do, right?

Not sure if Steve read my post or if whatever was eating at him went away or whatever – but there has been a slight improvement. I am trying so hard not be bitchy and whiny all the time so he will be happier and in turn I will be happier.

I eased up at the gym a bit. Took a few days off and when I returned I tried to remind myself of my limitations and didn’t push too hard. I still get extra sore and stiff in the pelvis after I work out but if I take it a little bit easy then it's not quite as bad. And I'm not quite as exhausted afterward too. My shoulder is still a mess and I'm not sure what to do about it. Wondering if I trip to the doctor is in order or if that would be a waste of time since I can't take any pain killers and probably should avoid an x-ray. Not sure what else they could suggest.

Also – last night at the gym a random, nice looking guy stopped me to compliment me on my sleeve and to discuss the color scheme, etc. It was the first time anyone has shown any interest in me other than to ask how old Ruby is or how far along I am. And oh how it lifted me up. It truly made my day.

I'm trying not to worry too much about the housework but that is really hard. I cannot stand to just let things go in my house. I need order and cleanliness. I am not a neat freak my any standard but I do like my house to be clean and tidy.

I don't want to let the small stuff get to me and so I'm really trying to just roll with things. It's hard.

Anyways, thanks again for your support during my “time of need”. It’s appreciated more than you know.

Everybody has their own problems

2010-02-09T15:04:00.001-08:00

I’m tired. I’ve never been this fatigued in my entire life. Some days I have no idea how I’m going to make it through to the end of the day and I can’t help but to cry.

My body hurts. I am so envious of normal pregnant people who’s bodies don’t fall apart on them during pregnancy. I suffer from SPD and it has already gotten quite uncomfortable. I’ve also done something to the muscle in my shoulder. I suspect it’s from carrying around a 14 month old girl who CAN walk but doesn’t have full confidence in herself yet so she doesn’t do it unless she does it accidentally. The shoulder is painful mostly when I’m in bed at night. I have woken up yelling out in pain. It feels like Steve is jabbing a dagger into my back (although I’ve never actually seen a weapon, I’m not entirely convinced that he’s not). Also painful at night is rolling over in bed, thanks to the SPD.

I am horrified at my body right now. Yes, I have a baby belly but below the bump is a large deposit of disgusting fat. My stomach is grotesque. My skin is stretched from having Ruby and my fat just hangs off of me. It hangs OVER me. I am extremely self conscious of myself. I see people looking at me and I think they are probably wondering if I’m fat or pregnant. It’s probably hard to tell even though I’m 22 weeks. I have never felt so unattractive in my entire life.

Steve is either disgusted with me or he doesn’t like me anymore or he’s got other things on his mind because he mostly just ignores me. What I wouldn’t do for a little bit of comfort or understanding from him. A shoulder rub? A foot rub? A hug for Christ sake! Anything whatsoever? Nothing. When I tell him something he usually doesn’t even acknowledge me. Seriously – I talk to him and he doesn’t even look at me half the time. Then he gets annoyed if I repeat myself to him. It makes me feel very lonely even when I’m not alone. Who else do I have to lean on if not him? Conversation is minimal unless it’s about Ruby. Don’t get me wrong, he’s a kickass dad. He’s hands on with Ruby and he’s really good with her. Is it pathetic of me then to want more from him? For me? I want him to show me that he loves me and that he appreciates what I’m going through. I wonder if he takes me for granted. I am pretty sure he thinks I’m just a giant bitch because I ask him to do things that he doesn’t feel like doing. Or because sometimes I get frustrated when the house is a disaster zone, or the TV is too loud, or the counter is covered with dirty dishes and the dishwasher is full and I need to make us dinner. I’ll throw a fork in the sink or slam a cupboard or something out of frustration and he sneers and laughs at me and shakes his head like I’m the biggest fucking loser he’s ever met. It’s degrading to me and makes me feel like losing my fucking mind.

I go to the gym every other day in hopes of keeping my weight from skyrocketing and to also to keep my mental health in check. Yes, it helps my mental health but my lord it does a number on my body. When I go in the evening and then come home and shower and go to bed, I usually get up in the night to go pee and many times I have almost collapsed from the pain in my pelvis. That has happened a lot actually. And the shoulder pain is always worse on gym nights too. I wake up crying from pain and Steve rolls over and ignores me.

I weep a lot. I find it so frustrating to have so little energy and being so uncomfortable all the time and to still have to work full time and take care of my girl and to keep a decent house and to exercise regularly. I know I could be a better mom to Ruby if I wasn’t so exhausted and that makes me sad and even more frustrated. I just want to feel good. I want to be happy. Sometimes I’m afraid that I’m getting depressed.

I'm putting it here because I need to get it out. I can’t talk to Steve and I don’t like to burden people with my shit because hey, everybody has their own problems. Who am I to complain about my life? Boo fucking hoo.

I cried x 3

2010-02-07T17:46:00.000-08:00

* A third midwife was added to my team of two midwives. I met her for the first time on Thursday. She has the look that I desire. Not too skinny, but healthy. Not all supermodelish but beautiful in a toned down way. Almost tough looking but I don't mean that in a Joan Jett kind of way. I mean it in a sexy kind of, relaxed understated way (make sense? no?). And wouldn't you know it we discussed my weight. She didn't say anything bad about it but we did talk about how I can prevent myself from gaining 68lbs this time around. She told me I don't have to gain that much. That I should just resist the cravings. I don't get that many cravings this time around. I found her hard to talk to. I think part of it was my jealousy of her. And yes, I know how fucking dumb that is. I left there feeling quite depressed and I cried in the car afterwards and also when I got home.

