I met someone

No not like that, a friend! Seriously just a friend. 

 

But first a quick update.  The past three months after going back to work have been rough.  I was home by happenstance for a year with Jonah and when I went back to work, I was ready. I have not been ready with the baby.  At four months old and returning to work, I feel like I have lost my baby.  I have become bitter, irritable, and emotionally labile.  All I had to do was think about my baby and my lost time with her and I would start bawling.  All I had to do was walk in my house and I could pick a fight with the husband.  I resented people who simply wanted to love on us.  Oddly work was okay as it served as a distraction from my rage, and I like my job. 

 

I felt like I was on a hamster wheel grabbing the kids and getting them to daycare everyday, working a long day, then coming home to a husband that left for night classes, and then to collapse every night by 9.  To say I felt overwhelmed is accurate.  And I was fucking pissed.  Pissed that I was missing out on being with my baby.  That I felt like I had no quality time with her, or for myself, or my laundry, or anything by the way.  A two year old tends to dominate so when I was home with the kids there was no quality baby time. 

 

I finally got myself evaluated for post-partum depression to be told that no I don’t have it and that I needed to stop working or work part-time, that is the only way I would feel better. Um, not helpful. At this point I cannot simply reverse the choices we have made that have led to me working full-time.  So I have been slowly working at working through my anger and being happier. This working full time is my choice and I have to make the best of it.  As the husband said, why did we work so hard to get to this place just to be miserable?  I can say after a month I do not cry every time I think of being away from the baby, we are carving out time for me to have quality time with the baby, I have told many people how unhappy I was and the support and understanding has lessened my bitterness, and I work hard at being happier.  So far it is working.

 

Also I made a new friend.  And granted we have only had two dates, but I feel really optimistic.  We have been in California for two years now and I have only made one friend.  And while this one friend is awesome we are very different and I don’t actually relate to her that much.  She is rich and lives a pretty opulent lifestyle, skinny blond tits on a stick, and works part-time with lots domestic help.  I just don’t feel comfortable talking about my woes.  In these two years I have felt like I am so different from most people I have met.  Then I met her.  She was a speaker at a professional development activity and as I listened to her, I kept thinking, wow I would like to be friends with this person. She is a professor of psychology with a private practice. I didn’t really know how to make a pass at her. So I decided after her presentation I would ask for her private practice info so perhaps I could refer clients to her.  She said she wasn’t taking new clients right now.  As we were talking one of my colleagues who also attended the presentation shtupped in-“You should be friends, you have a lot in common.”  We both realized we had kids around the same age, she mentioned a playdate, and I got her number.

 

I waited a few days because I didn’t want to appear desperate, because I am. I sent her a text message but never heard back.  The there was a professional happy hour and my colleague was like you should go, she is gonna be there.  But I couldn’t go. So I called the number and learned it was her office at the University so she couldn’t have gotten the text.  So I left a voicemail.  But I didn’t hear back.  Then two weeks later my colleague told me she had asked for my email and he gave it to her. Then I got an email explaining that she was on maternity leave and didn’t regularly check her messages but she would love to get together!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  Does this sound like being single and dating to you????

 

Anyhow we finally got together and I found out that we have so so so much in common.  We are both psychologists specializing in children, our husbands are both former military and we both dated long distance (including deployments), she is jewish her husband is not, we are both the major bread earners, we have two years olds and babies within two months of each other, and we are both BITTER!!!!!!!!!

 

Distracted Living

I am going on three weeks from changing my relationship with facebook and I gotta say this was a brilliant move for me. I never got hooked on twitter or instagram, so my social media addiction was limited to facebook. I go on once, maybe twice a day, for maybe 10 minutes. Some days not at all. It is quality time when I do go on. And when it is over, I think wow that is all it took to get what I needed. I was wasting so much time. Time that I could be looking at my kids, or getting my job done.  Of course since I decided to make this move, I have read a number  of articles that have wrote about much of what I was experiencing. They say it better of course.  4/11 of the babies due between September and January are here, and I love that I can go on facebook and see all the cute faces.  And I have not felt the urge to post anything nasty.  

Unplugging

Being a full time working mom of two is kicking my ass. Big time.  But today the ass kicking is a little too acute to blog about. I want to blog about it and I will, on another day that I won’t start crying.  I am struggling. So I am making some changes to make life a bit easier and enjoyable. One of those things is unplugging from facebook.

 

I have been having a love/hate relationship with facebook.  I have read about studies that report that the more time you spend on facebook the less happy you are.  I have read about how distracted we are by our smart phones. I was especially shocked by the recent incident that took place on a bus in SF. A suspected murderer waved a gun around, wiped his nose with it, put it away, took it out, and then later shot someone dead. A surveillance camera captured that no one noticed because everyone was looking at their phones. Our phones have changed us. 

 

I do not like the changes that have occurred within me.

 

A few weeks ago an acquaintance from my another stage in my life posted on facebook that a week after giving birth she was back to her pre-pregnancy weight. I was disgusted and immediately posted about her bragbooking.  In the hour following I watched how others agreed/liked/commented on/with my post. One good blog friend suggested I be more understanding, that perhaps this was a new mommy who was struggling. Well, I replied, this was NOT a new mommy, this was her second child. Another person from my high school days posted that it happened to her too and I shouldn’t hate on her. But, this commenter had previously shared with me that she didn’t know she was pregnant until she was 8 months gestation and she happens to be very overweight. I was like, how did you even know what you weighed!!! All this was going on in my head at 9:00 pm as I sat alone in my house. I was raging about the bragbooking and fakebooking. 

 

I realized I didn’t like how I was behaving .I was reacting poorly on facebook. I removed my post. Because the truth was I know the original poster struggled with a significant eating disorder. So her post had way more context than just merely bragging. And the commenter that didn’t know she was pregnant, she struggled with infertility and weight her entire life. Who was I to judge? But I totally was. In my facebook haze I was letting facebook get the better of me and spur me to be a person I didn’t want to be. 

 

I had been thinking about facebook a lot lately.  Something was going wrong with facebook and I. It was fun when I was first on it. It kept me connected to others, especially when I moved away.  I liked reading interesting links that others posted.  But increasingly the negative feelings I have while surfing facebook have more than outweighed the positive. I get annoyed and agitated by other’s posts. And I am not talking about the political stuff. What I deemed to be bragging, or gratuitous complaining bothered me. Or even worse were the posts that were inciting feelings of jealousy. I would post and look for validation through likes and comments.  And the most egregious influence is the distraction that facebook is for me. 

