What Comes Next

Progress

2012-02-13T10:06:00.000-06:00

Nora is sleeping. I'm drinking water and it's quiet in the house. I can hear the laundry rolling and banging in the dryer, the buttons of Adam's pants announcing themselves as they toss in to the metal basket.

We got up on out of the house this weekend. Adam is finally coming out of his hibernation. He was able to look around the house and recognized the things that he's been putting off, ignoring, in favor of way too much time in front of the television with a game controller in his hand. My husband is most productive in the Spring, which is about the time I start slowing down. Balance.

Our adventuring was limited to shopping around to replace items that have been broken for a while; a new kitchen trashcan, outside trashcans, a lawnmower. I also got a new pot for cooking. Spending money is never our favorite thing, but we'd put off so many things and there was no way around it. Today I'm planning on renewing my Flickr account and buying a few books for my Nook. (I have Christmas money that I've been holding on to in case we had to spend it on bills.)

I do that - put off things for myself in case money needs to be spent for the greater good. I'm still determining if this is something to be proud of, or if I need to change that about myself.

My beautiful baby girl is sporting four teeth, now. She cut the most recent within twenty-four hours of each other. I guess that explains why the last week has been so tough on her.

I'm proud of her. She's dragging herself across the room to get to things she wants. I wouldn't call it crawling, exactly, but it's movement. Frighteningly, she seems more interested in pulling up than crawling, but I think it's just the novelty. I hope. I'm not ready for her to be walking. A few more months of easy parenting would be nice.

One of my favorite things to do, right now, is watch Nora explore the world around her. She seems a little scattered, like she's trying to do too many things at once, but that little personality trait she comes by honestly. I do the same thing. I know that she won't be this small forever.

Nora will be seven months old in two days.

A little chaos can go a long way

2012-02-07T10:48:00.000-06:00

A couple of weeks ago I agreed to watch my nephew, Seth one Monday a month. I hadn't watched him since I got pregnant with Nora, so I wasn't sure what to expect. In true Crazy Lady fashion, I jumped ahead and made a play date for Seth before I even knew how Nora would respond.

I have a friend who has a daughter a few months younger than Seth and I thought it would be a good chance to visit with her and get her out of the house. (She's a stay-at-home Mom, like me, and just now got to the place where she'll allow Izzy to be watched by someone other than herself.)

I'm happy to report that I had a blast. It was messy and loud and so fun. Sarah, my friend, seemed to be stunned that I didn't run around behind the kids picking up toys. I let Seth eat my spaghetti and he got it all over himself, the table, the dog and I didn't bat an eye. It can be cleaned up. No worries. I don't think people realize that I'm okay with kids being kids. Seth is only here one day a month and the idea of fussing at him ALL DAY LONG to put toys away seems stupid. I have to tell him "No" often enough, since he's two and a boy and he climbs and jumps and tugs on the dog all of the time.

I can't tell you how entertaining I found it to play with puzzles and run up and down the stairs. I even enjoyed having to separate the kids because they couldn't share. Apparently I really love kids. I even love having three kids under the age of three ...... for one day out of the month.

Anyway, it was fun. I'm looking forward to my next Seth visit, just him and Nora. I want to take the kids in to the yard and toss balls. I want to do a lot of things. Hopefully I'll be able to successfully put Seth down for a nap next time. Ha! (His mom sent him with a sippy cup full of red Kool-Aid and acting surprised when I said he wouldn't sleep.)

The most amazing part of the whole experience was learning that Nora is far more capable than I realized. She was so well-behaved and happy. She watched the kids and tried to mimic them. If I was playing with Seth and Nora was left to her own devices, she was fine. It was lovely. Also, she totally let Sarah hold her and feed her lunch!

That was probably the biggest shock of all.

Love it. Love her. Love life.

Nora refuses a sippy cup

2012-02-01T13:03:00.000-06:00

Hey there, Sunshine

2012-01-30T14:48:00.000-06:00

Back when I was pregnant I was concerned that I was going to be living each moment of the first year like it was going to be Nora's last day, but not in a good way. I feared that I would be overly attentive, a hindrance to my daughter's growth, but I find myself simply okay.

Now, I don't give me a whole lot of credit for this mature ability. I give Nora all of the props for that. She is so full of joy and life that I find myself smiling, or laughing, more than I thought possible. It's even funnier because in the beginning, those first few weeks of her life, Nora was so difficult and I was a mess. I couldn't visualize this place. I didn't think it was possible.

I don't get all of the stuff "right" with Nora. We don't have a decent schedule and, more nights than not, we end up snuggled on the couch at two in the morning instead of in our own beds. But I don't care. Sure, I make the effort because I know, eventually, she'll have to do all of this on her own, but I know that I have time.

Marvel at that - I feel like I have time with my daughter. I thought that I'd start looking at every day closer to ten and a half months as a Death Clock Counter, of sorts, but I don't.

And, even if she were to die, I know that I won't have regrets. We play and laugh and snuggle and it's so beautiful.

In other news, I'm adding color to my life. Color and inspiration. I'm going to be 35 this year and I want things to be different. That takes work. And creativity.

The first bite

2012-01-25T10:22:00.000-06:00

A couple days ago I was going through my regular routine of feeding Nora every two hours and my little Princess chomped down like a rabid squirrel and refused to let go. It took everything in my power not to throw her across the room and watch her bounce. In my defense, I was already in a lot of pain from the mastitis and she BIT me.

I did some Googling and I've implemented a couple of the suggestions. I found that the most effective way to get her to stop biting, and I assume it's different for every kid, is to pull her forward and smother her a bit. I know, I know, it sounds horrible, but she doesn't let got any other way. I tried. The other helpful suggestion was to push back her feedings an hour. Initially there was a lot of screaming, on her part, but eating every three hours, instead of two, seems to be helping.

Once in a while she still bites me, but it usually only happens if I let her nurse too long and she isn't actually eating anymore. I'm much more aware of when she slows down.

I'm happy that we've gotten through this hurdle because there's very little belief in my brain that this kid will drink formula. I had to make nursing work. It was my only option.

The mastitis has cleared up, but I immediately got a toothache. I'm trying to ignore the pain and look on the positive side. If my mouth hurts I won't eat as much. Whee! Skinnier me will happen....through pain and starvation. Oops.

Rambling on

2012-01-20T10:10:00.000-06:00

Look at how beautiful Nora looks. I'm so proud. :P

In other news, she's starting to eat a little, now. She doesn't think everything is poison anymore. Hooray! I'm not trying to feed her a ton, but knowing that Adam has something he can participate in and enjoy makes me very happy. Maybe he'll be less hurt about the way weaning is going. (It's still not going. Ha. I'm not shocked. The kid loves her boobie.)

Nora's six month check-up went well. Her growth has slowed, just a bit, but in a good way. She's not Off the Charts chubby anymore and I know that's healthier for her.

Sometimes she actually vaults herself forward, reaching out to grab toys. And she's rocking on her knees. I know that my baby girl is going to be mobile, soon. I'm nervous. She's such an handful. I love the way that she wants to touch everything. I have to be on my toes because she's going to be a curious, sort of danger magnet baby. I'm flexing my muscles and gearing up. My mommy reflexes aren't quite honed, yet.

Going back to the weaning situation: We were planning on using the weaning to jump start my cycle so that we could start trying for another baby. Duh. I wrote about that. I let myself get stressed about Nora's refusal to take formula, at first, but I'm okay with it, now. Maybe I can get pregnant while breastfeeding. Maybe I won't. No matter what happens, it will be what's supposed to happen.

The only reason I agreed to start trying this early is because it takes so long for us to get pregnant anyway, so having to wait for my cycle to return is just a part of that. I can focus my baby-making energy on a friend that needs it a bit more. (You know who you are.)

I know that I've been down about Adam lately, but the tide has turned and all is well, again. Adam has gone out of his way to take the pressure off of me while I healed up from mastitis. He didn't have to do it, and I didn't ask him to do it, so I'm beyond willing to forgive. I don't want to be the type of person who doesn't recognize true, heartfelt, effort.

Today I'm going to make a birthday card. Tomorrow I'm visiting with Val and making fudge for Sarah. Sunday I'm hanging with Jenn and making dinner for Sarah, then taking it to her house. I'm going to try to keep busy and helpful and happy.

New and Exciting things

2012-01-16T13:07:00.000-06:00

Howdy!

I'm feeling a bit under the weather. I'm waiting for my doctor to call me back so that I can get an antibiotic for another case of mastitis. I'm walking around with my phone on me like I'm a teenager. Gross, but I called at nine and I figure she'll be calling back AT ANY MOMENT. In the meantime I'm trying not to work too hard. I have prescription strength ibuprofen and it can mask the symptoms, but I'm not better. I need to remember that.

Nora updates: (Because they're more interesting that my infected boob)

We attempted to give her a bottle this weekend. Oh, what a joke. She didn't seem to mind the fake thing thrust in her face, but actually eating it? Yeah, that didn't happen. She looks at nipples (unattached, naturally) as The Most Evil and she doesn't understand why we'd be offering her anything that isn't boobie. Nora's pretty convinced that we're trying to poison her, I think. It's written all over her face when we give her food, too. It's as if she considers food from me tested for any potential poisons because it comes from me. Even if I"m eating the same food and offer her a bite of mine.

But! On the good news front of all of that, she's actually opening her mouth for bites, now. It only took two weeks. In another month she may actually be happy to eat food. We'll see.

I'm closer to convincing Adam to just drop the idea of weaning her to formula. I think, if we're successful in getting her to eat solid food, she may go more than two hours between boobie and the whole thing will be a moot point. He just wants uninterrupted time with her and I want to be able to leave the house for more than an hour. I can get a mani or a pedi, but not both. I can't have a movie date with friends, or even eat out because I'd have to scarf it down like a barbarian and hurry home. Lame, lame, lame.

It would be a different story if Adam would loosen his paranoia about me taking the baby out. He sees the whole world as Diseases that Will Kill My Baby. I can't really blame him, since that's what happened last time.

Speaking of Nora, she's napping, exhausted, after her visit to the doctor's office. Poor girl. It's just another nail in the "You'll be paying for my therapy" coffin.

Nora hasn't liked me being sick. At all. If I wasn't lying on the floor in front of her, looking pathetic and ill mind you, she was panicked and fussy. She needed to see my misery, Sadist.

That's about it. I'm going to channel 1980's me and use my Mental Power to make the phone ring. Ring, I say!

Another Nora vid

2012-01-09T14:55:00.000-06:00

My kid is so funny. I'm lucky.