* Ruby is now fully weaned off the bottle. She takes two or three cups of milk a day and as of this weekend it all comes from a sippy cup. The big test was the one before bed. But we had no problems with it last night so I packaged up all the bottles and put them away. I was really proud of myself and of Ruby and was quite happy. And then a half hour later I was really sad and I cried because she's growing up.

* I have a friend who is currently doing her second IVF cycle in hopes of becoming pregnant for the first time. She's very private and doesn't talk about it to anyone - usually including me. I talked to her on the phone about it a little bit when she first started her cycle. I sent her an email yesterday just to let her know that I am thinking of her and wishing her all the best. I got an email back tonight saying that she just did her transfer yesterday and that they didn't get to blastocyst but they had 3 transferable embryos. I bawled my eyes out when I read it. Here I thought I was kind of past that IF emotion stuff but as it turns out I was just suppressing it because I had too many other things to think about. Who knew?

Halfway there

2010-01-27T19:00:00.000-08:00

Yesterday marked 20 weeks, the halfway mark. That's it??! It seems that I have a very long way to go still.

I (re)joined a gym. I cancelled my membership when I was pregnant with Ruby because we were moving and I was pregnant and I was going on mat leave and I was looking to save money and cut corners (and lets be honest, working out wasn't at the top of my list of things to do). I figured I'd get all my exercise by walking - which I did quite a bit of on mat leave. Anyways, I've been feeling quite disgusting and flubby and gross and depressed as of late. Zero energy and lots of aches and pains and headaches. At just the perfect time, a girlfriend got me a free pass to my old gym chain (new gym) for a week so I went a few times and it made me feel really good. I wanted to keep going but a new gym membership was going to be an astronomical cost and Steve didn't seem overly jazzed about me spending the cake. But I was able to swing a deal with the gym to reinstate my old membership (for a reasonable fee) because I had cancelled it less than 2 years ago and start up again with paying my old monthly dues (which are $20 per month less than new membership dues). So I feel pretty happy that I am able to do this. I haven't done anything for myself in quite some time. The new gym also has full time child minding services so that if I need to bring Ruby, I can. And after the boy is born and I'm on mat leave again, I can bring them both with me to work out during the day. Seems good to me. If my shoulders didn't ache I would pat myself on the back.

Wonder why my shoulders might be aching? Look at the jugs I'm packing around! I've always had big boobs but come on! This is ridiculous. I'm totally saving up for a reduction/reconstruction job after I'm done with feeding babies.

(20 weeks)

Oh boy!

2010-01-22T10:51:00.000-08:00

On Wednesday (at 19 weeks) we had our "big" ultrasound. And wouldn't you know it we got another dud u/s tech... He refused to tell us ANYTHING. He told us that we needed to see my midwife to get any results and that he only takes measurements. At least with Ruby, the tech (who was also a dud) told us everything we wanted to know except the gender. So this made us a little nervous that perhaps something was wrong.

I had also put a request in to my midwife who ordered the u/s that I wanted to know the gender and to have that put in the report.

So after a day of nail biting and nervous worrying, I spoke with my midwife yesterday who told me that there is a healthy little baby in my belly! Great news and I feel so relieved. And my suspicions (since day one) were confirmed that Junior is indeed... a boy! Very exciting.

The only minor glitch was that my placenta was laying low. Not a previa but low enough that I need to repeat the scan at 30 weeks to make sure it moves. My midwife said that there is a very good chance that it will move upward with my uterus. I am not overly concerned at this point in time.

Ruby, on the other hand... she was concerned when I told her she was having a brother...

Complaint

2010-01-15T08:26:00.000-08:00

A month after all the bullshit is over, I finally filed a complaint against the daycare that treated Ruby so shitty.

I wasn’t sure I wanted to even file a complaint because I just wanted to move on with my life and forget that shit ever happened. But numerous, NUMEROUS people who I talked to told me that I needed to make the complaint. If not for what happened to us then for the next poor little munchkin that took Ruby’s place. EVERY person I talked to told me to file a complaint.

The other reason I wasn’t keen on filing a complaint was because I didn’t want to come across as an over protective mother. I had no “evidence” that anything bad happened and I had nothing solid against the owner of the daycare.

But yesterday after my mom’s boss told her that it is my responsibility as a human being and a parent to report this woman and if I didn’t then she would – I went ahead and phoned the licensing board and made my complaint.

And… it went just as I hope it wouldn’t. After spilling my guts about all that went on, the woman in charge of licensing said, “Is this your first child?”

And I knew I was fucked.

She then went on to lecture me. “When we go back to work after having our first child we feel some guilt. We feel that we should be able to stay at home with our child. And then when they are in daycare you want them to be treated exactly the way you treat them at home and when there are differences it can be quite upsetting…”

Uh-huh… (Just get me off the fucking phone)

“Did you not interview Melissa (daycare provider) before Ruby started daycare? And did you not see any red flags? Because it is really important that you find a daycare with the same values as you.”

Uh-huh… (Just get me off the fucking phone)

“It’s just like diapering. You might like your child to have her diaper changed three times a day and the care provider might only do it twice a day. You need to find a place that does it three times a day if that’s what you want.”