 

I have such limited time with my kids these days.  The time that I do have is not as quality as I yearn for. (I am not going to start crying.)  And what am I doing when I am with them? Staring at my phone, posting on facebook-feeling negative emotions.  This is not how I want to spend my time. 

 

Facebook has begun to feel toxic to me and like an addiction. When I am at work, when I should be working, I am checking facebook. When I am a passenger in the car when I should be looking out the window, or talking to the people in the car, I am looking at my phone.  I needed to do something about it.

 

I had about 380 facebook friends. I now have about 175. I unfriended  everyone that wasn’t actually a friend to me at some point in my life. All those acquaintances from different periods of my life-unfriended.  High school people who I was never friends with in the first place-unfriended.  I kept all my actual friends, my blog friends (there are only like five), and family members.  The people who I worried I might offend if I unfriended  them, because well I knew they were going through tough times-I didn’t want to inadvertently make them feel rejected by me-even though they probably wouldn’t notice-I hid them.  Family members who annoy the crap out of me, I hide their posts. 

 

Look I do not need to read about my cousin-in-law who during my work day is now making her own granola bars because store bought ones ar unhealthy-and then I rage about it. That really happened.  I had to make some changes. I kept everyone that I genuinely cared about and who I felt genuinely cared about me.  I am actually surprised that I kept 175 facebook friends. And of those 200 that I unfriended-have any noticed and contacted me?  Zero.

 

Then I took facebook off my iphone. Of course I could put it back on at any time.  But so far I have stayed on the facebook iphone wagon.  I do miss it. I do think about it. I do jones for it.  Those feelings confirm for me that I did the right thing. I do not want my children to see me staring at my phone rather than staring at or interacting with them.  Now if my children are sleeping and I have the time and energy, I go to facebook on our desktop computer at home.  I see what my real friends and family members have posted.  I don’t have the same negative feelings. I have consistently gone on facebook every evening since the purge.  Because I do want to see what is going on in the lives of those I care about-and apparently there are 175 people I truly and genuinely care about!

I have felt, freed.

Seriously, totally a good decision. 

Yep things have been rough. 

Good-bye to summer

I head back to work in 10 days after four months off to have a baby, complete a ludicrous toddler summer bucket list, and three months of all four family members together EVERYDAY (that has been both good and bad). I am hoping for some peace and quiet to blog. I miss it. I am also excited to wear a real bra. Two pregnancies later these suckers have moved south.  

When they ask...

And they will ask.

When did your alcoholism first start?

I will look them squarely in the eye and reply,

"When I took a driving family vacation with my two year old and newborn."

Bye bye google reader hello bloglovin

Google reader is soon to be no more, if you are one of the 7 official followers and want to continue to follow my shenanigans, see the button to the right, and follow via bloglovin.  Thanks for caring.

So long Army

This morning at the crack of dawn Josh ACU’d up and left for his last day of drill.  We are very close to being officially out of the Army.  After the green weanie dick dance of the last couple of months we are done.  It does make me laugh that he signed a contract for a year, but due to a technicality (he supposedly failed a PT (physical training) test-that never actually happened) and the contract was voided.  We then found out that that during the next contract there was a possibility of him being sent to another unit and being deployed.  I didn't even pause before-GET OUT-came flying out of my mouth.

While it certainly does make me a bit nervous that the healthcare safety net of Josh being an Army reservist is gone-truth is if all hell breaks loose and I am laid off, healthcare will be just one of the many problems we will have to deal with.  Some might say all the more reason to stay in the reserves.  Well I refuse to live in fear. Fear that I will lose my job. Fear that Josh will be deployed.  Fear that something will happen to him while deployed. 

Instead we are going to hope for the best.  We have made it this far, despite the crazy lady at the FRG tea telling me we were “CRAZY” to be getting out.  Seriously I think it is crazy not to believe in yourself and your own power to make your dreams come true.  We are the most important persons to believe.  So while there is a voice in my head crossing my fingers, I know we made the right decision.

Now this part cracks me up.  Josh’s contract ended 30 May.  Of course his out processing paperwork was not ready and he had to go to drill this weekend.  I was like you better be getting paid! (By the way I came down with a cold this weekend too, Army timing once again.)  On Monday 1 June I began nagging Josh to call Tricare to verify that he still had health insurance.  He kept saying they since he had to go to drill he was sure he did.  By Wednesday he couldn't take my nagging any longer and called. Yep they dropped him. Fortunately I had prepped with my employer and knew what we needed to do get him covered.  We got the DOD to fax us a letter showing he no longer had health coverage and got him enrolled on mine. 

My shoulders feel a bit larger knowing I am carrying this additional responsibility.  But I also feel pretty proud of myself for being able to support my family in this way.  As I looked at Josh this morning walk out in his ACU’s I still find him hot in uniform, but I also feel extremely proud of us that we boldly walked into civilian life and we are doing so awesome.  

Epic Play date Fail

I knew this day was coming. I mean three weeks in and I hadn't been reduced to a puddle of snot and tears.  I will celebrate that it took three weeks!

I continue to dedicate myself to making friends.  I have had a prospect in mind. A mommy that I met through a mom’s club I joined but rarely participated in when we first moved back to California. Over my spring break I went to an event. I also went to a mom’s night out ornament exchange in December (major bore fest) and met a mom that was also buying a house very close to ours.  So I have been kinda courting her and trying to make a connection. She has a kid close to Jonah’s age, she is from the Bay Area, she has an advanced degree, her husband is younger than her, see lots in common.  We should hit it off and be fast friends.  Well we email and facebook but she is super busy and we have never seemed to be able to connect despite living blocks away from each other for several months. 

Well last Friday an opportunity presented itself and I jumped on it.  She had invited me to a mom’s event, but I actually had plans with my one friend for a 90 minute play date.  She had suggested I come to this open gym thing and offered to loan me a sling to carry the baby around in.  I have been trying to baby wear. Not because I am buying into the whole natural momma I will create a genius if I wear, sleep and nurse all the day (no judgments just not for me). But because I have to chase after my hellion of a child and I want to actually leave the house this summer.  I had gotten the Ergo and the infant insert with Jonah. I like the Ergo, but the insert seems a bit suffocating and I found it unwieldy. I used it once.