Nora's Parlor trick

2012-01-09T14:50:00.001-06:00

New Year

2012-01-05T10:13:00.000-06:00

It's 2012 and I kind of thought I'd hate it. Last year wasn't that bad, for the first time in years, and I was a little scared to start a new year and welcome a possible crap-filled twelve months in to my life. My fears were nearly confirmed when the first few days of this new year were..... disappointing.

January first is our niece, Lily's, birthday. We usually head over to her family's house and have cake in an awkward environment where Adam and I don't feel terribly welcome, but we go because we don't want everything in her life to be sad and pathetic. We're not the flashy Aunt and Uncle. She's got new ones that send big, useless presents that feed in to the Princess-Barbie Machine that I detest. I'm not against girlie things, per se, but I like to encourage imagination and intelligence, so we usually get her learning toys, or a book, or art supplies. I know that her step-mom's family has the useless, pretty things covered.

This year was harder than usual. I won't go in to everything, because complaining changes nothing, but suffice it to say, it put me in a really bad head space for a few days.

But, I've brushed it off and started planning fun things for my future. I've picked a theme, of sorts, for Nora's first birthday party. I'm conflicted about how much effort I should put in to it. Money is an issue, as always, but I think, if I start picking up stuff now, that the cost won't be too much of a burden. Here's a bit of inspiration: this and this and this. I want to do a pineapple-mint water infusion instead of cucumber water, though.

I'll start having Sunday's to myself at the end of this month. I'll be leaving Nora home to hang with Daddy so that they can build a relationship and I can remember who I'm outside of a wife and a mother. I'm looking forward to getting some writing done and hunting resale shops for neat things for Nora's party. I'll also have time to craft things on my Sundays all uninterrupted.

My resolution for the year is to work on my language. I curse like a drunk sailor. I want to soften that side of me so that I don't sound angry when I'm not. Cleaning up my potty mouth may not be as easy as it sounds. My first reaction to a stressful situation is to vomit obscenities, so, in a way, I'll be working on anger reactions, as well. Ooh, self-improvement.

Fresh Start

2011-12-28T10:00:00.000-06:00

My little family had a lovely holiday. I hope you did, too. We get so caught up in perfection and expectations that it can get overwhelming, but I'm glad that we have these enforced days of celebration. It's too easy to get caught up in the dullness of the day-to-day grind that we don't appreciate what we have.

Maybe that's just me.

Nora's changing so fast that I'm afraid to blink. She has two teeth and focused on cutting the third. It's amazing. As of today she can roll both ways. This new feat, combined with her impressive ability to sit on her own, catapults my mind to the future. I can see the toddler daughter she'll become.

Still Busy

2011-12-21T10:32:00.000-06:00

Nora is napping. I'm listening to music and trying not to think too hard.

The anniversary of Mazzy's death has come and gone. We survived. I won't say that we mastered it, that would be a lie. Nora and I spent the day just being with one another. I'll tell you, it was damn hard to be tough with her. I may have spoiled her a little bit. She slept with us the night before so that the day of the anniversary she was lying next to us; safe, alive and so beautiful. It started the day off on a good note because no one had to make that dreaded trip in to the nursery to wake her up, fear building in our stomach.

The holiday spirit has hit me like a manic, sugar-filled elf. I don't know if it's actual enthusiasm for the season, or a desperate attempt to MAKE THIS PERFECT for Nora.

Yes, I'm fully aware that she won't remember a damn thing, but it's the principle of the matter. I want our pictures, and videos, to reflect celebration. I don't want there to be any doubt in her mind that we weren't happy to have our first holiday with her. No cloud of loss or "might have been" to darken her childhood.

I know, a tall, crazy order.

In my effort to spread the spirit, I have started making things - food, fudge, cookies, handmade postcards. It's ridiculous because each failure sends me a little closer to the brink. Adam teases, half-seriously, that he's afraid that I'll shatter if I don't stop trying new things. My psyche can't handle this many projects that go nowhere. And, really, he's right, but I can't sit idle,either. I think too much.

I had my visit with my doc and we've been cleared for takeoff. Not that Adam was waiting for all of that. He's very eager to have all the naked penis sex it takes to make a baby. Knowing us, it'll take another year, or two. That's a lot of naked hugging! I just hope that we don't fight, or have the pressure we had making Nora. I want this to be relaxed and unhurried. Yes, we're starting in January, but we aren't looking to get pregnant right away. It's more like leaving the door open for possibilities.

Oh, funny story : Adam thinks we can make enough room for five kids with a little construction work on the house. Okay, not so much funny as rather terrifying. The man's gone Baby Crazy!

I did something hard a few minutes ago. I replaced Mazzy's Santa picture and the first picture of our little family with Nora's holiday picture and the picture of the three of us in the hospital. It was strange. I know that it had to be done, but it didn't make it any less hard. I had to put my firstborn in a drawer.

But, it's always something, right?

And she turns on a dime

2011-12-11T14:51:00.000-06:00

Nora cut her first tooth last week. It's weird. She won't be five months old for a few more days and she has her first tooth. Worse than that, this morning I noticed she's back to chewing on her hands (and she woke up fussy around three last night) and so I checked - she's got another little bump.

Damn.

It's kind of funny because she still has zero interest in solid food. We've sort of offered her things, but as we bring things to her lips, she shuts her mouth and looks confused. The only food she knows is warm boobie. Life is going to be so different for her, soon.

Next week is super busy. It's so busy that Adam and I had to call a truce on the constant fighting because we have to work together to get through the next week.

Monday: I have a well woman check up. I need to have a chat with my doc about future baby making.
Tuesday: Okay, not really busy, but it marks the third anniversary of Mazzy's death.
Wednesday: I have a wedding rehearsal to go to, which means that Nora has to go. Adam's coming with me to make sure that Nora's getting taken care of while I'm practicing the whole walking thing.
Thursday: Lunch with Adam, Nora and a former co-worker of Adam's. After that we have to rush out and get Adam an outfit for the wedding. (We're tight and have to wait for his paycheck)
Friday: Wedding. Downtown. At 7 at night. *sigh* I'm glad I like her so much.

Maybe none of that seems very daunting to you, but when you're like us and you do NOTHING most of the year, it's a lot. Especially with Adam working and all of that.

I wish I was less strapped for time. I want to make a decent entry, but all I can think about is the amount of cleaning I need to get done today because we will be so busy next week.

New hair brings peace

2011-12-06T12:32:00.000-06:00

Nora is sitting on the floor in front of me, hunched over and drooling on her bare feet, but she's happy. She loves this - the yoga-esque tripod stance of early baby sitting. Frankly, it looks uncomfortable, but who am I to judge?

I got my hair cut short yesterday. The idea had been growing in the back of my brain for a while, but I was unsure if I should make a major change in my current state of mind. It turned out to be a brilliant move. I feel so much better. Can a new hair style really make you thinner or more energetic? No, but it can trick you in to believing that you've improved in some way. (That's not scientific, it's just a fact. Dammit.)

I'll be honest; I thought that cutting my hair would passive-aggressively attack Adam. See, we've been squabbling like seriously bitter married people lately and I keep backing down to keep the peace. I woke up yesterday ready to fight. My friend was coming over anyway to cut my hair for the wedding, so I went with it. The whole times she was chopping I was giggling thinking that Adam was going to be pissed.

Of course, typical of my husband, he took one look at the new 'do and proceeded to "seduce" me.

Adam: Honey, watch me check the fireplace flue. (Makes huge production of walking over to the fireplace and fiddling with stuff.)

Me: (rolling eyes) What. Are. You. Do-ing?!

Adam: Choreplay. Duh.

Me: Why?

Adam: 'Cause we're going to do it. Tonight. (Makes humping motion)

Me: ........... Gross.

Being married can be so ridiculous sometimes.

Appreciating

2011-12-01T12:44:00.000-06:00

The last week Nora has skipped her night feed, but yesterday she was asleep by six and I couldn't wake her up to eat. Seeing the sign on the wall, I went to bed early so that I'd be calm about having to wake up in the middle in the night to feed her.

A little after one Nora woke up so bright-eyed that I was almost sad thinking about puting her back to sleep.

I want mention that Nora grew another inch in the last few days. I'm not sure why it's important, except that when I picked her up last night, she was all long and lean, it was almost like holding a totally different baby. It's those little moments that resonate with me the most as a parent; all of the changes and beautiful reveals.

There I was, in Nora's room and she was wide awake, so I took a bit to just hold her. She wasn't fussing, or desperate for boobie, and I indulged. In the light provided by a duck night light I could see her smile. Her tiny mouth was experimenting with raspberries, pausing, then she'd flex her voice. It was as if she could tell it wasn't appropriate to be shouting, her coos were soft and subdued. We rocked in the chair for a while and I gave in and fed her.

Once she ate she stared up at me babbling and played with my fingers. It was going on two in the morning, so I bundled her up and took her to bed with me and Adam. I thought, like an idiot, that she'd just snuggled between us, get bored, and fall asleep. Ha.

An hour later Adam and I were whispering to one another and the dog was barking and Nora was no closer to being asleep than she was at one. So, I took one for the team and went to the living room. Nora's Achilles heel of sleeping is to be aggressively jiggled on my lap. I know, I don't get it, either, but it works. A few very wiggly moments later she was back and sleep.

Before I knew it, it was five in the morning and time to get up. We, as a family, went to the Department of Motor Vehicles at six-thirty in the morning to get in line. Fun fact: I was not first in line in the forty degree weather.

Now I'm legal. Huzzah!

Surviving

2011-11-29T10:31:00.000-06:00

We made it through Thanksgiving. I baked cookies. I was really proud of them and, I guess, that was my mistake; Adam sat on them while getting Nora out of her car seat at his mother's house. They were ruined before anyone could see them. Because Adam sat on the cookies, even though they were wrapped in cellophane, no one would eat them. Four dozen cookies and four hours of my time wasted.

It was like a giant metaphor for the way I feel about my whole life these days.

Nora did pretty well with the change of scenery. I was surprised, but she handled the four barking chihuahuas very well. In fact, Karma, the new little puppy, became her buddy. They made a lovely pair, sitting on Adam's lap trying to chew on one another. Too bad I didn't think to take a single photo.

Sometimes I spend too much time thinking about the things I'm doing wrong as a parent and sometimes the things I've chosen to do work out all on their own. I've been so nervous about my baby lead approach to breastfeeding, naps, attention, etc., but it's working out. Despite several people telling me I was creating bad habits, Nora seems to be flourishing. She's recently started sleeping through the night, skipping her night feeding all together. I didn't change anything about our nighttime ritual, but she's changed things. I didn't even have to get up to soothe her back to sleep last night. It's taken some time, but it feels like she's learning to trust me and Adam.

