Yesterday, on the way back into the lab after crayfishing, we saw a police car in front of one of the dorms. Naturally, we assume it is a pot smoker or something small.
A student had killed himself in his dorm. This weekend. They had just found him.
We received an email from the president of the University with the vague details that were just enough to piece it together. Your heart breaks for the family, the friends.
All of a sudden, I was taken back to 2001. When it was me. It was me who had to deal with the aftermath of suicide.
All you ever want is answers, answers that you will never get. I remember being the one that people looked to for those answers. I was the one who was closest to him. I should know the answers.
I had none.
That made me angry. And that made me feel guilty. Here were all these people, hurting, grieving, grasping for peace and solace. I had nothing to give them.
So not only did I feel guilty for the fact that someone had taken their life and I didn't see it coming, not only did I feel guilty that they said it was basically because of me....I had nothing to comfort these people. Family. Friends. Everyone.
Now, there is a fresh wave of people who have to get through the same thing.
I wish I had answers for them, but I don't.
The hurt, the guilt, the anger....it never goes away. Somewhere along the line, you stop looking for answers, you stop trying to fix what is broken, and you just learn to live in it. You learn to cope and this horrible terrible time becomes a part of who you are. You walk with it every day, carrying it. Sometimes it's heavy. Sometimes it's not. There are good days. The good days start to outweigh the bad, and it just becomes....there. It's just there.
And then there are those days, when you hear about it happening to someone else and your heart breaks all over again. You know. You know that there are people out there that are thrown into this private hell that has no map to get out. You just have to start walking and grasping.
You get no answers. You get no absolution. Suicide is different than other deaths. It's different in that you know that person was obviously hurting and unhappy. No one should die like that. It's different than losing someone to disease or to an accident. Those situations are demons of their own, but those people, you can see the happiness. For suicides, your last impression of this person is that pain. That anger. That hurt.
You get nothing to erase it. Everything becomes tainted.
Right after suicide wrecked my life for the second time, I became paranoid. I didn't want to make new friends. I didn't want the old ones, but I needed them. All I saw was this darkness and everyone had the potential to hurt me.
Now, as a mother, I am terrified. What if it becomes my son that is unhappy? It's extremely paranoid, I know. It's insane. It's something to be dealt with. But how can I be sure I raise a son that won't do that? That won't put that kind of pain on someone else? On me? On his loved ones?
You can't. You can't ever know. You never get answers.
Showing posts with label irrational fears. Show all posts
Showing posts with label irrational fears. Show all posts
Tuesday, October 16, 2012
Tuesday, July 10, 2012
Resilient
Yesterday, while eating dinner on my patio for the first time in so long, I was thinking about the past year and all that has changed. I wasn't thinking about how it has changed for me or for my husband. I was looking at my beautiful little boy, and thinking about how life has changed for him. Ben and I are both happy. But is Isaac?
Isaac was pushing 2 and 1/2 this time last year, when I pack up our lives and uprooted him to Ohio. I took him away from his daycare and his friends. I took him from his Aunties. I took him from his familiar surroundings, the only home he had ever known, even if it was such a short time. I put him in a car and drove away from our lives in California, where we had been happy.
When we got to Ohio, we were in a new house, that was unfamiliar. His crib was the only thing to break in the cross-country move. The $30 Walmart bookcase made it, but the $400 crib didn't. He was put into an unfamiliar bed in a new room. He started a new daycare with new people. He got a new puppy.
His surroundings were not the only thing to change. His daily routine was severely impacted. He went from having mommy time from the moment I picked him up after work, to having playtime by himself. My life was so different in terms of work and schedule, and he took the brunt of it. I thrive on being busy and pressure, but Isaac thrived on me. Isaac saw a new persona in me. Additionally, he had daddy around more. In California, it was me and Isaac. Ben worked so much, that Isaac believed his daddy lived in the computer for 5 days since he only saw him on Skype. He was suddenly surrounded by people he had only seen a few times before in his life.
Then we started potty trained. He lost the comfort of diapers. His friends started moving up to the next daycare class and he would tell me that he missed them. For the first time, I took him somewhere with me where he wasn't with me, but watched by someone else. And then we moved again, to a new house. At the end of this month, he will move in preschool, where his daily routine will be changed again, and he will have new expectations.
Life has changed so radically in the past year for him. Good changes, in my opinion. But he is so young, and I have to wonder how it has impacted him and what he thinks of it. Are any of these changes responsible for the way he acts? You always hear that children and resilient and that they bounce back quickly from things. But how resilient is he? Is there a tipping point? I also hear that children need stability and routine. They need consistency. Has he had enough of that?
We made these changes to give Isaac a better life in the long run. Our lives individually are so much better, that it makes us a happier family. I just wonder if Isaac is happy. Is his life better than what it was in California? Did we move him too soon? Too late? Change too much, too fast? How is he coping? Does he know what has changed? Does he expect more change? Does he even remember what his life was like?
I love my little boy more than anything else in this world. I would give up everything and anything to ensure his happiness and stability. I want his life to be wonderful and full. I don't want him to feel insecure or unstable. For the past year, I have fought with emotions that make me want to change his life back to a time when I knew he was happy. I am not saying I don't know if he's happy. He is happy.
We moved because we knew we would be happier. Ben and I are. But is Isaac happier?
Isaac was pushing 2 and 1/2 this time last year, when I pack up our lives and uprooted him to Ohio. I took him away from his daycare and his friends. I took him from his Aunties. I took him from his familiar surroundings, the only home he had ever known, even if it was such a short time. I put him in a car and drove away from our lives in California, where we had been happy.
When we got to Ohio, we were in a new house, that was unfamiliar. His crib was the only thing to break in the cross-country move. The $30 Walmart bookcase made it, but the $400 crib didn't. He was put into an unfamiliar bed in a new room. He started a new daycare with new people. He got a new puppy.
His surroundings were not the only thing to change. His daily routine was severely impacted. He went from having mommy time from the moment I picked him up after work, to having playtime by himself. My life was so different in terms of work and schedule, and he took the brunt of it. I thrive on being busy and pressure, but Isaac thrived on me. Isaac saw a new persona in me. Additionally, he had daddy around more. In California, it was me and Isaac. Ben worked so much, that Isaac believed his daddy lived in the computer for 5 days since he only saw him on Skype. He was suddenly surrounded by people he had only seen a few times before in his life.
Then we started potty trained. He lost the comfort of diapers. His friends started moving up to the next daycare class and he would tell me that he missed them. For the first time, I took him somewhere with me where he wasn't with me, but watched by someone else. And then we moved again, to a new house. At the end of this month, he will move in preschool, where his daily routine will be changed again, and he will have new expectations.
Life has changed so radically in the past year for him. Good changes, in my opinion. But he is so young, and I have to wonder how it has impacted him and what he thinks of it. Are any of these changes responsible for the way he acts? You always hear that children and resilient and that they bounce back quickly from things. But how resilient is he? Is there a tipping point? I also hear that children need stability and routine. They need consistency. Has he had enough of that?
We made these changes to give Isaac a better life in the long run. Our lives individually are so much better, that it makes us a happier family. I just wonder if Isaac is happy. Is his life better than what it was in California? Did we move him too soon? Too late? Change too much, too fast? How is he coping? Does he know what has changed? Does he expect more change? Does he even remember what his life was like?
I love my little boy more than anything else in this world. I would give up everything and anything to ensure his happiness and stability. I want his life to be wonderful and full. I don't want him to feel insecure or unstable. For the past year, I have fought with emotions that make me want to change his life back to a time when I knew he was happy. I am not saying I don't know if he's happy. He is happy.
We moved because we knew we would be happier. Ben and I are. But is Isaac happier?
Friday, March 2, 2012
Fort Knox for Hippos
Isaac has been having nightmares lately. He wakes up crying and calling for me. Most times he doesn't talk about them. I have no idea what's scaring him until it comes up in everyday life. Like an owl. Apparently there is a scary owl in his room.
The other night he woke up more upset than usual. He came to his door dragging his blue bunny buddy behind him crying as hard as he could. I scooped up my snot dripping baby and started to carry him back to his bed so we could cuddle and calm down. He started thrashing and screaming that he couldn't sleep in his bed because of the hippos.
HIPPOS. He loves hippos.
He wouldn't stay in his room, he wouldn't go into our room. So we sat in the landing and rocked back and forth. Apparently there were scary hippos trying to get him (NOTE: no more animal planet for Isaac before bedtime). I rocked and rocked and rocked him back and forth in the landing, quieting his sobs and drying his tears. He was on the brink of sleep when I put him back in his bed and turned on his movie to lull him the rest of the way.
Luck have it, his eyes fluttering right at the part with the DANCING HIPPOS. Let the screams commence.
Oh but wait! We were in luck! The tent Ben bought Isaac for Christmas is impenetrable to hippos! We were safe!
Oh yes, that meant that Isaac wanted to sleep in his tent. You know, so the hippos couldn't get us.
This also meant that I had to pile 20 million blankets and pillows INTO A CHILD SIZE TENT, along with a box of trains, Buzz Lightyear and Woody (who were to guard the entrance) and zip up the tent. ZIP UP THE TENT.
Let's talk about claustrophobia!
Isaac curled up next to me and fell asleep to me talking about all the reasons that the hippos couldn't get us. I became increasingly uncomfortable on the hard floor (despite the 20 bajillion blankets) and the rising temperature BECAUSE IT'S A ZIPPED UP CHILD SIZE TENT.
After he was well asleep I unzipped the door and nodded off eventually. Only to discover that my husband had turned off the alarm and I was late for LIFE (it was ok, my hair looks decent when I let it air dry).
Today we are off to the zoo to cure the hippo fear.
Fingers crossed. I can't spend another night in the tent.
The other night he woke up more upset than usual. He came to his door dragging his blue bunny buddy behind him crying as hard as he could. I scooped up my snot dripping baby and started to carry him back to his bed so we could cuddle and calm down. He started thrashing and screaming that he couldn't sleep in his bed because of the hippos.
HIPPOS. He loves hippos.
He wouldn't stay in his room, he wouldn't go into our room. So we sat in the landing and rocked back and forth. Apparently there were scary hippos trying to get him (NOTE: no more animal planet for Isaac before bedtime). I rocked and rocked and rocked him back and forth in the landing, quieting his sobs and drying his tears. He was on the brink of sleep when I put him back in his bed and turned on his movie to lull him the rest of the way.
Luck have it, his eyes fluttering right at the part with the DANCING HIPPOS. Let the screams commence.
Oh but wait! We were in luck! The tent Ben bought Isaac for Christmas is impenetrable to hippos! We were safe!
Oh yes, that meant that Isaac wanted to sleep in his tent. You know, so the hippos couldn't get us.
This also meant that I had to pile 20 million blankets and pillows INTO A CHILD SIZE TENT, along with a box of trains, Buzz Lightyear and Woody (who were to guard the entrance) and zip up the tent. ZIP UP THE TENT.