Uh-huh… (Just get me off the fucking phone)

“So, then… is your complaint that she told you that she would no longer provide care for your daughter???”

NO. I’m glad she stopped providing care for my daughter. That was the best thing that she could have done.

“I guess your main complaint would be her professionalism then?”

YES!

“Ok, well just so you know we’ll go ahead and investigate this complaint and we won’t mention your name but once we discuss the situation with her she’s going to know it was you.”

I don’t care.

“Alright then, well we might be phoning you again with some more questions.”

Fine.

Goodbye.

It really sucked. And I felt shitty about it all night (and still today). Either I didn’t articulate myself properly or else the people who really should give a shit about how our children are treated – don’t. She actually made me feel stupid for making the complaint.

But I did what I could do. It’s off my chest and off my back now. I just hope that more shit and hassle doesn’t come out of this for ME than for the daycare.

Clarification

2010-01-14T11:49:00.001-08:00

If I made myself sound like Mean Mom From Hell in my last post, I didn’t mean to. Let me clarify… Some of that post was written somewhat in jest. I was being a bit smart assy, trying to make fun of the situation. It’s not as terrible as I perhaps made it seem.

Ok, while I do agree that we need to let our babies take the lead somewhat and show us when they’re ready to do/eat/drink certain things, there does come a time when Mom has to take the reins and put some rules into place. If I let Ruby take the lead, she would drink from her bottle til she was 7 and would probably not eat anything more than yogurt and Mum Mum cookies until she was 18. If I don’t introduce new foods to her and reduce her bottles now, it is not going to get any easier for either of us. I was advised by her doctor who has two young children and has spent part of his career working in BC Children’s hospital, that if she doesn’t start reducing her milk and increasing her food, she will slowly stop developing.

To clarify, I’m not going cold turkey with her on the bottles. She still gets her bottle before bedtime, and one bottle during the day. That is plenty as far as I’m concerned. Just because it’s hard getting her to take milk from the sippy cup doesn’t mean that I should keep allowing her to take the bottle all the time. Keep in mind that other than a package of yogurt and some Cheerios in the morning, for the past 6 weeks or so milk has been her main source of calories in the day. It’s just time to change that.

There are going to be lots of things that are going to change in her life and she’s not going to like them all when they first happen (and likely nor will I). I don’t think I should give up on it until she thinks she’s ready because that may not be good for her health.

I know she’s been through a lot of changes lately and that is why I don’t mind that daycare gives her a bottle still and that she’s started sucking on her soother a bit during the day at daycare. I’m not all militant about everything. If she needs to revert backwards a bit, I don’t mind. I think that one sippy cup of milk a day is something that she needs to get used to and is reasonable for me to implement.

As for what she eats… she never did like baby food or purees. She’s always been into what I’m eating and I always give her a taste of what I’m eating. She always gets bits of our dinner, modified slightly for her. Some things she’ll nibble on, some things she throws. She throws a lot of food.

I was joking around about the wrap because wouldn’t you know it that she picked a time when I was STARVING to decide to eat what I was eating.

The girl is determined and stubborn. She has been running the show around our house for quite some time. There are going to be some battles while making some transitions that just need to be made.

Hope that all makes sense and clarifies some of the stuff I wrote in my last post without sounding snarky. Not meaning to sounds snarky at all, just wanted to clarify.

In other news… GOOD NEWS… Ruby had a really good eating day yesterday. Funny thing though, she will only eat East Indian food! My Indian girlfriend sent me some kichari (Indian dish with lentils, rice, peas, carrots) that her mother made and Ruby LOVES it. When we had our last eating strike a couple of months ago, it was the kichari that got her eating again so my girlfriend brought me another batch. Ruby eats and eats and eats it. She ate it at daycare yesterday and then was mad when it was gone! So “P” (daycare lady) gave her some of her daal and home made yogurt (P is also East Indian). It was a little bit spicy and in the end Ruby’s eyes were watering but she went nuts for it! P’s husband saw what she was eating and how much she loved it and asked P if one of Ruby’s parents was Indian! (The kid couldn’t be any whiter). We have decided that Ruby was an East Indian in her past life and we have started calling her Rubinder.

So it's not that she's not ready to eat. It's that she's fussy and we just need to persist and get her pallet used to different foods. For now, kichari will help get us through bottle weaning. One step backwards, two steps forward. Some progress is being made. I may spend the weekend cooking Indian food and get stocked up for my little Rubinder.

War

2010-01-13T12:47:00.000-08:00

War is being waged in my home. Ruby is NOT impressed with her new eating/sippy cup routine and I am learning what a nasty little temper she has.

When I dropped her off at daycare yesterday I told "P" of the new routine. She was all for trying it out. But when I went to pick Ruby up she told me that Ruby would NOT take her milk from the sippy cup. And she wouldn't eat her carrots/beans/potatoes that I sent. No big surprise there, but she did eat some homemade rice pudding that P made and a little cheese and some animal crackers. Not great, but not terrible.

Ruby and I hung out and played for a bit when we got home and then I made myself a lowfat wrap to snack on before dinner because I was VERY hungry. Well wouldn't you know it, the conniving little shit wanted to eat half my wrap. Well hell, if she wants to eat it I'm not stopping her. I will go hungry if it means she's eating something.