Yes, I'm a dork. I think that the key to a happy baby, for me, is establishing trust early on. I know that babies are dependent on us from birth, but I don't feel that they come out trusting and loving us. We have to prove to them that we are worthy of love and they manage to settle down. Is that totally hippie? Maybe.

So, yes, that seems to have worked out for me, but I see potential problems ahead. I have no plan of action for them, yet. I want to give myself a little bit more time to get to know Nora and figure out what might work for her.

Adam claims that he's handling this really rocky patch of the year very well, but he doesn't seem to notice that he's being sort of mean. He's been picking on me nearly constantly. He thinks that he's being funny, but he's been hitting below the belt. Little zingers once in a while is part of our dynamic, but Adam's been stretching to make a joke. And the jokes he's been making are entirely at my expense. It's bumming me out.

I'm trying to brush it all off, but it's hard. Every time I get my confidence back up he's taking another whack at me. It's making me not want to spend any time with him, which is unfortunate because he's the only person I see these days.

Other than that I'm doing all right.

Focus

2011-11-22T09:39:00.002-06:00

This face, a photo by WhimOfFate on Flickr.

Yes, that's a giant picture of Nora's face. It's my whole focus these days. I figured you needed a reminder of her cuteness.

I've finally gotten to the point where my understanding has worn out. I'm tired of understanding that the whole world is moving and I'm stuck here. I'm tired of being at the ready; willing and able to give myself to people who squeeze in five minute phone calls and bi-monthly text messages.

It isn't that I'm angry - I'm not. I'm just too messed up inside my head to do it anymore. I have to block out things that I want right now. There just isn't enough in my life that's working out and it's creating these emotional fissures and, frankly, this is not the time of year for me to be struggling to stay strong. I need to just be strong.

It's getting complicated

2011-11-07T09:49:00.001-06:00

I know, I know, I said that I wouldn't be posting because I'm participating in Nation Novel Writing Month, but this weekend was very busy and I didn't write and now I'm so far behind there's no hope of catching up. Instead of stressing it, I'm just going to accept failure and finish at my own pace. November is a horrible month to do this sort of thing. There's just too much pre-holiday stuff going on for me to duck my head and ignore the world with any sort of regularity.

On a positive note, the whole concept of writing without editing is very freeing and I feel like, in the end, I'll have accomplished something by the end of the month. Go me.

Friday was the last time I had to see my mother. She stopped by to hug Nora and drop off a couple of things she wants me to take care of for her.

As she was leaving, sunglasses on her face to hide her tears, I tried to feel something. I dug around inside my heart and attempted to cry, but there was nothing there. I didn't dance a little jig, or anything, but I'll admit that I was tempted.

Mom talked about future visits and I sort of smiled and "hmm-ed" without commenting. Maybe in a year, or two, I'll feel brave enough to allow visits, but I didn't want to agree to anything now. It's just too new and raw and scary. My tender emotional flesh is still healing from the recent barbs. I want to protect myself, and Nora, from potential damage.

Saying goodbye to Mom truly marked the beginning of a new chapter in my marriage. Sure, having Mom move out was a huge start, but I can hear a knock on the door and not fear that it's my mom stopping by unannounced. I can keep all contact via the phone, where I have a better chance of controlling my temper and squashing anger that isn't going to solve anything.

I feel free. We no longer have a primary point of aggravation infecting our relationship.

It's amazingly beneficial timing, too. Between the time of year and the increasingly obvious fact that Nora resembles Mazzy, we were heading in to a Perfect Storm of Mom Drama that we are now able to avoid all together.

Yeah, so we finally admitted it to each other - Nora looks like Mazzy. And I'm suddenly unsure about my decision to use some of Mazzy's clothes for Nora to pad the wardrobe. I've had to make sure I wasn't accidentally hurting Adam with certain outfits.

Reba is coming on Wednesday for the first time since Nora was two weeks old and I have to make sure that Nora is wearing one of her new outfits to keep from upsetting her. The last time she saw Nora, in person, my kid looked like her. Nora is starting to look like me and the more me in her, the more she looks like Mazzy. Balls.

All of that aside, I wanted to also mention that Nora and I went to a friend's baby shower on Sunday and she was amazing. Nora is typically very shy, but she smiled and didn't cry one time, even when she started rooting, licking her lips, and trying to pull open my shirt and I had to tell her "no." We're having to work on the comfort sucking. She likes to nurse to sleep, even though she doesn't have to eat. She's old enough, now, that I'm not as quick to toss a boob in her mouth and she's adjusting to that. It's still on demand, but since I know that she's going to be weaned in a couple of months I want to try and find other ways of soothing her. We'll get her to soothe herself, eventually.

Speaking of my daughter, she's up and wanting love, so I'm going to give it to her.

A couple of things

2011-11-02T12:01:00.000-05:00

Mom came over for Halloween. I felt like I needed to make the effort for her to see Nora before she leaves on Friday. Adam picked her up after lunch and she stayed until he got off work that night. I'll be honest, I felt so drained by the end of the day. I know that it was the right thing to do, but she did her best to take advantage of the situation. Typical, right?

She said some really destructive things, which really drove home to me how little I'll miss having her in my life. Mom prefaced a lot of statements with, "I don't know to say this without sounding hurtful, but...." and, believe me, it was still pretty hurtful.

A few gems:

"I'm not saying that it was Adam's fault that Mazzy died, but I really think you shouldn't let him have as much of a say in Nora's care. He doesn't mean to be a bad guy, but he makes mistakes and I don't want to lose Nora, too."

"I love seeing you with Nora. It really seems that you've bonded better with her than you ever did with Mazzy. It's like I was closer to Mazzy than you, or Adam, but you're definitely Nora's favorite person."

"I"m so afraid to leave because I just know that you'll overlook things with Nora. I wish I was going to be here the first time she gets sick so that I could call an ambulance."

Yeah, so I'm not going to be hurting that she's gone.

Is it Friday, yet?

Also, I started National Novel Writing Month and may not be posting that often. My writing time should really be focused on attempting this insane thing.

A sigh of relief

2011-10-26T14:23:00.000-05:00

The Mom Saga will soon be coming to a close. Mom told me today that she's moving to Alabama as soon as her check comes in for the month of November.

I'm stunned, but I think I have to accept that it's actually happening. I'm going to have my life, my whole life, back for the first time - ever.

Whoa.

Bragging is okay

2011-10-21T14:39:00.000-05:00

It has finally happened; I've gotten to that place where my baby is my favorite thing in the whole world and I'm constantly stunned that no one else wants to sit around cooing at my child. I think most parents get to this place. The first bit you hold your baby and think, "Oh, how pretty/handsome. I made this." After that there's all that screaming and lack of sleep and you start bargaining. (I threatened to send Nora to gypsies.)

But....then, then you get to start seeing the future in your baby. It's more than just a smile, or the way they laugh; it's how they work out how to grab something, all concentration and focus. Nora is currently obsessed with trying to sit up. If you lie her down on a Boppy pillow she'll immediately doing a stranded turtle impression that makes me laugh and laugh. She tries so hard to pull herself in to a sitting position. It's kind of sad because there's no way her fat little body can sit up unassisted, but she *wants* to do it.

Lately I'll be playing with her and I'm sad for the people who should spend time with her, but don't. I think, "You are missing out. Nora's amazing." She is sweet and funny. Sure, she's moody and impatient, but she forgives easily. This is something I noticed when we're in the kitchen and I forget to sing or smile at her because I'm rushing to finish the chores, so she screams or cries to get my attention. When I do turn and smile at her, maybe even do a little dance, she breaks in to the most amazing smile. It's forgotten.

Having made the decision to have another child has done something kind of awesome for me. I'm taking advantage of catering to her little whims because I won't be able to just enjoy her, only her, for very long. It's taken the bite out of having to drop what I want to do, or makes me more patient when she's fussy.

Pretty nifty trick.

I just realized that I wrote this whole thing in a brain fog because of a sinus infection. It's the legal version of "I love you, man."

Really emotional deja vu

2011-10-20T08:57:00.000-05:00

Despite being magnificently healed and strong and totally looking forward to everything for Nora I know that I'm going to have to push through the next few months. My really strong memories of Mazzy are from the fall on until her death. Is that crappy to say? I mean, I do remember her being a little squishy newborn and the floppy bobble-head in-between infant, but the memories that have the most impact are from when she was a little bigger. Crawling, pulling up, talking, eating.....the holidays.

There's no way to avoid them. Nora gets to celebrate Halloween and Thanksgiving and, yes, finger crossed; Christmas. Unfortunately I can't help but feel very nervous. I have this pressure to make wonderful memories for Nora while acknowledging my first born.

And it's like this lives in my brain, but I can't talk about it. It's Grief Fight Club and if I talk about what I'm going through it will vanish, or splinter my personality in some horrific way. Ha. I'm not even sure that I can explain it properly. Luckily I don't have to make any sense.

I guess this is the first time I'm having to face that some of the grief crap was right; I am going to have moments where Mazzy's life will shadow, or superimpose, itself over Nora's. I wanted to believe that I was better than that. I thought I was proving myself capable of keeping their lives separate, but I guess I'm not nearly as cool as I thought. Oh well. I can accept that. I'll chalk it up to my first real failing as a mother. I needed to get one under my belt at some point, right?

Halloween is my favorite holiday and I'd love to go all out, but we're a little poor this year because we had to adjust our budget for a couple of months because of the a/c repair that gouged us. This means I'm looking for a cheap onesie so that we can take a picture so that Nora doesn't feel like we skipped over her for Halloween.

I'm hoping that accepting that Mazzy's memory will sort of infuse itself over the next few months will actually diffuse any emotional bombs that will come up.

Hey, Internet, Can you keep a secret?

2011-10-14T08:06:00.000-05:00

I know, asking the Internet to keep a secret is completely ridiculous, but the people that read this blog won't open their mouths and spill the beans to family, so I'm going to just bite the bullet and confess:

Adam and I are going to try for another baby in January.

I see the doctor in December and I'll double-check with her that everything is okay for us to get pregnant, again. Since it took us so long last time we're going to start when Nora is six months old. Of course, I'll need a regular cycle and all of that, but at least we can start hugging naked and maybe we'll get a surprise before too long.

Yes, I've been exhausted and nuts and stressed about Nora, but that doesn't mean that we don't want another baby. I'd love to give it a few years and spread that kids out, but I'm 34 and I don't feel comfortable risking it too much. We'll just have kids close together and deal with that drama.

There's a part of me that feels that it isn't financially responsible, but I also think that having two kids may take the pressure off of Nora, in the future, to be Mazzy, or to replace her in some way. No, we don't feel that way, but the psychology of a child born after a loss is a fragile thing and I want Nora to know that we had another child(ren) because we love kids, not because we expected a baby to fill our void.