Let's talk about claustrophobia!
Isaac curled up next to me and fell asleep to me talking about all the reasons that the hippos couldn't get us. I became increasingly uncomfortable on the hard floor (despite the 20 bajillion blankets) and the rising temperature BECAUSE IT'S A ZIPPED UP CHILD SIZE TENT.
After he was well asleep I unzipped the door and nodded off eventually. Only to discover that my husband had turned off the alarm and I was late for LIFE (it was ok, my hair looks decent when I let it air dry).
Today we are off to the zoo to cure the hippo fear.
Fingers crossed. I can't spend another night in the tent.
Monday, January 10, 2011
Who's Afraid of the Big, Bad...Monkey?
Isaac is a pretty fearless kid. Not many things shake him up. He is very curious and inquisitive, which I love about him. When he was a smaller baby, the sound of a trash bag being shook open scared him. He would cry and look terrified by the loud noise, so we would only change the trash while he was sleeping or not in the house. Since then, he has also expressed a bit of dislike toward the loud noises of the vacuum and dustbuster, but can tolerate them as long as he watches me sweep (which isn't often thanks to our hardwood floors). He has overcome his fear of trashbags and now actually laughs when he sees the big bag flap open.
Now he has a new fear: that monkey who watches the security screens in Toy Story 3.
He isn't just disturbed by the monkey. He is actually afraid of it.
He got the movie for Christmas and he has watched it several times. On Saturday, we curled up on my bed after his bath (which is another story). He hadn't taken a nap that day, so he was pretty tired. He was ready for bed around the time the monkey comes into the movie (I won't spoil the movie for anyone and say more than that), and he didn't cry or say anything. When we put him into his bed, he layed down and said "all done monkey?" We told him yes.
He woke up yesterday morning and asked the same thing. He got the same answer. He asked the question several times mores throughout the day. I seriously believed he was asking about the monkey in a Mickey Mouse episode we had watched on Saturday as well. He is OBSESSED with Mickey and in order to appease him as to why we don't watch an episode on repeat, I often tell him that the characters are sleeping. So I figured this was what he was talking about. Before his nap we curled up on my bed again to finish up the movie. I restarted it right when the monkey comes on.
HE SCREAMED and jumped into my lap. Tears followed. "NO MONKEY! ALL DONE MONKEY! ALL GONE! ALL GONE MONKEY!"
Needless to say, we switched to Mickey Mouse very quickly.
Again, when I put him into his bed for naptime, he asked the same question: "all done monkey?" I assured him the monkey was gone and he went to sleep. I was cleaning up the bathroom about an hour later when I heard him shriek in fear and start crying and screaming for me. I ran into his room, half expecting a kidnapper or something.
He was standing up in his crib, crying and immediately reach for me said through his tears "all done, monkey, all gone. All done?"
DAMN MONKEY! I am pretty sure he had a nightmare that involved the effing thing.
I calmed him down. Assured him that the monkey was not real and could not hurt him. I explained that the monkey wasn't a bad monkey, just a toy. He asked many more times throughout the day, including right before bedtime. My husband told me this morning that he asked the same question as soon as he woke up.
Now he has a new fear: that monkey who watches the security screens in Toy Story 3.
He isn't just disturbed by the monkey. He is actually afraid of it.
He got the movie for Christmas and he has watched it several times. On Saturday, we curled up on my bed after his bath (which is another story). He hadn't taken a nap that day, so he was pretty tired. He was ready for bed around the time the monkey comes into the movie (I won't spoil the movie for anyone and say more than that), and he didn't cry or say anything. When we put him into his bed, he layed down and said "all done monkey?" We told him yes.
He woke up yesterday morning and asked the same thing. He got the same answer. He asked the question several times mores throughout the day. I seriously believed he was asking about the monkey in a Mickey Mouse episode we had watched on Saturday as well. He is OBSESSED with Mickey and in order to appease him as to why we don't watch an episode on repeat, I often tell him that the characters are sleeping. So I figured this was what he was talking about. Before his nap we curled up on my bed again to finish up the movie. I restarted it right when the monkey comes on.
HE SCREAMED and jumped into my lap. Tears followed. "NO MONKEY! ALL DONE MONKEY! ALL GONE! ALL GONE MONKEY!"
Needless to say, we switched to Mickey Mouse very quickly.
Again, when I put him into his bed for naptime, he asked the same question: "all done monkey?" I assured him the monkey was gone and he went to sleep. I was cleaning up the bathroom about an hour later when I heard him shriek in fear and start crying and screaming for me. I ran into his room, half expecting a kidnapper or something.
He was standing up in his crib, crying and immediately reach for me said through his tears "all done, monkey, all gone. All done?"
DAMN MONKEY! I am pretty sure he had a nightmare that involved the effing thing.
I calmed him down. Assured him that the monkey was not real and could not hurt him. I explained that the monkey wasn't a bad monkey, just a toy. He asked many more times throughout the day, including right before bedtime. My husband told me this morning that he asked the same question as soon as he woke up.
I mean, the monkey is pretty scary looking. Seriously, who makes a toy like that?
But...we will keep watching the movie. I don't want him to be scared of this monkey, so I may fast forward through those parts. Any suggestions on how to conquer this fear?
Thursday, October 14, 2010
The Least Wonderful Time of the Year
Or at least it is to me...Halloween.
And it isn't because of the trick-or-treating or costumes or candy. Those things make it semi-fun and bearable.
It's because of the amped up number of scary movies and paranormal shows.
My husband loves the ghost hunter stuff and I am forced to watch them with him. It's my penance for subjecting him to Desperate Housewives I guess. But seriously, I think he thinks Eva Longoria Parker is hot, so how is that bad for him? Anyway, I get pretty creeped out sometimes. I think of all the shows he watches, Ghost Hunters is the least abrasive. There is some freaky stuff on there. Like the face that leans over the railing in the lighthouse in Florida. FREAKY. I can only take about a weekly dose of it.
You know since it is October, that means there are MARATHONS of paranormal stuff on. And we have to watch it. There are NOT Desperate Housewives Marathons. And Teen Mom is over. So what I am supposed to do to get back at him? Yes, I know I could not watch it with him. I get it. It's my fault. But I have to spend time with him. And we have limited amounts together when Isaac is sleeping and not climbing all over us like a rabid monkey.
HOWEVER...
What I can not control is the amount of scary movies released this time of year. Like Paranormal Activity 2. Now, it is to my understanding that these movies are similar to the Blair Witch Project. Like, they are made to seem real documentaries but they are actually not. They are fiction.
I will be honest. I like scary movies sometimes. I like a good thrill every now and then. What I do not like are scary movies that are so real they could happen. And most scary movies nowadays are like that. I will admit that I am fascinated by ghosts and hauntings sometimes. I just can't take large doses. Especially when I am by myself in the house alot. And when I turn on my TV and THAT IS ALL THERE IS PLAYING....I have a problem with that.
What I do not like is the trailer for Paranormal Activity 2. Why? Because not only does it play on my fear of possession and ghosts, etc....it takes it to a whole other level.
In the trailer, there is a small boy, maybe around Isaac's age, sleeping in his crib. And then you see him drug across the crib by his feet, and pulled straight up. The next scene is the little boy standing, looking over the crib, with his pet dogs barking madly at the open door. Then you see the little boy thrown from the crib and drug out of the room by his feet. The next part is an angry looking dead woman, I mean, I assume she is, hunched in the doorway looking all possessed and whatever.
It made me want to cry and bless Isaac's room with Holy water, just in case.
And it made me angry.
I get thrills and chills this time of year. I get making spooky movies meant to scare the bejeebus out of people for entertainment purposes. But this played on a different type of fear. A FEAR THAT SOMETHING MIGHT HAPPEN TO HURT MY BABY.
And that, quite frankly, just pisses me off. IMMENSELY. As a mother, I do not find it remotely entertaining that people are trying to capitalize this fear, the fear that is instilled in them as soon as they become a mother. That fear, that divine instinct to protect your child...not for entertainment purposes.
I can tell you that if something like that EVER happened to me and my family, I would be terrified. And I would be PISSED. If anyone hurt my baby, dead or alive...WATCH OUT. Watch out ghosts who are pissed we are living in your house. I am pretty sure my anger in that case would overcome my fear of paranormal.
Same thing with aliens. But that is a whole other story.
Anyway, I can't stand that trailer. And it's on ALL THE TIME. I have to turn the channel. Or close my eyes and sing "Poker Face."
Only 17 days left in October. When does this movie come out? Hopefully after this month, they will move on to Christmas Movies. Or Harry Potter. OOOHHHH, Harry Potter. I think I just found my new happy place to go to for the damn trailers.
And it isn't because of the trick-or-treating or costumes or candy. Those things make it semi-fun and bearable.
It's because of the amped up number of scary movies and paranormal shows.
My husband loves the ghost hunter stuff and I am forced to watch them with him. It's my penance for subjecting him to Desperate Housewives I guess. But seriously, I think he thinks Eva Longoria Parker is hot, so how is that bad for him? Anyway, I get pretty creeped out sometimes. I think of all the shows he watches, Ghost Hunters is the least abrasive. There is some freaky stuff on there. Like the face that leans over the railing in the lighthouse in Florida. FREAKY. I can only take about a weekly dose of it.
You know since it is October, that means there are MARATHONS of paranormal stuff on. And we have to watch it. There are NOT Desperate Housewives Marathons. And Teen Mom is over. So what I am supposed to do to get back at him? Yes, I know I could not watch it with him. I get it. It's my fault. But I have to spend time with him. And we have limited amounts together when Isaac is sleeping and not climbing all over us like a rabid monkey.
HOWEVER...
What I can not control is the amount of scary movies released this time of year. Like Paranormal Activity 2. Now, it is to my understanding that these movies are similar to the Blair Witch Project. Like, they are made to seem real documentaries but they are actually not. They are fiction.
I will be honest. I like scary movies sometimes. I like a good thrill every now and then. What I do not like are scary movies that are so real they could happen. And most scary movies nowadays are like that. I will admit that I am fascinated by ghosts and hauntings sometimes. I just can't take large doses. Especially when I am by myself in the house alot. And when I turn on my TV and THAT IS ALL THERE IS PLAYING....I have a problem with that.
What I do not like is the trailer for Paranormal Activity 2. Why? Because not only does it play on my fear of possession and ghosts, etc....it takes it to a whole other level.
In the trailer, there is a small boy, maybe around Isaac's age, sleeping in his crib. And then you see him drug across the crib by his feet, and pulled straight up. The next scene is the little boy standing, looking over the crib, with his pet dogs barking madly at the open door. Then you see the little boy thrown from the crib and drug out of the room by his feet. The next part is an angry looking dead woman, I mean, I assume she is, hunched in the doorway looking all possessed and whatever.
It made me want to cry and bless Isaac's room with Holy water, just in case.
And it made me angry.