Tara: 1
Ruby: 0

Later, she refused the dinner I made her - which I thought she'd love. And when I say "refused" I mean she was taking swings at me as I was trying to put a bite in her mouth and when I managed to get a chunk in her little yap, she gave me the death stare and dug it out of her mouth and flung it against the wall.... right next to the place where I was banging my head. This went on until I had to walk away and let her freak out for a few minute in her highchair while I hid in the bathroom and cried.

Tara: 1
Ruby: 1

She then got to the point where she was so hungry she was completely delirious and out of control, crying and whining and being nasty (biting and hitting). There is absoluteley ZERO chance of getting any solid food in her at this point.

So I filled up her sippy cup with warm milk and offered it to her. And that's when our big battle began. She started to drink and then realized it was milk so she gave me the death stare again and flung the cup. Then she cried because she wanted a bottle. I offered her the cup again and she flung it again, then she grabbed it and tried to pour it out in between the cracks of the couch (that will smell great later). I gave it to her while holding it myself and she hit it and tried to hit me. Then she took off and did a few laps around the living room all the while crying and giving me the most bitter, dirty looks I have ever seen the child give. She'd stop in front of me once a lap and I'd try the milk again and it only pissed her off more. (No wonder "P" said the sippy cup "didn't work"). After about 5 or 6 laps around the room, she took a little bit of a drink from it. Couple more laps of tantrum throwing and I got her to sit in my lap and I leaned her back a bit like she was getting a bottle and the little bugger drank every last drop of milk in that god forsaken sippy cup. I have 7 new grey hairs and 2 new wrinkles on my face, but I got it to happen.

Tara: 2
Ruby: 1

I then got her to eat some yogurt with mashed raspberries in it (yay) before I sent her to bed with a bottle (boo).

Tara: 3
Ruby: 2

We tried to add some home made oatmeal to her breakfast this morning and she gave the look of having just been poisoned and tried to scrape any oatmeal that made it into her mouth off of her tongue.

Tara: 3
Ruby: 3

What??? We're tied? Then why does it feel like I'm getting my ass kicked and losing terribly??? I want to throw in the towel and let her drink from a bottle until she's 20 and can make her own decisions...

Food

2010-01-11T15:16:00.000-08:00

Ruby had her 12 month checkup today at the doctors. The doctor noted that she’s perfectly healthy and alert and happy (and entertaining). Our big concern though, is that the kid does not like to eat food. Drinking bottles, she’s fine but eating food is a huge challenge. There are very few foods that she will eat. One day she likes something and the next day she chews it, then digs it out of her mouth and chucks it. She loves throwing food more than eating. It makes me crazy.

So today the doc confirmed that she needs to start eating more solids, less milk. He wants us to get her off the bottle because she’s become too reliant on it. She needs to get her milk from a sippy cup now. He says that with taking the bottle away, she’ll get hungry enough and she’ll start eating. I’m not so sure it will be that easy but I agree with him that this needs to be done. She eats like a little bird. I think a lot of her issues with food are texture related. She’ll usually take at least one bite of anything I offer, but then she starts swinging her arms like propellers around her face when we go in for bite #2. After a meal, the area around her highchair is like a mine field of discarded, chewed up, flung food.

I realized today that she’s been running the show in regards to her poor eating habits. It needs to change and it’s going to. It’s just going to be hard for a while. I know it and I need to mentally prepare for it.

In other food related news, I’m working on finding myself a better eating plan. I really don’t want to gain 68lbs again. I’ve already gained 13 in just 17 weeks so I need to work on getting things under control and not letting the pregnancy be my excuse for turning a blind eye to the scale. Upon the approval of my midwife, I’ve tried to do a bit of a modified Weight Watchers plan – one where I eat more than the regular plan would let me, but still having a daily limit and keeping track of everything and being accountable. My midwife said I could do this as long as I followed some rules. I’m not to allow myself to starve. I need to eat smaller meals every couple of hours. I need to have protein with every meal. The first week was really hard. Maybe too hard. I was really hungry and therefore mentally and physically drained and I was miserable and depressed. It didn’t feel good and so I know it wasn’t right. So this week I’ve decided that instead of quitting, I need to make some more modifications. I’m not allowing myself to get so hungry but I will try to fill the void with healthy options. I need to keep tweaking it until I get it right. I’m not going to hurt myself or the baby so please don’t lecture me about doing this. I want to be healthy both physically and mentally.

I do not want to give birth in June and have a load of extra weight on me during the summer while caring for a newborn and a toddler and feeling like shit about myself. I don’t want to have to hide in my house all summer because I’m too fat to go anywhere and feel uncomfortable in my own skin. Not that I see myself stepping out on the town all that much (or ever) because I think I might be a little bit busy. Anyways, it’s important to me that I take care of myself and somewhat manage my weight gain now, to make things easier come June and beyond.

It’s unfortunate that Ruby and I couldn’t find some happy medium between us, she could have a little of my appetite and I could have a little of her food aversion. But for now it’s a battle in opposite directions for the two of us. Wish us luck.

Better

2010-01-06T12:51:00.001-08:00

When I picked Ruby up from daycare yesterday I was told that she had a good day and that she’s a good girl. And that perhaps the operator of the previous daycare should rethink her profession.

Ruby napped, she laughed, she smiled, she danced. She did not cry for more than a few minutes in the morning after I left because she was given a bit of TLC to comfort her and make her feel loved and cared for.

I cannot tell you the huge sense of relief I felt upon hearing those words.