People rave about the Moby, so I got a used one on ebay and for the life of me I cannot get it and the baby on me correctly.  The prospective friend suggested I try a ring sling and on the spur of the moment said her and her two kids would come by in the afternoon.  She would help me with it. Sounded great.  They got here and Jonah was still sleeping. He had been down for over two hours so I figured it was safe to wake him. I opened his bedroom door, which is what we do when we want to wake him.  I ignored the copious amount of data that I had accumulated over the past two years, that waking this kid from a nap is not a good idea.  He can wake in the foulest of moods. Also earlier in the week when we had family visiting he had a pretty strong reaction, shouting at them, ordering them to leave, not to sit in certain places, not interacting with them, throwing his present on the ground, ya know cringe inducing behavior.  He has become more adamant that I put the baby in the swing and be held more. I know this is all part of the adjustment to having a baby sister, but it is still hard to watch your child upset and also embarrassing.

So when Jonah finally got up, came out and saw these two strange children playing with his toys and of course I had to be nursing the baby at that moment, all hell broke loose.  He began screaming at the other children, “LEAVE NOW!!”  When that didn't work, he yelled at them “THAT’S ENOUGH!”.  Then he went in the other room and laid on the couch sobbing like I have never seen.  I quickly texted Josh that he needed to quit studying and come home from the library.  In the next  20 minutes while I nursed, Jonah continued his emotional behavior snatching his toys from these kids and such.  The prospect tried to help, but he just yelled at her and told her “NO TALKING”.  I WAS DYING!!!.

Finally Josh got there and took the kids in the back yard.  She began to show me how the sling worked and put the baby on.  The baby began to scratch her since we have yet to be successful trimming her fingernails because it has freaked us out. Josh did this when Jonah was a newborn, but he was chill, this baby goes all fist pumping when we try.  So the mommy fails were about to stack up. Yep my child  is rude and unruly and I don’t take care of hygiene. 

Josh then decided in his wisdom that he needed to come inside and have a bowel movement followed by making himself something to drink. Leaving the children unsupervised in the backyard. Now we will have Jonah in the backyard by himself while we are close by and doing something in the house, but it is for a short period of time.  I understand that another parent would probably not feel comfortable. Of course when Josh is taking his supervising hiatus I am on boob lockdown because the baby wanted to nurse again.  I could see the prospect getting increasingly worried (wipe faster Josh!). So when Josh finally exited the bathroom I asked him to go outside and supervise the kids. He replied he needed to get something to drink.  Add my husband is an ass to my list of fails. 

Next one of her children came in crying holding his face.  Apparently Jonah had struck him and left a mark.  At this point I was sweating profusely and horrified at how horribly everything was going.  I made Jonah come in and apologize. (Later I found out it was a complete accident).  We have been introducing discipline, it has not been that effective.  If we try to correct behavior Jonah typically laughs in our faces, or ignores us.  If we prompt him (it takes multiple prompts) to say sorry he can become contrite. So I was trying to get him to say sorry. I then got a lecture from the prospect on how that was not an effective strategy and at her four year olds preschool they work on building empathy and care giving and that saying sorry is just being a parrot.  I was done at this point and happy to see that she was taking her kids home.  

I did kinda learn how to use the sling.  The next day I wore it at the park for an hour and I have had a horrible back ache ever since.  Super.

This is the thing. The play date was horrible on several levels. I doubt this mom will ever socialize with me again.  She could very well have gone home and talked about me.  She could have told other moms in the group that I was a hot mess.  Or she could not.  I don’t know her well enough to predict what kind of person she is-judgy or understanding. And the truth is, if she judges me, well she is not the type of friend I want.  I rock on most days, this was a bad day.  My ego would stand up to her judgments.  However, not all of my ego would.  As we sat at dinner that night, I kept having flashbacks to the horrible afternoon and proclaiming to Josh what a disaster it was, and schooling him to hold his shit and supervise goddammit!!!  And then the voices in my head started railing on me.  I had been nursing constantly all day and the baby just would not settle. I finally gave her a bottle of formula and she had been conked out for two hours.  I was feeling like a nursing fail despite previously being so pleased with how nursing was going.  I felt like a fraud as a school psychologist who couldn't control her two year old. Oh yeah, prospect cracked a joke about my profession and parenting.  And then this mean thought entered my head; “It is probably a good thing you are not a stay home mom, you couldn't hack it and your kids are better off being parented by others part of the time.”  Yeah my mind went there and I sat at the dinner table bawling. 

Almost no one can make me feel like such tremendous shit like I can.  Why have I been able to not care so much what other’s think of me, but still judge myself so harshly?  I guess it is something I need to work on.  Being nicer to myself. 

I have signed Jonah up for many activities this summer, and I am hoping maybe I will maybe make some friends that way.  Sigh. 

The Second Time Around

Tomorrow the babe is three weeks old, time is already flying by.  I have to say I am finding another cliché to be true: the second child is WAY easier.  In fact everything has been easier.  My recovery from the C-section was quick. I was completely off pain killers, even motrin within a week. I was on them for several weeks before.  My mood has been totally stable. Only happy tears occasionally. No crazy thoughts, no general anxiety, no paranoia, just me being me.   I am not feeling overwhelmed.  I am even 4 pounds from my pre-pregnancy weight. Now to lose the 20 I have put on before I got pregnant the first time! There are moments balancing a toddler and a newborn where I feel some guilt, but not horrible. 

Josh and I keep commenting that we wish someone that was with us the first time in Georgia could see us now.  It is so drastically different. Josh even wondered what was so hard last time that isn’t this time.  I think many factors are at play. My recovery was from an almost vaginal delivery, induction and C-section that went all day.  I refused to get out of bed the next day. This time I wanted to get out of bed that evening and I insisted on putting on my own color coordinating pajamas, and did my hair and make-up. There are smiling pictures of me on the delivery day. Trust me there was no smiling last time.  Not trying a vbac was clearly the right choice for us.