I get thrills and chills this time of year. I get making spooky movies meant to scare the bejeebus out of people for entertainment purposes. But this played on a different type of fear. A FEAR THAT SOMETHING MIGHT HAPPEN TO HURT MY BABY.
And that, quite frankly, just pisses me off. IMMENSELY. As a mother, I do not find it remotely entertaining that people are trying to capitalize this fear, the fear that is instilled in them as soon as they become a mother. That fear, that divine instinct to protect your child...not for entertainment purposes.
I can tell you that if something like that EVER happened to me and my family, I would be terrified. And I would be PISSED. If anyone hurt my baby, dead or alive...WATCH OUT. Watch out ghosts who are pissed we are living in your house. I am pretty sure my anger in that case would overcome my fear of paranormal.
Same thing with aliens. But that is a whole other story.
Anyway, I can't stand that trailer. And it's on ALL THE TIME. I have to turn the channel. Or close my eyes and sing "Poker Face."
Only 17 days left in October. When does this movie come out? Hopefully after this month, they will move on to Christmas Movies. Or Harry Potter. OOOHHHH, Harry Potter. I think I just found my new happy place to go to for the damn trailers.
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
In the Middle of the Night
I am a troubled sleeper. I can NEVER fall asleep on my own. And I never sleep undisturbed, even the slightest noise wakes me up (Note: After about 10 years, my husband's snoring no longer wakes me up even though he sounds like a drunken bear with a chainsaw). I long ago turned off the baby monitor. Seriously, Isaac is in the next room over, and I hear him. I hear EVERYTHING. I hear the cats jump on and off the bed. I hear stuff fall in the kitchen. I hear animals outside. I hear the toilet make funny noises.
Isaac very rarely wakes during the night. I will hear him stir, and sometimes whimper a bit. But he seldom wakes up in the middle of the night unless he is RAVENOUS or has a diaper blowout or one of the @$%hat cats has managed to get into his room and jump in the crib (Another Note: I long since took down the crib tent prevent said @$%hat cats from leaping into the crib. Isaac is big enough now to sense when one of them is in his bed. And half the time he thinks it is hilarious).
Or he has a nightmare. Like last night.
At about 3am, I hear him SCREAMING. No precursor whimpers. No small cries. FULL BLOWN SCREAMS.
Thinking some crazed kidnapper or axe murder has busted through the wonky Dr. Suess windows in his room, I rocketed out of bed so fast, the cat sleeping on my head flew across the room. Flinging open his bedroom door and adjusting the dimmer on the overhead light, I see my baby laying face down, clutching his big blue bunny pillow. SCREAMING.
No axe murders, child molesters, or crazed maniacs were in sight. Nor was the other cat.
He didn't lift his head when I came in. He didn't look up when I spoke to him. He laid there and screamed.
Immediately I am thinking he has watched too much Air Jaws and I have passed onto the MomFail side.
I rubbed his back, and finally he looked up at me, or squinted at me and lifted his arms up. He laid his head on my shoulder and SCREAMED. I sat on the floor with him, only to have him start writhing and screaming louder. We stood up and rocked back and forth. We went to the recliner and rocked, still SCREAMING. My husband woke up and came out to see what was happening. Isaac reached for him and I went to get his milk, thinking it might help. He grabbed the cup and clutched it to his chest, still screaming. My husband took him to our bed and turned the TV on for a little light. SCREAMING. We laid next to him, thrashing and SCREAMING. At about 330, he was calming down, so I put him back in his crib. A few minutes later, he was back to snoring softly, screaming subsided and I was looking down at my peacefully slumbering angel.
When I returned to bed, Ben commented that it didn't seem like Isaac was ever really awake, but stuck in his nightmare or whatever he was screaming about.
I have known parents who have kids that have night terrors.
Is this what is happening to Isaac? This episode was not the first...I would say it happens about once a month, maybe less. And if so, should I just be leaving him in his crib to cry it out? I didn't really try to wake him up. Just to soothe him.
It kills me to hear him scream that way. Especially that I can't get him to stop. What should I be doing?
Isaac very rarely wakes during the night. I will hear him stir, and sometimes whimper a bit. But he seldom wakes up in the middle of the night unless he is RAVENOUS or has a diaper blowout or one of the @$%hat cats has managed to get into his room and jump in the crib (Another Note: I long since took down the crib tent prevent said @$%hat cats from leaping into the crib. Isaac is big enough now to sense when one of them is in his bed. And half the time he thinks it is hilarious).
Or he has a nightmare. Like last night.
At about 3am, I hear him SCREAMING. No precursor whimpers. No small cries. FULL BLOWN SCREAMS.
Thinking some crazed kidnapper or axe murder has busted through the wonky Dr. Suess windows in his room, I rocketed out of bed so fast, the cat sleeping on my head flew across the room. Flinging open his bedroom door and adjusting the dimmer on the overhead light, I see my baby laying face down, clutching his big blue bunny pillow. SCREAMING.
No axe murders, child molesters, or crazed maniacs were in sight. Nor was the other cat.
He didn't lift his head when I came in. He didn't look up when I spoke to him. He laid there and screamed.
Immediately I am thinking he has watched too much Air Jaws and I have passed onto the MomFail side.
I rubbed his back, and finally he looked up at me, or squinted at me and lifted his arms up. He laid his head on my shoulder and SCREAMED. I sat on the floor with him, only to have him start writhing and screaming louder. We stood up and rocked back and forth. We went to the recliner and rocked, still SCREAMING. My husband woke up and came out to see what was happening. Isaac reached for him and I went to get his milk, thinking it might help. He grabbed the cup and clutched it to his chest, still screaming. My husband took him to our bed and turned the TV on for a little light. SCREAMING. We laid next to him, thrashing and SCREAMING. At about 330, he was calming down, so I put him back in his crib. A few minutes later, he was back to snoring softly, screaming subsided and I was looking down at my peacefully slumbering angel.
When I returned to bed, Ben commented that it didn't seem like Isaac was ever really awake, but stuck in his nightmare or whatever he was screaming about.
I have known parents who have kids that have night terrors.
Is this what is happening to Isaac? This episode was not the first...I would say it happens about once a month, maybe less. And if so, should I just be leaving him in his crib to cry it out? I didn't really try to wake him up. Just to soothe him.
It kills me to hear him scream that way. Especially that I can't get him to stop. What should I be doing?
Thursday, May 20, 2010
Paranoia
I am a paranoid person. Not about everything, but there are somethings that I am really really REALLY freaked out about happening to me or my family. Just thinking about them makes me sweaty and I can feel my blood pressure and anxiety levels rise.
Awhile ago I had a dream that someone was trying to take my baby. I spent the whole dream running away from them. I haven't been able to shake it. Do I think someone is going to take Isaac? God, I hope not. Do I feel like he is unsafe at daycare? No. Do I stand a little bit closer to him in the park and such? Yep. When I see a car like the one in my dream, does my pulse pick up a bit? Yep.
But that really isn't what this post is about, the dream I had. It's about my paranoia. I know exactly where it comes from. But I don't know how to make it go away.
When I was 15 years old, my birth father committed suicide. I won't hash the details here because I have talked about it before. But yeah, it sucked. After that, I really wasn't too paranoid. Then when I was 20, one of my best friends who I kinda not really dated for like a month told me that he couldn't live without me and killed himself. And that REALLY sucked.
And that....yeah, I think the paranoia comes from that.
Actually, I know it does. That was the kicker.
I am not paranoid that everyone I know is going to commit suicide.
But I am terrified of losing people. I hate that feeling when someone you care about is gone from your life. I know, no one likes it. But that's my paranoia. When my husband doesn't answer his phone, sometimes my mind goes to dark places. I would say 7 times out of 10 I realize that he is busy. If he is out of town, I realize that he is most likely drunk (Sorry, but true story) or asleep. The other 3 times, I am convinced he is dead and or missing and I call again and again and again. He knows that when that happens, I am freaking out and he picks up and says "I'm fine, I'm busy." (When I was preggers, he answered almost everytime I called just because I made him. Seriously, I could have been in labor. Or needed chili cheese fries or a sundae).
And because of that, this kidnapping dream has me freaked about losing Isaac. I go in his room a few more times a night to check on him. When I hear a loud bump in his room, I go in there, still realizing that it was him rolling over and hitting the wall, but still to check. My baby means everything to me.
I know it is normal for parents to worry about their children. And I can't think of one parent who wouldn't be absolutely devastated if soemthign happened to their kids. Worry is normal. It's healthy. Apprecriation for what you have, also healthy.
What I have....not so healthy. I have more than the normal level of worry.
How do I fix it? I don't want it to get worse. I don't want to be that crazy mom who won't let her son do anything because she is terrified of losing him somehow.
Awhile ago I had a dream that someone was trying to take my baby. I spent the whole dream running away from them. I haven't been able to shake it. Do I think someone is going to take Isaac? God, I hope not. Do I feel like he is unsafe at daycare? No. Do I stand a little bit closer to him in the park and such? Yep. When I see a car like the one in my dream, does my pulse pick up a bit? Yep.
But that really isn't what this post is about, the dream I had. It's about my paranoia. I know exactly where it comes from. But I don't know how to make it go away.
When I was 15 years old, my birth father committed suicide. I won't hash the details here because I have talked about it before. But yeah, it sucked. After that, I really wasn't too paranoid. Then when I was 20, one of my best friends who I kinda not really dated for like a month told me that he couldn't live without me and killed himself. And that REALLY sucked.
And that....yeah, I think the paranoia comes from that.
Actually, I know it does. That was the kicker.
I am not paranoid that everyone I know is going to commit suicide.
But I am terrified of losing people. I hate that feeling when someone you care about is gone from your life. I know, no one likes it. But that's my paranoia. When my husband doesn't answer his phone, sometimes my mind goes to dark places. I would say 7 times out of 10 I realize that he is busy. If he is out of town, I realize that he is most likely drunk (Sorry, but true story) or asleep. The other 3 times, I am convinced he is dead and or missing and I call again and again and again. He knows that when that happens, I am freaking out and he picks up and says "I'm fine, I'm busy." (When I was preggers, he answered almost everytime I called just because I made him. Seriously, I could have been in labor. Or needed chili cheese fries or a sundae).
And because of that, this kidnapping dream has me freaked about losing Isaac. I go in his room a few more times a night to check on him. When I hear a loud bump in his room, I go in there, still realizing that it was him rolling over and hitting the wall, but still to check. My baby means everything to me.
I know it is normal for parents to worry about their children. And I can't think of one parent who wouldn't be absolutely devastated if soemthign happened to their kids. Worry is normal. It's healthy. Apprecriation for what you have, also healthy.
What I have....not so healthy. I have more than the normal level of worry.
How do I fix it? I don't want it to get worse. I don't want to be that crazy mom who won't let her son do anything because she is terrified of losing him somehow.