This officially confirms it – I am not the mother of a closet daycare demon, just a little girl who gets a little bit nervous when her mom leaves her with someone new in a unfamiliar place. And I'm pretty sure that’s fairly standard for a one year old.

As a result, today I didn’t cry at my desk for 3 hours in the morning. My shoulders do not ache. My head does not feel like it might explode. My eyes are not nearly swelled shut. My heart doesn’t feel like it has been ripped from my chest. I haven’t even contemplated telling my boss how I really feel about this job and just what she can do with it.

Today feels better.

My heart

2010-01-05T11:43:00.000-08:00

The other night I was giving Ruby a bath and she fell and smashed her face on the side of the tub. She was hurt and very upset. Her mouth was bleeding and she even chipped her front tooth (which really sucks). I scooped her out of the tub and held her and tried to comfort her. She screamed and cried and freaked out. Then Steve walked in the room and she started kicking and hitting me to get away from me and get to him. He took her and she stopped crying.

Ouch.

After she settled down he handed her back to me and she started crying again and kicking to get away from me. She reached out to my mom. When my mom took her she stopped crying again. It made me feel really sad inside.

Then this morning she hurt her hand or something and I tried to hold her. She wanted nothing to do with me. She reached for Steve again and when he held her she stopped crying.

*sigh*

So you can imagine how I felt when I had to drop her off for her first day at her new daycare today and when she realized I was leaving she started crying and reached out to me...

And I had to turn my back on her and walk out the door.

Here’s my heart. I won’t be needing it anymore. It’s been ripped out of my chest and crushed and broken and shattered into a billion tiny little pieces.

Living Large

2009-12-29T18:12:00.000-08:00

I am already a HOUSE at just 16 weeks. I already get a sore back and sore joints sometimes. I get out of breath fairly easily - sometimes for no apparent reason. Sometimes it feels like the baby is pushing up on my stomach and I can't eat (though you'd never know it by my appearance). And I haven't even hit the four month mark!!! I am afraid, seriously afraid of where I am headed. I have BIG boobs and my stomach has almost outgrown them. This could get ugly...

I was going to post the 16 week picture of when I was pregnant with Ruby but I look so much smaller and younger and less... matronly, that I didn't want to shame myself any further.

Merry Christmas

2009-12-24T10:48:00.000-08:00

Ruby is tight with Santa this year. He asked her for a high five and she gave him one so she's pretty sure she's going to get everything on her list. We hope that you all get everything on your list too - if not at Christmas than sometime in 2010.

Merry Christmas!

Starting over

2009-12-22T13:50:00.000-08:00

I got Ruby into a new daycare. She starts in January. My fingers are crossed that it is going to work out for her. I think it might. When the woman met Ruby she started talking to her and Ruby gave her a big grin and giggle. When I brought her into the daycare I plunked her onto the floor and she immediately dug into a bin of toys and started playing. There was another little girl there who was a bit older than Ruby and they actually started passing toys back and forth to each other. Such a miracle considering Ruby is so “poorly socialized”. *growl* Ruby was also handing toys to “P”, the new daycare lady. She had absolutely zero hesitation interacting with P. Of course, I was there but still, it just had a different feel from the first daycare.

P is a very calm, soothing, seemingly kind woman. I think Ruby liked her.

I liked her. We talked about the “issues” that the other daycare had with Ruby. P seemed horrified. She said that Ruby can have two naps a day if she wants and she can take them whenever she likes. She said that Ruby is at the age of having some separation anxiety and she has no problem giving her some extra attention if she is sad when I leave. She won't kick her out if she isn't fully adjusted within 5 days. She also won’t get annoyed if Ruby poops more than once a day. She currently only has 2 other children in her care so she will be spread less thin than the other bitch who had 5.

The place isn’t the fanciest. The house is old and the daycare area hasn’t been updated in some years. I’m sure this would turn some people away. But I found it to be clean and Ruby was quite comfortable there. And sometimes it’s the heart that’s more important. In this case, it certainly is. It’s a little more expensive than the last daycare as well and she doesn’t provide any snacks. But if it’s a place where Ruby feels comfortable and happy and is well cared for then that’s all ok with me.

For the remainder of the month Ruby is being bounced from friend to grandparent to grandparent, and I have modified my work hours somewhat to make things work.

The past two weeks have been an extremely stressful time and I’ve really struggled. On one hand it’s a good thing that this happened during the Christmas season because people have been able to look after her due to being on Christmas holidays – but on the other hand it’s been a bitch trying to deal with Ruby’s birthday, the basement tenants (who are gone now but left some “issues” behind), trying to get into a groove with returning to work, and uh… oh yeah, CHRISTMAS and all that goes along with trying to prepare for that. Throw in there that I’m now 15 weeks pregnant and I’m just so totally exhausted both mentally and physically. I vowed that I was going to enjoy my Christmas this year but it’s been hard to get into the spirit with all that’s been going on.

Tomorrow is my last day of work this week and I only work 3 days next week. I’m hoping the extra time off will help to relax and rejuvenate me. And I have my fingers crossed that January lives up to it’s reputation for being the perfect time to get a fresh start. A fresh new start is just what we need.

Birthday Clone

2009-12-21T11:19:00.000-08:00

Ruby's birthday was over a week ago and I never did post any pictures.

So just for fun... here are pictures comparing me on my first birthday and Ruby on hers.

