It’s been so long. I’m sorry. It’s been a whirlwind of maternity leave, going back to work, dieting, not dieting, caring for the baby, feeding baby, making baby food, fighting depression, visiting family, smelling her neck, finding balance...that honestly, I haven’t felt in the least bit creative. Especially writing here.
We even moved in the meantime. We did it. We moved to the burbs. How cliché. Cliche but perfect, and I haven’t even felt creative enough to hang any artwork, something I used to devote whole weekends too.
I’m finding my place, our place and it’s going surprisingly well, but I need more time before I can figure out exactly where I fit in this.
Thanks for checking on me. On us.
This explains so much
I went to my general doctor today as a follow up appointment to my PPD appointment 3 weeks ago. I was telling him that being mentally clear has helped me to deal with the grieving I had to do over my labor and delivery. The emergency c-section, inducing, horrible recovery, etc. After telling my story he looked at me very sternly and confirmed that I was under-medicated for my c-section. I should have never been able to move in bed or get on all fours’s (they had me do this right before my c-section to get A. off her cord). I shouldn't have been able to move my legs immediately after surgery in the recovery room, or writhe in pain, etc.
So basically, I used the Bradley Method to get through a c-section.
I’m not going to lie, I feel pretty bad ass and MY GOD so much more hopeful for kid no. 2. I was terrified of having another c-section or going through labor only to have an emergency one, just for the recovery period alone. I thought I was crazy when I'd hear other ladies talk about their c-section births and it not be a big deal.
It was a big god damn deal, apparently.
I know this is horrible, but I cannot tell you how much peace this brings me. I thought my body failed me, that I did something wrong. No, no apparently I’m f-ing Clint Eastwood of the Maternity Ward. Just give me a leather strap and a bottle of whiskey.
I can do anything and now, especially, I can move on.
God I'm boring even myself
I'm so just...well, writer's block I guess. The days are a blur of working crazy hours, coming home, taking care of the babes, falling asleep early after trying to read. I'm actually doing pretty decent. I'm reading a fabulous book: How to Be Free in an Unfree World, by Harry Brown. HIGHLY RECOMMEND THIS.
It's basically lifting my fog, well...that and Wellbutrin. ;)
I've also joined a lady at work creating a new site for words from new moms, I'm taking pics and things are looking up.
I also have the cutest baby ever. So there's that.
I'm having a little setback here in these parts. As you can see from the time stamp, it's 3:09 a.m. when I'm starting this. The pregnancy insomnia never left I guess. I also cried on the train yesterday. Sigh.
Soooo that being said, I'm finding a therapist tomorrow morning. I have numbers, programs for free sessions, you name it. I'm nervous because well, I don't know, that I'll be never be fixed without major life upheaval? I just am. I'll report on that later I suppose.
I also realized that I no longer can tell myself the "but...."s. I can't say "Sure, I just stubbed my toe but I look fabulous in this black dress." Instead I spiral...."I stubbed my toe. I should just run away because I'm so clumsy no one could want me."
In order to look a little ahead instead of all the regretting I've been doing about the past, I decided to do a little goal list here, just to get me excited for the future again. I miss that. In fact, I reread this from November 2007:
I want to go to Italy. I want to buy full-priced shoes. I want to decide at 3:00 p.m. on a Tuesday that I'm meeting my friends for wine until 2:00 a.m. I want to pick guitar playing back up after years of telling myself we don't have the money for lessons. I want to buy a house and completely design it as I've dreamed. I want to go dancing, a lot. I want to eat more French food. I want to buy a new camera and focus more on photography. I want to be gloriously self-indulgent.
Totally selfish things to accomplish in Winter/Spring 2008:
1.) Find someone off Craig's list to give me guitar lessons.
2.) Take road trip to Nashville with co-workers (by April).
3.) Learn to sew a skirt and make 2 by Spring.
4.) Book flights for Italy for traveling Spring 2009.
5.) Volunteer at adoption agency.
6.) Take dance lessons.
Wow, I don't even remember writing this. I don't even remember this girl, actually. It was nice to see I accomplished a few of those things: Trip to Memphis, not Nashville, volunteer at adoption agency. But still.
Who was this girl?? I'm finding it hard to remember her.
Anyways, here goes....my new list.
1.) Exercise once a day. (Whether it be walking after dinner, bike to the train or pilates DVD. Something.)
2.) Take a picture every day of something. (I'm going to start the 365 project again, this really got my creative juices going.)
3.) Get my 401k organized. (Thankfully I was pleasantly surprised when I checked it last time, but I never know where it stands and since it is something I'm proud of, I should.)
4.) Make a plan for the next year for our budget. (We want to move, we should figure out how to make this happen.)
5.) Get another promotion at work by next June. (Working on this, but slipping.)
6.) Take dance or guitar lessons alone. (I am longing for this.)
7.) Start a monthly card / food night with my friends. (Working on this currently.)
I think I'll stop there. It's not really a huge plan for long-term future, but it's something to work on that doesn't have me wallowing in self-pity. I'm so tired of everything. Yet I can't sleep.
Week One of Wellbutrin
My goodness what a difference I feel. How do I know? I clipped my daughter's finger with her nail clippers Sunday night, it bled, she bawled but I didn't. I comforted her, apologized and got her to calm down and only thought very very very briefly about being a shitty mom.
This is progress.
I still feel a little disconnected from people. A lot less tolerant. I wonder how much of that is just being a mother. I wonder if once you pop out that kid, your bullshit tolerance just goes waaayyyyy down.
I have been dragging my feet about finding a therapist and making my follow-up appointment. Not really out of fear so much as being busy at work and sorta lazy. The therapist thing...I had one I loved years ago, it was really an awesome experience. Hell, I lost 14 lbs. but for some reason I'm nervous. Maybe there is a part of me that likes this muck.
I recently read and fell even more in love with Julie at A Little Pregnant. "The notion that because we didn't go through X or Y in the childbearing arena (the vadge-osphere?), we're somehow less — maybe not less of a mother, but possibly less of a woman, less of a fighter, less of a winner. I understand where that feeling comes from; it's rampant among infertiles. Still, I reject it. With compassion, I reject it. Doing it at all makes us magnificent. I wish any other implication made us not sad, but angry."
Addie's birth very much affected me. If I can sort out anything with a therapist, it would be that. I didn't want a c-section, I wanted natural labor. Instead I got pitocin, an epidural, my water broke manually, stuck in a bed. But I was 43 weeks pregnant. I mean....was she going to come on her own?? With that head, who knows. I got the epidural after 13 hours of Pitocin labor....I carry that as a badge of honor and a disappointment. Why does it affect me so?
I don't give two shits about what other moms think of me. I never really have got into that game of competing, but I can't stop doing it to myself. Maybe in the near future I can work this out. Especially before baby no. 2....Dear Sweet Baby Jesus.
You know though, Addie is brilliant. She has had a fever for two days but so far, she's mad as hell but still sleeping like a champ. How did I get so lucky?
Wellbutrin, I love you
I feel like I'm under water, like I can't laugh or be completely light. I feel heavy. I sleep 8 hours yet I'm still exhausted. I cry for no reason. In fact, I cried in the doctor's office waiting room.
So I went to my doctor, not my OB but my regular guy, who always makes me feel like a person. We talked for about an hour and now I have some options and a plan.