Friday, October 30, 2009
In The Spirit of Things
As I have mentioned previously, my husband is a bit of a paranormal fanatic. This week has been like heaven for him, with all the shows having Halloween Marathons and such. This led to him telling me the tales of his own experiences, and scaring the crap out me. Yeah, I have pretty much been freaked out all week due to the enhanced quantities of exposure to these tales. Every sound I hear, my heart starts racing and I am afraid to look in the mirror or turn around for fear of what I will see.
Anyhoo, in the spirit of Halloween, I thought I would shall some of my own "freaky" experiences. Paranormal? Well, I can't say. Wierd though, and I might just be crazy. And I have to practice my ghost storytelling anyway. I am sure Isaac is going to be just like his father. Boys will be boys, right?
Here goes! Hold on to your butts!
Ben used to live in an apartment with his twin in T-town, OH. The summer before we moved out to CA, I used to stay there pretty much every night. I worked 4, yes 4, jobs and had crazy schedules. Ben worked second shift. I don't know where his brother was...maybe he worked second too. Anyway, I used to be alone alot of the time there at night.
One night I was laying in bed, almost asleep. I heard Ben throw his keys and change down on the bedside table he had, and then felt Ben flop down onto the bed. I rolled over and said hi and felt across the bed. There was no one there. So I thought maybe he had gotten up to go to the bathroom. I sat up and saw there was absolutely nothing on the table.
Hmmmm...
In the same apartment, I sometimes would fall asleep on the huge sectional they had while watching TV. I used to set the sleep timer though and Ben would wake me up to move to the bed when he got home. As a gift, I had bought Ben this funny little hippo pillow, which is now Isaac's, and I used to fall asleep with that, because I have to wrap my arms around a pillow (Ok, maybe it was really a gift for me...). One night, I set the sleep timer and soon fell asleep, hippo in my arms. In the midst of a dream or something I heard a low growling in my ear. In my sleep, I thought "What the hell is that? It sounds like a demon!" and tried to wake up. When I opened my eyes, the TV was on the white static channel. It was about 3 hours after I had set the sleep timer to turn off after 60 minutes. And the hippo pillow was propped up in the arm chair across the room.
Double hmmm......
Happy Halloween everyone! :)
Anyhoo, in the spirit of Halloween, I thought I would shall some of my own "freaky" experiences. Paranormal? Well, I can't say. Wierd though, and I might just be crazy. And I have to practice my ghost storytelling anyway. I am sure Isaac is going to be just like his father. Boys will be boys, right?
Here goes! Hold on to your butts!
Ben used to live in an apartment with his twin in T-town, OH. The summer before we moved out to CA, I used to stay there pretty much every night. I worked 4, yes 4, jobs and had crazy schedules. Ben worked second shift. I don't know where his brother was...maybe he worked second too. Anyway, I used to be alone alot of the time there at night.
One night I was laying in bed, almost asleep. I heard Ben throw his keys and change down on the bedside table he had, and then felt Ben flop down onto the bed. I rolled over and said hi and felt across the bed. There was no one there. So I thought maybe he had gotten up to go to the bathroom. I sat up and saw there was absolutely nothing on the table.
Hmmmm...
In the same apartment, I sometimes would fall asleep on the huge sectional they had while watching TV. I used to set the sleep timer though and Ben would wake me up to move to the bed when he got home. As a gift, I had bought Ben this funny little hippo pillow, which is now Isaac's, and I used to fall asleep with that, because I have to wrap my arms around a pillow (Ok, maybe it was really a gift for me...). One night, I set the sleep timer and soon fell asleep, hippo in my arms. In the midst of a dream or something I heard a low growling in my ear. In my sleep, I thought "What the hell is that? It sounds like a demon!" and tried to wake up. When I opened my eyes, the TV was on the white static channel. It was about 3 hours after I had set the sleep timer to turn off after 60 minutes. And the hippo pillow was propped up in the arm chair across the room.
Double hmmm......
Happy Halloween everyone! :)
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
The Great Debate
To vaccinate or not to vaccinate, that is my question.
Isaac goes to daycare. And he loves it. He loves Miss K and the other kids. I love having him go there, most times. Sometimes I miss him too much, when work is slow.
Anyway, one of Miss K's kids (her biological child, not a daycare charge) is sick. Like, really sick. And although her kid is not contagious anymore and I know she sanitizes and sterilizes the crap out of every single surface in the daycare, I worry about my little man. Ben and I talked about keeping him home until Thursday, which would be the first day both of us absolutely HAD to work and would be forced to take him there. We decided against it. Ben went to the DMV today and we all know what kind of disease-festering place that is, so Isaac is actually better off at daycare. Gross, unhealthy people covered in dirt and germs allowing their vagrant children to run rampant around that tiny little cubicle they call an office at the DMV. (Note: I do not think all people at the DMV are like this. Some of them are really clean. And nice. But seriously, do YOU really like to go to the DMV? If you do, stop reading this. You are hereby banned from my blog.)
Because of the constant outbreaks of H1N1 and other mysterious sicknesses plaguing the world, the topic of whether or not to get Isaac several option vaccinations has come up. I say optional because they are not mandated by the State or required for him to attend a daycare. I am not talking polio or DtAP or MMR. Such a vaccine is the flu shot.
You know I hate getting my baby poked. Its traumatizing, probably more so for me and the nurse who almost gets cut for making my precious baby scream like that. And I have never in my life had a flu shot. EVER. But those were the days when getting the flu meant staying home from school for a day or two, couch ridden while watching Nickelodeon and sucking down popsicles. It is way more serious nowadays, probably because there are 20 gazillion different strains of influenza and a flu vaccinates like 4 of them? And then there is all the talk of RESISTANT strains of viruses. Let's not get into that now.
But....I don't want my baby to get sick. Not only for my sanity, because let's face it, while Ben has input that is heavily considered, bottom line is I am the one that would stay up all night and home with a sick child, but because I don't ever want my baby to be in pain or to be sick or suffering in the slightest.
Plus he's in daycare. And its a daycare that includes children who go to school with other children, who get sick for a multitude of reasons.
And he does go to disease-ridden places like the DMV from time to time. Don't even get me started on the cleanliness of Tar.get (where I literally stepped on human feces while preggo). I AM NOT A PSYCHO MOM WHO IS A GERMOPHOBE. I realize there is only so much I can do, and yes I wipe down the carts with the lysol wipes and such. But I am not going to keep him in a protective bubble. Kids get sick. Fact of life.
I called my pediatrician's office today to get their take. I like the nurse I spoke with, she's cool (unless making my baby cry, see above). She didn't try to push me in one direction or the other, just listened to my situation. And then explained that the H1N1 vaccination could not be given unless he had the regular flu vaccination. The H1N1 is not available until mid-October, so if I want it for him, he needs to start the regular shot so he can get the booster so he can get the H1N1 in November. Sigh.
I made the snap decision to get the flu shot. It seems like the wisest decision, right? As for H1N1...I am still undecided. I have been scouring the CDC website all day. I guess I have til November to decide on that.
The next conundrum that rears it's ugly face is the Chicken Pox vaccine.
I had the chicken pox as a child. Sure, it sucked and I itched like no other and still have a scar or two on my tummy. But again, I was out of school for a while and I don't remember much else. And I won't get any form of the pox again. EVER.
I am not sure this vaccination can make the same promise to my son. I am thinking of resistant chicken pox strains from space. Overreacting? Yeah, probably. But I am a mother. That's in the job description right?
Would it be horrible to let him get chicken pox and itch his way to a garunteed pox free life? Hmmm, I don't think so. And I am planning to control the itching like Monica did in Fri.ends with oven mitts and duct tape.
HOWEVER. My husband does not remember if he's had the pox. And it is very serious in grown men if they get it. Serious like Isaac would be an only child from what I understand.
Once I learned that, yeah. That will be the determining factor. How do you not remember something like that?
Purell, anyone?
Isaac goes to daycare. And he loves it. He loves Miss K and the other kids. I love having him go there, most times. Sometimes I miss him too much, when work is slow.
Anyway, one of Miss K's kids (her biological child, not a daycare charge) is sick. Like, really sick. And although her kid is not contagious anymore and I know she sanitizes and sterilizes the crap out of every single surface in the daycare, I worry about my little man. Ben and I talked about keeping him home until Thursday, which would be the first day both of us absolutely HAD to work and would be forced to take him there. We decided against it. Ben went to the DMV today and we all know what kind of disease-festering place that is, so Isaac is actually better off at daycare. Gross, unhealthy people covered in dirt and germs allowing their vagrant children to run rampant around that tiny little cubicle they call an office at the DMV. (Note: I do not think all people at the DMV are like this. Some of them are really clean. And nice. But seriously, do YOU really like to go to the DMV? If you do, stop reading this. You are hereby banned from my blog.)
Because of the constant outbreaks of H1N1 and other mysterious sicknesses plaguing the world, the topic of whether or not to get Isaac several option vaccinations has come up. I say optional because they are not mandated by the State or required for him to attend a daycare. I am not talking polio or DtAP or MMR. Such a vaccine is the flu shot.
You know I hate getting my baby poked. Its traumatizing, probably more so for me and the nurse who almost gets cut for making my precious baby scream like that. And I have never in my life had a flu shot. EVER. But those were the days when getting the flu meant staying home from school for a day or two, couch ridden while watching Nickelodeon and sucking down popsicles. It is way more serious nowadays, probably because there are 20 gazillion different strains of influenza and a flu vaccinates like 4 of them? And then there is all the talk of RESISTANT strains of viruses. Let's not get into that now.
But....I don't want my baby to get sick. Not only for my sanity, because let's face it, while Ben has input that is heavily considered, bottom line is I am the one that would stay up all night and home with a sick child, but because I don't ever want my baby to be in pain or to be sick or suffering in the slightest.
Plus he's in daycare. And its a daycare that includes children who go to school with other children, who get sick for a multitude of reasons.
And he does go to disease-ridden places like the DMV from time to time. Don't even get me started on the cleanliness of Tar.get (where I literally stepped on human feces while preggo). I AM NOT A PSYCHO MOM WHO IS A GERMOPHOBE. I realize there is only so much I can do, and yes I wipe down the carts with the lysol wipes and such. But I am not going to keep him in a protective bubble. Kids get sick. Fact of life.
I called my pediatrician's office today to get their take. I like the nurse I spoke with, she's cool (unless making my baby cry, see above). She didn't try to push me in one direction or the other, just listened to my situation. And then explained that the H1N1 vaccination could not be given unless he had the regular flu vaccination. The H1N1 is not available until mid-October, so if I want it for him, he needs to start the regular shot so he can get the booster so he can get the H1N1 in November. Sigh.
I made the snap decision to get the flu shot. It seems like the wisest decision, right? As for H1N1...I am still undecided. I have been scouring the CDC website all day. I guess I have til November to decide on that.
The next conundrum that rears it's ugly face is the Chicken Pox vaccine.
