Friday, December 23, 2011

P.S. Happy Holidays!

Being grateful/A Christmas Miracle

Ok I wasn't going to write about this because... I'm extremely embarassed and ashamed about it. But I want to share with the world that I'm grateful.

A week ago we went to a friend's house for a holiday party. We left around 9:30 pm to go home. I thought there was going to be some dinner-type food there, but it was chips and cookies- there were some very spicy wings that I tried to eat but could only have a few. I also partook of some wine. I was driving because my hubbie had a couple mixed drinks and was definitely buzzed. I had only had about 1.5 drinks over a 3 hour period... but I hadn't really had dinner. I'm currently nursing so I get super hungry. I also didn't drink enough water.

About 30 seconds from our apartment we got pulled over by a state trooper. More backstory: we have two vehicles that we pay quite a bit on (I have horrible credit), my hubbie has been underemployed (he works seasonally at a restaurant) and we've been waiting forever to get partial unemployment money from the state, basically our debt:income ratio is BAD. Needless to say the truck registration and inspection expired in September and we hadn't yet been able to get it done. Also, I left my wallet at our apartment accidentally. AND the insurance card had expired on the 10th (our insurance is still active, just hadn't printed out the new cards yet). I WAS TERRIFIED. The officer asked my hubbie to get out and talk to him. He asked him if I had been drinking and my hubbie said no (knee-jerk reaction). Basically he told us that he was going to let us go since our apartment was a few feet away, that we shouldn't drive the truck until all was taken care of. But then he asked me to step out of the vehicle. It was surreal. I didn't know what was going to happen. He asked me how much I had drank. I told him. He shown a bright light in my eyes and told me to follow the tip of his finger, back and forth, back and forth. He did it twice. He told me that he was "this close" to arresting me. I almost started to cry but didn't want to seem manipulative. I don't know why I barely passed the test he was giving me- I was soo unbelievably nervous, quite tired, shaking like a leaf, but he said none of those things have an impact on the test. I was seriously scared at this point. He let us go. He asked if my little one is our only child (he was asleep in his carseat, had fallen asleep almost immediately as we headed home). I said yes. He said we needed to make better decisions.

When we got home I cried a lot. I was so ashamed. My husband tried to give me perspective. He said, it could have been SOOO much worse. I could have been arrested. The cop could have given us a huge ticket that we would not be able to pay. Instead we got off with a warning.

Honestly I was not drunk nor did I even feel buzzed, but apparently I was impaired enough that I shouldn't have driven. I didn't think that amount of alcohol would really have an impact. I am 34 years old, I should know better.

As much as it was a horrible experience, it was also an important one. Sometimes we need to be reminded of all we do have, even when things are really really bad financially. Sometimes we need to be reminded to be careful, and not take things for granted.

That Monday we were able to get the car registered and inspected. I printed out new insurance cards. I plan to write a letter to the cop to thank him for giving us the benefit of the doubt. Someone or something out there is looking out for us. I am grateful.

Wednesday, November 30, 2011

20 Albums that Have Influenced My Life

Meme instructions: Think of the albums that had such a profound effect on you they changed your life or the way you looked at it. Not your favorite albums now: the ones that sucked you in and took you over for days, weeks, months, years. These are the albums that you can use to identify time, places, people, emotions. These are the albums that no matter what they were thought of musically shaped your world. Albums you wore into the ground.

10,000 Maniacs  Our Time in Eden
Summer after my grueling junior year of college

Alanis Morrisette  Jagged Little Pill
Christmas gift, listened to on my walkman over and over during long holiday car rides

Annie Lennox  Diva
Reminds me of my dad; fantastic album

Bjork  Vespertine
Romantical, deep, intense, *love Bjork*

Coldplay  A Rush of Blood to the Head
Waiting tables at TGI Fridays

Counting Crows  August and Everything After
The Cranberries  Everybody Else is Doing It...
Late high school angst

The Cure  Disintegration
Great album to set the mood, if you know what I mean

Dave Matthews Band  Under the Table and Dreaming
College days....

