My sister needs a doctor who won’t require her to sacrifice her breast feeding relationship to attempt to solve a difficult but non life threatening issue before other solutions have been tried. There is no list of doctors like this. I NEED THAT LIST.
I have anger at the universe today. Just stop, universe. Too much.
The internet is littered with blogs I started at a specific moment in my life, and abandoned once the moment passed.
Of course, just as I’ve moved into a bit of confidence with pregnancy, shit gets shaken up. My sister delivered beautiful and perfect baby Emma very quickly and easily this past Monday night. Emma, though, had her cord wrapped three times around her neck. So she inhaled a bunch of meconium, and is now fighting off a nasty infection. She’ll be fine blah blah but the reality is that my sister has been discharged without her. She and Josh now have to camp out in some crappy ‘mothers room’ if they have any hope of avoiding her being formula fed, which is very important to them. She’s in pain and scared and exhausted and my heart breaks for her. And now she isn’t even a patient, so no one there is taking care of her.
I am not taking this very well.
And in the vein of pregnancy weirdness, shit is weird y’all. I was so freaking worried about gaining too much weight back and getting fat and ‘losing my body’ (god I hate that term) and on and on. I knew that it would be hard to see my body change when I had put so much effort into changing it the other way. So it is very weird to find that I’m not having that problem. I had so identified as someone with a ‘weight problem’. I fully expected this to carry over into all phases of life.
It’s so weird to have this picture in your head of how you think things will be, and then they come along and aren’t like that at all. I expected, on some level, to have problems conceiving. So when I did, it sucked mightily, but it was not a surprise. This is a surprise. I was all ready to slip back into that crappy self esteem place where I’m anguished with guilt about what I’m eating, I’m hating the way I look, and I’m feeling less than all the beautiful people out there who are so much more than me. I never expected to be walking around feeling prettier than I’d ever felt in my life. No way.
And obviously, this is great. I love it. It’s just so weird to see your expectations shattered in such a bizarre way.
Now I have always been an emotional kind of girl. Up and down and left and right and all over the place. I guess I should have expected that pregnancy would stir that up in weird and new ways.
In fact, I would even prefer the new mother crying along with her week old infant at four in the morning while leaking breastmilk stage, to this.
I am eager to be at the hip mother playing with her precious baby stage. Could that maybe be now?
If you were considering going through a difficult period in your pregnancy while your husband works 80 hours a week silently grieving his job transition, while also personally packing up your first home to move into a rental (that you found and secured) which said husband has informed you is ‘not really the same as living in a home that we own’, and finally while finishing up the most difficult calculus course of your life, one that will determine if you get the degree you worked 5 hard years for, or if you just take a minor in it, destroying all future job opportunities, well, I wouldn’t suggest it.
While dieting felt great while was doing it, and I’m at the best weight of my adult life, it’s really screwing me over right now. The foods I love and crave are mostly pretty low in calories. I’m used to eating a fairly small amount of food, and while I’m eating more now, there is a limit to how much I can eat before I feel uncomfortably full. I also need a moderate amount of exercise to not feel crazy and to try and beat back the back aches. The end result is that I’m trying to eat enough and failing. I am waking up with headaches in the middle of the night, which cause me to bitch about the cats to my poor husband. Also to feel like crap.
Also we’re moving to Portland and since Brad is working frantically, that task falls mostly to me. I am not having fun.
Also, it is super frustrating to experience the power of a 15 minute walk to fix my intestinal gripes. Since it’s been in the 30s and raining, I hid out this weekend. And suffered. Bad.
I went 27 years without learning about the transformative power of mildew cleaner. I’m so sorry, bathtub. Never again.