Nursing is working. Those pesky flat nipples, not a problem for my daughter.  We had such difficulty with nursing last time that I gave up at 10 weeks and we were supplementing the entire time.  We were working with lactation consultants and were on a crazy schedule.  I vowed this time that if it was difficult again, straight to formula. I was not going to involve lactation consultants, was going to just follow my instincts. And I pretty much expected that nursing was not going to happen.  Well the baby is a nursing champ, no problems with latch, my production is just fine. I do give formula once a night when Josh gets up with her so I can get some extra sleep.  While I do not love nursing, I have done it in public a few times, though when we are around friends I grab a bottle. But as the baby and I get better at latching I am hopeful I will get more comfortable.  I just cannot handle manhandling my boob and repeatedly shoving in her face around familiar people. 

I also know having family around to help and not having the stress of figuring out our future has been huge.  Multiple stressers is just not something I can manage I have learned.  Adjusting to motherhood and trying to transition out of the military-just made everything amplified and unmanageable  I know that you cannot control what life will throw you at times, and timing can really suck, but I have learned a lesson that I will never again voluntarily tackle two major life transitions at the same time!!! 

We have also made a decision to keep sending our two year old to daycare.  I wanted to keep his routine somewhat the same and not be faced with sharing me 24/7 right away.  Plus he is a super busy social little guy and he would enjoy daycare more than being home with me.  Josh is in finals so he is gone most of the time and when I am home with both of them, sadly there is more TV on than I would ideally like.  But if I am nursing I just can’t give him that much attention or have him in the backyard.  I think Jonah is adjusting okay. Most of the time he is indifferent to the baby, but there are moments he wants me to put her in the swing and do something with him.  He can get pretty upset too.  It kinda crushes me when this happens, but I know it is part of a normal adjustment. Josh will be done with school for the summer soon and then I will have Jonah home full time.  Luckily a newborn does sleep a lot so I do manage to have some quality time each day.  This is how our quality time went last night:

Josh was away at class and thankfully the baby decided to take a long nap. I made a high quality dinner for Jonah of hot dogs, string cheese, and blue berries, of which he only ate the hot dogs.  Then it was bath time, something I have not done enough of (yes meaning I have not been the one to give him a bath, and he has gone several days without one-oops). I was having a great time and congratulating myself on managing both kids on my own that evening.  I took Jonah out of the bath and dried him off and then he began doing this cute thing he likes to do-run through the house naked yelling “Naked Boy!!” Trust me it is adorable.  I called out, be careful and as I came into the family room to grab him he came rushing through the kitchen and slipped, fell and immediately began crying at a high-pitched I am hurt level. As I rushed to him (luckily only a bump) I could see a flood of water was all over the kitchen and streaming towards the living room.  I comforted Jonah, cursed, and created a barrier to the family room and our new laminate floors.  Once Jonah had been calmed I got a diaper on him, put on Mickey Mouse and began dealing with the flood.  Basically Jonah had pulled the washing machine hose out of the wall and when the washer emptied-it did so all over the floor. The litter box is next to the washer, so among the flood was a floating kitty litter box with overflow.  I threw down every towel we had and got out the wet vac and through numerous texts messages figured out how to get it to work, since” someone” had never cleaned it since they built their snake house, I spewed dry wall dust all over the new kitchen cabinets.  About two hours later I had sucked up all the water and gotten all the wet towels outside.  The litter box I took outside and left for Josh to deal with it. I had my limits.  Thankfully the baby slept through the whole thing.  I now know better than to congratulate myself on how well I am handling everything.

A short hop to crazy town

Now just because I wrote that things went amazingly well does not mean there was not quite a bit of crazy. After all this is me we are talking about.  So my anesthesiologist and the nurse showed up and I began calmly and sanely briefing them on my previous “experience”.  They seemed somewhat mildly interested, but I could tell (or my judgy paranoia) what they were thinking, oh boy here comes crazy.  The anesthesiologist suggested rather than an epidural we consider a spinal block.  I asked some questions like which hurts more? Which procedure takes longer?  You know the important ones like risks and such.  The spinal block sounded pretty good to me. I actually tolerate shots better than IV’s and catheters. The needle is in me less time, I know that makes no sense, but it is true. However, not that I tolerate shots well. It usually takes someone to hold me down during the flu shot and even then I scream, wail, stomp my feet and cry. Yep, sexy.

So the plan was a cervical block and I was in a zen state, sorta.  I felt anxiety nipping at me, but I was not going to let it run amok. 

It was time and they took me to the operating room. Josh was getting dressed. Once in the OR I began asking for Josh and was informed he would be coming in once the cervical block and other things we done. NOT COOL. And not what I had been told would happen. I have been led to expect he would be there. Well I guess that was for deliveries where an epidural was completed in a labor and delivery room for a standard labor, not a C-section. I was pissed and began to argue with them.  I had a whole room of people telling me no, it was not good. I was not going to win, so I decided to just move forward.  We began to get me in position and there was a nurse who was pretty understanding and was in nurturing and cheerleader mode. 

The anesthesiologist was coming off as an ass to me.  Whether he was or not, who knows. So we start the procedure and everyone is yelling at me to stay still and curve my back. Have you ever tried to curve your back while hummungo prego? Go ahead try it.  And I kept flinching which seemed to piss everyone off. They kept saying, we told you to stay still. Um, hello I understand you but I cannot help it.  So yeah things were going great. Finally they got the block shot in, and I swear it was nothing. Putting an IV in hurts more.  I was like right on!!!!

Well then we waited for it to take. And waited.  And they touched my toes and I told them I could feel that. And they asked me to lift my legs and I did.  A lot of hmms around the room.  Then the anesthesiologist started poking my belly and asked if I could feel that. I said yes. He said in a very mocking tone (all possibly in my head), what did you really feel? “Pin pricks all over my belly” –you stupid dumbass. (last part said in my head, but I am sure my tone said it all.  Then my OB comes in and the anesthesiologist informs him the block may not be taking.  I heard these words and déjà vu exploded.  I was told they might have to do the block again. To which I said, “You most certainly will not.”  Of course the rational person would have been like, “sure no problem, that was a breeze, let’s do it again.” But ya know I am a crazy monkey, and all I could think of is here we go again, procedures not working, I am being blamed, more pain. Then the anesthesiologist says if you won’t let me do it I am going to intubate you and give you general anesthesia.  And then came the F-bombs. “There is no fucking way you are doing that! Get me my husband, NOW.