Death Cab for Cutie  Transatlanticism
Recent discovery (thanks to my awesome cuz AJ)

Enya  Shepherd Moons
Late high school, I have listened to this album thousands of times, when I feel anxious, sad, etc. I find it incredibly soothing.

Indigo Girls  Rites of Passage
Sophomore year of college; I discovered feminism!

Keane  Hopes and Fears
Keane is AMAZING

Liz Phair  Liz Phair
Co-worker burned this for me, love it

NKOTB  Step by Step
This goes out to you Dickey Bean!

Sarah McLachlan  Fumbling Towards Ecstasy & Surfacing
High school unrequited romances & college heartbreaks

Tori Amos  Under the Pink & From the Choirgirl Hotel
Lonely days post-college; Tori totally gets me

U2  Achtung Baby
Favorite album from my favorite band of all time

Monday, November 7, 2011

I'm still a feminist

I became a feminist in college, officially. Before that I think I was always a crusader for the underdog, be it the environment, the war, or unfair discrimination (anyone remember when high schools were banning the "Co-Ed Naked" t-shirt series???). I remember discovering this whole wonderful world of feminist thinking, of acceptance and open-ness, of human rights and freedom. It was a fantastic and exciting honeymoon period. Then came the doubts, the judgment, the pressure to conform, even within a radical feminist framework. I've come to believe that regardless of what label you put on an -ism, it is inherently exclusive, simply by nature. Human nature. I felt like in order to consider myself a radical feminist, I had to date only radical feminists, which was difficult since I'm hetero and there was only 1 male member in the Women's Center and I just wasn't attracted to him. I felt like I had to wear certain clothes, have a certain job, buy certain things. In times like this, though I agree that we should protest things like unfair wages, environmental destruction, etc., it requires MONEY to be able to stop buying things at a place like Walmart. I buy things at Walmart. We aren't below the poverty line but we are hovering just above it. We have 2 car payments; I have outrageous student loans from my illustrious college days; rent, electric, phone, internet, car insurance, gas, FOOD, diapers, the list goes on and on.

I'm still a feminist

I am in a somewhat traditional marriage, where I do a lot of the housework and because I'm nursing, I tend to be the go-to-gal for our son. I work outside the home in an office.

I'm still a feminist

I associate with people who have traditional and right-wing opinions. Some of my relatives are pro-life and anti-gay rights. Some of the people I know have no idea how left-leaning I really am.

I'm still a feminist

I have become more middle of the road regarding many things, in that we can never know why someone does what they do because we can never walk in their shoes. It is very destructive to pass judgment regarding situations and events that we have never experienced or been involved in. I am a firm believer in equality for all, as much as possible. I believe in the rights of all to marry. I believe in equal health rights for all, regardless of sexual orientation, wealth, etc.

I'm still a feminist

I don't go to protests. I don't donate to organizations. I don't watch the news. In all honesty, I try to avoid controversial subjects, things that make me sad, etc. because I feel it all so intensely and also feel helpless.

I'm still a feminist

I am tired of people being divisive, judging each other, and giving unsolicited advice. Since I've become a parent, I've heard all range of advice about how to raise our child. We co-sleep and have since my son was 2 weeks old. My husband sleeps on the couch. It sucks but it's the only way we get sleep. I'm still nursing my son and he's just over a year old. Most of the people I know have raised their children in a traditional way, sleep training, weaning at 6 months if they breast-fed at all, and so on. I'm not passing judgment about it, just wish that I knew more people who did/are doing what we're doing.

I'm still a feminist

Just want to make that clear.

Wednesday, October 19, 2011

My son turns 1 today!

On an entirely separate note, my son is 1 today (at 1:29 PM). YAY! Here's a great picture of him truly enjoying his ice cream cake:

Now that's the way to do it kiddo! Love you forever little boy. Forever and always.

Comic relief

I just have to laugh at life because sometimes it sucks. We're broke, no matter what we do. So I have to laugh, and can't stop laughing at this:

Ugh. Anyone have any money they can spare? Ha ha ha.

