I'm Still Alive!

Holy abandoned blog. It's been a long time. Contrary to what it seems, I've thought about writing an entry many, many times over the past months. I just generally don't have time. And when I do, I'm too tired. Things have been happening though. Life has been chugging along.

Ada is 9 months old. What?! 9 months! I don't even know how the heck we got here so fast. She is so amazing. And she's getting to be such a funny, beautiful little person. She has the best personality, and she just brightens up my whole heart every day. She is constantly amazing me with so many things. She's so smart, and she's so determined. She is also probably going to be the most stubborn person that ever lived. I didn't think anyone could be more stubborn than me, but I fear for what the teenage years will bring, if these 9 months have been any indication. Right now it's usually hilarious, but there will come a point when it is less hilarous and more the reason I throw myself off the roof of my house. :)

I have officially been taking Paxil for two months now. It has pretty much changed my world. When I think about the place I was in before, it scares me. It was bad. And it's a great relief that I can look back on it now and think, "How effed up WAS I??? Whoa". I handle everything pretty much in stride now. I roll with the punches. I deal with things as they come, and I don't let them crush me. It's a pretty huge feat for me. One I never really thought I would be able to master. But these past two months have been completely different for me. Life doesn't feel like a plastic bag over my head anymore. I am enjoying it. Now that I'm responding like a normal, mentally healthy person to the challenges that I face, I realize that I have absolutely come to love being a mother more than anything in the world. It is phenomenal. Even with all the tough parts. I just feel that there is no amount of freedom, travel, full nights of sleep or hours spent in front of the computer that will ever again be worth even a fraction of what the experience of being Ada's mommy is worth. I love it. I can't imagine that I was ever not a parent. Everything before seems so shallow in a way. Life now is so rich and fulfilling. All because of this little 20 pound bundle of energy that has only been here for 9 months. That is an incredible thing, isn't it? And a little secret I've been trying to keep to myself, because I think most people would call me crazy, is that lately I just keep thinking about having another one. If we were in a better financial situation at the moment, I would be more serious about it. I know Ada isn't even a year old yet. I just can't describe how much I love this job. It's so exciting to think of creating another little person that I love so much more than everything in the world. I am addicted to the love that I feel for my child. (No Robert Palmer jokes, please. You're better than that.)

Last month my therapist and I mutually agreed that I seem to be in a very good place since I started coming for counseling, and since I've started my prescription. So I no longer go for weekly counseling sessions. We agreed that I will only come in if and when I feel like I need a little tune up, or if something starts feeling overwhelming again. I'm so happy to have reached this point. And it didn't take nearly as long as I thought it was going to. I love that my medication allows me to let things roll off my back and not get so overwhelmed by things. But the longer I'm on it, I'm not sure that I'm always recognizing when I am legitimately upset by something. It sort of takes all the sharp edges off of every emotion. It takes a hell of a lot to make me cry anymore, and that has its pros and cons. I don't know if this is how normal is supposed to feel or if I'm not fully feeling my feelings when things bother me. Today I feel a little down about a couple of things, but it's kind of like I know they're there, and it's nagging at me, but I can't fully bring myself to examine them enough to figure out whether they are important enough to discuss. My Psychiatrist said that a lot of people on this medication describe themselves as feeling just "whatever" about most things. Like "I don't care" a lot of times. And although that's pretty much what I needed, because I was at the total opposite end of the spectrum before, when it comes to legitimate things that may be upsetting me, I slightly worry that I'm not giving them due credit because of that. And it's still important to work things out if they don't feel right. I don't know. It's a little weird trying to sort out this new disposition I find myself in. It's largely unfamiliar territory for me, not being so incredibly affected by everything. Maybe I just have to get used to what it feels like to be able to deal with things. How horrible does that sound? True though.

Forward Momentum

This week is therapy appointment number three.  I think it's going well. Mostly for right now I think it's the having a plan in motion that is keeping me above water. I still have two weeks befor I see the Psychiatrist and start on an antidepressant. But in the meantime, my therapist is beginning to help me learn to surrender control in certain areas, which I desperately need to do if I ever want to not feel like one big wound up rubber band ball. So far this has entailed allowing Ryan to put Ada to bed three times per week. So far so good, although I still have a minor panic attack each time. I'll get another test this Saturday when we go out for our anniversary and my mom puts her to bed. Yikes.