I had the chicken pox as a child. Sure, it sucked and I itched like no other and still have a scar or two on my tummy. But again, I was out of school for a while and I don't remember much else. And I won't get any form of the pox again. EVER.
I am not sure this vaccination can make the same promise to my son. I am thinking of resistant chicken pox strains from space. Overreacting? Yeah, probably. But I am a mother. That's in the job description right?
Would it be horrible to let him get chicken pox and itch his way to a garunteed pox free life? Hmmm, I don't think so. And I am planning to control the itching like Monica did in Fri.ends with oven mitts and duct tape.
HOWEVER. My husband does not remember if he's had the pox. And it is very serious in grown men if they get it. Serious like Isaac would be an only child from what I understand.
Once I learned that, yeah. That will be the determining factor. How do you not remember something like that?
Purell, anyone?
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
Isaac's Mommy
Isaac laughs when someone kisses his neck. I was the first person to know this because I was the first person to do it and see it happen. I know this because I am his mommy. He's my baby boy.
Ben and I say every night before I put him in his crib, how very much we love Isaac. Ben even says that he knew he would love him, and he knew it would be alot. But he had no idea how much and how strong that love would be. I love my son more than I could ever have fathomed would be possible.
That love changes you. It changed me in ways I can't even begin to explain. I run through so many emotions on a day to day basis, it makes my head hurt. This beautiful little boy, he deserves the best that life has to offer.
He doesn't know that his mommy is having a hard time. He doesn't understand that sometimes when he cries, he makes me want lock myself in my closet. I hate each negative feeling I have about being a mother, because it is the best job I could ever have. Isaac doesn't understand the ups and downs, but knows when his mommy is upset. And he gets upset. I hate making him upset.
I have yelled at him. I have cried to him. I have begged and pleaded with him. He stares at me with his beautiful baby eyes, and his little mouth turns downward. The guilt is instananeous. We both cry. And then we have to cuddle until we both feel better.
Sometimes daddy has to take him, because I can't. I can't look at him because I am too upset. I can't look at him because I feel like a freight train is roaring through my head. What kind of mother can't look at her own baby, who she loves so much it hurts? I know that I am not a bad mother. I know that things will get better. I hate that time is flying by, and that feeling this way takes away from each moment.
I am trying. I really am trying to make things better. But its scary. And for every step forward I take, I feel like there are 2 steps back. I keep thinking that one morning I will just wake up and everything will be better. That I won't feel sad or angry or like I have failed in every aspect possible. I will just be able to show the joy that I feel deep down that everyday when I wake up, I am Isaac's mommy.
I will do whatever it takes to get there.
Monday, July 20, 2009
Throwing It Out There
This post is hard for me to write. I am an obvious type A personality with control issues, meaning I don't like to relinquish control of anything or ask for help. Relinquish is just a fancy word for lose. Or for that matter, even admit I need help with anything.
And before I go any further, I must say to my family and friends, especially my mother if she reads this and wonders why I didn't tell her, I am sorry. Again, see the reason above. In addition, I don't like to worry people. And in this case, I don't like to talk about it, but Dr. says I should.
I have post partum depression.
What?! No way, you say, I have talked to you and you seem fine and happy!!!
Yes, I do. Again, see above.
Before I say anything more, I am going to say this, and I can't stress it enough.
I WOULD NEVER, IN A MILLION TRILLION YEARS UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES, HURT MY BABY IN ANY WAY. ISAAC IS MY WORLD, AND I LOVE HIM WITH EVERY FIBER OF MY BEING.
Another reason I didn't say anything at first to anyone other than my husband, I don't want anyone to think I would hurt him and take him away from me. This seems like a flaw in the system.
It started when I went back to work. Or started getting bad. That was over 2 months ago. It finally exploded in the last few weeks, most likely with the added stress factors. My doctor says everyone gets a case of the baby blues every now and then, but sometimes it just doesn't go away. Like in my case, I guess.
I started noticing that something was wrong when the nightmares started. I won't describe them to you, but they were BAD. I would wake up hysterical and refuse to touch Isaac out of fear until I could dissociate myself from the nightmare. I would put him in the bassinet and go sleep on the couch.
Then came the rapid mood swings. I mean RAPID, like split second. There were sessions of mass hysteria and hardcore crying. I felt overwhelmed, like a bad mother, and like a failure in every aspect of my life. I started to realize that this wasn't me and something was definately wrong, very much so. I didn't want to be this person.
When I went in for my annual appointment with my Dr. my blood pressure was high, way high. I believe he used the words "stroke out." And my weight loss is too rapid, losing too much, too fast. These two factors led to the PPD conversation, and I finally spilled my guts. I have to go in for a stress test because I am doing too much. I have to cut something, somehow. And then I have to go for counseling, most likely, and talk about medication. Yep, happy pills and anti-anxiety meds. He also used words like "nervous breakdown" and "hospitalization." It is definately time to get some help. How did this get to be my life?
Sigh. This all came to a head before I left for Ohio. I thought once I got back, most of the problem would be gone. Nope. One day I will truly learn that ignoring things does not make them go away. Funnily enough, scheduling and taking the stress test was stressing me out. Seriously, when do I have time to do that. Aahhh...there's the problem. I need to make time. And I need to make time now.
The Dr. also talked to me about more disability and said that it could be Ok'ed and that he strongly recommended it in a forceful yet friendly way. And when I do (not if, I guess), Isaac needs to stay at daycare and I need to rest. NO EXCEPTIONS. That will be hard. I always want my baby with me if I am home. But I don't want to have to keep calling my husband and having him come get the baby because I can't handle it and can't be around him. I HATE THAT. It isn't me. It just isn't.
Sigh again. I hate this. I really do. It's time to make it go away.
And before I go any further, I must say to my family and friends, especially my mother if she reads this and wonders why I didn't tell her, I am sorry. Again, see the reason above. In addition, I don't like to worry people. And in this case, I don't like to talk about it, but Dr. says I should.
I have post partum depression.
What?! No way, you say, I have talked to you and you seem fine and happy!!!
Yes, I do. Again, see above.
Before I say anything more, I am going to say this, and I can't stress it enough.
I WOULD NEVER, IN A MILLION TRILLION YEARS UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES, HURT MY BABY IN ANY WAY. ISAAC IS MY WORLD, AND I LOVE HIM WITH EVERY FIBER OF MY BEING.
Another reason I didn't say anything at first to anyone other than my husband, I don't want anyone to think I would hurt him and take him away from me. This seems like a flaw in the system.
It started when I went back to work. Or started getting bad. That was over 2 months ago. It finally exploded in the last few weeks, most likely with the added stress factors. My doctor says everyone gets a case of the baby blues every now and then, but sometimes it just doesn't go away. Like in my case, I guess.
I started noticing that something was wrong when the nightmares started. I won't describe them to you, but they were BAD. I would wake up hysterical and refuse to touch Isaac out of fear until I could dissociate myself from the nightmare. I would put him in the bassinet and go sleep on the couch.
Then came the rapid mood swings. I mean RAPID, like split second. There were sessions of mass hysteria and hardcore crying. I felt overwhelmed, like a bad mother, and like a failure in every aspect of my life. I started to realize that this wasn't me and something was definately wrong, very much so. I didn't want to be this person.
When I went in for my annual appointment with my Dr. my blood pressure was high, way high. I believe he used the words "stroke out." And my weight loss is too rapid, losing too much, too fast. These two factors led to the PPD conversation, and I finally spilled my guts. I have to go in for a stress test because I am doing too much. I have to cut something, somehow. And then I have to go for counseling, most likely, and talk about medication. Yep, happy pills and anti-anxiety meds. He also used words like "nervous breakdown" and "hospitalization." It is definately time to get some help. How did this get to be my life?
Sigh. This all came to a head before I left for Ohio. I thought once I got back, most of the problem would be gone. Nope. One day I will truly learn that ignoring things does not make them go away. Funnily enough, scheduling and taking the stress test was stressing me out. Seriously, when do I have time to do that. Aahhh...there's the problem. I need to make time. And I need to make time now.
The Dr. also talked to me about more disability and said that it could be Ok'ed and that he strongly recommended it in a forceful yet friendly way. And when I do (not if, I guess), Isaac needs to stay at daycare and I need to rest. NO EXCEPTIONS. That will be hard. I always want my baby with me if I am home. But I don't want to have to keep calling my husband and having him come get the baby because I can't handle it and can't be around him. I HATE THAT. It isn't me. It just isn't.
Sigh again. I hate this. I really do. It's time to make it go away.
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
Ghost Hunters: Sebastopol
My dear husband has recently become obsessed with the paranormal every single show related to this obsession. My DVR is thus filled with such programs as "A Hau.nting," "Par.anormal Sta.te," "Gho.st Adven.tures," "Most Hau.nted," and "Ghos.t Hunt.ers (which is the only one I will watch)." These programs FREAK ME OUT. I am not saying that I do or do not believe in ghosts or demonic possession or poltergeists, etc. All I am saying is that watching hours upon hours of these programs and then being by myself most of the time kinda gets me jumpy.
For example, my grandmother gave Isaac a little musical stuffed frog that plays Twinkle Twinkle Little Star (or the alphabet song, whichever you prefer) when you press him tummy. When we first got the frog, you had to pound on it to get any music out of it. Well, the other night I woke up to feed Isaac and I heard the frog going off in his bedroom. And not just once, MULTIPLE TIMES. When I was done feeding him, I put Isaac back in his bassinet and went to get my pump...frog still blazing away. So I went to investigate. Sure enough, there he was wedged into Isaac's stuffed animal basket having a good ol' time. I figured that he must be wedged in to tightly and the other animals must have shifted or something from the weight of all of them. Whatever. I pulled him out and set him on top, silencing him.
Or so I thought. The next morning, what do I hear? Yep, the damn frog!!!! It kept going off at random times, and each time it freaked me out more. I don't think Ben believed me.
Finally on Sunday, the wretched amphibian went off while Ben was home. I sent him to investigate. I heard it go off several more times and finally stop. According to Ben, the music box inside had shifted and was now hyper sensitive and s slight jiggle would set it off...like slamming doors or heavy footsteps or a cat jumping on the bookcase. He put the toy into a plastic toy container up in Isaac's closet, and we haven't heard it since.
According to my paranormal investigator husband, the case of the ghost frog has been debunked. He is now ready for his own show on SciFi. :)
For example, my grandmother gave Isaac a little musical stuffed frog that plays Twinkle Twinkle Little Star (or the alphabet song, whichever you prefer) when you press him tummy. When we first got the frog, you had to pound on it to get any music out of it. Well, the other night I woke up to feed Isaac and I heard the frog going off in his bedroom. And not just once, MULTIPLE TIMES. When I was done feeding him, I put Isaac back in his bassinet and went to get my pump...frog still blazing away. So I went to investigate. Sure enough, there he was wedged into Isaac's stuffed animal basket having a good ol' time. I figured that he must be wedged in to tightly and the other animals must have shifted or something from the weight of all of them. Whatever. I pulled him out and set him on top, silencing him.