Proof

2009-12-18T15:27:00.000-08:00

I got my proof today that the problem was the care provider and not Ruby.

I took Ruby to my girlfriend’s house this morning. She ever so kindly offered to take her. She has a little guy who is only a couple of hours older than Ruby. Oh how I worried about this. I knew that she would be in great hands, but I worried that Ruby would have a day-long meltdown and refuse to nap and be the demon that the daycare lady said she was. I worried that by the end of the day my girlfriend would be frazzled and never want to see Ruby or me ever again.

However… I dropped her off this morning and she apparently cried a bit when I left. But she was given some TLC and her soother and within a few minutes she flung her soother across the room and started playing with the toys. Then an hour later she crawled over to her bag and pulled out her blanket and started rubbing her eyes, so M (the good M – my girlfriend, not bad M – daycare lady) laid her down and she had a nap (WHAT??? Allowing her to nap when she needs it??? What a concept!) She got up an hour or so later and started playing with M’s little guy. Not antisocial whatsoever. I’ve had little updates throughout the day and it sounds like Ruby is having a great day. I am so happy.

All she needed was someone to care for her and be gentle with her when she was feeling a little bit nervous. Although this is what I suspected, now I know the truth.

(Thanks so much, M. I owe you big.)

Done

2009-12-17T13:36:00.000-08:00

Ruby was officially done at the daycare yesterday at 8:45am. When I dropped her off she was clawing away from M. I don’t blame her. That woman is a bitch and I am seriously disappointed in how she handled things.

So I came to work, discussed the situation with my boss who told me, “Go get her. You don’t leave your kid with someone like that.”

I called ahead to let M know that I was coming to get Ruby and she wouldn’t be coming back and that I would like a refund for the remaining days of the month (she hesitated but agreed to refund me). When I got to M’s house 20 minutes later, she had Ruby’s bags packed and a cheque sitting by the door for me.

When I first got there she was holding Ruby on her hip. Ruby didn’t see me at first but I saw her. She had a blank, distant, sad stare on her face. THAT is not my daughter. She is happy and funny and giggly and smart. THAT broke my heart. I KNOW something is not right with the way M treated her.

And when we left and M was saying goodbye to Ruby, I swear to you Ruby glared at her. She would not smile whatsoever. She just glared. I’ve never seen her do that before.

And minutes after I got her in the car she was fast asleep - which broke my heart (again) because obviously just being there was taking a lot out of her.

My theory? Ruby had to get up early on the day she started daycare so she was probably tired to begin with. Then M refused to let her nap until the “scheduled” time at 11:30 – which she tells me is when all the kids nap for 2.5 hours (and she gets her precious break). I think Ruby was probably overtired by that point and couldn’t do much more than cry. I think that M didn’t appreciate Ruby cutting into her break and got frustrated and probably mean to her. (Yes, I do think she was mean). Ruby would pick up on this and it would upset her even more, perpetuating a bad mood into a bad situation.

And somewhere along the line one of the kids bit her hard enough to leave their dental impression on her leg for a week. That can’t have made Ruby feel great about the other kids. Also, M had no idea that this happened… which kinda bugs me.

After that, I’m sure Ruby was nervous and sensed the frustration with M. It just made things worse and worse and worse. Ruby didn’t like it there and she didn’t like M. And as far as I’m concerned M did nothing to make it better. As far as I’m concerned she didn’t do her job.

She even had the nerve to complain to me one day that Ruby had pooped 3 times. She was really annoyed by that.

I am so glad to have her out of there. I’ve got some help for the next few days from my mom and my girlfriend and Steve to take care of her while I search for someone to take her in January.

I just worry about finding another place. I worry about finding somewhere/someone good. Clearly I fucked up the first time. I don’t want to make the same mistake. I swear this woman came across as a very kind, loving, fun, compassionate caregiver – and I was so so so wrong about her. I am doubting my instincts now and haven’t started looking for a new place yet because I’m scare of putting her in the wrong place again. Especially on such short notice. I know though, that the longer I put it off, the harder it will get. I really have to get on it soon. There’s just so much stress weighing my heart and my brain down right now, I want to be feeling fresher and sharper before I go ahead with my new daycare search.

What does a nervous breakdown feel like???

2009-12-15T18:24:00.001-08:00

When I went to pick up Ruby today at daycare, M avoided eye contact with me for the first few minutes and busied herself with tidying the room. When I finally locked eyes with her I asked, wearily, how the day went. She told me there was little to no improvement.

And then she said, "I give her til friday to make some improvement and if there is none by then, you'll have to find someone else to look after her."

Fuck if the tears didn't start rolling down my cheek right then. I couldn't help it but I hated myself for it.

She told me that she just can't handle it that Ruby's not adjusting. She's only happy when M is holding her and M has other kids to care for so she can't hold her all the time. And Ruby doesn't want to nap when she's there. She only napped for 20 minutes today.

After she blithered on about this or that thing that Ruby did that was so crappy she then said to me, "You know what the worst part is??? I work a 10 1/2 hour day and I'm not getting a break!"

Well, I'm so sorry for you. I pay her $650 per month to take care of my little girl. She's got a total of 5 kids so she's making some good cake to miss a couple of breaks. Ruby's gone there a total of 5 days and she's already asking me not to bring her back. Is 5 days enough time for a baby to adjust to something so new? Has she never had a baby that needed time and maybe a little extra attention to get used to the new arrangement before? Seriously, what the fuck?