Saturday, September 17, 2011

My mother, myself

I know this is already the title of a fantastic book by Nancy Friday, but I feel it is an appropriate title for this post. My BFF mentioned to me the other day that I should create a blog about what it's like to be a new mother, and to have a mentally ill mother. I don't like to describe her that way on paper because it sounds... something not nice. It also makes it seem simple. Oh, she's mentally ill. That explains everything. It is SOOO much more complex than that. My mother has bipolar disorder and generalized anxiety disorder. Like many who suffer from bipolar disorder (or manic depression), she is literally unable to take responsibility for pretty much anything. One of her major symptoms is egocentricism- in clinical terms: "the incomplete differentiation of the self and the world, including other people, the tendency to perceive, understand and interpret the world in terms of the self, and being over preoccupied with ones own internal world." What this translates into is that she is never to blame for anything and there is nothing wrong with the things she says and does, ever. What this meant for me as a child is still hard to write about. I was the mother for the most part. I was the one who had to soothe her, listen to her myriad of adult complaints and feel responsible for them, etc. I couldn't trust her and feel safe with her, because she mistrusted the world, and the world was therefore a dangerous and bad place. This behavior has alienated my mother from countless friends and relationships. They have grown tired of the constant complaining, the raging mood swings, the guilt trips, and so on.

Nothing is ever good enough for my mother. She always wants more. Give her an inch, she wants a million miles. I recently told her that I was given a small dose of morphine while I was in labor. She nearly lost it. Now she will be spinning it around in her head forever, and anytime my son is crying or upset or anxious, it will be because I had that morphine. She used to say that the reason I cried over the cat throwing up was because my father was an alcoholic (which he wasn't and never has been). This is her train of thought:

"K sees father throwing up from drinking too much. It upsets her.
K sees cat throwing up and is reminded of this traumatic event.
Therefore, father is an alcoholic."

As much as I have always tried to differentiate myself from her, to "not turn into my mother," she is often trying to make us more similar. Her father was an alcoholic, so mine must be too. I have allergies, now she does too.

Now she tries to tell me how to parent my son. She thinks he has anxiety. She thinks there's something wrong with him when she hears him crying. I have to tell her over and over, babies cry. It's normal. He's perfectly normal. Don't put your neurotic bullshit on him. She is hellbent on babysitting him (she lives 2 hours away from us) and I don't think I want her to. I don't want my little monkey to ever feel what I felt as a child. Unsafe. Adults are supposed to be reliable, consistent, loving, and meet your needs (when you're a kid). I know this is an illusion, but part of it is absolutely necessary for a child to develop a strong sense of self esteem, and to feel comfortable and confident in the world.

It is so hard not to hate her sometimes. But I don't want my son to ever feel this way towards me. Ugh.

Wednesday, August 17, 2011

Don't want to jinx it but...

We are finally starting to get our little monkey onto a schedule!!! Here it is...

Wake up between 6:15 am and 7:15 am
Take 45 min-1 hour morning nap around 9 am or 10 am
Take 1.5-3 hour afternoon nap around 1 pm
Start bath, book, bedtime routine between 6:30 pm and 7 pm
Asleep (in crib!) between 7:30 pm and 8:30 pm

For the past 3 nights he's woken up like clockwork at 10:30 pm regardless of when he fell asleep. I think this is because that's when Daddy gets home and makes noise in the kitchen. I have asked Daddy to be quiet but he's generally pretty tired and will forget and bang a fork onto a plate or slam the microwave door closed and then oh-no-he's-up-again. Then at that point I go in and get the monkey and bring him to bed with me. I can't fall asleep anyway while he's in his crib, I just can't. I will be able to someday but not yet. Nursing him to sleep helps me fall asleep. I'm not ready to give that up, but want to sleep longer stretches. Oh well, we'll see what happens.