Reba, Adam's mom, has all kinds of mental issues because her sister died. My sister-in-law, Samantha, was born a few short months after her sister, Jordan, died and still identifies herself as a replacement for that child. Samantha's parents, Mike and Sherri (his first wife), didn't give themselves adequate time to heal before getting pregnant with Samantha and she's carried that burden.

Seeing these open wounds in the adult women in my life makes me overly concerned about avoiding pitfalls when rearing Nora.

Well, and growing up I had a friend, Kendra, who was an only child. Her mother spoiled her rotten, to the point of bad behaviors and such. It was as though her mom was afraid Kendra would just go away if she didn't give her everything she wanted. I didn't learn until years later that Kendra was Donna's second child, the first having been stillborn. Donna was so afraid that it would happen, again, that she didn't dare risk another child after the successful birth of Kendra.

I collect stories like this, now, to feel less alone and to learn from mistakes other people have made. I'll still make mistakes, but they'll be unique to me, right?

It's crazy, but other than telling the Internet, I don't even want to tell my Trio. I usually tell them everything, but I feel guilty because I know that Val and Jenn are wanting to start trying for a baby in the next year, too, and they've been so great to me. I don't want to steal their glory, but I have to live my own life, too. I feel as if telling them that Adam and I want another baby would somehow talk them out of starting their own families. I don't want to be responsible for that.

So, yeah, that's it. Starting in January it's going to be all cervical mucus and strategic quickies meant for procreation. Mmmm....sexy.

Another half-assed plan

2011-10-13T08:53:00.000-05:00

Mom and I spoke a few days ago. I initially missed her call because I've stopped carrying the thing around, but only ten minutes had passed. When I called back she said that she had wanted to come by and visit Nora. I had been on top of chores and Nora was in a good mood, so despite the ridiculously short notice I invited her to come over. She declined. It seems that she was home and didn't want to get back out. That's the kind of crap she loves to pull.

Anyway, she caught me up on her life. It seems that she's made the initial planning to leave for Alabama. She seems to feel that moving back is the only choice that she has to get by. I think she's being ridiculous, but I didn't fight her.

I don't know how seriously I should take what she says. There's still a good chance that she's trying to instigate a response from me; trying to push me in to moving her back in to the house. Every other sentence was, "I just don't know what else to do."

She's convinced that she should leave - no car, no solid housing, no real support system. Yes, our family is in Alabama, but they aren't any better at putting up with her crap than I am.

I have a whole list of things she could possibly do to improve her financial situation, but I'm refraining from offering suggestions because she won't listen. She wants to be in a state of chaos and I'm going to let her.

If she does actually move it's going to put me in an awkward situation. I'm going to be thrilled to have the pressure of feeling obligated to take care of her off of my shoulders, but Nora will be losing a grandparent. Sure, I was going to seriously limit Nora's time with Mom, but she was going to have time.

I guess I have to wait and see what happens.

In other news: I made my first batch of snickerdoodles from scratch yesterday. I'm finding baking to be very rewarding, even if I don't have all of the fancy equipment. I don't even own a sifter. But! Baking means I'm not going to cut myself all of the time, like I do when I'm cooking. I'm clumsy.

Reshaping my life

2011-10-11T08:20:00.000-05:00

Sometimes I have an entry floating in my head for days and when I get the time to write it so many other things pop in to my head that I feel that I need to share that I can't actually start my post. Does that happen to anyone else?

Once in a while in my life I feel sort of abandoned by the people around me because it's as if they are always moving forward and I'm stuck waiting on them to have time for me again. Ever since Nora was born I've felt sort of left out, but it isn't the usual New Baby syndrome making me feel that way. I stopped receiving phone calls and visitors and even my text messages have sort of petered out. It's upsetting, but rather than letting it bring me down I've been keeping myself busy.

I've been focused on housework and playing with Nora. I've also been doing a lot of reading and I crocheted Adam a blanket with my spare yarn. Hooray for productivity.

It's been really difficult to keep myself distracted because Adam has been so adamant about keeping Nora in the house. This means that I can't leave, either. He hasn't let me take her for a quick coffee or a car ride or anything. If I didn't get to go grocery shopping on the weekends I'd never step foot out of the house. It's making me snappy and Adam is catching hell at home, but he's not budging. If he keeps this up I won't be allowed out of the house until Nora is weaned and I can leave her with him while I'm out. I'm not planning on weaning her until she's six months old so that I can wean her to a sippy cup, skipping a bottle all together. For those of you counting, that's three more months away.

I guess I should skip the part where I complain a whole lot about my husband because the fact remains that as long as I put up with it this situation is my fault. I'm just not ready to fight him on this because I know that he's just not ready to risk Nora and now that flu season is upon us, I suppose I have to agree with him. I can wait.

Now that I've accepted that my life is now going to take place entirely within these walls how to spend my time? Well, next month I'm going to participate in National Novel Writing Month for the first time. It's 50,000 words in 30 days and I'm pretty sure that means that I won't be doing anything else. The idea is, for me, to get my brain working and seeing exactly how much time I can devote to writing while maintaining my housewife duties and caring for Nora. This first year will be a throw-away for me. I'm not outlining, or plotting, ahead of time. I haven't felt creative for years but I think using this opportunity to just write and not think about it will open up my mind. Writing begets writing and I want to be more accomplished at this.

In the past when my life got like this; everyone too busy to pay attention to me and Adam dragging me down emotionally, I became destructive and full of self-loathing. I'm done with that. I won't be that woman. I have to set an example for Nora, you know?

I just have to hope that I'm making the right decision.

In other news, Nora laughs. It's no longer a rusty trombone. She has a throaty giggle and I love it. Who doesn't love a baby laughing? Everyone else may have abandoned me and Adam may be taking out his stress on me in really hurtful ways right now, but Nora thinks I'm hilarious. Life is pretty good.

Residual Fear Pops Up Unexpectedly

2011-10-06T07:14:00.002-05:00

Yesterday Adam came home quiet and surly. He barely spoke and wouldn't hold the baby. This was particularly upsetting because she was fussy and I was looking forward to a break. Usually Adam comes home and is desperate for a cuddle, so the whole "hands off" approach to the evening was confusing.

I watched him mope and grouse for around an hour before I finally snapped, "What's wrong with you?"

"I'm afraid I'm sick and I think I've given it to the baby."

Nora was crying in my lap and the words sort of stayed there; resting in the air for moments longer than they should have. Adam's face was anguished, so worried that he'd gotten the baby sick that I wanted to cry. I managed to recover and reassured him that Nora was only fussy because she was gassy. I had an extra cup of coffee while visiting with my sister-in-law that afternoon and I was being punished for it.

I got him to open up and tell me why he was worried that he was sick. I made him take his temp and it was completely normal. After running through everything I'm fairly certain that he's having an allergic reaction to ragweed.

Whatever the result the whole thing drove home that Adam and I have residual fears that sort of overwhelm us in relatively mundane parenting situations. Sure, most parents would be worried that their three month old baby would get sick and it would be their fault, but they wouldn't go straight to "worst case scenario" and become almost frozen by that fear.Adam

Adam was so concerned that he'd gotten Nora sick, with absolutely no evidence, that he was paralyzed with guilt. It punched me in the gut. I tend to be so wrapped in my own neurosis' as a parent that I forget that Adam is carrying around his own issues that need to be addressed. I'm lucky, though, because Adam trusts me enough to reveal his vulnerability and have faith that we'll get through it together.

It's moments like these that I become concerned that we're going to create problems in Nora's future, but I have to let it go. I think dwelling on potential issues would be worse than actually hitting those bumps in the road. I can only hope that this is the right thing to do. And I can promise to support her therapy sessions as an adult. I'll even take some blame and hope she'll forgive me.

I focus on getting through this year. Foolishly I think that if we can get to her first birthday all of this extra fear will fall away and we just be parents. I'm tired of being a victim of my past. Making choices for another person, a baby and then a child, is hard enough, without second-guessing everything.

Nora smiles and I know that we aren't doing too bad.

It's going to be a long road

2011-10-04T07:44:00.002-05:00

Our air conditioner went out yesterday. We've been living paycheck to paycheck for a while and the money issues have been putting a strain on our relationship, but we were dealing with it; now there's this expense that is going to push us too far. We'll make it happen, though. We always do.

At this moment it's not so bad. The windows are open and a fan is blowing and I feel almost cool. This afternoon is when it's going to hit us. It's still in the upper eighties around here. This house gets all sticky and stuffy and I'm not looking forward to it. Nora gets to run around in nothing but a onesie today. Lucky girl. I have to wear pants.

I have no idea what to expect with this repair. It's the first major house repair and I'm rarely taken seriously. I'm planning on dressing for the repair guy. Silly, but I think if I look confident, serious and put together he might show me a smidge more respect.

One blessing was that Nora had to sleep in our room last night so that we could all take advantage of the one fan we own. She only woke up twice and she's sleeping peacefully now. Crazy.

But! She's slept too much this morning for her 'schedule' and I should wake her up, feed her some boobie and start this day. It's going to be horrible if I don't hit the ground running. Doing housework in a hot home is not my idea of fun.

UPDATE: I called the repair guy and he showed within an hour. Sure, we're paying for that kind of service, but now I don't have to worry about the increasing outdoor heat. I wish I could bring money in. Adam is such a bear when we run tight and this cost is going to set us back until January. Bummer.

Filling in the blank spaces

2011-09-30T14:17:00.000-05:00

Nora's sitting across from me aggressively gumming the side of her hand. She's been doing that a lot lately and it makes me wonder if she's starting to teeth. Doubtful, but I check her gums nearly daily. I don't want a tooth sneaking up on me.

Lately I've been wriggling against the confines of the house. Yes, Nora and I are going with Adam to the grocery store on Sunday and last week I got to go dress shopping for my friend Jenn's wedding in December. I'm a bridesmaid. (I you're curious, this dress in charcoal on charcoal is what I'm wearing.) It just doesn't feel like enough. I'm balking at the lack of freedom and it starting to manifest as anger towards Adam. It's not healthy for the marriage. Ha.

I can't do anything about being trapped at home, so I'm doing my best to fill in all of the spaces with stuff. I'm crocheting a really ugly blanket out of all of the yarn I have left. It's going to be my first large project in years and Adam is totally excited. He loves ugly blankets and it's going to get rid of all of the random yarn I've been holding on to for years. It's a complete win-win for him.

For my birthday Adam (and generous financial contributions from family members) bought me a Nook Color and I've been downloading and reading all kinds of crappy free books. I forgot about budgeting for book money once I bought my e-reader. Oops. At least I'm reading, even if everything I've read so far is really awful and not worth mentioning. I'm hoping to stumble across something good soon. To that end I've been picking books to put on my Wish List for later. I've never done that before.