And so I am a wreck right now. It took me months to find this daycare. I researched and looked around until I found what I thought was the perfect daycare. Now I'm supposed to find a new place within a week? While I'm working full time? Oh I'm sure there's loads of openings on such short notice. And I don't want to just drop her off somewhere that I know nothing about just because they have an opening. I need to try to find her a good, kind, caring place that is going to understand and help her with her separation anxiety.

I really don't know what I'm going to do. Crying my eyes out certainly isn't going to find me a daycare, but it seems that that's all I can do right now.

Struggle

2009-12-15T09:43:00.000-08:00

So much going on right now. The stress level is somewhat “elevated”. I’m struggling. I’m overloaded. I’m pretty sure I’m depressed.

Work has pretty much smoothed out. Maybe too much. It’s gotten easy and I’m usually done “work” by noon, with nothing left to fill my afternoon. It drives me crazy. I’d like to be busy. Sitting here watching the clock tick is not my idea of a good time.

Ruby hates daycare. It’s been baaaad. And that makes me feel baaaaad. And if I’m going to be honest, I don’t like the way M (daycare lady) is handling it. When I picked Ruby up on Friday she said, “I hate to tell you this but today was the WORST day yet. Worse than her first day. And I am exhausted!” I picked up a hint of her being pissed off about it. She then went on to tell me that Ruby refuses to nap and it’s causing the other kids not to nap because she cries and wakes them up. She also told me that the other baby that’s there never cried and now that Ruby’s crying all the time she cries too. She also suggested that I haven’t socialized her enough around other kids because when the other kids go near her she cries. She said when she puts on music the other kids dance and Ruby cries.

I cannot help but to take this personally. I have done my best to be the best mother that I can possibly be. Ruby is obviously having a hard time adjusting to spending the day with strangers and I don’t know how I could have better prepared her for it. Should I have started dropping her off at the mall for a few hours each week and let her hang out there on her own??? You know, get her used to being in a strange place with strange people? She’s a fucking BABY for crying out loud! When do I leave my baby with strangers???

When I picked Ruby up on Friday she had dried snot on her face and when she saw me she started frantically signing “milk”. When I got her home I looked in her bag and I saw that the morning bottle that I send with her was still in there. She hadn’t been fed it. She has other smaller bottles there so I’m hoping she got one of those. But this morning I wasn’t going to take a chance so I fed her the bottle before we left. I mentioned this to M when we got there this morning and she got all defensive saying that she feeds her right away in the morning and her problem isn’t hunger. She “guarantees” it. I then mentioned to her that Ruby had a bite mark on her leg and that perhaps that’s why she cries when the other kids come near her. She got all defensive and said none of the kids that go there are biters… Maybe she fell on a toy. A horseshoe shaped toy the same size as a kid’s mouth with little notches all around it. Maybe they play with false teeth.

I also talked to her about Ruby having just spent the weekend around other kids and she was fine. She’s very social. She said that was just because I was there. Well, I was “there” but I wasn’t sitting beside her holding her hand. I was busy doing other things in the house.

She then went off about her university degree in child psychology and Ruby’s problem isn’t hunger or anything else other than she misses me during the day and can’t adjust to being around new people. Well then I wish she wouldn’t suggest that I didn’t socialize her properly or tell me how disruptive she is to the other kids or how “EXHAUSTED” she is after looking after Ruby all day. Because I pay her a LOT of money to do this job. And she has a “university degree”. And she’s done this for 8 years. So suck it up lady and help make my kid comfortable. And quit fucking making me feel bad! (or is that just me making myself feel bad?)

There has been a bunch of other stuff going on too. Like it was Ruby’s birthday on Sunday and we had a little birthday party for her. Steve’s family showed up two hours late. The rest of us tried to wait around to open gifts and have cake but in the end I said Fuck It and went ahead without them all. It was frustrating and put a gray cloud over the party.

And our fucked up, weirdo, asshole tenants moved out of our basement on Sunday morning as well. I’ve never been so happy to see the back end of someone. It was a super stressful morning though – particularly when Steve nearly came to blows with their “moving guys” (stoners with tattoos on their faces, reeking of pot). This also put a “tone” on our day. Not to mention the money we now need to spend to have the carpet professionally cleaned and Steve has to do some repairs to a broken door. I still don’t feel like the place is all mine yet. Renting out my basement was one of the biggest mistakes I’ve made in a while.

And Christmas is creeping up and I haven’t been able to get stuff done. We don’t even have a tree yet. I haven’t done all my shopping. Thinking about it makes my head want to explode.

I guess everything else wouldn’t be such a big deal if everything was ok with Ruby. She’s my number one concern and it rips my heart out to know that she’s having a rough go of it. But put it all together and I’m fucking fucked. I just want to cry my eyes out. The past few nights I’ve done just that but not until Ruby’s gone to bed, the dishes are done, the house is clean, lunches are made, dinner for the next night is planned and a load of laundry is in the washer. Shit still has to get done.

I know there's bigger, badder worse things going on in the world but in my little world this shit is tearing me down.

Not off to a good start

2009-12-09T06:54:00.000-08:00

Daycare was a bust. Ruby cried all day and refused to nap and therefore prevented the other kids from napping. She clung to the daycare lady all day and hung from her pant leg when she wasn't being carried. This is so out of character for my girl - she's so independent. Breaks my heart.