 JOSH!! JOSH!! JOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Lovely right?  They still refused to bring him in.  My OB at that point, who is this very mellow cheery dude and had only seen me act like a nice normal person for nine months, suggested we roll me on my side (I have no idea what that would do) and did an exam and proclaimed the block was working and we just needed to wait a bit.  I continued to cuss a blue streak, say things like, what don’t you people listen to me and take my feelings seriously (yep got all shrinky and played the guilt card) and bring me my god damned husband!!!! 

At this point the anesthesiologist says we need to give her something to calm down.  Who knows what they gave me, I will find out, but the next thing I know is I am taking a magic carpet ride and I am laughing nonstop.  They bring in Josh and say “here is your husband”. To which I proclaim, “That’s not my husband.”  Josh sat down at my head, he was all covered in a mask and hat and I began grilling him and telling him he needed to prove he was my husband and tell me things only he would know. He was like oh shit, what happened.  I was like these assholes (yep went there) botched the procedure and locked you out. I kept asking Josh to “Prove it!” until I was convinced.  

And then we had a baby.  And I was pretty much coming back to earth.  And I had this moment, which I didn't even know was being photographed, but I just love. 

Josh went with the baby and I was sewn up and taken to recovery. In recovery the hallucinogenic mushrooms wore off and I had a perfectly normal conversation with the nurse (I think) and then I was taken to my room and got to really hold my daughter. 

So all in all in maybe 45 minutes of crazy, which probably to you all sounds pretty bad, but last time was days of crazy and like 10 hours of acute crazy.  So I still call this a win and think I did amazingly well.  So far we are doing well, my mood is stable, I am in love with my red headed daughter (YES!!!) and life is good.  

Let's put it this way

Last time: open heart surgery coupled with a lobotomy.
This time: getting a mole removed.

Afuckingmen.

Safe & Sound

Our daughter arrived safely this morning. And I was of sound mind. Alls good in the world today.

Ready or not

Come tomorrow baby number two is arriving! I am excited and not really that anxious. I am more anxious leaving  my two year old.  Seriously I am worried about him. Myself and the baby will be fine.  I have pretty much gotten everything done. Still some packing and organizing. But finished work about noon today. Have a few more errands to run. Still debating her name.  Have confidence that I am going to be chillhil tomorrow. No Hellery. Ginormous cankles, look like a hobbit. 

Ring around the green weanie

A take on ring around the rosy, a child’s game about scarlet fever. Yeah that joke is so not working. Well after a few days of being highly annoyed about the reserve contract sitch, the hubs headed to his weekend of drill with a list of demands/questions outlined by me. I also flew in one of my BFF’s from SF because I just couldn’t take it any longer. I wanted a friend around me for the weekend. 

Well lo and behold you ask again and get a completely different answer. How very army ya’ll. Josh was told he could extend for six more months and he simply needed to take a two week course that would add a skill or something. I was like great, bring it. In the several day interim which involved much green weanie castigating I found out I could put the husband on my health insurance asap with no extra cost. I was ready to cut sling load and wish the military good-bye. Yes I am that shallow. Our commitment had run its course. Then we were told about the six month extension and decided six more months was a good idea.

Well then the next day at drill came and they told Josh he needed to sign a contract and I swear in some voodoo induced haze without consulting me he signed a ONE YEAR CONTRACT.

ARGGGGGGGG!!!!!!!!!!!! WTF!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Now you say, what is six months? Well it is huge in terms of our family. Those six months mean another semester he cannot take weekend classes, another semester he cannot get a part time job that wants him to work on some weekends, it alters a lot in terms of schooling and work, which are big deals in this family. I was like totally livid, like crazy bitch head spinning spitting and speaking in tongues. Like I am embarrassed how ballistic I went. I demanded that he go in there and get that contract and rip it up and tell them his crazy wife was pulling rank. Yep I said that. I am telling you these pregnancy hormones are nuts!!! They said no, the contract stands. We had to just suck it up and deal.  This making unilateral decisions is so out of character for Josh, that I couldn’t be completely furious, I was just flabbergasted.  But what can you do? It’s done.

Well a few days later he gets a call and is told his contract didn’t go through because he still hasn’t passed  that same old PT test. So unless he passes it by May 8^th (6 days post birth), he is being kicked out of the Army. I am like really? I told him to go fucking fail that god-damn motherfucking piece of shit bullshit cocksucker  PT test.  But I would still like those six months, maybe. So who knows, we have yet to decide what to do. I am so fed up. I am so flipping crazy irrational right now. I cannot be trusted to make any decisions.  We probably need to just tell them to take their weanie and shove it up their arses. I mean I have a horrible attitude, even 38 weeks pregnancy excuse and all, we should just go. 

The Big Green Weanie

I should have known better than to declare my hope for status quo. The big green weanie (aka Army) must have been listening. Arg.  Basically when Josh joined the reserves it was a one year commitment. At the end of the first year (January 2013) he was offered the option to extend another year.  We took it. Or so we thought. Well apparently he failed a PT (physical training) test and they only extended his contract six months until May. This is total horseshit on many levels. First as Josh will freely tell you, have you seen some of the fat fuck sack of shits in the reserves? He didn’t fail a PT test and if he did he would have re-taken it. Also no one told him that his contract was six months.  The reserves have been a monumentally less than positive experience for him.  Some of this is to be expected after 8 years of active duty. But the bullshittery makes Active Duty look like a well run German transit system.  We have kicked around leaving the reserves, as many of our original reasons for joining the reserves are no longer as relevant.  But reasons still exist.  So yesterday we got some super news.

 

It is time to deal with Josh’s reserve contract.  These are the options. He can extend another year. He can re-enlist for multiple years. But, he must go to training to change his MOS (Military Operational Specialty, aka the job role he is assigned, right now 11-Bravo-infantry).  Changing his MOS involves going to school for 5-10 weeks out of state this summer. WHAT????? This sucks on many levels.  Yes, I know 5-10 weeks of training is nothing compared to a year of deployment to a warzone, I TOTALLY get it.  But one of the primary reasons we left active duty was to  not to have family separations.  We have a pretty great summer planned too. And I have this vision and expectation of this summer for my little family.  I am going back to work 3.5 months after having my daughter and I was already cherishing this special family time we would have together. Josh being gone and me wrangling a newborn and toddler on my own, not what my heart had hoped for.  Begin crying jag #2834854 of the day. 