The rest of my time is spent trying to make Nora laugh.

The Girl with Disco Ball Hair

2011-09-27T15:00:00.001-05:00

I'm totally shirking my ironing duties.

I marvel at all of the changes that Nora has gone through, physically, since she was born. In the few moments immediately following her birth Nora was the spitting image of her grandfather, Adam's dad, Wayne. It was one more the more terrifying moments of my life. I couldn't imagine loving someone that looked so completely like a man who'd made the first few years of my marriage so difficult. Luckily, the resemblance passed and Nora morphed in to Adam's clone. Within a few days I started seeing Adam's mom, Reba, in Nora, as well. And that's the way that is stayed until recently.

Now when I look at my daughter I can see her body fighting to become just Nora. Her hair is every possible color, depending on the light, so I can't tell you what color her hair will be. In the last few days I've noticed that her eyes, once perfect reflections of her father's eyes, are now shifting and changing, like a kaleidoscope. They are blue, or grey, or green and it never stays. It's so fun. She's shedding the shackles of her family and becoming her own person. I love it.

Sometimes I write love letters

2011-09-22T12:36:00.000-05:00

Parenting has finally turned around. I got my oversupply issue under control. Finally. This means that Nora's temperament is adjusting because of it. I'm reluctant to say "improving" because there was nothing wrong with her before, but it's kind of the best word for the situation. She's sleeping, smiling, eating every two to two and a half hours and sleeping long stretches at night. I'm managing to feel capable of taking care of Nora with confidence and love and that's amazing.

I've been so unsure of my ability as a mother. I've second-guessed everything because, once upon a time, I was foolish and I lost my child. (Guilt never seems to go away, does it?) These past months have been harder than I was able to vocalize. Adam's seen it; I know that he has because he's stepped in so many times to take Nora from me. My stress level has been high and I've been almost unwilling to let her out of my sight. I don't think it's been unhealthy, but I know it's not the kind of parent I want to be.

I'm making plans, like going to a Baby Shower/Welcome Home Party for a friends baby that was born prematurely. I was too afraid of being out in public and being judged for my failure by people. Dumb, right? I'm over that, now. I'm ready to hit the party and shop for bridesmaid dresses for Jenn's wedding in December.

Ah, so she's sleeping better, but not today, it would seem. She's starting to get up. Again. She's barely slept today and I'm a bit strained. I know that she's miserable. Poor thing.

Big girl

2011-09-20T07:30:00.001-05:00

I'm torn. Part of me is thrilled to announce that Nora slept in her own room, in her own crib, all night last night. It was such a relief to have her in a safe place with that super-sensitive baby monitor that will tell us if she stops breathing at night. Yes, paranoia is a bad thing, but I think our freaking out is a little justified. I'm far less likely to leave things up to "if it's meant to be" than I was before. I guess I'm gun shy.

I learned a few things last night about my daughter. One is that she's capable of being swaddled, but it takes a huge blanket and folding her hands like a mummy. The second thing is that she talks/fusses in her sleep A LOT and it's hard to not shoot up in the bed and want to throw a boob in her mouth. Third item of note is that she doesn't need boobie as often as I thought she did.

The last thing also works as something I learned about myself.

We put her down at nine and she slept until a little after midnight. I changed her diaper, fed her, then put her back to bed. An hour later she woke up, so I fed her, half-asleep and only a little annoyed. Next thing I know, she's awake AGAIN and I decided that she wasn't hungry and just rocked her for a bit. She soothed and went back to sleep. I made the mistake of laying her in the crib without tightly swaddling her and she fought her way out around three in the morning. At that time I just Ninja Swaddled her and turned on the white noise bear and walked out of the room. No rocking, no holding, just swaddling and the bear. She sort of drifted in and out of sleep for the next two hours, chatting to herself, but not screaming. I'm not sure she got any real sleep, but she was calm and capable of being alone in the room and that's an amazing thing. Around five-thirty she had a poopie diaper, so we all got up and started our day.

I had the hardest time not running in the room every time I heard her on the monitor. I think once I'm more comfortable with her being in the other room, I'm going to turn the monitor down so I only hear the most distressed cries. I'll get more sleep that way. Well, I'll get some sleep.

Admittedly it was so nice to have the bed and not worry about rolling over on her, or having the dog get territorial and snap at her in the dark. Adam joined me in the room for the first time in months and I felt like a married woman, not just a mother.

All in all, for the first night I think we were pretty successful.

Tough Love is Tough

2011-09-19T10:32:00.000-05:00

Mom called on the 15th, the day that Nora got her shots, sobbing. She was leaving the doctor's office and they had just told her that she'd need lots and lots of money up front for the surgery. It seems that negotiating for a payment plan didn't go well, sending Mom in to a spiral. I listened sympathtically, murmmered in the right spots, but stayed neutral. When i didn't jump to solve anything she got off the phone.

This is the part of the story where I'm human and I fretted to Adam that I was concerned bout Mom and worried about her future. I make a point of telling you this because the resolution to this story paints me as a bit of a monster.

About thirty munutes later I get a text from Mom telling me to check my mail. How passive-aggressive is that? Mom had written asking if she could move back in so that she could have the surgery and get back on her feet.

I give Mom credit for being as straight-forward as she's capable in the letter. She had only the minimal guilt trip and the letter only went on for a page, instead of the usual three page ramble.

That being said, I had to tell her "no."

Hear me out:

When Mom left Adam and I were very clear that it was her last free ride, her last chance to live in our house. It was her third attempt to "get back on her feet" and, if you remember, we had given her a year to get herself ready to move out and she didn't. She's the one that rushed the move and, subsequently, put herself in the position that she's in. Not only did she rush the move, she immediately started living outside of her means, stretching herself thin on a daily basis.

Now, Adam and I have taken in pretty much every member of our extensive family. Mom, like I said, has been here three times. We've spent a total of ten months alone in our seven years of marriage. That's it. Eight of those months, by the way, were spent with babies in the house, so I don't know how "alone" we were. In the grand scheme of things we've paid our dues and I shouldn't feel guilty about telling Mom "no," but I do.

That's right, I told Mom she couldn't move back in. We had promised ourselves that we'd stop putting everyone else's needs before our own and we're determined to stick with it this time.

I haven't heard from Mom since then and I'm a little worried about the fallout, but I'm going to give it another week before I try and talk to her. I want to give her time to calm down. Or think of a new plan. Or whatever she's going to do.

Scattered

2011-09-14T08:28:00.000-05:00

Greetings! I'm sipping coffee and mooning over the email telling me that my birthday present will be shipped today. Adam made me wait to order it until my actual birthday, so the fact that it's being shipped immediately thrills me. I'm actually getting another gadget; I'm getting the Nook Color e-reader for the self-indulgent awesomeness. I spend so much time sitting on the couch with a boob in Nora's mouth that I'm looking forward to sitting around reading all day. I love to read. I love the idea of not having to leave the house to get the books I want to read. See, I don't get out of the house much. Okay, at all, and I haven't read anything in months. It's torture.

My dad and step-mom spent a week here. Dad spent as much time as he could holding Nora. She adored sleeping on his lap. He didn't get a whole lot of time with her awake because she was her typical Angry Badger self and wouldn't put up with being awake and not suckling the boob.

Having my dad adore my daughter was nice. I was concerned that he'd be weird because of Mazzy, but he handled it rather well. I was proud of him.

Cheryl was her typical weird self. We barely saw her because she prefers to sleep and smoke. Neither of those activities require our attention. We couldn't even get her to sit through a movie with us! Whatever. She's a nice enough lady, but I think the depression is getting to her and she's spiraling out of control. I hope Dad can handle it. (This is where I remember that he's an adult and can make his own choices about his happiness.)

Mom is having bladder issues and will be going in for day surgery soon. After that she'll be making bi-weekly visits for some corrective treatment. She was kind of vague on the whole thing, focusing much of the discussion on her concerns about how she was going to get there. I know, I should jump up and volunteer to help her, but we have one car and an infant that we are a smidge too protective of, so my help isn't going to happen. I'm not going to offer up Adam, either. I want to stay married, thank you very much. I hope that she'll use this opportunity to help herself and come out of the experience more confident in her ability to take care of herself. Tough love can be so hard.

As for the rest of my world, the being stuck at home thing is starting to tear me down. Nora gets her first round of shots tomorrow and Adam has agreed that we can start going to the grocery store together this weekend. I know, exciting, but when you've spent eight weeks basically trapped in the house, the grocery store sounds exotic and thrilling. The heat has been so bad this summer that Nora and I haven't even been able to walk the neighborhood. I've literally been stuck in the house for weeks.

Nora is starting to come in to her own. She's still an Angry Badger who screams without warning, but she's got softer periods, now and it's sweet. We spend a lot of time staring at each other and I'm cool with that.

I'm still having issues breastfeeding. Ugh. Good things first: I've weaned off the shield and we've achieved a good latch (I think.) I'm proud of myself. I was never able to do that with Mazzy. *boastful dance goes here* Sure, it's a little thing, but breastfeeding doesn't come easy to me and having gotten something right makes me happy. My problem, now, is figuring out my forceful let-down, oversupply issue. I'm working around forceful letdown, but the oversupply thing is making the rest of the experience miserable. Nora's mostly getting foremilk and that means she's still eating once an hour only to be cranky and gassy between feedings. It's stressful. And, frankly, if I hear ONE MORE PERSON tell me she's "comfort sucking" I'll smack them across the face. Um, no. I know the difference. My NIPPLES know the difference.

Bah, but I don't want to get worked up about that right now. I'm watching my daughter stretch awake and I should rain kisses down on her cheeks and get my birthday snuggles out of her.

Thoughts on sttuff

2011-09-01T15:29:00.000-05:00

It's been weird. I think it's supposed to be weird. I've dealt with things that I didn't anticipate. Like, I can't sing "You are my sunshine" to Nora because it's too hard. I still cry and I don't think that's very soothing for a sleepy/cranky baby. It's such an innocent, sweet song, but it can hit too close to home. Instead I sing my version of "Hush Little Baby" and we're making that work.

I spent an unhealthy amount of time looking for me in my daughter. I'm not there. It's all Adam and his mother with a smattering of Adam's dad (she's dark like him.) I'm to a place where I can accept her, now, and that's a great feeling. I don't want to be looking for anything. I just want to love Nora.

We're getting to know each other better, Nora and I, and it's beautiful. I'm not freaking out and she's screaming less. I really struggled with all of the screaming because it was like being rejected. I was already so raw, processing the guilt from giving birth to another baby and loving her, so that extra push was a bit much for me. I knew it was impossible, but I wanted Nora to come out and love me instantly. Silly, unhealthy, and totally wrong, but that's the truth. Luckily Nora was smart enough to be the Angry Badger I've grown to love and I know that I'll cherish this challenge more than having had an easy baby that filled a role and wasn't a whole person. I need whole people in my life.