In the meantime I am excited and proud of this new routine. I make myself do it. I make myself get him to sleep in the crib for the first stretch of the night, regardless of how long it takes. It took almost 2 hours on Sunday night which sucked. But last night, quick as a wink, asleep by 7:30. But downside to that is up at 6:15 am. UGH. I will not complain though!!! I'm grateful that he slept 3 hours in the crib last night! I watched the Master Chef finale and talked with my BFF for a while. It was awesome.

The Story of My Little Monkey, Part I

How do I begin? My hubbie and I got engaged on our 2nd date after knowing each other for about 2 weeks. We've been together now since November 2006, so almost 5 years! Crazy. We got married on September 6, 2008, so we are coming up on our 3-year wedding anniversary. Before we got married we started trying to get pregnant. It wasn't a full-on commitment, just "if it happens we will be excited." I found out I was pregnant in May 2009 and we were ecstatic. We were going to wait the obligatory 3 months to tell people but couldn't keep it a secret for more than a few days. When we finally got to the doc's for an ultrasound, things didn't feel right. I had been feeling truly awful for a week or so, and my hubbie was having panic attacks fairly regularly. I think some part of us knew that something was wrong. I will never forget the image coming up on the screen of... nothing. Just a yolk sac. No baby. We stared in disbelief, then I started bawling when the ultrasound technician told us that there was no baby, just a yolk sac that hadn't progressed. We then had to wait for the OB to review the images, and come tell us what she thought. She said it was possible that I wasn't as far along as I originally thought, but since I was quite sure of my last period (I am very aware of my cycle, kept track of it, etc.) it most likely wasn't going to progress and I was going to miscarry. I had a blood test just to be sure, and waiting for those results over the weekend was horrid. The results said that my HCG levels were dropping indicating my body was preparing to miscarry. Instead of waiting for an interminable amount of time to naturally miscarry we decided to go for the D&E. It was Thursday July 19th, and there were no complications. The analysis of what was inside me was just undetermined, no obvious reason for miscarriage, most likely just some kind of problem with the fetus so nature took over. It was the worst time of my entire life. I cried daily. I quit my job and laid in bed all day. My husband's anxiety got worse, we spent some time in the ER because of it. I couldn't function. We had to move into a different apartment because everything in the current one screamed at me YOU FAILED! YOUR BABY DIED INSIDE YOU. We thought it was a girl, we were going to name her Madeleine Hannah.

Life goes on, and you have to too. I finally started psychotherapy again in the fall because I was barely functioning. My sciatic nerve had been acting up again really badly that summer, and I was working as a bartender and at a grocery store so I was on my feet a ton. My therapist was great, she helped me get through the winter intact. I started smoking again (I had quit a month or so before I got pregnant). I figured, who cares? Why not smoke again? I was angry with my body. I felt like it had violated me, let me down, caused me so much soul-ache and terrible pain.

Then in late winter we started talking about trying to conceive again. I wasn't sure if I was ready or not, but my hubbie was. I had a feeling in early March that I was pregnant, even though my period was only a day or two late (which wasn't all that unusual). I took a test that night and it was positive. We both started crying, and we were so happy, but also aware of what could happen. We committed to waiting to tell people until after the first ultrasound. We didn't quite make it that long but only told a few close friends/family. The first time we saw my little monkey was on my birthday April 16th 2010. I cried with joy, my hubbie grinned from ear-to-ear. He said, I told you, the baby is fine, everything's going to be OK. He just knew, deep down, where I was often unsure and afraid.

My pregnancy was pretty typical in the beginning months. All day and night nausea but no vomitting. I gained weight, was very hungry all the time, drank lots of water, etc. Then in mid-July, the day after my friend's bridal shower, something went KAPLOOEY in my back. I started having severe back, leg, and ankle pain from then on out, pretty much constantly, and it only got worse as my pregnancy progressed. AND at the end of July, after attending a family gathering in rural New Hampshire, I had what I thought were mosquito bites on my abdomen and thighs, but they were EXTREMELY itchy, and got bigger/worse as the days went on. I went to the doctor and the ER several times because the itching was so bad I was in tears pretty much every day.