I got yelled at at work yesterday. Yes, because apparently I am five years old. My boss was helping me figure out which printer was which and when I realized that I sent my print jobs to the broken printer, I went to clean out that print queue and she yelled at me and flipped out thinking I might delete some important print job of hers. Except I don't have her print jobs in my print queue - and each job is clearly labeled with my name and the time that I sent the print job to the printer. Then she felt dumb and stomped out of my office.

I don't have a lunch today because I didn't have the fucking energy to do fuck all when I finally got home last night. Guess I'm buying lunch today. And maybe a cup of coffee while I'm at it... the coffee tastes like it is directly filtered in from the sewage treatment plant that is just down the street from my new office. The air is lovely here...

Today has to be better. It has to be...

The end of an era

2009-12-06T18:01:00.000-08:00

I go back to work tomorrow. After having a whole year off.

Everything has changed with my job - including location, office, bosses, coworkers and the actual work itself. And the only person who knows how to do my job resides halfway across the country and her boss doesn't feel that it's necessary to fly her out here to retrain me.

Awesome.

One good thing is that Mondays are Steve's regular day off. So at least on my first day back I don't have to worry about daycare and all that shit. I can save that for my second day.

I feel like tonight is dragging on forever. Like I've got something looming over my head and I just want to get there and deal with it so I can feel better but time is dragging and I just have nothing to do but sit here and think about shit.

Of course there's lots I SHOULD be doing to get ready for tomorrow - like figure out what to wear, do laundry, make my lunch, get Ruby's daycare bag ready for Tuesday... but... ugh... the anxiety, it paralyzes me a bit.

And it's nothing that I won't tackle and deal with and kick ass at... no, I know I'll do fine. It's just the anticipation of it all. It's the contemplating how my life is so drastically going to change overnight. Literally.

Also, my heart is heavy for Cece. If you haven't already, go visit her and give her some love and support. She is dealing with the unimaginable right now.

Turning the corner

2009-12-01T16:47:00.001-08:00

Can you believe I'm almost in the 2nd trimester? I'm now 12 weeks pregnant. (I'll actually consider myself to be in the 2nd trimester when I hit 13 weeks.) That went really fast. I guess that's because I have a load of other things on my mind and being pregnant isn't the foremost thing in my mind like it was the first time. Now I have a little girl to look after and she takes up most of my brain power. Not to mention getting ready to return to work, getting prepped to take her to daycare, thinking about her 1st birthday, Christmas, etc.

It's actually kind of nice to have the distractions so I don't obsess too much.

I'm feeling much better about the pregnancy now. Once again, it's not that I ever regretted becoming pregnant, it was just hard for me to get my head wrapped around something that I was convinced would never happen. I had worked hard to accept that fact. A doctor told me once that we covet and make a life out of what we have. So true. I thought Ruby was going to be an only child and so I worked hard at making that a very cool thing. I made myself accept that that was going to be our life and I made myself ok with it. Even though we did want more kids, it seemed that it wasn't in the cards. And why torment myself thinking about something that I believed I would never, could never have?

So the surprise was a big one and it was a lot to digest.

But I think I'm there now. Or getting very close to being there. Being able to talk to a few really close friends about my situation sure helped. And a chat with my midwife also really helped. She told me that what I am feeling is completely normal. That even fertile women who PLAN their second pregnancies feel a little bit detached in the beginning. Go figure.

I stepped on the scale this morning and I've only gained 6lbs. By this time when I was pregnant with Ruby I had gained 10. Actually, more than 10 if you count in the IVF 3 or 4 before I even got pregnant. That made me happy. Just not sure why I LOOK like I've gained 20lbs. I'm trying not to worry about that though, I'm just happy that my weight gain so far is 40% less than last time.

I've also officially let the cat out of the bag. Everyone I've told has been really excited and really supportive. That feels good. It feels good to not keep this big secret inside me. Everyone's happiness and excitement is very uplifting.

And so I soon move into the 2nd trimester. Feeling better about myself and about my life. Looking forward to the rest of this pregnancy.

Scary

2009-11-26T13:52:00.000-08:00

I had a midwife appointment today. And I got to hear the baby's heartbeat. It made me so happy. It made it more real and it made me excited and it was just what I needed. I even recorded it on my blackberry to play back later for Steve. It was the best feeling to be able to hear that pretty little helicopter sound (160bpm).

Then when I was driving home I got into a car accident. A semi-truck drove into the lane I was in causing the car in front of me to stop abruptly. I couldn't quite get my car stopped before I rear ended that car in front of me. Of course the semi-truck drove away (Fucker!!!). Of course because I was the poor bastard at the end of the line, I will be the one to pay. The car I hit just had a few little scratches in the bumper but you know this guy is heading straight to his buddy's body shop to have the whole car overhauled at my expense.

Ruby was with me and she cried for about 10 seconds and then stopped. I think it was just the loud bang that scared her. I checked her out and she's totally fine. I think I'm fine too but of course bad thoughts run through a girl's head. When I finally got home I thought I was having some weird tummy troubles and I was sure that something terrible had happened and that I was going to lose Junior. But now that I've had a nap and am more rational, I'm pretty sure it was just gas.

In any case, I'm going to spend the day relaxing and I won't be straining myself by doing any housework or cooking any dinner.

I'm sure that this was the Universe's way of telling me to keep it real. "Don't get too excited about anything, bitch because I can take it all away from you anytime I like."