Other areas of life right now are okay, if not a little daunting. I've decided to start trying to find a new job. Which is hard to make myself do after 8 years of accumulated comfort. Also the fact that I do plan to have another baby sometime before Ada is 3, so I'm a little nervous about that. But the truth is I have to do it. My current situation is making me unhappy. Just plain unhappy. It's time to face change.  I would like to have found something new by year's end, but I'm not positive that will work out. What I can't do is make any rash decisions, because we need two constant incomes. But I'd really like a fresh start away from the negativity and effed up dynamics that unfortunately seem to have to overshadow plain work. I'm not a happy person there. I hate every second of it anymore. Not to mention that if I even think about this being the last job I ever have, I have failed at life. I think my lack of confidence is why I'm still there at all. Yet another issue to tackle at therapy. But I need a new path. And I've realized it's work which is eating up a very large percentage of my satisfaction with my life. So it's up to me to change it. The people who make me feel badly inside the office have no control outside of it. So I'm going to stay outside of it.

I feel like next year will be a lot about personal change and goals. And I feel I'm on a good path to accomplish that. I hope I'm right.

Tomorrow

Tomorrow is my first therapy appointment. I'm a lot more nervous than I thought I'd be. When I made the appointment I was so desperate for relief. So anxious for help. It was like a piece of heaven imagining sitting down on that couch and spewing forth the longest, possibly incoherent, ramble of all of my woes and begging for something to help me right this second. However, ever since I made that appointment, it's like things have been noticeably better. To the point where now I'm sitting here the day before my appointment, thinking, "do I really need to do this?". But I know the answer is yes.

I suspect a couple of things going on here. Since I made my appointment, I've known in my brain that help is around the corner, and it has made things easier to deal with in my day to day. So I've been better able to cope. Better able to not let the world crash down on me when Ada only sleeps for 35 minutes, or Ryan spends 3 hours on Saturday morning playing video games while I'm confined to the couch holding a baby and reading a book on my iphone during her catnaps. And then repeats the cycle a couple of hours later. Usually it makes me feel like my life is spiraling down the toilet. But this past week I've been surprised at how I've rolled with the punches. Only briefly yesterday did I have to go upstairs with Ada for a little bit because I felt the panicky, suffocating tightness rising up in my chest, and the tears starting. I talked myself down pretty quickly though, and we moved on to other things. In some psychopathic way, I was relieved to have that moment, because it made me feel like I do, in fact, still need this appointment tomorrow.

The other thing I suspect is that I'm just doing what I always do when I'm nervous about something, or out of my comfort zone. My mind suddenly plays a game called, "everything is fine, you don't need change" because I do fear change. So my brain tries to convince me that I've solved whatever problem caused me to seek help in the first place, and that I no longer need to face this big thing that has been looming. It's sort of a self preservation measure, I think, to keep me safe in my comfort zone. But that in itself is something that therapy will help me with. So, fail. Fail, brain, fail. I'm not falling for it this time, and I'm going to therapy anyways, so suck it. You can't hide in my head anymore.

I've realized that even when I am doing pretty well, relatively speaking, I'm still just constantly in a state of tension. That's my anxiety in full effect. I don't really know what it's like to feel truly relaxed. It's like my insides are just always tightly wound, and even when I'm appearing relaxed on the outside, I'm a chaotic mess underneath, and everything is in overdrive. This is why I keep myself awake so often with the most random, unnecessary dialogue in my brain, just constant chatter up there about any and everything. And the problem with the dialogue in my brain is that it never needs to stop to take a breath.

At any rate, I'm nervous about going tomorrow. But I know deep down it's the most right thing I've done in a while. And that feels good. I just never imagined myself getting to this point. I don't know. It makes me sad that I'm so sad, so often. I didn't want to be this person, and I let it go for too long. I know I'm taking the steps to change it now, but I regret wasting so much time and life being so much more unhappy than I needed to be. You can't get it back.