Finally in August I was sent to a dermatologist down in Portland. They almost immediately recognized what I had as Pemphigoid Gestationis (also called Herpes Gestationis though it has no relation to the Herpes virus whatsoever). They did a skin biopsy and a little while later I was officially diagnosed. I had to go to a specialty OB/Gyn in Portland because at that point with the PG diagnosis I was considered a high-risk pregnancy. I had to have alternating biweekly ultrasounds and non-stress tests to make sure that the baby was growing well/normally, and that the placenta and amniotic fluid looked normal. Everything was fine. The doc wanted to induce me at 39 weeks if I hadn't gone into labor naturally by then. Sometimes moms with PG go into preterm labor, in fact some estimates say it's as high as 1 in 3. Oh, and I forgot that I had to take prednisone for the remainder of my pregnancy. Once we got the right daily dosage, the "plaques" cleared up and I haven't had a recurrence since.

I had contractions that I could feel from the middle of my pregnancy on. On Thursday October 14th I started having somewhat painful contractions (they hadn't been painful at all before) that woke me up about every 45 minutes to an hour all night. Friday at work, I felt really weird. I said to the woman I was training to temporarily replace me that I felt different, though not necessarily in labor. My due date was November 8th. Then Friday night was the same, not many during the day, but consistent painful contractions all night long. Saturday night they were closer together. I was starting to worry that I was going to have to go 3 more weeks with that happening every night (I was at 37 weeks)! On Sunday my best friend had a Scentsy party at her house, and I decided to go. I got dressed and took some pics of my belly, as it felt urgent that I do so.

At the party I was cranky and tired. Sunday night the contractions were 10-15 minutes apart all night, and even more painful. In the early morning I started timing them, and they were about 5 minutes apart. I had a tiny bit of bloody show, and I immediately called my midwife. She said it was up to me but I could come in and they could see where I was at. So we went in at around 4 am. I was at about 3 cm and the contractions were still coming. At noon I was at about a 4 to 5 cm she said, so she suggested I go home and try to rest. Came home, laid down, but it was very hard to rest with contractions coming so close together. My husband says he heard me over the monitor talking to the baby inside me. I said "we're going to get through this together." That night my feeling was that I hadn't really progressed- I sensed that the contractions weren't productive. But I was exhausted and wanted information. So we went back to the hospital at 7 pm, she checked me and I was still at 5 cm.

Now things get pretty blurry, so many hours of contractions it seems. My midwife was concerned because I hadn't slept really in several days, so she wanted to "sleep" me. They gave me a dose of morphine and visipristol to hopefully help me sleep through the contractions. Unfortunately it didn't work really, but it helped just enough I guess to give me some strength, though I was pretty groggy. At 5:30 am I asked to go in the waterbirth tub. I didn't really care for it, I think because I was so groggy. At that point I was still not progressing, I was EXHAUSTED and really at the end of my rope. I asked my midwife for some pain medication- she gave me a half dose of nubain which helped take the edge off the peak of the contractions, for a little while at least. Then I was 7 cm, then I was 8 cm, and they broke my water because I was feeling the urge to push. Soon after I was at 10 and I could start pushing. The contractions were only coming 5 minutes apart, man that part of my labor was the hardest. I didn't want to push because it hurt so much. BUT I did it. They gave me some pitocin at the very end to speed up my contractions. Finally they were starting to see his head, I felt like I was never going to make it, but everyone was so encouraging.

The ring of fire, wow. Then the pressure once his head wasn't going back in, and then it came out and I did a few small grunt pushes and out he came. Let me tell you it was the most wonderful feeling of instant relief and joy. There was some meconium in the amniotic fluid so they had to suction him. He was so beautiful, big head of hair, nice ruddy color, just the most wonderful creature in the entire world.

I'm really proud of myself, even though it wasn't an NUCB. And I'm so grateful to the OB staff and my midwives, they were amazing. When all was said and done I realized how wonderful they are! The nurses were phenomenal as well. All so supportive, helping me with breastfeeding, and ANY questions I had. Can't believe I'm so blessed. AND I forgot to mention, no tearing/stitches! YAY!