Speaking of my darling tyrant, I can hear her waking up in the other room. I better tend to that.

I may never blog again........

2011-08-30T13:22:00.000-05:00

I can't tell you how many times I've sat down to write in the last week or so only to be called away before I could get the computer fully booted by a fussing baby.

Always rushing to go nowhere

2011-08-21T15:17:00.000-05:00

We're happily living our fifth week as new parents. Nora has sort of created a semi-reliable schedule. For instance right now is her "long" afternoon nap. Her usual behavior is to eat once an hour and kind of nap between those feedings. Once in a while she'll go an hour and a half. This time is the only time she'll go two hours between feedings and this means a solid one hour nap in which I can either scurry around and get stuff done or I can write a stream of conscience blog so that I can remember these blurry days in the future. Today I've chosen to update my blog. Go me.

I'm getting more sleep. Nora's finally and officially sleeping in large chunks at night. She's not "sleeping through the night" by anyone's definition, but it's better than nothing. She'll wake up and eat plenty, but she doesn't stay up anymore and I call that a "win."

Awesome. Adam just walked through and dropped off some laundry for me to fold and put away. I know that he thinks sitting around feeding the baby all day is "personal" time, he's wrong, BUT I'm a sucker for guilt trips and he does have a point; I should contribute more than just feeding the kid and making the bed every day.

I suppose I'll find time to write more later. Like, tomorrow, when he's not here to disrupt me.

If it's not one boob, it's the other

2011-08-14T09:55:00.000-05:00

Greetings, my lovelies. I'm hoping to get this in while my adored offspring catches a nap.

So, as my twitter followers know I have mastitis. It's been less than fun. Recently the pain and swelling went down on the left breast simply to regroup and attack the right breast. I'm going to call the doctor on Monday and rectify the situation. Go me.

I'm totally going to blame the fever, chills and general painful boob-itis and downplay the mental deterioration I've been experiencing in the last week. As awful as it is to admit, I'm struggling. I'm lacking the confidence in my skills required to be a decent parent when sickly. What's worse is that Nora is a challenging baby. She's lovely and I'm totally in love with her, but she screams for no reason. She refuses to give clear feeding cues and OMG the child hates to sleeps at night.

Sure, this is all typical baby behavior, but it can hurt to realize that nothing you do is good enough for your child. Well, that's the way that it appears. Nora probably just needs the freedom to cry out her feelings. I get that. I'm emo, too, but man it can be frustrating at midnight and you just want her to feel better so you can both sleep.

I tend to want to solve everything with boobie. It works and it's recommended for the mastitis, so I fall in to a pattern of, "Oh, you're crying? You're changed, and dry and comfy, so you must be hungry. Eat this." completely ignoring the fact that she just at 30 min.-45 min. ago and there's no way she can really be hungry. It results in her spitting up all over the place, getting upset, and the crying starts all over again.

Recognizing I was working us both in to a frenzy in my crazed attempt to be too accommodating in the whole 'feeding on demand' thing, I'm backing off a bit and trying a new strategy. It's a horrible, awful, very painful strategy: As long as I know that we've tried everything else, we hold he and let her cry.

While she screams, angry and unwilling to be comforted, I hold her close, rub her back, and chat softly in her ear. Mostly I tell her that it's okay to cry and that we still love her and I apologize for being tense or stressed out. I tell her that I realize that sometimes we just have to cry and as soon as she is done we'll do something else.

It's so against anything I know or experienced, but it seems to be working for her. She's calmer after a good hour cry.

And.....there she goes. I suppose my baby is ready to be awake and catered to.

Mirage or reality?

2011-08-05T08:30:00.000-05:00

Okay, so I was freaking out and worrying that things would never get better (who, me?) yesterday but there was progress! Now, I'm not entirely sure since it was so out of the norm and, honestly, I never know what's real when I'm half asleep, but I'm fairly certain that Nora slept several hours without eating last night. I think she slept from eleven until four this morning. I know that I woke up at one and at three and I tried to feed her (she was snuffing and crying in her sleep, but apparently it was just nightmares?) and she didn't want to eat.We shifted positions and she cuddled a bit and stayed asleep.

I'm hours in to my new day and I'm still confused. Did that really happen? Should I allow myself to see this as a new trend (and therefore tackle the daunting task of getting her to sleep on her own) or was it a fluke and I'll be paying for it tonight?

Ah, new mom drama.

Please, please just let me sleep

2011-08-04T10:13:00.000-05:00

Holy crap, I'm exhausted. I can't tell you how many times in the middle of the night I've thought about giving up breastfeeding for a nap. During the day Nora eats like any normal baby and I start to think "maybe she's leveling out" but then the sun goes down and she starts clusterfeeding. For hours. But! it never amounts to a long stretch of sleep. She'll eat for an hour and a half, going from one breast to the other, but then refuses to sleep for the next hour, just fussing and wiggling and it's almost too much. Then! Then! She gets hungry in an hour and that's the whole night. Six in the morning rolls around and she finally (thankfully) falls asleep for an hour and a half. (She never goes three hours without a feeding. Two hours is our reprieve.)

I'm at the end of my rope and I swear I don't remember going through this before. Sure, I fed all day long, never leaving the couch when Mazzy was little, but she slept four to five hours at night and I was totally okay with the trade off. Having an normal infant makes me feel pulled and stretched and I kind of hate it. More than that I feel like I'm unprepared. I don't feel confident at all.

Everything tells me that things will calm down and she'll stretch out her feedings, but I'm not sure that I believe them.

Nothing natural about it

2011-07-23T09:51:00.000-05:00

Hello! I come to you from the comfort of my couch, which I've barely left in a week. I'm glad that I think the couch is so comfy.

Today would have been my official due date but, luckily, I've already been a mother for a week. Nora is awesome. Of course, we're supposed to find our babies awesome, right? I'm sure that other people would find her annoying and needy, but that's why she's mine and not yours. :P

Yes, I'm a bit punchy. Feeding a needy baby boobie juice doesn't always equate to a whole lot of sleep. It's only temporary, though. We'll make it through.

So, yes, how did this all happen? Easy.

Friday morning I woke up around four because Adam doesn't understand the concept of turning off an alarm he has no intention of waking up to and he just keeps pushing snooze. He, lucky bastard, can go right back to sleep and act as if the constant buzzing isn't happening. Me? Not so much. I got up at four and wandered around the house in the dark eating Capt'n Crunch and drinking water. I noticed I was having seriously weak contractions, but shrugged it of because, really, I'd been having them for weeks off and on and I knew they'd go away. Besides, they were so lame I had to really concentrate to feel them.

We killed a few hours around the house and headed to the OB appointment. I noticed I'd dropped about three pounds since the week before when they weighed me. Total weight gain? Yeah, not very high. I shook it off and we waited on Dr. P to come in and do whatever she was going to do.

When she came in she checked me and I was 5 cm and we didn't even talk about effacement. She looks at me and asks, "Are you having contractions?" I tell her yes and she's like, "How about we just send you to the hospital and I'll get you an epidural (for the pain I'm not having), pop your water, pump you full of pitocin and get this baby out?"

She's so funny because she said it like it was a question, but the next thing I know we're being shuffled out of the office and over to the hospital. I wanted to grab my bags and stuff, but she wouldn't let us waste the time.

We walk in to the L&D area and feel completely stunned. I mean, I wanted Nora and everything, but it was suddenly moving very quickly. A nice nurse, Tricia, set me up with a room and a gown and an I.V. so I could be all fluid-y before they gave me the epidural. It was just after eleven in the morning on Friday and I was going to have a baby, even though I couldn't really feel the contractions.

They did something I liked and that was no unnecessary cervix checks. Tricia just got me in the bed and left me there to wait things out. Very pleasant, even if I was dying to know what was going on inside of my body.

Around noon I got fitted with my epidural and at twelve-thirty Dr. Plummer came in to break my water. Dr. P checked my cervix and I was now 6+ cm and well on my way. I could tell from the monitor that I still wasn't having very strong contractions, but they seemed too be effective. This is all before they'd even broken my water.

Oh, funny bit of the story here. Dr. Plummer was in the business, doing whatever it is that they do to check things once the water had been broken, and she suddenly got this shocked looked on her face.

"Oh. That's a hand."

I was a little less calm, "Um, that's not good. Can you push it back in there?"

Dr. Plummer very calmly replied, "I'm pinching her little fingers, but she's refusing to move them out of the way. Oh! She grabbed my finger. She's got a good grip."

Now, the nurse and Dr. Plummer are laughing and I'm sort of freaking out because I'm pretty certain hands don't come out before heads, but then there was some maneuvering and Dr. Plummer wedged the hand out of the way and pinned it with some piece of equipment to keep her fingers from escaping out my cervix, again.

After that it was all lying around and waiting. Boring. I was lucky because I had Adam and Charlotte to entertain me. Mom stopped by, but my grumpiness chased her away. I had originally thought that she'd be unable to make it to the hospital before Reba picked her up, but leave it to Mom to execute a plan all on her own.

Around three I was set up with pitocin to speed things up. I didn't mind because, hey, epidural!

So, then I'm doing more lying around and waiting. By three forty-five I was feeling pressure in my bum, but I wanted to make sure that I wasn't being paranoid. I was going to call the nurse at four, but Tricia walked in right before four and said that she could tell Nora's head was trying to come out.

Now, when I delivered Mazzy I pushed for two hours and forty minutes and I got third degree tears and I could barely get her out. Being the lovely lady that Tricia was, she had a plan. I got rolled on my side and told to wait and let the contractions do most of the pushing for me.

Insert more images of me waiting.

After a while I could feel Nora's head in the chute, as it were, and I just waited some more. Around five Tricia came in and checked things out. Yep, Nora was coming. It wouldn't be long, now.

Tricia called Dr. Plummer and we waited for her to come catch the baby. Fifteen minutes later Dr. Plummer was there and the equipment was set up and I was able to start pushing.

Two contractions later at 5:20PM I was holding my baby girl. She was 6 lbs. 9 oz. and 18.5" long. Nora had a head full of hair and such a large birth mouth I was afraid it wouldn't shrink. I did tear just a bit; I think it was mostly old scar tissue that gave way, but I don't even consider it any damage. Amazing.

I still have no idea what labor feels like.

Nora

2011-07-21T12:42:00.001-05:00

Nora, a set on Flickr.

This is total pic spam. Actual entry later.