Personal victories

I did it. I made the phone call I've been avoiding for so long. I have an appointment with a therapist a week from Tuesday. I feel good about it. Optimistic and proud of myself. Two things I can't recall feeling at all in the last several months or more. It needed to be done. Ada and I had a very, very rough morning on Thursday, and I felt sick to my stomach most of the day about how my depression is affecting her. The enormous personal responsibility I feel to get help for her sake maybe more than my own drove me to pick up the phone. And my mother begging me to do it helped too. I hate when she is constantly worried sick about me. That's part of my character too-I just can't stand causing stress in anyone else. I will always absorb it all myself first, of I can. But lately I've been leaning on my mom a lot when things are really bad in my head and she has been carefully trying to push me to seek professional help. It's become clear that I'm still suffering postpartum depression on addition to anxiety and oc tendencies. Those things I've dealt with even before I ever had Ada. But since having her, I haven't ever really felt like myself again. 

Before Ryan and I got married, I went to therapy for a couple months to try and work out some trust and relationship issues I had because of my family. Some of it helped, but thinking back on it now, I realize clearly two things. One, I hadn't become aware yet of all the things in my brain and behavior contributing to my constant unhappiness which require professional assistance. I am aware of a ton more of them now. I'm also about 6 or 7 years older and wiser now. Secondly, I wasn't truly ready to open myself up then and accept the help I truly needed. I am now. So ready. In fact I don't know where to start when I get there. The embarrassment and reservations are gone now. I just desperately want relief and a brighter future. I need confidence that I can raise my daughter well, and not hurt her because of my own mental health issues. I want to sleep again without battling the relentless and rambling thoughts.    

This is the first step. And just having it behind me now has left me with more calm than I've felt in nearly 6 months. I think things are going to be okay. And I'm willing to work my ass off for that. 

Baby steps

It's hard and scary when you realize you need to start over. When you realize people and things in your life are no longer aiding your growth and vice versa. When you see all that's left between you is a shell in the shape of past and memories, and a fleck of remaining effort to make it seem like it isn't so hollow. But I've been in this place before and I do believe it's helped me to come to the realization it's time to let go much more quickly now. It's time to make room for the next people and experiences which will shape and teach me. 

So much of what I've been going through lately has had dual purpose. It's helping me pinpoint where I need the most help, and showing me who I can expect to help me through it. And it's been incredibly painful to realize how lonely I actually am, but I feel like its for the better long term. Sometimes you miss something really amazing because you're not looking for it. You don't realize you need to. You don't consider that you have the room for it because you thought all those slots were filled. So while it hurts like hell to finally see how actually open those slots are, at least they now have potential. 

So many things have been churned and upheaved in me, and now as the dust is just beginning to settle, I have to figure out how all the pieces fit together. Because they've changed. I have hope that this new picture, once revealed, will be even more vibrant and inspiring. I am optimistic about it, as there have been very few times I've gone through a time like this with nothing to show for it in the end. But right now I haven't put the pieces together yet. I'm just beginning to breathe again. To be able to fall asleep on my own again. To have more than two days in a row when I don't end up sobbing on a pile of laundry. So I'll happily continue to take this one day at a time until even more answers come to light. And I'll happily accept the necessity of starting back at square one in order to embrace a better future. One where I am as important as the things and people I love. To them, and to me. 

Enough

I realize that I need to learn how to be as selfish and self serving as everyone fucking else.  But see, my conscious gets the best of me.  Which is useless.  Because trying to be a selfless person gets you nowhere.  I'm so sick of it.  Too bad it's a habit at this point.  Because I would change it in a blink of an eye if I didn't have such an issue with guilt.  And why the hell do I feel guilty about anything?  It's not like I ever get my efforts reciprocated.  Yes, I'm throwing a tantrum.  I'm at least taking the opportunity to do THAT for myself.  And screw you if you have a problem with it.  

That is all.

More

Fact: It is physically impossible for me to put in a full day of work, make my house sparkle, put dinner on the table, tend to Ada's every need and be a perfect wife with full make-up and not a hair out of place, while also getting in a work-out every day to make sure you can't tell I ever had a baby.