Or so I thought. The next morning, what do I hear? Yep, the damn frog!!!! It kept going off at random times, and each time it freaked me out more. I don't think Ben believed me.
Finally on Sunday, the wretched amphibian went off while Ben was home. I sent him to investigate. I heard it go off several more times and finally stop. According to Ben, the music box inside had shifted and was now hyper sensitive and s slight jiggle would set it off...like slamming doors or heavy footsteps or a cat jumping on the bookcase. He put the toy into a plastic toy container up in Isaac's closet, and we haven't heard it since.
According to my paranormal investigator husband, the case of the ghost frog has been debunked. He is now ready for his own show on SciFi. :)
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
"No! It Just Needs to Get Done!!!!"
...is my exclamation and response to when my husband, mother, friends...pretty much anyone tells me to chill out and just wait for stuff.
Case in point: I am all hyper about making sure we have everything the baby needs before he gets here. I know my baby shower is this weekend, but I am still making lists of what needs to get bought, how much it is, what coupons I have, etc. I have been so completely hyper about this that Ben has sworn to take me to Babies R Us next Wednesday in order to get everything on my list. Countless people have told me to relax and just wait to see what we get from the shower, and that the baby really doesn't need such and such when he is first born...blah blah blah. It doesn't matter to me. IT JUST NEEDS TO BE DONE FOR MY PEACE OF MIND. It seems easier to do it now then to tote a newborn somewhere to get it.
Another example: We have new hardwood floors in the house. I do not like to feel the grit and litter beneath my bare feet. I sweep the floor about 17000 times per day. And as soon as I feel the grit, it has to be swept up right away. I can't stand it. Ben thinks I am nutso. He comes in from the garage and I sweep up the dirt behind him.
There are many examples. Really I just want it done. It is the nesting kicking in full force.
In other baby news: Today is baby day #11 (I think). 36 week appointment happens at 4:20 pm. I think they do the test for Strep B, but I am not sure. I also have a long list for the doctor as to what has been happening. ALERT: what I am about to say may be TMI for some. My boobs are leaking some runny clear gel-like stuff. I have been told this is completely normal and it is just the colostrum. It still freaks me out.
I am now able to use my belly as a table. The baby doesn't like hot plates and such so I have to put a blanket over it, but it still saves me from getting out a tray, which doesn't work anyway since the belly is too big and the tray is essentially over my knees. My new favorite thing to do is grab on to his little knees when he sticks them into my sides and shake him a little. He responds by yanking away his knee and then kicking his little feet. :) I also like to push on one side of my belly and watch the other side respond.
I am not sure what is going on with the baby shower this weekend. :) It is kind of a surprise, which I am excited about. It will be just my friends which I am really excited about, especially since I haven't seen most of them in quite some time.
I have made the decision to cut my hair. It is hella long right now, and becoming a pain in the arse. It takes forever to dry and style. I am leaving it long enough to pull up when the baby arrives, but short enough that I can actually style it in the morning.
And lastly: I keep having dreams that I go into the doctor and he tells me that my fluid is low or something and the baby has to be born right now. Fingers crossed that doesn't happen.
Case in point: I am all hyper about making sure we have everything the baby needs before he gets here. I know my baby shower is this weekend, but I am still making lists of what needs to get bought, how much it is, what coupons I have, etc. I have been so completely hyper about this that Ben has sworn to take me to Babies R Us next Wednesday in order to get everything on my list. Countless people have told me to relax and just wait to see what we get from the shower, and that the baby really doesn't need such and such when he is first born...blah blah blah. It doesn't matter to me. IT JUST NEEDS TO BE DONE FOR MY PEACE OF MIND. It seems easier to do it now then to tote a newborn somewhere to get it.
Another example: We have new hardwood floors in the house. I do not like to feel the grit and litter beneath my bare feet. I sweep the floor about 17000 times per day. And as soon as I feel the grit, it has to be swept up right away. I can't stand it. Ben thinks I am nutso. He comes in from the garage and I sweep up the dirt behind him.
There are many examples. Really I just want it done. It is the nesting kicking in full force.
In other baby news: Today is baby day #11 (I think). 36 week appointment happens at 4:20 pm. I think they do the test for Strep B, but I am not sure. I also have a long list for the doctor as to what has been happening. ALERT: what I am about to say may be TMI for some. My boobs are leaking some runny clear gel-like stuff. I have been told this is completely normal and it is just the colostrum. It still freaks me out.
I am now able to use my belly as a table. The baby doesn't like hot plates and such so I have to put a blanket over it, but it still saves me from getting out a tray, which doesn't work anyway since the belly is too big and the tray is essentially over my knees. My new favorite thing to do is grab on to his little knees when he sticks them into my sides and shake him a little. He responds by yanking away his knee and then kicking his little feet. :) I also like to push on one side of my belly and watch the other side respond.
I am not sure what is going on with the baby shower this weekend. :) It is kind of a surprise, which I am excited about. It will be just my friends which I am really excited about, especially since I haven't seen most of them in quite some time.
I have made the decision to cut my hair. It is hella long right now, and becoming a pain in the arse. It takes forever to dry and style. I am leaving it long enough to pull up when the baby arrives, but short enough that I can actually style it in the morning.
And lastly: I keep having dreams that I go into the doctor and he tells me that my fluid is low or something and the baby has to be born right now. Fingers crossed that doesn't happen.
Friday, December 5, 2008
Glucola...Round 2
I had my 3 hour Glucola test this morning. It was not fun. I was already really tired. :( We packed up a bunch of stuff to move last night and I didn't get to bed until almost 11:30. My normal bedtime is 9:30, 10 at the latest. I can't help it, growing a person is tiring.
I woke up early to help Ben and BIL load up his car of stuff to take to the new place. I was at the hospital by 7:15.
They made me really nervous because they took my initial blood sample and then said "we will test your sugar now. If it's too high, we won't give you the drink and we will just send you home. That is bad." Fortunately, my sugar level was good. They gave me the drink, this time it was the infamous orange drink, not the lemon-lime that I had last time. And this time they watched me down it. And so began the 3 hours of waiting and blood taking.
3 more arm pricks and about 80% of the first Twilight series book later, I was free to go. And ravenous. I had kept my tummy at bay by drinking lots of water. Peanut responded to that water by doing somersaults on my bladder, forcing me into the bathroom about every 30 minutes or so. Then I would get some more water. It was a vicious cycle, really. And I hate needles :( Two pokes in each arm was brutal to me.
Fingers crossed for good results. I would assume that if I don't pass this one, they would call me and not make me wait until my appointment on the 18th? Fingers crossed for that too.
There were alot of babies in the waiting/lobby area. And it made me realize how much I can't wait to have my baby and to be a mom. I teared up several times at the little baby noises and grunts.
I should add that while watching the Mac.y's T-Day par.ade, I bawled when I saw Santa at the end. Seriously.
And the crib hunting drama continues. Damn those BRU people. :(
I woke up early to help Ben and BIL load up his car of stuff to take to the new place. I was at the hospital by 7:15.
They made me really nervous because they took my initial blood sample and then said "we will test your sugar now. If it's too high, we won't give you the drink and we will just send you home. That is bad." Fortunately, my sugar level was good. They gave me the drink, this time it was the infamous orange drink, not the lemon-lime that I had last time. And this time they watched me down it. And so began the 3 hours of waiting and blood taking.
3 more arm pricks and about 80% of the first Twilight series book later, I was free to go. And ravenous. I had kept my tummy at bay by drinking lots of water. Peanut responded to that water by doing somersaults on my bladder, forcing me into the bathroom about every 30 minutes or so. Then I would get some more water. It was a vicious cycle, really. And I hate needles :( Two pokes in each arm was brutal to me.
Fingers crossed for good results. I would assume that if I don't pass this one, they would call me and not make me wait until my appointment on the 18th? Fingers crossed for that too.
There were alot of babies in the waiting/lobby area. And it made me realize how much I can't wait to have my baby and to be a mom. I teared up several times at the little baby noises and grunts.
I should add that while watching the Mac.y's T-Day par.ade, I bawled when I saw Santa at the end. Seriously.
And the crib hunting drama continues. Damn those BRU people. :(
Friday, October 17, 2008
Frustration and Paranoia
If yesterday was back to business, today is back to stress. All I want to do is sleep. It's like the past two weeks never happened. The tension came flying back.
First of all, my car went into the shop where my husband works for repairs before he left for our vacation. After a week and a half, it is still NOT DONE. I am beyond angry about it. We are paying for these repairs, and we should therefore be treated like any other paying customer.
Second, there are just alot of work issues going on for my husband. Being the control freak that I am, I am stressed about it more than he is. Well, at least I am being more vocal about my stress. Having him chastise me and such, does not help...it makes me angrier or worse, makes me hysterically cry. I like to think that situations are never as bad as they seem on the outside and look for the positives. He always prepares and expects for the worst. He handles things in a completely different manner and it makes me angry. More so now that I have a mounting hormonal imbalance fueling my fire.
Third, we still have not figured out where we will be living. As my belly expands and it becomes harder for me to bend down and do all the motions and activities associated with moving, this begins to stress me out more.
I am just so damn frustrated and feel like I am taking care of everything and everyone.
And as for the paranoia....yeah, I have become irrationally paranoid. I have always been a teeny bit more paranoid than the average person, but it is becoming way worse. Example: My husband was taking pictures on his phone from the top of the Empire State Building, with his hand and phone outside the fencing. All I could see was someone bumping into him or something and the phone being dropped. I seriously got sweats over it. Everytime he took out the phone, I had to look away or felt the need to stand guard. That is not normal. I told him about it, and he laughed.
I better have my car back tomorrow. I am doing my Target registry on Sunday.
First of all, my car went into the shop where my husband works for repairs before he left for our vacation. After a week and a half, it is still NOT DONE. I am beyond angry about it. We are paying for these repairs, and we should therefore be treated like any other paying customer.
Second, there are just alot of work issues going on for my husband. Being the control freak that I am, I am stressed about it more than he is. Well, at least I am being more vocal about my stress. Having him chastise me and such, does not help...it makes me angrier or worse, makes me hysterically cry. I like to think that situations are never as bad as they seem on the outside and look for the positives. He always prepares and expects for the worst. He handles things in a completely different manner and it makes me angry. More so now that I have a mounting hormonal imbalance fueling my fire.
Third, we still have not figured out where we will be living. As my belly expands and it becomes harder for me to bend down and do all the motions and activities associated with moving, this begins to stress me out more.
I am just so damn frustrated and feel like I am taking care of everything and everyone.
And as for the paranoia....yeah, I have become irrationally paranoid. I have always been a teeny bit more paranoid than the average person, but it is becoming way worse. Example: My husband was taking pictures on his phone from the top of the Empire State Building, with his hand and phone outside the fencing. All I could see was someone bumping into him or something and the phone being dropped. I seriously got sweats over it. Everytime he took out the phone, I had to look away or felt the need to stand guard. That is not normal. I told him about it, and he laughed.