 

I have been highly emotional these past few weeks. More like highly bitchy. Everything and everyone annoys me pretty much.  Foul things come out of my mouth.  I know much of this, if not all, is due to being 37 weeks pregnant and the anxiety that comes with this major life change.  I do not trust myself to make any kind of rational decision right now.  And this reserve contract is a HUGE decision, that takes rational thinking.  Oh and the retention specialist told us to make the decision in a few days. I was like oh you can go fuck yourself, there will be no quick decision until we have more information from you shitbags and we have more information on our end about ramifications to our lives.  I told Josh I would be happy to talk to the retention specialist if they had a problem. HA!

 

There is so much about this situation that bothers me. Number one, who the fuck waits until weeks before a contract expires to throw out these rules? The reserves apparently.  And why must he change his MOS? It is not like his unit deploys overseas and he needs to have some special skills.  His unit deploys to Texas and does pre-mobilization tasks.  And in the 10 years of war his unit has never “deployed”.  So for the Army to need this makes not a hell of a lot of sense. Also they don’t care what the MOS is, just needs to not be 11-Bravo.  So go to the time and expense of getting a new MOS, for what??? And when he joined the reserves this was never mentioned.  So in a matter of months the Army will get him in some school and off he will go? I just don’t see them getting their act together that easily. Likely the school will fall during his school semester, fuck with school and many other things.  Or it could happen this summer and ruin it for me. I know, WHOA is me.

 

The main reason to stay in the reserves right now is as a back-up plan for health care G-d forbid I lose my job.  Also if Josh was to stay in 10-15 years longer he would have retirement, that is a far second consideration.  It does provide some income 150-300 a month, which is something.  So we don’t really know what to do.  My gut reaction is to get out and roll the dice. Selfishly have the summer I want. But how many times can we roll these dice and get a good outcome?  So I am hopeful we can make a rational decision and get some more data.  But heck, I am so not in the mood for this.  I want to lay on the couch, eat ice cream, and watch Bravo. Occasionally let batshit crazy verbiage fly out of my mouth. That is it. That is all I am good for the next two weeks.  What to do? I have no fucking idea. And oh, there will be no fucking right now, despite my husband’s extremely twisted and vile libido. 

Then vs. Now

People love to tell you things when you are pregnant. It is like the belly brings out the sage in everyone. I really don’t mind unsolicited advice, I ignore it if I don’t agree or it doesn't apply.  Some people are kinda annoying about it, but I let it speak about them rather than rile me up.  For example, Josh’s uncle has an incredibly annoying girlfriend, who most people don’t care for. She is also a close talker which amplifies her vex factor.  Before we started trying for baby number two there was a half serious joke going around.

That perhaps we should spin the sperm in order to have a baby girl. My mother-in-law has always wanted a girl after having two boys of her own and there are no girl cousins/nieces on her side of the family.  People got really into the idea and even started offering money to the fund.  At the end of the day I wouldn’t go there for multiple reasons, but it was fun to joke about.  Well annoying uncle’s girlfriend had lots of opinions about why we should not do this and would not give it a rest.  Then the uncle broke up with her, we all rejoiced, I got knocked up with a girl naturally, and then they got back together, horror.  She got all up in my face at my son’s second birthday party telling me how right she was, it took everything in my 8^th month hormonal power not to say something.  I walked away mid-lecture and she commented that I was rude. HA!

Anyhow I digress, then vs. now.  So this pregnancy is much different than my first.  But it is mostly due to what is happening on the outside vs. the inside.  It is way different working full time while pregnant versus laying on the couch adjusting to my new life.  It is very different having a toddler to take care of versus planning for your first baby.  I attribute these two things to significantly less weight gain than last time, like 15 pounds less.  Not that I really put too much stock in this. I think it is kinda crazy when the doc told me he wanted me to gain 15-20 pounds. I was like who does that?  There is like this ridiculously fit army wife who was weight lifting and going to spin class five times a week until 36 weeks and she gained 30 pounds!!! So when I gained 40 pounds with the first I was like whatever. I lost all but five of it, so cool. Now I have gained between 20-24 depending on the day, and I am like huh? I am definitely not eating or exercising better. I think I am just moving more due to life.

The other big difference is the feeling of being settled.  Last pregnancy so much in our life was up in the air.  We were hoping to leave the army and return home. But how and if we were going to be able to do that, we just didn’t know. And I worried about it constantly.  A lot of our decision, almost everything, depending on me getting a job.  That as I whined a lot about was extremely difficult. In the end I did not get a job, we left the army anyway, and moved back home to Josh’s parents.  Neither of us had jobs, but we did have a baby, cat, reptiles and a lot of crap.  It was incredibly stressful and horrifying. It was not how I imagined the circumstances of my life when starting my family. Especially at the age of 40, good grief.  I remember crying, I did that a lot, because I was focusing on job searching rather than mothering my infant.  Let the mommy guilt begin!!!

Throw in all the overwhelming feelings of being a new parent, and I often asked myself if I was crazy and if I was leading my life off the rails.  That maybe all along I had expected too much from my life. That marrying a military man that I had spent less than a 100 days with, leaving my life and moving cross country, immediately getting knocked up, and then lobbying to leave the army because I wanted to go back to California and lead a “normal life”.  Sounds nutso doesn’t it. Yeah that negative anxiety voice was taking charge.  This was the context of my first pregnancy.

Now, as I incubate our second child we are pretty much exactly where I wanted us to be.  And I feel settled. I am actually surpassing our expectations.  I have a great job that doesn’t require me to get on a  freeway and commute, is 20 minutes door to door with daycare drop-off.  That is pretty rare in Southern California. We bought a house!!! (With a great deal of assistance, but still, we are home.) Josh is going to school and enjoying it. And at the age of 41, we are having our second child, a girl that didn’t involve spinning sperm for.  No big life changes are on the horizon for probably 2 years when Josh graduates and hopefully enters the work force.  Not that I don’t anticipate life stressors, because that is life. I am sure a car will break down, or the HVAC, but hopefully nothing that money can’t fix.  I just hope for everyone to remain healthy, to remain employed, and to transition well to a family of four. 