 

Also fact:  I desperately want to be physically able to do all of these things and I feel worthless because I can't.  I just can't let it go.  And sometimes I wonder, since I can't ever sleep at night anymore anyways, why don't I just utilize those hours between 9pm and 5:30am to BE able to do all of those things????  Huh???  Huh????  Oh, because it's crazy.  And unrealistic.  And unhealthy. 

 

It's funny to me how I can recognize all of these things as fact, but I cannot change my mind-set about them. 

 

Every time Ryan sweeps the kitchen floor or wipes down the kitchen counters - Housekeeping Fail.

 

Every time I let him take care of Ada so I can take a nap (unsuccessfully) or try to work out, or take a breather - Mother Fail. 

 

Every time I walk around all day in yoga pants and no make-up, too tired to try and tone up the unsightly skin pouch that became my lower abdomen since having our daughter (yes, I can now be officially considered a Marsupial) - Wife Fail. 

 

Every time I think about how much I resent working now and how much it overwhelms me to have to balance working with mothering - Woman Fail.  

 

And I'd rather not even get into the massive LIFE Fail I feel about being at my current job for the last 8 years (read: almost a decade) and having no foreseeable opportunities to change and actually do something with my life other than work an hourly job I've had since before I was even legally allowed to drink in a bar.  The regret I feel for not caring more and working harder to achieve something when I was still young and free....  Kids, follow through with college.  Don't rack up stupid amounts of debt on your credit cards assuming that you'll be in a fine position to pay it off down the road.  You don't have to know what you want to do for the rest of your life - just do something worthwhile now so that you CAN do what you want to do for the rest of your life when you figure it out. 

 

Everything just feels like failure to me.  No matter what I do.  I can't do anything for myself without an enormous avalanche of guilt burying me alive. I spend 40 hours each week at a job I don't even want to be at anymore, really loathe being at, as a matter of fact, because I made a lot of stupid decisions a lot of years ago, and now I don't even have the option of staying with my daughter and cherishing the moments that are already passing so quickly. And the worst part is that I have no idea how to fix it.  I don't know how it's ever going to feel any better.

 

I have some days when I just cannot put on the face to cover all of this up.  And it's the worst at home.  When it's like that, I feel even more guilty because I know I'm making it harder on Ryan, but I can't muster up the energy to try and fake it.  I know he struggles, especially when I'm so down.  But it's also super hard for me to feel like I have to fake it most of the time.  I expect to have to try at work, around other family members, all of that.   It's always like that.  But my internal battles are putting too much stress on my husband, and so I have to try and absorb it at home too.  Because I know it's not fair of me.  But it's so hard to not have anyone to crumble to when I so often feel like I just want to crumble.  To just be held and told that I'm not a horrible person for not being able to sort this out on my own, and that I'm not ruining anyone else's life just because I can't get mine together during this period.  Because a lot of times I don't know if those things are true, and I don't really have anyone reassuring me.  And right now, I could really use it.

 

Truthfully, I'm a lot more scared about how I've been feeling for the past month then I admit to anyone.  And I'm a lot more scared that I don't know if or when it's going to get better.  I've never felt this much about this many things all at once.  My whole identity has been shuffled since becoming a mom, and I'm still trying to figure out who I'm becoming - it's only been 5 months.  I just don't know yet.  And that makes it all the more impossible for me to deal with any of this effectively.  I'm confused, and I'm scared, and I'm not seeing how I'm ever going to find a balance.  I'm trying really, really hard to see it.  I want to see it.  I'd give anything to see it.  I just can't right now.

Is this it?