I better have my car back tomorrow. I am doing my Target registry on Sunday.
Friday, September 12, 2008
Day By Day
You know the feeling you get when you are at the airport or driving in a car, coming home after a vacation? That feeling that you aren't on vacation anymore but you aren't really back to normal life at home? It's a transitional feeling, right? Personally, I f'n hate this feeling.
That is the feeling I have today and I just want it to be over. I don't like the inbetween feeling, especially when I don't really know what I am feeling inbetween of. I just want to be in one place or another, whether it be location or position in life.
Because of this feeling, I woke up sometime last night (I don't really know what time it was because I refused to look at the clock) and had the sudden urge to check our bank balances. I don't know, I am just obsessive like that. I didn't check them, but I had wierd banking dreams for the rest of the night.
It has been a busy busy morning. I have been running around and making phone calls. The weather outside is gloomy and gray, so that doesn't help my mood.
I guess I am not really in a bad mood, just a tight and wound-up mood. I am getting the same advice from everyone: "stop worrying and just take things day by day."
Honestly, I have been trying to do that. Really. I am just a control freak that has to know exactly what is going on at all times and how I can be ontop of the situation. I can't just be a passive person. I have relaxed alot over the years, but I still have the obsessive streak in me that rears its ugly head from time to time. Seriously, it is not even the situation itself that is stressing me out. It is the fact that the outcome of the situation is a big fat question mark right now. Ah, the transitional phase feeling yet again. I will feel much better once I know what needs to get done and I feel in control again.
I have been hugging my belly all day, silently asking for my tiny bell pepper-sized baby to kick my hands or something to let me feel less alone. So far, nada. Come on, Peanut.
That is the feeling I have today and I just want it to be over. I don't like the inbetween feeling, especially when I don't really know what I am feeling inbetween of. I just want to be in one place or another, whether it be location or position in life.
Because of this feeling, I woke up sometime last night (I don't really know what time it was because I refused to look at the clock) and had the sudden urge to check our bank balances. I don't know, I am just obsessive like that. I didn't check them, but I had wierd banking dreams for the rest of the night.
It has been a busy busy morning. I have been running around and making phone calls. The weather outside is gloomy and gray, so that doesn't help my mood.
I guess I am not really in a bad mood, just a tight and wound-up mood. I am getting the same advice from everyone: "stop worrying and just take things day by day."
Honestly, I have been trying to do that. Really. I am just a control freak that has to know exactly what is going on at all times and how I can be ontop of the situation. I can't just be a passive person. I have relaxed alot over the years, but I still have the obsessive streak in me that rears its ugly head from time to time. Seriously, it is not even the situation itself that is stressing me out. It is the fact that the outcome of the situation is a big fat question mark right now. Ah, the transitional phase feeling yet again. I will feel much better once I know what needs to get done and I feel in control again.
I have been hugging my belly all day, silently asking for my tiny bell pepper-sized baby to kick my hands or something to let me feel less alone. So far, nada. Come on, Peanut.
Monday, September 8, 2008
One Weight Off The Shoulders
As I have mentioned recently, it has been a pretty stressful few weeks for me and my husband. However, I would like to say that something good did happen today.
J.Cre.w sent me an email saying that my bridesmaid dress had been shipped out a few days earlier than the pushed send date. That is good. They didn't upgrade the shipping, but I figure that is ok. As long as it gets here by Saturday, I should be able to have it altered in plenty of time. Now I am praying that it fits and the baby belly has not expanded my figure so much. According to the size charts, I am well within the safety area and most likely it will just be huge. Good. :)
Stress is not good for the baby. :( I know, duh. But I didn't realize how bad stress actually was for the baby until I ended up in the hospital. I don't want to have to go back there. I am drinking like a fiend now, consuming more beverage than food. I am seriously drinking so much that I am not hungry. When I get hungry, I drink milk or juice while looking for something to eat and the hunger goes away. I didn't eat nearly as much this weekend as I could have. I haven't decided if this is a good thing or a bad thing.
So far this week is starting off on a better foot. I have been catching up from Friday and getting everything back in line. I am trying not to freak out like I was last week. I am trying not to worry so much about stuff, and just take it a day at a time. I am not like my husband who lives by "prep for the worst, hope for the best." I go by "If it isn't right in front of me, then I can't see it and don't have to worry about it," and "don't tell me until I need to really worry." I can't decide if the arising situations are being exaggerated slightly (or immensely) due to the increased moodiness from the Chan.tix. My husband is a realistic pessimist....I am a paranoid naive optimist. It makes for interesting arguments.
In brighter news still, my mom and grandma found a location for the baby shower. My mom says it will work well, and can be easily decorated. I requested a funfetti cake, with the christmas type "fetti." I think my mom thinks I am nutso, but I love, love, love me some funfetti. :) I feel Peanut moving around every now and then. It is a very wierd feeling, to have something moving in you. But it is a great one at that. I have discovered two types of Peanut movement. One is the gushing air feeling I previously described. I like to visualize Peanut dancing and twirling around. The other is a thump. During this one I visualize Peanut kicking or punching the wall of my uterus. :) Feisty little thing. I feel the gushing one more often.
J.Cre.w sent me an email saying that my bridesmaid dress had been shipped out a few days earlier than the pushed send date. That is good.
Stress is not good for the baby. :( I know, duh. But I didn't realize how bad stress actually was for the baby until I ended up in the hospital. I don't want to have to go back there. I am drinking like a fiend now, consuming more beverage than food. I am seriously drinking so much that I am not hungry. When I get hungry, I drink milk or juice while looking for something to eat and the hunger goes away. I didn't eat nearly as much this weekend as I could have. I haven't decided if this is a good thing or a bad thing.
So far this week is starting off on a better foot. I have been catching up from Friday and getting everything back in line. I am trying not to freak out like I was last week. I am trying not to worry so much about stuff, and just take it a day at a time. I am not like my husband who lives by "prep for the worst, hope for the best." I go by "If it isn't right in front of me, then I can't see it and don't have to worry about it," and "don't tell me until I need to really worry." I can't decide if the arising situations are being exaggerated slightly (or immensely) due to the increased moodiness from the Chan.tix. My husband is a realistic pessimist....I am a paranoid naive optimist. It makes for interesting arguments.
In brighter news still, my mom and grandma found a location for the baby shower. My mom says it will work well, and can be easily decorated. I requested a funfetti cake, with the christmas type "fetti." I think my mom thinks I am nutso, but I love, love, love me some funfetti. :) I feel Peanut moving around every now and then. It is a very wierd feeling, to have something moving in you. But it is a great one at that. I have discovered two types of Peanut movement. One is the gushing air feeling I previously described. I like to visualize Peanut dancing and twirling around. The other is a thump. During this one I visualize Peanut kicking or punching the wall of my uterus. :) Feisty little thing. I feel the gushing one more often.
Sunday, September 7, 2008
The Start Of Baby Mayhem
Yesterday Ben and I went to Babies R Us to begin our registery. I know it is a bit early as both our showers are months away, but the next few months prove very busy and stressful for both of us. We agreed earlier that we would choose the larger items together, and then I would take care of the rest with someone else, which incidently turns out to be my mom and best friend in Ohio! :)
So we signed up at the registery station, along with some other people who I had some qualms with but oh well. While I was filling out the paperwork, Ben wandered around the store only to return and say "Man, this $h!! is expensive." I calmly explained that it always is with a first baby and that is why you register. A few minutes and several instructions later, we were armed with the zappy gun and plenty of info, along with the list of things that I had been scoping out online, and heading into the depths of baby mayhem.
Ben had a lot of fun pushing the strollers around. I should say that he was racing them around, taking hairpin turns, and crashing them into columns and shelving to "test their durablity." He actually finds things wrong with products that I would never even think to look for. We chose our stroller/travel system, high chair, play yard, swing, crib, and changing table. Those were the big things on my list. Since he likes to use the zappy gun (who doesn't!?), we also chose a bath tub and one of those floor entertainment thingies (don't remember what it was called). And I really, really wanted one of those Fisher Price Wonder Aquariums for the crib. After that we called it a day.
We decided that we want to get a new dresser set for our bedroom, and give the baby our old one. Ben says it can easily be refinished, so that is what we are going to do. I am excited to go back and finish our registery once we know if we are having an Anthony or a Madeline. :)
On a completely different note, the next few months are going to be pretty hard on us, both mentally and financially. The is a large impending debt that potentially looms in the horizon, that I was unaware of until this week. It has been causing my husband a great deal of stress (which is a gross understatement), and has been on his mind for weeks. He finally told me about it, and I am not sure of what we are exactly going to do to handle what may happen. All I know is that we will get through it somehow. We have each other and the baby, and I would do anything to protect us. I am trying really hard to be supportive and optimistic, but he knows how stressed I get about money. Ben has always done a wonderful job providing for me, and I know this kills him and really worries him. He even admitted that he is afraid that I will take the baby and leave him....but it's in the vows right? For better, for worse. We will handle this somehow. I try not to worry about it, but it does prove difficult, especially spending so much time alone to think. I am trying to be strong.
Enough about that. :) I just needed to get it off my chest.
So we signed up at the registery station, along with some other people who I had some qualms with but oh well. While I was filling out the paperwork, Ben wandered around the store only to return and say "Man, this $h!! is expensive." I calmly explained that it always is with a first baby and that is why you register. A few minutes and several instructions later, we were armed with the zappy gun and plenty of info, along with the list of things that I had been scoping out online, and heading into the depths of baby mayhem.
Ben had a lot of fun pushing the strollers around. I should say that he was racing them around, taking hairpin turns, and crashing them into columns and shelving to "test their durablity." He actually finds things wrong with products that I would never even think to look for. We chose our stroller/travel system, high chair, play yard, swing, crib, and changing table. Those were the big things on my list. Since he likes to use the zappy gun (who doesn't!?), we also chose a bath tub and one of those floor entertainment thingies (don't remember what it was called). And I really, really wanted one of those Fisher Price Wonder Aquariums for the crib. After that we called it a day.
We decided that we want to get a new dresser set for our bedroom, and give the baby our old one. Ben says it can easily be refinished, so that is what we are going to do. I am excited to go back and finish our registery once we know if we are having an Anthony or a Madeline. :)
On a completely different note, the next few months are going to be pretty hard on us, both mentally and financially. The is a large impending debt that potentially looms in the horizon, that I was unaware of until this week. It has been causing my husband a great deal of stress (which is a gross understatement), and has been on his mind for weeks. He finally told me about it, and I am not sure of what we are exactly going to do to handle what may happen. All I know is that we will get through it somehow. We have each other and the baby, and I would do anything to protect us. I am trying really hard to be supportive and optimistic, but he knows how stressed I get about money. Ben has always done a wonderful job providing for me, and I know this kills him and really worries him. He even admitted that he is afraid that I will take the baby and leave him....but it's in the vows right? For better, for worse. We will handle this somehow. I try not to worry about it, but it does prove difficult, especially spending so much time alone to think. I am trying to be strong.