I really don’t know how I got so fortunate to be living this life.  Because with pregnancy #1 I really had no fucking idea how things were going to work out, and pregnancy #2, I just hope for all that is working to keep working.  The other minor differences are that this baby moves WAY more than Jonah ever did. People like to say, “Oh that is because you know what to feel for this time”. Horseshit. She moves more, or my placenta is placed differently so I can feel more. In fact, Josh fessed up that he never felt the baby move when he touched my belly. Nice fibber. But this time, he can feel her all the time. Last night she was really pushing around in there, you can see my belly move, that never happened before, and Josh felt her and was like, is that a heel?  Does that wake you up?  So that part is kinda fun. I am also not as grossed out by pregnancy as before. I kinda knew my body was going to get gross. But this time, no horrid rash, I don’t pee myself as often, and due to having a job to go to I do shower and get myself more presentable.  Josh agrees that I am more attractive this pregnancy, interesting. What was he not saying last time???? 

Other than even worse asthma during the second trimester this time than last, it has been pretty much the same. And oh I have been way less worried about every little thing concerning the pregnancy. I do not go to my appointments with a notebook full of questions, I do not pester my doctor friends with questions, and I am not in major prep mode. In fact, there was no prep list and this week I finally started getting things together. My long time friends didn’t believe that I had waited this long and there was no spreadsheet.  I just didn’t feel the need, plus I had a lot of other shit to do in terms of the move and work. And it is not like I can get a nursery completely together because all the reptiles are living in there right now. The snake house should be completed about a week before the birth.  (crossing fingers)  And really all I need is a place for the baby to sleep, done basinet ready for our bedroom, changing station, (already have that for number one), clothes (handmedowns and carter’s took care of that), a new glider because the first one sucked and we still use it for number one (got an awesome shermag glider on craigslist), a double stroller (ditto about cl, and who knows if I will use it), infant carseat from last time is ready.  Plus we have a buttload of family that will be here to help, unlike last time.  So like we got this I think.  I feel like we got life by the balls in fact and we are WINNING!! Now that is a completely different pregnancy. 

Planning for the next birth story

 

As I sit uncomfortably on the precipice of the birth of our second child, I am hopeful this birth will be different. Next to the well-being of my baby, my ability to be emotionally present is the top priority.  So with that in mind, I know I must keep my anxiety in check.  To the best of my ability that is.  I know that having a planned c-section is the best option for us.  I am sure there are lots of mamas out there shaking their heads. I am sure many opinions think that part of the reason that I had such a horrid birth the first time is that I agreed to an induction and epidural. If I had only let me body going into labor naturally I would have had a better chance of a vaginal birth. I have seen the statistics. If I had not had an epidural I could have gotten up and moved around, my pelvis would have opened and let the baby out. I could have changed positions and he might have gotten out. Trust me I have heard it all and investigated it all as well.  My baby was not large, 6 pounds, 5 ounces, I do not have small hips, and he got stuck.  That could have happened if I didn’t have an induction or epidural.  The truth is we just don’t know what would have made a difference.  I do know I had a healthy baby and so despite the difficulty of the day, I am not begetting a good outcome. Even with the flight over the cuckoo’s nest. But I will do what I can to be calmer this time around.

That means that no I will not be attempting a VBAC (vaginal birth after c-section). I know what to expect with a c-section, I am going to take the known.  I do not want to go through labor again and then have the surprise of a c-section.  I want to hope that the hardest part of the day will be getting the epidural. I want to be as calm as possible so that epidural works the first time. I want a schedule of how the day is going to go.  I believe that is the best chance at keeping my anxiety down and my ability to be emotionally present possible.  I am already at-risk for post-partum depression because of what I experienced last time. I am not going to add another risk factor.  I have given it a lot of thought and I know this is the right choice for me.  So unless she plans to come sooner, we will welcome our daughter via a scheduled c-section no later than May 2^nd. 

 

I have yet to decide if I will be telling my doctor’s about my anxiety either. That might sound a little crazy.  I know I have to have an epidural. There is no way around that.  I believe if I let everyone know about my issues it is like a self-fulfilling prophecy.  I plan to tell the anesthesiologist in plain terms what happened the first time-I might have jumped and it didn’t take the first time, I got real upset, stopped the second attempt and it took me five hours to calm down enough to get it done finally.  So with that in mind, this is what I would like to happen.  I would like the nurse to narrate how much percentage-wise/time-wise is left. My husband is going to be in my face telling me to breathe and what a great job I am doing. I have confidence that I will get through it, it will hurt like a mother-fucker, but then I will go on and have my baby. 

 

I believe the more people I go on about my issues to, the bigger they are going to become. I will actually become anxious knowing people know I am anxious.  That might not make sense, but it does make sense to me.  The bottom line is I have to do this and making it into a huge ordeal before it even happens is not going to help. 

When I had the genetics test which involved putting a big needle in my belly and taking a sample of my placenta, I pulled through. In fact I did better than I did when they did the testing with my first pregnancy. I told myself to be calm, breathe and it would be over quickly.  The epidural takes about the same amount of time, the needle is bigger though.  I am choosing to believe in myself and that I can get through this.  Faking that I don’t feel anxious actually helps me feel less anxious. It is true. It works.

 

I so want to be emotionally present for her birth. This is likely my last baby. I want the joyous memory of holding my daughter.  I have high hopes for the mother-daughter relationship I am going to have with her. I have a tough relationship with my mother and I am committed to having a different relationship with my own daughter. I often felt my mom put her own needs ahead of my own. I do not want to be that way.  It is starting with her birth day being about her, not about my issues with anxiety. I can do hard things. I’ll let you know how it goes.

Birth Story Part 3

The next few days in the hospital I did my best to stabilize myself and get into mommy mode. I had struggled with anxiety in the past and got out my tool box and attempted to right myself. It wasn’t easy though as sleep, exercise and meditation are my biggest tools. A newborn doesn’t sleep much, so that was not so effective. Plus on night two they decided to clean the floors and all night long we listened to large machinery go up and down the halls. Yes on a maternity ward. Gotta love it.  Another night our neighbors had a rap dance party until two am, and despite my pleadings no one told them to STFU.  Finally on the third night I had them take the baby to the nursery so I could try to get some sleep. By then we were supplementing with formula since we were having nursing issues.