Tuesday, August 9, 2011

Separation Anxiety

So lots of changes... again. I wish things were more stable, but we're doing the best we can. Hubbie starts new job managing a kitchen at an upscale B&B tomorrow night. Will be working six afternoon/night shifts a week, Sundays off. We were going to skip daycare but since we got basically kicked out of our old daycare (my little monkey cries too much and needs too much one-on-one attention apparently), we've found a new place. Monkey's new caregiver is a lovely young woman who runs a daycare out of her home, along with her mother. She has 2 young children of her own. We're hoping that Monkey will bond with her and be happy to be there, rather than screaming for hours after we drop him off. Hoping he doesn't scream for hours. Please, god tell me he won't scream for hours.

I know it's normal for babies his age to have lots of separation anxiety, but gosh it's hard. I thought I would be all, it's OK honey and run out the door, just like they tell you to. BUT I find myself trying to console, or I'll just nurse him for a few minutes to calm him down, then it makes it worse. UGH. It's hard being needed/wanted so badly.

We're also hoping that being full-time in daycare will help him have some semblance of a schedule. And maybe she can get him to eat some solids now and then. He basically refuses them so we've had to get him an iron supplement. We've been doing this baby-led weaning method of introducing solids. Only thing that remotely works. Monkey must be able to control the food, so we just put it down in front of him and let him do what he wants. Doesn't work with purees though. He hates 'em anyway. But fool that I am I keep buying them, because maybe he'll like this one.

Saturday, July 30, 2011

Life Lessons from the Buffyverse

I freely admit (and am quite proud of the fact) that Buffy the Vampire Slayer is my favorite television show, EVER. I think it was way ahead of its time. First show on network television to portray a young lesbian relationship (a healthy one too). Best show EVER in terms of dealing with the trials and tribulations of adolescence and young adulthood. Very realistic. I know you're thinking (if you've never seen Buffy): how can it be realistic, it's about VAMPIRES?? The science fiction/fantasy aspects of Buffy are analogies for real life. The demons and vampires are symbols for the difficult and dangerous problems we face every day.

The biggest lesson I've taken from Buffy is that no matter how bad things get, how much it looks like you won't survive the day, you truly never know what's going to happen next. When you are moments away from "death" (could be psychic death, could be you have no money and can't eat until the next paycheck, etc.), never give up hope. Life will surprise you, and help you in ways you least expect. Everytime "the world is ending" in the Buffyverse, the Scoobie gang comes together and prevents it from happening. That's not to say that everything is all roses and joy every day. Life is hard, but it's soooo worth living. AND our friends and family are what get us through.

Thursday, July 28, 2011

Baby Astrology

Ok I've been tossing around several ideas lately.

1. I want to become a doula. After I had my son I thought I'd never want to be a midwife or an OB/GYN or anything like that because it would be so stressful and scary. BUT now I find myself really drawn to pregnant women and babies, and I want to help. I want to use my experiences to help other people.

2. I want to create a website/blog/book about baby astrology. I really think that it would help people parent more effectively if they understood the basic temperaments of their children. When I read other blogs by mothers/fathers I like to look for trends in sleep habits, etc. based on birth sign! If anyone is reading this blog... please comment and let me know what you think about this.

3. I want to write about my experiences with Pemphigoid Gestationis during my pregnancy in the hopes of helping other women who develop it. PG is a god-awful auto-immune disorder that causes EXTREMELY itchy lesions (sometimes blisters), which can lead to low birth weight for age, preterm labor, and very rarely fetal death. From : "The cause of PG is not known, although many researchers believe that the antibodies that protect the placenta become confused and begin to increase in number. These antibodies are directed at the skin and attack the protein that binds the outer layer of skin to the body. This action causes the skin to lift up, creating blisters." I thankfully was able to treat my PG with prednisone for the last few months of my pregnancy which resolved it, and it hasn't come back (thank goodness). But it was AWFUL. I know it sounds not so bad when someone says something itches but it was like a nightmare. That on top of my herniated disc... but that's a whole 'nother post for 'nother day.