Enough about that. :) I just needed to get it off my chest.
Friday, September 5, 2008
How Much Would You Pay For Piece Of Mind?
For us, $100 seemed like a bargain price.
Last night was a rough night. I have previously mentioned that my husband started Ch.antix in order to quit smoking. He has been doing very well on it so far and has really cut back on his smoking. Immensely cut back. Now, I don't see him that much, so I don't really know his side effects more than what he tells me, but I have noticed him being moody and more irritable. Upon further conversations with his cousin and brother, I learn that he has been an @$$ at work. Well, it has been one of those weeks for me and I was all on edge yesterday evening as well. This was just a recipe for diaster.
We blew up at each other, and he left the house leaving me to clean up the remnants of our argument...we throw things when we are really angry, although he seems to have a better arm than me. Anyway, after about 45 minutes I got a little worried about him because I know he is on this drug and is very irrational when he is angry without the aid of the prescription. He didn't answer when I called him, so I enlisted the aid of some others, his brother and his best friend in NC. Neither proved more successful. Then I checked our bank website and noticed a $500 withdrawl. That is when the irrational panic and anxiety played its hand. I lost my mind, I swear.
Now, I tend to over react to many situations, and I know where this stems from. I panic and I can't calm down until I have control again. At this point, I hadn't eaten or drank anything in about 6 hours. I was hungry, and I tried to munch a sandwich but with little success.
About 9 pm, I started hyperventilating (I am not going to detail the entire argument and happenings as it is irrelevant). I threw up about 3 times and noticed a bloody mucous in the sink (I can't throw up in the toilet, it makes things worse). Then I felt 3 rapid cramps that felt like someone punching me in the stomach that knocked me to the ground. I was terrified and we dropped everything and hightailed it to the ER.
After several hours, the doctor (who looked high, no joke) informed me that everything was ok and I was just suffering from high stress and dehydration, both leading to lack of sleep this week, and my cramps and nausea. I am not drinking enough and worrying too much. He made me down 1000 cc of water which was hard, and he wouldn't let me leave until I kept it all down. Thankfully, I didn't need to stay overnight. He told me to take a sick day and rest. Drink lots of fluids and don't go anywhere for the weekend. REST AND DRINK.
Trust me, nothing sobers up a fight like the possibility of something happening to your baby. For a fearful two hours I did nothing but rub my stomach and repeat "Please let my baby be ok" over and over in my head.
We have a $100 copayment for the emergency room. Which to me seemed like a little amount to pay for the amount of fear I was having.
All is well now. Of course there is no easy way of telling your parents who live across the country that you were in the ER the night before without worrying them. I have been sleeping and drinking all day....doctor's orders.
Last night was a rough night. I have previously mentioned that my husband started Ch.antix in order to quit smoking. He has been doing very well on it so far and has really cut back on his smoking. Immensely cut back. Now, I don't see him that much, so I don't really know his side effects more than what he tells me, but I have noticed him being moody and more irritable. Upon further conversations with his cousin and brother, I learn that he has been an @$$ at work. Well, it has been one of those weeks for me and I was all on edge yesterday evening as well. This was just a recipe for diaster.
We blew up at each other, and he left the house leaving me to clean up the remnants of our argument...we throw things when we are really angry, although he seems to have a better arm than me. Anyway, after about 45 minutes I got a little worried about him because I know he is on this drug and is very irrational when he is angry without the aid of the prescription. He didn't answer when I called him, so I enlisted the aid of some others, his brother and his best friend in NC. Neither proved more successful. Then I checked our bank website and noticed a $500 withdrawl. That is when the irrational panic and anxiety played its hand. I lost my mind, I swear.
Now, I tend to over react to many situations, and I know where this stems from. I panic and I can't calm down until I have control again. At this point, I hadn't eaten or drank anything in about 6 hours. I was hungry, and I tried to munch a sandwich but with little success.
About 9 pm, I started hyperventilating (I am not going to detail the entire argument and happenings as it is irrelevant). I threw up about 3 times and noticed a bloody mucous in the sink (I can't throw up in the toilet, it makes things worse). Then I felt 3 rapid cramps that felt like someone punching me in the stomach that knocked me to the ground. I was terrified and we dropped everything and hightailed it to the ER.
After several hours, the doctor (who looked high, no joke) informed me that everything was ok and I was just suffering from high stress and dehydration, both leading to lack of sleep this week, and my cramps and nausea. I am not drinking enough and worrying too much. He made me down 1000 cc of water which was hard, and he wouldn't let me leave until I kept it all down. Thankfully, I didn't need to stay overnight. He told me to take a sick day and rest. Drink lots of fluids and don't go anywhere for the weekend. REST AND DRINK.
Trust me, nothing sobers up a fight like the possibility of something happening to your baby. For a fearful two hours I did nothing but rub my stomach and repeat "Please let my baby be ok" over and over in my head.
We have a $100 copayment for the emergency room. Which to me seemed like a little amount to pay for the amount of fear I was having.
All is well now. Of course there is no easy way of telling your parents who live across the country that you were in the ER the night before without worrying them. I have been sleeping and drinking all day....doctor's orders.
Sunday, August 31, 2008
I Hate Needles, Part II
Yesterday morning I went to the hospital to have my blood drawn for AFP Screening, which tells me if I am a carrier of several genetic diseases. When the nurse explained this test to me, I asked if there was any reason not to do it, as the doctor had previously advised me against a nuchal screening and CVS (not that these tests were bad, but we conceived naturally and I am only 27). The nurse replied that it would let us know what the odds were the baby could have a genetic defect and help us make an informed decision. I asked what she meant by that, and she quickly tried to recover by saying that we could get all the information on raising a special needs child. I am sure that is not what she meant, but I didn't appreciate the callous comment in passing.
Anyhoo, this blood experience was not so bad. I got to the hospital rather late because I slept in and allowed myself a lazy morning. The lab was a little busy, and there were some technical issues with the computers, but I got in. Thankfully, they only needed to draw one vial of blood, so it was over quickly. The needle was not so bad I guess. I still can't watch it go in or be pulled out.
Afterward, I went into the City to get my haircut. I love my hairdresser, but unfortunately she cuts my hair so well, I don't need to go very often. My hair now has shape to it again and alot more lift and movement.
Then I met my friend D, who had a VS purchase for me of comfy comfy sweats, oil blotters, boob tape (yep, I have to tape alot of shirts into place these days, plus tape some of them shut in order to get more wear), and my bath products. We went down by the water and ate at Har.d Roc.k Ca.fe and walked along the pier for a while. Then we had yummy Col.dstone. Oh, and while on the train back downtown from the pier, I got my first offer from someone to give up their seat so my pregnant self could sit. :) I enjoy that I look pregnant and not just fat. I declined the offer, as the people who offered were older, and I was seriously fine standing. Had it had been a younger person, I would have taken it. But chances of that ever happening are slim. I will add that I gave up my seat many a time to pregnant women or women with babies/small children and it always annoyed me that perfectly healthy young people who were sitting closer to the front of the bus or train never offered. Seriously, who makes a pregnant woman walk/waddle all the way to the back of the bus? I am hoping that by giving up my seat all those times bought me some good bus karma for when I am huge.
It ended up being a long day, and I woke up in the night with a pounding headache which stayed with me all day (and yes, is still pounding in the back of my head.) I took alot of naps, and tried to get some things done around the apartment, but not much was accomplished. Hopefully tomorrow will be better. I took a tepid bath (joy) and am just waiting for Ben to ge home so I can tell him I was a bad wife and didn't make dinner (I ate cereal all day).
I did decide that I have too much stuff. I decided this as I was digging for a pj shirt and notice the shimmer powders that I have not used in years. Hmmm, does a new mother need 6 shimmer powders/lotions? Does a new mother have time for shimmer? Probably not. Herego, some seriously decluttering needs to occur. We also decided that the new bedding is staying (you have to sleep on it in order to really decide), so my next task is to look for a new dresser and bench with underneath storage. I think that the old dresser we have can be refurbished for the baby. We have already decided on using the light colored birch wood for a boy (which the dresser currently is) and white for a girl (which the dresser can be easily painted).
Ok, the screen is kicking my headache into high gear again. Time to take some Tyle.nol PM and hope for the best.
Anyhoo, this blood experience was not so bad. I got to the hospital rather late because I slept in and allowed myself a lazy morning. The lab was a little busy, and there were some technical issues with the computers, but I got in. Thankfully, they only needed to draw one vial of blood, so it was over quickly. The needle was not so bad I guess. I still can't watch it go in or be pulled out.
Afterward, I went into the City to get my haircut. I love my hairdresser, but unfortunately she cuts my hair so well, I don't need to go very often. My hair now has shape to it again and alot more lift and movement.
Then I met my friend D, who had a VS purchase for me of comfy comfy sweats, oil blotters, boob tape (yep, I have to tape alot of shirts into place these days, plus tape some of them shut in order to get more wear), and my bath products. We went down by the water and ate at Har.d Roc.k Ca.fe and walked along the pier for a while. Then we had yummy Col.dstone. Oh, and while on the train back downtown from the pier, I got my first offer from someone to give up their seat so my pregnant self could sit. :) I enjoy that I look pregnant and not just fat. I declined the offer, as the people who offered were older, and I was seriously fine standing. Had it had been a younger person, I would have taken it. But chances of that ever happening are slim. I will add that I gave up my seat many a time to pregnant women or women with babies/small children and it always annoyed me that perfectly healthy young people who were sitting closer to the front of the bus or train never offered. Seriously, who makes a pregnant woman walk/waddle all the way to the back of the bus? I am hoping that by giving up my seat all those times bought me some good bus karma for when I am huge.
It ended up being a long day, and I woke up in the night with a pounding headache which stayed with me all day (and yes, is still pounding in the back of my head.) I took alot of naps, and tried to get some things done around the apartment, but not much was accomplished. Hopefully tomorrow will be better. I took a tepid bath (joy) and am just waiting for Ben to ge home so I can tell him I was a bad wife and didn't make dinner (I ate cereal all day).
I did decide that I have too much stuff. I decided this as I was digging for a pj shirt and notice the shimmer powders that I have not used in years. Hmmm, does a new mother need 6 shimmer powders/lotions? Does a new mother have time for shimmer? Probably not. Herego, some seriously decluttering needs to occur. We also decided that the new bedding is staying (you have to sleep on it in order to really decide), so my next task is to look for a new dresser and bench with underneath storage. I think that the old dresser we have can be refurbished for the baby. We have already decided on using the light colored birch wood for a boy (which the dresser currently is) and white for a girl (which the dresser can be easily painted).
Ok, the screen is kicking my headache into high gear again. Time to take some Tyle.nol PM and hope for the best.
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