It's been a while. It's now almost August and I've been back to work for almost two months exactly. I guess you can say I'm in a routine now. It's become just life again. But I'm working non stop now because Ada is 4 and a half months old, and my work doesn't stop when I clock out for the day. I have to say I'm exhausted. I've never had so much to do all the time. Not to mention the awful bout of insomnia I've been battling for a month now. It all adds up to basically make me crazy. I'm running on fumes every day, and sometimes it's okay, and other times I feel like I should be locked up in a mental institution. I wish I were joking. Ada is becoming such a little person. Nothing brings me more joy and laughter. I fall more in love with her every day. She is my constant, and the only tether I have to any form of sanity right now. If I couldn't count on seeing her big gummy smile saving me every day, I don't know what I'd do. Honestly. She is the greatest thing I could ever have imagined. And that's really important for me right now, because I sort of feel like everything else is falling apart. Some days she is the only thing that makes me happy. I'm having a really tough time being happy right now, is the thing. And the constant not sleeping is making it 1,000 times worse. I keep finding myself coming back to the same phrase in my mind, over and over. That this isn't the life I wanted. And I don't mean having a family - that is the thing I wanted all along. It's the being a working mom. Constantly having a running list of to-do's that I know I'll never catch up with. But that list keeps me from fully enjoying and focusing on the few precious hours of the day that I do have with my daughter during the week. I don't know. I pictured it differently in my mind before she was born. I was sure I'd be the type of person who would be fine wih working full time and being a mom. But I'm not. I'm not doing very well with it. I'm overwhelmed with guilt and chores. The fact that there is never enough time on the day suffocates me. I kind of hate it. And add to that the feeling of utter failure and weakness of being the one woman in this country who just can't handle a job AND a baby. I used to love working. Now I resent every minute of it for robbing me of so much time with my rapidly growing baby. And severely diminishing the quality of the time I do have with her. But I absolutely have no option of not working because our money situation is so bad and we have so much debt. I've never felt so trapped and smothered and hopeless. It's really no wonder I can't sleep anymore. I don't really know what to do. I am honestly taken aback by the complete and total rage I feel sometimes. And the resentment. The guilt. The envy of everyone who doesn't have to feel this every day. I need to see a therapist on my own. Ryan and I still need to see a therapist together to try and fix our issues in our marriage. But chalk that up to another of the many things we need but can't afford. I feel like everything is going to go to shit before we can. I've honestly just never felt this awful. And I don't know how it's going to change. Because as I said, this isn't the life I wanted. Some days I can do okay. But a lot of days re really really horrible, and I can't lift a finger out from under the weight of all I feel. I'm totally in over my head and I don't think I can dig myself out of this one.

12 Weeks My Arse

This is my last week of maternity leave.  It's already Wednesday.  I woke up this morning at 5:05, and felt pretty certain that I will now be awake until next Monday when I go back to work.  Forget about turning off my brain long enough to get any rest before then.  I am leaving my three month old daughter in the care of OTHER PEOPLE 40 hours per week.  How many freaking hours are in a week anyways?  Please hold while I consult my calculator because I am mathematically challenged.  ::pleasant hold music::

168.  168 hours in a week.  40 of which will be in daycare.  Approximately 63 hours spent sleeping, because my baby is an awesome sleeper, and sleeps more than I did during years 13 through 18.  Which leaves me with 65 hours with my baby each week.  Does this seem unfair, ridiculous, cruel, impractical, and any millions of other possible negative adjectives which fit this scenario, to anyone else?  She's a baby.  I'm a baby.  We need each other. 


I joke, but I'm seriously about to have a nervous breakdown.  I don't know if I can do this.  I can't even think about it for more than 5 minutes without getting tightness in my chest and racing thoughts, and a horrible lump in my throat.  What am I going to do?  I think it's horrible that mothers have to leave their tiny babies so early in this country to go back to work.  And I'm extremely resentful about it right now.  But I suppose that is for another post.


It is breaking my heart.  For three months I have been at her side nearly every moment.  I'm watching her grow and learn new things and get smarter and funnier and more affectionate and coordinated every day.  How the hell am I supposed to just leave all of that to someone else all day long now?  She's going to do so many things for the first time under someone else's care.  I'm jealous.  I'm hurt.  I'm guilty.  I'm completely unprepared.  I think this might kill me.  Is she going to feel completely abandoned all day and miss me terribly?  Is she going to not miss me at all eventually?  Which one will hurt worse?  I don't even know.  But what I do know is that out of my entire life, these last three months have been the most important, and the most meaningful, and now I feel like I'm going to voluntarily fail at my job as a mother, which I think is the most important job in the entire world.  How can I not, when I'm only getting one more day a week with my child than someone else is, when all the hours are totaled up?  I don't know if I've ever felt so low about anything in my life.