Yeah in the mix I learned I had flat nipples (who knew) and my child had a weak suck. We were working with some awesome lactation consultants, but the stress of worrying if my child was eating was not helping, so supplementing we were.  People came to visit and I tried to hold it together. I cried in front of most of them, not happy tears of course.  I was pretty sure everyone left our room shaking their heads. 

Josh was great. That man can step up I tell ya.  He was taking care of both of us and did a great job.  Later he said those three days were some of the most stressful he had ever experienced.  That he found going on combat patrols in Iraq and getting shot and blown up was easier to endure than watching me go through the birth.  I do find that a bit funny. 

As the first few weeks began I got a little better. I still cried every day. Multiple times. When my friends from California called, I cried a lot! I went to therapy twice a week. We worked hard at nursing which had us on this crazy 3 hour cycle which allowed maybe an hour of sleep at a time.  Baby and I were getting better at it, but it never really took and we always had to supplement pretty much and at 10 weeks I said fuck it.  Going to formula and knowing my child was eating and being able to get out and about, I found nursing in public tough due to the nipple shield drama, don’t ask, was a huge turning point for me.

 

Those first few weeks though. Totally crazy reined. Whenever I left the house I had to have the baby covered up. I was afraid if someone saw him they would steal him.  I screamed at an old lady in Wal-Mart because she approached my cart.  I continued to have crazy thoughts about the safety of the baby and my ability to hold it together. I tried to get out of the house every day, shower and make myself presentable, and meditate. The anxiety was slowly getting better. I kept all the doors in the house locked at all times and a few times I thought the baby was stolen when I went to the swing or basinet and he was in the other.  My friends threw me a surprise birthday party, which I knew about and tried to cancel, 10 days post-partum and I acted like a total nutter.  Not being able to leave the baby sleeping in the other room for more than five minutes without checking. Doing multiple sound checks on the monitor.  How gracious was I?

When Josh’s mom arrived around day 14 things got much much better. I reached a turning point in recovering from surgery and well his mom is just the best. She has a way of helping without taking over. She loves and nurtures unconditionally like I have never known.  She is the mom I never had, always needed and want to be.  In so many ways she is my soulmate as much as my husband is.  That missing piece that my life always needed. And rightly so my daughter who should be here in about four weeks will be named after her. 

To be continued.

Birth Story Part II

After the interrupted second attempt at an epidural everyone decided to take some space. They gave me some pain meds to make the contractions easier to handle and would periodically ask me if I was ready for another epidural. After five hours and dilating to six cm I said let’s try it again.  I am not sure if it was the pain meds or that I everyone got the fact that I was a nutter and handled me differently, but I got through the epidural and it took.  Hubs was the cheerleader, the nurse told me to breathe, my ob gave me a countdown and percentage of the progress of the epidural and I just focused on processing what everyone was saying and it was done. 

It took about another hour and I was fully dilated and it was time to push. I was feeling very calm and strong. The pushing was easy enough and I was crowning. I couldn’t believe it. I was going to deliver this baby after having such a rough morning. I felt very zen. But then despite all this great pushing the baby just wouldn’t come out.  My doc was armpit deep in me trying to pull him out. He was stuck. I was told to keep pushing with the contractions while the doc was pulling. I was still really calm. And then they said, “baby heart rate has dropped, prep for emergency C-section.”

 Lights came on, people began shouting, they moved my legs out of the stirrups, and people came rushing in the room.  It felt like the curtain to the circus has been opened and a parade of people came marching in. They led Josh out of the room and told me I would see him in a bit in the operating room. And then the worst panic of my life set in. All that kept rushing through my head is that my baby was going to die and so was I.  I began wailing and begging for Josh. People kept trying to calm me down, telling me to breathe, but all I could feel was pure terror. I was right back in the horror of earlier in the day.

Once in the operating room it was loud and bright, I felt very alone and just kept asking for Josh. Finally he was by my side and I was a complete mess.  The operation went quickly, the baby was in okay condition. They said he was pretty sleepy due to me being on so many meds.  Soon he began to cry and I wish I could say relief flooded through me, but I had a tape in my head telling me he was going to die.  They took the baby to the nursery and I told Josh to stay with him and they began to sew me up. I just laid there and cried thinking horrible thoughts. I couldn't stop shaking and everyone kept telling me to calm down.  After I was sewn back together I was laying there waiting to be taking to recovery and I started vomiting and trying to get off the operating table. Only one nurse was in the room at the time and she was not next to me. I remember her screaming for help and vomiting purple popsicle all over the place.  They told me they were not sure how I was able to get up given I should have been paralyzed from my mid-section down. I am telling ya, anxiety gives you super powers, both good and bad.  I ripped open some of my staples and they had to come fix me up.  I kept asking about the baby and if he was okay. At that point I believe everyone was lying to me and something bad had happened. I told them to get Josh, as I believed he was the only one who would tell me the truth.  I don’t remember much after this as they sedated me. I got to recovery and this is a picture of the first moment I met my son.

I have absolutely no recollection of this. As you can see they had to hold my arms so I wouldn’t drop him.  That moment every mom dreams of meeting their child for the first time, I don’t remember it.  That makes me incredibly sad. They say he started to nurse and that makes me happy.  We were in recovery for about five  hours until my room was ready. Once I came to I felt like I was in incredible pain. Everyone assured me I was still numb. I am not sure who was correct. They wouldn't give me anymore pain meds as they  said I had had the maximum amount. I kept asking Josh if the baby was okay. He would show me the baby and I would be okay for a few moments, and then I would start asking again. I laid flat on my back for hours crying. 

When we got to our room I got to hold the baby some, but I just kept shaking. So Josh did most of the holding and I just cried, nonstop. I kept having horrible thoughts running through my head. I kept thinking that they were going to take me to the psych ward, I was never going to be normal again, I was not going to be able to job search and Josh would have to stay in the army, he would get deployed and get killed. It would all be my fault because I was crazy.  Also the baby was dead.  At what I thought would be one of the happiest times of my life, I had never felt more crazy. 

To be continued.