Reality Check

2011-07-11T10:51:00.001-05:00

Okay, so here's the deal: I have no idea what I'm doing. I have accepted that.

After my last post I spent a couple days with the phone off just percolating in my rage and pain and disappointment. I'm better, I think, but it's kind of hard to tell.

Over the weekend we had to make a trip to L&D because, well, that's what you do when you're 38 weeks and having contractions every 3 minutes for two hours in the middle of the night (and your husband is crazy paranoid and has way more faith in your ability to handle pain than you do.) It ended up being a beneficial thing, even though we didn't come home with a baby. The lovely L&D nurse, Sue, was able to give me a more accurate assessment of my bits and pieces. It seems that Ms. Trish was incorrect and I'm not, in fact, 4 cm and 75% effaced, but 3 cm and 60% effaced. Sue also told me that I'm still posterior and Nora's at -2 station, still, so, yeah, no baby. Of course, by the time she had run my paperwork, got me hooked to machines and checked my cervix, it was all pointless because my contractions had virtually disappeared.

In fact, there's nothing more morally punishing that hearing, "Oh, that's just irritation."

I was totally like, "But I SWEAR they hurt 30 minutes ago."

Sue, lovely Sue, nodded her head and said, "Oh, I believe you."

Nice lady.

Anyway, the trip and the confusion and all of the crap that my body's been through in the last couple of weeks got me to thinking about my delivery with Mazzy. See, I've been basing the pain on what I experienced with her and the contractions Saturday night were stronger than what sent me to the hospital in 2008, so I thought, for sure, that it was all good. I've come to a conclusion that doesn't help this situation at all; I wasn't in labor that night.

Yes, I ended the night with a baby, but I wasn't supposed to have Mazzy. I'm convinced of it and here's why:

When I went in Sunday night on the 20th of January of 2008 I was five days past my due date, scheduled for an induction on Friday and 3ish centimeters. The triage nurse was a nice lady we'd seen before and she knew that we lived an hour away and really didn't want the pitocin induction. Also, it was, like, 10 at night and she wasn't going anywhere, so she very sweetly stretched my 3 cm to a 4 and admitted me. The on call doctor popped my water and a few hours later I was holding Mazzy early Monday morning on the 21st.

I remember handling the contractions really well, noting that they didn't hurt until the water broke. After my water broke I went from contractions every 5 minutes to every 2 minutes in, like, 15 minutes and Adam was starting to shut down. I was fully focused on breathing because, really, I couldn't do anything else. I wasn't crying, just doing a lot of breathing. Every two minutes is fairly intense and I didn't have recovery time between them to reassure Adam. My brain was so divided between breathing because that was what I was supposed to do and worrying about Adam's freakout because I wasn't talking to him anymore. (It's funny how you can't talk when you're breathing.) My next check had me at 5 cm and I was being told that it was going to be another 8ish hours before I'd see a baby, so I took one look at Adam's pale face and asked for an epidural. They got the epidural and I went from 5-10 cm in an hour.

My point in all of this is that I have no idea what I'm actually supposed to be looking for as labor. Well, and no matter how many people are telling me this kid is coming early, I've given up hope. I have until the 23rd before I'm 40 weeks. I'm just going to ignored every contraction, every bloody show, every stupid 'sign' of labor until after the 23rd.

Or until I deliver in my bathtub because I can't make it down the stairs. Whatever comes first.

Angry Wildebeast

2011-07-08T08:34:00.000-05:00

I want to be all calm and zen and at peace with the last bit of my pregnancy. I want to wait patiently and crochet booties, like a normal person, but I can't.
.
Ever since my appointment with Dr. Plummer on the 29th my body has been bubbling and gurgling with it's various stages of early labor. I've had a near-constant backache, cramping, mucus, puking, pooing, hot flashes, chills, you name it, I've had it. And I've managed to have some of the most intense sessions of False Labor possible. It's lovely.

Wednesday I went to my appointment with Ms. Trish and was told that I'm 4 cm dilated and 75% effaced. Great. Awesome. Except that that I know that it can still be weeks before this kid is actually born. I'll be 38 weeks on Saturday and I'm fully aware that I could actually go PAST my due date.

Which, really, I'd be okay with, except that I feel so miserable. I can't do anything without feeling awful.

The books tell you to "keep to your normal schedule" and be busy, but my life is one giant house chore and how can I feel normal if when I'm doing that I have to stop to throw up or poo or *insert other graphic gross stuff here* AND I hurt all over?!

Anyway, that's why I haven't been updating. It's all one long rant about how this sucks.

Almost Done....no, really....

2011-06-30T12:17:00.002-05:00

36 weeks , a photo by WhimOfFate on Flickr.

I started yesterday feeling very uncomfortable. No matter what I did I felt heavy and gross. I figured it was just the whole being hugely pregnant and insisting on doing housework thing, but when I went to the doctor that afternoon it turns out all of the contractions I had been ignoring were actually doing something. I'm 2cm and 60% effaced, now. I got fussed at for not timing contractions and told to go home and rest. (My doctor is going out of town for a week and would rather I didn't have the baby before she can catch her.)

We left the office and Adam made me time contractions for a few hours. They were five minutes apart for almost four hours. They did get stronger, but never that strong. I just stayed prone and drank water. It was soooooo boring, but they eventually went away.

This morning is more of the same. I'm having erratic contractions and I'm cool with that. It's just false labor. I had it for a while with Mazzy, so I know that my body likes to get all of the heavy lifting out of the way before I actually go in to labor. To reassure Adam, though, I am on the couch watching a lot of television. I know that Nora can come at any point and be fine, but I don't have to push it if I don't have to, right?

It's kind of a relief because I wasn't sure that I was even going to start prepping for this whole Having a Baby thing. I haven't lost my plug, or had strong contractions, or anything that looked like I might have this kid on time until yesterday.

One of my motivating factors for holding her in a bit longer is that they are burying my Grandma today and I don't want the two days linked forever in my mind, or in the minds of my family. Nora deserves to have a day that's clean. The other thing I can't stop thinking about is that my due date is in July...shouldn't I, at least, have this baby in July?!

Uneven

2011-06-27T12:49:00.000-05:00

Friday I had another visit with my doctor. We're to that place where I have to visit once a week and I have to get poked every time I go. It's my favorite part of pregnancy. Really.

Anyway, I got to see Dr. Plummer and she was able to clear up some of the confusion caused by Ms. Trish last week. Having the same person to gauge things is a relief. I like the consistency. According to Dr. Plummer I'm only 1cm and the baby is semi-ballotable, which means that she's not at 0 station, but more likely at -1. She didn't talk about effacement, but I'm not too concerned. I'm fairly sure that I still have bits of my mucus plug, so I can't be that effaced, no matter what Ms. Trish said.

Dr. Plummer also mentioned that she wasn't going to stop me from going in to labor anymore. She's "done fighting" my body. I know that I'm only 36 weeks (and some change) but it was nice to know that I don't have to fear every contraction or that I have to immediately get prone and breathe. It took a lot of stress off of my shoulders.

Well, and everything that Dr. Plummer told me sort of makes me feel like I took a step back in preparation. I'm not nearly as ahead of the game as I thought I was last week. Now I don't even feel a sense of urgency. I wouldn't be surprised to find out that Nora is going to take her sweet time and be late.

I had that reaction, but all Adam heard was "the baby can come at any time" and he freaked out. Saturday was spent moving things around and setting up stuff for the baby. It's not a completed nursery, but we're definitely ready to bring a baby home and start caring for her.

Adam spent Sunday painting the nursery. He got the first coat on. I love my husband, but it looks like a slow kid painted the room. I just keep telling myself that it's the thought that counts and I don't let my disappointment taint his excitement at being able to do something "handy" for his daughter.

The other issue that I have with the room is that it's bright. Really, really bright, people. And green, but not in a soothing way. It's a perverse cross between Slimer green and the slime from You Can't Do That On Television. He assures me that it won't be so bright once he gets the second coat on and it dries. I'm not nearly as confident. My hope is that once it's done and all of Nora's things are moved in there it will be less jarring. I may have to put a LOT of stuff on the wall to take your eyes from all of the green.

I never thought I'd be this afraid of a shade of green....

Sunday was harder. It started with a phone call from my cousin, Heler. She called to tell me that our grandmother had passed away the night before. It still doesn't feel real. The good, and bad, thing about being so far away from family is that a loss like this won't hit me right away. It won't hit me, really, until Nora is born and I won't be able to call Grandma Donna and tell her she has another great-grandchild.

Or it will hit me when my Dad comes to visit in September and she isn't with him to dote on Nora, like we planned.

Life is like that, though, always changing and ruining your plans.

Second-hand loot

2011-06-23T14:03:00.000-05:00

My mother-in-law's office threw her a surprise Mimi Baby Shower today. She sent me pics of all of the loot that will soon be mine (and Nora's.) That's right, I didn't have to do anything and people I don't know are showering my unborn baby with stuff. Sweet.

I think it's great that they care about her so much. Reba was moved to tears. I know because she was totally crying when she called this morning to tell me all about it.

Sometimes people can surprise you, right? Reba is always stressed to the limit because of her high-stress job, and sometimes that means the people she works with, but this sweet gesture must have gone a long way with Reba. I really hope so. I like my mother-in-law (gasp!) and I like when other people appreciate it her.

It means that I don't have to put as much work in to making sure she's getting all of the attention she needs.

Crocheting, again, naturally

2011-06-21T14:30:00.001-05:00

While at the store a couple of weekends ago Adam and I went down the “Discount Aisle” as is our habit when we're looking to kill time. Usually we just marvel at the random junk that's still on the shelves and keep going. Adam loves to visit things, but he hates to buy. It's an endearing habit. Now. When we first got together I wanted to smother him with a pillow. Or punch him in the nuggets.

This time he surprised me, though, and encouraged me to buy a skein of sport weight baby yarn in a brightly colored variegated pattern. It was about 8.5 ounces and only five dollars. (That's fairly good deal.) When he put it in the basket he said, “You can make something for Nora.”

See, it hadn't even occurred to me to crochet anything for the baby. I tried when I was pregnant with Mazzy and I was never able to finish the project. When Mazzy died I found the bag with the incomplete project in it and sort of lost my composure. My brain went to this place where I was so angry with how many things I was never able to accomplish as a mother, including the blanket I had planned for her.

There I was, in the store, debating on whether I should mention to Adam that I never finished Mazzy's blanket (I'm a failure) or if I could actually finish a project and be excited about something.

I decided to just keep my mouth shut and we went home. I surfed around the Internet and found a cute little ripple blanket that could be adjusted to the small amount of yarn I had bought. (As a general rule of thumb you need at least two skeins of yarn to successfully complete a blanket pattern. Sometimes more.)