I know that eventually I'm going to adjust and this is going to become my normal routine.  But I want to go on record that I hate that.  I don't think it's natural, and I don't think it's even remotely right.  All it means is that I'm going to adapt to being a little bit colder and harder, and allow this switching off of my emotional need for constant contact with my baby to become automatic.  It sucks.  And a world which requires me to do that sucks.  


I admit that there are times during the day when my very demanding and high maintenance daughter will scream and cry no matter what I do, because she needs constant stimulation, and I have the thought, "I'm going back to work next week!!!!" rather joyously.  But that only lasts about 10 minutes.  I will admit that there is a part of me that is looking forward to getting back into the working game.  I have friends there, and I enjoy my job.  But it's just that all of these other emotions are outweighing those things.  It doesn't mean they aren't there, but they're being trumped by motherhood.  I will find enjoyment in going to work again eventually, but I just don't think I'll ever feel completely at ease with it again.  Everything has changed.  Everything.  I'm so different than I was three months ago.  And in a couple of years I'm going to get to do this all over again! 


Hopefully.   :)

Ada

Ada is here.  She has been here for three weeks.  Born March 12th at 1:24 a.m.  She is perfect.  She is beautiful and bright and incredibly smart already.  I suppose every parent says that, but I swear on all that is holy it's true.  She started smiling at me when she was 10 days old.  She is now three weeks and one day old, and she's starting to make noises and get super excited when I talk to her.  And when she smiles up at me with all those gums, kicking her legs and balling her tiny hands into fists with so much effort to talk back to me, most of the time I cry a little bit.  I've never felt anything like that.  And she's getting more responsive every day.  You may not believe me, but it's absolutely true.  She has some crazy level of understanding and ability to communicate, and when she looks at me, I've never felt so naked in every single facet of my being.  Those eyes are like nothing I have ever experienced.

The first two weeks were an adjustment like I've never ever had to work through before.  And don't get me wrong - I'm still adjusting every day.  But the difference is, during the first two weeks I cried and cried for my old life, my old routines, my old freedom, and I constantly wondered - silently and aloud - just WTF I was thinking.  How could I think that I would be able to do this?  So, so much regret.  And it was hard some days to get up and take care of her.  I know this is common for new moms, but damn that horrible darkness I felt some days.  And now, a day into week three, something seems to have changed.  I still have moments where I get overwhelmed, and I need to get away for a few moments.  But basically, I feel capable, I feel calm, and there is this absolutely incredible love growing inside of me for this little creature that I'm starting to just sit in awe of, and be totally amazed.  I was so scared I wasn't going to develop it in those first two weeks.  But it's starting to completely take me over.  And there are now an increasing number of moments throughout the day where I look down at her, and I am more excited than I have ever been in my entire life that we have so much ahead of us.  She is already bigger.  She's already more beautiful.  She's already changing so much.  I don't want to take a single moment for granted.

She is teaching me.  I am learning from her.  Sometimes it's really challenging to be alone with her all day long while Ryan works, and then have other challenges when he is home.  But part of the reason I'm feeling so much more comfortable recently is BECAUSE I have been spending so much time with her.  I'm learning about her - her personality, what she likes and doesn't like, what calms her and what makes her more upset, how she likes to be held, and what she's trying to tell me with her body language.  I'm by no means a pro at this yet.  I'm just learning.  But I feel like I'm getting to know her so much more lately.  And it makes me want to care for her all the more.  She's so tiny, and she's been thrust into this strange, loud, scary world outside of me.  The moment I hear her whimper or cry, I want to be there.  I want her to know that I will always be there just as soon as she needs me.  I feel that especially right now, in these early weeks and months, we are laying a foundation for our relationship with her, and how she feels with us.  I was so scared that I was royally effing that up in the first couple of weeks.  But now, I am developing such a drive to make sure that I am there.  That's all, really.  Just so she knows I'm there for her.  She comes first.  No matter what else I have going on at any given second, she is the most important.  I think she can tell the difference.  I feel it from the very core of my being when we are looking at each other.  There is such an understanding, and it's the most moving thing that I've ever felt.  I just can't put it into words, even though I keep trying and trying.