Daily Miracles

You know those cliches about how things always work out the way they're supposed to, and everything happens for a reason? Well, they're true. The universe has yet again shown me some tough love, then some spectacular rewards. A close friend had her baby, a healthy baby girl, on Monday night. Hubbie has been *despising* his job for many, many reasons (underpaid, overworked, scapegoated, bad-mouthed, mistreated, taken advantage of). One of his friends came by awhile back and hubbie'd had a particularly bad day at work so he was venting. Friend says, hey, I know you're a great cook, why don't you come do some shifts at the awesome restaurant I work at? So hubbie does just that, and that extra bit of money coming in hasn't hurt either. Then last night, hubbie says to me, we need to talk. I'm like, uh-oh. BUT it's great news- the friend gave his notice at the restaurant (he is the head chef) and the owners love my hubbie so they've offered him the position. Drawback is that it's only seasonal, will end sometime in October. Benefit = TWICE AS MUCH MONEY AS CURRENT JOB for same amount of hours. OMG. After struggling for a year and half (we were both unemployed for a stretch at the end of 2009, which set us WAY back on bills, etc.) we can FINALLY (hopefully) catch up on bills and even (*gasp*) put some money aside! Hubbie can look for work in September and October, find something halfway decent, get unemployment if job ends before he finds something. AND big bonus is our kid won't need to go to daycare anymore. Hubbie will be with him all day until around 2:30 when my MIL will watch him until I get out of work. Hubbie will work 2:30-10ish 6 nights a week and have one full day off, most likely Sundays, which will rock.

Life is CRAZY. I get so down sometimes, worrying, feeling trapped, like things will never get better. And then one day I wake up and they get better. I know that this isn't some miracle cure or fix, but it's definitely a boon, both for us financially and for my hubbie's self esteem. The owners of this restaurant think he's pretty much the greatest thing since sliced bread, and it's true, and he really needs to hear it.

We have 2 weddings to go to in August which I'm very excited about. My favorite aunt (who is also my godmother) will finally be meeting my son in a week or so. Things are going great. Now to just get rid of that other feeling that's always there, the "it won't last, don't get too happy!" GAD I hate that little voice in my ear.

Friday, July 22, 2011

Better late than never

It's finally time to become a "Mommy Blogger" though I'm not sure yet how I feel about the title. It seems like something cool and trendy, so I want it, yet I don't want it. As a (relatively) new mom of a 9 month old, I've spent a lot of time pouring over other people's (mostly mothers') blogs online. During my pregnancy I was addicted to babycenter, but I don't log in there as much anymore because I don't need the drama! As a FTM I'm always wondering if I'm doing the right things. My husband isn't overly fond of me going online and reading all kinds of advice and other people's experiences, because it generally makes me feel guilty about the way we're doing things. And it only adds to the confusion in my head.

My kid will sleep, but only under certain conditions, and definitely only when he wants to. We've tried to *make* him go to sleep and it infuriates him. Then we have to spend all kinds of time getting him calmed down again. He has only slept more than 5 hours at a stretch a total of 3 times in his entire life. I can remember them so clearly. I woke up still every 1-2 hours expecting him to be awake and he wasn't. I got all engorged and worried and didn't sleep well. Subsequently I haven't slept for more than 3 hours at a time in the last year. When I was pregnant last summer I was up every 2 hours or so to pee.

Needless to say, I think I have adjusted to this sleepless madness- well I can't exactly call it sleepless now can I? I have slept. Just no deep, restful, complete abandon, blissful, delirious sleep. In over a year. That's why I like to read all the posts of people who went through the same thing, came out the other end, and now have a child that sleeps through the night, every night, and they get to also. BUT I wonder if all this time has made it impossible for me to go back to the way I used to sleep... which was 10-12 hours at a time if I could. I loved to sleep. Now I hate to think about it because it makes me sad and desperate.

I'm hoping that this blog will be an outlet for me... to express rage at injustice, awe at the power of goodness, and relentless joy because of the multitude of blessings in my life.