 

About Today

Today as I was driving to work, another car pulled out of a CVS right in front of me, even though there was nobody behind me. Waiting that extra 2.7 seconds to make his turn was going to send this guy over the edge, apparently. No more than a minute later, I watched yet another car do the same thing to the guy who did it to me. And then, you guessed it, yet still another car, pulling the same tired rabbit out of the same tired magic hat, cut off that car. While it was becoming a slightly amusing, if not moderately irritating chain of karmic justice (which almost never happens, in my experience), all I could really ponder is this one question: When did everyone become so freaking entitled? Also, as a side note, the stereotype about people in the Midwest could not be more inaccurate. I honestly think that some of the biggest assholes in the entire world are centralized right here in the good ol' "Heart of America".

It's not like I don't witness approximately 27 acts of vehicular retardation and/or asshole-osis every day during my trips to work and home. But today it just really got under my skin that nobody really truly gives a crap about anyone else anymore. Nobody cares about being courteous or patient, and everyone just thinks they don't have to act in any way that won't fulfill their immediate selfish needs. Rules don't apply to me. I want what I want, and if you're an obstacle to me getting what I want exactly when I want it, you're just going to have to be bowled over. And I will never consider how that makes you feel. Ever. And yet they're the same people who will be completely flabbergasted when someone does the same thing to them. It's so unjust! Nobody has the right to treat me this way! What do you mean I just did the same thing to you?! Does not compute! It's called the Golden Rule. Heard of it? You can't expect to be treated with respect and acceptance if you're not willing to behave this way to others. Sometimes you actually have to put yourself aside to give someone else the treatment they deserve. I know. How awful. Me, me, me. Cry. You have no right to not to treat me like royalty just because I don't find you important enough to be considerate of!  Mehhhhhhh.

I really have nowhere to go with this. I'm just feeling like people are becoming more and more despicable these days. And they don't even care. I'm also cranky 89% of the time now, because I'm 9 months pregnant and there's a little person stealing my entire body from me and making my pelvic region feel like it's been pinned under a Mack Truck for 12 days. Yet somehow I can still "muster up the energy" to be considerate of other people. Funny that.

Oh, and Happy Valentine's Day.

A month?

Remember when I said 9 weeks?  How about 4.5 weeks? 

I'm finding that I'm becoming less fearful, and more anxious, however.  Until the first real contraction I feel, I'm sure.  Then I will be all fear again.  But right now, I'm feeling ready.  Not just because I can't sleep anyways.  Because I just want to do this.  Sometimes I feel like I should step back for a second and really take in these last few weeks of the life that Ryan and I have grown so accustomed to, because it will never be like this again.  But I can't even do it whole-heartedly, because I'm so distracted by everything.  Also, I think that part of it makes me a little sad, even though I know it's for a greater good.  And I don't need yet another thing to make me unnecessarily sad.  

My baby shower happened this past weekend.  I am so grateful to my friends and family for their generosity.  We got so much amazing stuff.  There is so incredibly much LESS that we have to find the money to buy ourselves now, and that is a huge relief.  I'm having so much fun sorting through everything and getting it organized for when Ada arrives.  It's still hard to believe, looking at some of these ridiculously adorable tiny outfits, that there is going to be an actual baby in them in a few weeks.  MY baby!  It's one of those things that I know, but can't quite grasp.  It's hard to imagine.  I've seen her perfect little face in a perfect little 3D picture, but I still can't imagine her, somehow.  

My baby shower was nice because I got to spend some time with my Kentucky family again - I've been missing them so much since our visit right before Christmas.  And I got to see a very good friend whom I haven't seen in a long time.  We had a wonderful time catching up, and it was like we never missed a day.  I'm grateful for friends like that.  You come to find how rare they actually are.  But I am lucky enough to have found more than one.  And then there are the ones you realize that you are just never going to be able to have a relationship with again.  There were two people this weekend I sadly realized it's just never going to work with.  When you can't even put yourself aside for a few hours to celebrate such an enormous occurrence in my life, I know that there's nothing else to say.  And I wish that there weren't those couple of things to spoil an otherwise amazing weekend, but it's just life.  I'd prefer to focus on the good parts of the weekend, which were plentiful.


I'm off to the doctor's this morning, and thus will begin weekly visits for me.  I know this little girl needs another week and a half before she would be deemed okay to greet the world, and I can certainly wait it out for her.  But I have to say, I kind of wish that as soon as I hit that 37 week mark, things start happening to get this process going.  I'm growing more anxious as the days go by!  Also, I want to know an estimate of how big she is, because I'm kind of starting to obsess about it.  Surprise!

9 Weeks

Nine weeks.  Nine.  I keep saying that to myself over and over, like some kind of temporary mantra.  The more I say it, the scarier it becomes.  Sometimes you say words over and over in your head and they end up sounding like nonsense.  They lose their meaning.  Not this.  I keep saying "nine weeks" and feeling like I might throw up.


I know I've told people that my pregnancy almost didn't seem real until I started feeling the baby move.  But I'm taking that back.  It hasn't seemed all that real until now.  In fact, the reality of the situation is all of the sudden crashing down on me, and I'm really really trying to keep my shit together, but I'm becoming a little unraveled inside, and it's increasingly challenging to hide that.  As if I wasn't freaking out unnecessarily about little things before, now I really am.  I know I seem like a crazy person sometimes, but at this point all I can do is say "I know, and I'm sorry".  Because there will be nine more weeks of it.  Give or take.


I've been a procrastinator my entire life.  I can't say if I've been procrastinating about the things I need to get done before the baby arrives, because this is my first time, and I'm kind of feeling lost.  I don't really know if I've been keeping on a good timeline or not.  What I can say, is I feel totally and utterly disorganized.  I may put things off for longer than I should, but I always have a game plan.  I can be a little OCD about the order in which I carry out a process to make sure it's right.  But I'm in unfamiliar territory here, and I feel like there are 10,000 balls in the air, and I can't even pretend that I'm going to be able to catch even half of them.  As I'm trying the best I can to make some sort of sense and coherent list of projects that I need to focus on, I keep freaking out about the fact that I don't and can't really know when I'll actually go into labor either.  What if it's early?  What if I go in the middle of February, and I have absolutely NOTHING prepared?  This is just one of the hundreds of things working in close partnership with my increasing hip pain to keep me up all night long.  Every night.  Because just in the rare and unlikely case that my baby ends up being an awesome sleeper, we need to make sure that I have to combat some period of sleep deprivation.  It's the law of mothers, right?


Sometimes I feel like I'm an oven burn.  You know when you reach into the oven to pull out your casserole dish, and your hand hits the top, and you get super angry?  Well, then for the next couple of days, even the air rushing over top of that burn feels like sandpaper being raked across it.  Every little tiny thing that would normally just make me roll my eyes or shrug my shoulders is sending me into a tizzy.  Sometimes I go in the bathroom and cry for a few minutes over the stupidest things.  This combination of hormones, stress, and 1,000 fears has turned me into a metaphorical oven burn.


I am looking forward to getting the labor and delivery over with, however, because the following things I've taken for granted for so long are like little nuggets of Heaven encrusted in diamonds and motivating me past my terror of pushing an 8 pound baby out of my vag, because I know they await me shortly-ish thereafter:


1. Sleeping on my stomach


2. Being able to walk for more than 10 minutes without feeling like one of my old Barbies whose leg would pop off randomly at the hip.


3. Maybe even taking a jog!  At least starting the slow process of getting my body into good condition again and feeling strong.


4.  Vigorous and exciting sex in positions all the colors of the rainbow, and maybe even putting on a corset once in a while again, for god's sake.


5.  Wine.  More wine.  Sharing bottles of wine with my husband over dinner. Also, my boyfriend on the side, Samuel Adams.  


6.  Bending over to pick something up or moving something heavier than a piece of paper without everyone around me looking on in horror as if I'm committing suicide/murder right in front of them and screeching at me.


7.  Not feeling crazy.