The whole thing started out well. I was rather excited because I was zipping through the start of the blanket with such confidence. I've been crocheting since I was a kid, but I've never been very good at it. The idea that I would pick a pattern all by myself and work the pattern without outside help was a bit intimidating, but I wanted to challenge myself. At some point I have to become independent, right? Well, and it was a matter of pride. I wanted to do this for Nora. I wanted to prove that I am different, now, that I'm not as easily overwhelmed and that I'm capable of doing what I put my mind to accomplishing. Completing this baby blanket would prove that I was, once again, worthy of being a mother.

Big goals for such a little baby blanket, right?

I was able to follow the pattern until it got to the “finish in rounds until you get your desired size” part of the whole thing. Remember when I said that I'm not very good at crocheting? Part of my lack of skill is that I don't know certain things instinctively, like how the lady who wrote the pattern totally expected me to know that working in rounds means increasing the stitches bit by bit. Now, I've improved because I did realize that I should increase – after I had done about six more rounds on the damn thing.

Once I solved that problem I realized that there was another problem with the pattern. I had to get online and look it up to make sure, but I realized that there was a difference between what was written down (by me and therefore wrong) and what was on the mind of the pattern maker. This was after I had pulled out the previously incorrect six rows and had done another eight rows. I pulled those rows out and I went back to it.

At this point my hands and back were aching. I had been at it for two days, despite the fact that the pattern claimed that the blanket would work up in three hours. They were, obviously, not talking about someone like me.

I took another few days to finish the blanket; doing my best to work slowly and handle the pain in my hands and back. When I was able to finish off the edges and present my finished blanket to Adam I had this whole happy, prideful thing going on inside of me.

I learned something through this whole experience. I've learned that I am stronger and more determined than I give myself credit for being. No matter how many snags and frustrations that came up in the process of this pattern I didn't give up. The whole process was like some metaphor for my life and I have a renewed faith in the future.

When did crochet become a visual aide for how I feel about life? It's true, though. All of the starting and stopping that I've had to do to make this blanket a reality is the same as working through any stumbling block to a goal.

This is the current state of the belly

2011-06-17T15:24:00.001-05:00

34 weeks, a photo by WhimOfFate on Flickr.

I figured that after the last post with the whole Vagina Update, I should show the belly. This is me and my baby. It's great how much a four pound gain can improve the size of the belly, right?!

It's all prep work, if you ask me....

2011-06-17T07:29:00.002-05:00

Remember my positive report from my last doctor's appointment? Yeah, me too, and I miss it already. Okay, sure, I'm being a little dramatic. Yesterday's visit wasn't that bad, but it still frustrates me when I have bumps in the baby-making process. I really, really want to be normal and boring.

I'll start by saying that all of this hoopla may be over nothing. If you ever wonder what the benefit of having a single mediocre doctor versus a group of excellent doctors what happened yesterday is a perfect reason. My usual doctor was out of the office (again, but who's counting) so we were bumped over to the Nurse Practioner; Ms. Trish. She's an older lady that we've dealt with before and while competent, she rubbed me the wrong way the first time. Yesterday was no different.

We're originally told by the nurse assistant that I don't have to get “checked”; which is code for a borderline sexual experience while my husband watches, and it will be a quick heartbeat update and a bit of Q&A for my chart. Awesome, right?

Well, that changed and I'm was told that I was going to be checked and “as a precaution” they are going to do the preterm labor test, again. Fine. I was cool with that.

A few minutes later I was flashing the squirrel and making awkward jokes, because that's what I do, and I mentioned that I was a tight 1cm the last time Dr. Plummer checked me, since Ms. Trish is not privy to the usual workings of my cervix. And I'm “helpful” dammit.

I'm going to take a moment to complain about this middle section. Ms. Trish made a point of telling me that she hadn't performed the preterm labor test in a while and proceeded to ask me if the only swab she needs to take is from my vagina/cervix/baby chute. Grrreeeaattt.....way to inspire confidence. Also, lady, I'm naked from the waist down and I really have to pee – hurry up. The actual process of the test took FOREVER and I'm not just saying that because I'm impatient or anything. She wasn't set up and had one thing inserted while she looked for the other thing, leaving me all open and probed while she looked for stuff. Um, thanks?

Okay, so she finally gets that done and we're back to the business of checking my cervix. At this point Ms. Trish did something I hate for people with their hands in my vagina to do and that's talk out loud about what they find in my business. She also shifted position and got a grip on my kid so that she could get a better feel for my internal workings. Awkward. (I happened to look over at Adam during this and he was HORRIFIED. He can't stand anyone using the belly as leverage.)

What I learned from her less-than-internal dialogue was that, in her opinion, I was, at best a “loose 1cm, but probably a 2cm” and that my cervix was soft, but long. She said that the baby was “high enough” but she was going to call my doctor and ask her what to do.

Um......great?

Adam I sat in the room and bantered while we waited. Unfortunately the office has super thin walls and after a moment I heard Ms. Trish on the phone with Dr. Plummer. From that conversation I learn that I am, in fact, 2cm and at least 50% effaced and the Nora is at 0 station.

Ms. Trish comes back and tells me that Dr. Plummer told me to take things easy and I'll have to see her in a week. (I'm annoyed at this point that what she's telling me and what she tells my doctor aren't the same thing. I want facts people.)

My thing is if she was already performing the preterm labor test, why bother my doctor at all? I mean, really? Sure, there was some change and I can see the need for the test (grudgingly) but unless I was missing my entire mucus plug (it was loose) and at least 3cm or something, what else was going to be done? I haven't been having regular contractions or anything. There's no immediate evidence of preterm labor at this time. My body just likes to plan ahead; like me. It wasn't like I was going to be hospitalized. I was going to be put on modified bed rest no matter what......

I don't like reactionary health care providers. I'm reactionary enough. I'll do all of the panicking you could ask for as long as you remain level-headed. Well, and the reason I like Dr. Plummer is that she figured out that I'm very easily rattled and the stress makes everything worse, she sort of keeps things low-key. Ms. Trish doesn't know that about me. Eh, I guess it worked out because I didn't freak out this time; I got mad, which is, frankly, better. Adam didn't freak out this time and we went to dinner.

At some point today I'm hoping for a phone call telling me the results of the stupid test. Or not? See, they didn't handle that part of it very well. I guess I'm just not supposed to do any walking? I'm not couch bound, but I have to take it easy until I see Dr. Plummer next Friday. The sad thing is if I just had one set of fingers in my vagina (maybe) all of this could be avoided. Checking dilation isn't an exact science and as long as the same person is doing the measuring each time you can get a fairly accurate reading for what's going on with your body. Having multiple fingers means differing opinions with what's going on inside where no one can see anyway. I wouldn't be surprised at all if when Dr. Plummer goes poking around in there on Friday she tells me that she doesn't feel any change at all.

Solitary Confinement

2011-06-16T07:40:00.000-05:00

My husband is pretty typical for a man. He likes to watch crap that I would rather stab myself than sit through, but I've learned that, sometimes, it's important to give things a chance. I'm lucky because he doesn't watch sports, which I can't stand, but his interest in documentaries can often open up my brain. The other night is a good example.

Adam picked a documentary on Colorado State Penitentiary, which is a facility that houses about eight hundred inmates and every single one of them is in long-tern solitary confinement. Every. Single. One.

The idea was to show the way the program was run and the Warden and other prison officials talked about the effectiveness, but they also interviewed these inmates and the impact of being without physical contact for years at a time. Yes, I said years.

There was some research they presented that talked about loneliness, isolation, and how that impacted impulse control; nearly instantaneously. It was astounding. Despite the fact that these men were proven to be harmful to the general population, I was concerned for them. The United States is, apparently, the only country in the world that still utilizes this sort of long-tern solution to behavior problems. There is a team of researchers that are studying the impact so that, maybe, things will change – if the evidence supports it.

I was watching this documentary sort of horrified. Men would be moved in to the facility for one reason and they would be there for years. (I can't stop thinking about this.) The warden talked about a Quality of Life program where the inmates are able to earn certain privileges, like pen and paper, or a phone call, eventually bigger things like a TV or pictures through good behavior.

It sounded reasonable until I realized that the majority of the men interviewed and discussed in the documentary never got above level three out of six in this program. There was a guy who'd been incident-free for TWO YEARS and still wasn't above level three. What?! What kind of reward system is that? What are their standards? Who decides that two years of good behavior isn't good enough for art supplies?

How is this even going on? I don't need years of research to tell me that months, a year, without physical contact will break the spirit, and mind, of a person. Well, and let's not overlook the reality that most of these men have an emotional problem of some kind before they are even incarcerated. Prisons are filled with different mental disorders, it's part of why the men (and women) are there in the first place. Bad behavior isn't created in a vacuum and we know that, now, don't we?

Anyway, if you get the time or the inclination, check the documentary out. We streamed it free on Netflix.

Baby Talk

2011-06-14T08:05:00.000-05:00

I haven't talked about the pregnancy in a bit. I suppose that's what happens when things are going like they're expected to go. I don't know how entertaining “I'm fat and uncomfortable” is to the general reader. However, because things have been such a cluster-fuck this whole pregnancy I will offer a bit of good news.

My last doctor's appointment went amazingly well. I gained weight like I was supposed to, my blood pressure was fantastic and I didn't have to take another preterm labor test. That's right, I didn't have to put my vagina on display. It's a great feeling when that happens. Well, and this late in the game, it will become a rare thing. I'm going to get poked more than a drunk girl alone at a frat party.

I'm 34ish weeks along. This kid could pop out anywhere from four to eight weeks from now, with six weeks being the “goal.” Delivery is such a crap shoot. You don't really know what's going to happen until you're in the hospital and they hand your baby to you. That's when he or she is born. All of the guessing and planning in the world is pointless.

That being said, Nora dropped about a week ago. I can feel the mounting pressure, but I know that she has further to go. I can also feel that she's moved in to the head-down position pregnant women covet. Oh, yeah, she's prepping for the chute.

All of this means that I've Virgo'd my way in to annoying Adam. I've packed my hospital bag, Nora's diaper bag and I've hounded him to get some crap done. “She's coming, dammit! Can't you tell?! She's IN MY VAGINA!”

Luckily Adam, having been married to me for seven years, is immune to my crazed need to plan everything to death. He's just smiling and reassuring me that none of it matters because, “We've got this.” We are very street in our confidence around here.

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2011-06-09T14:28:00.000-05:00

I have guilt. I have guilt because I don't really have guilt over something that I did this weekend. (Makes sense, right?)

Sunday Adam and I drove out to Mike and Reba's for the annual June Birthday Bash. Every year we get together and have grilled food out by the lake. It's a great time to bond with the family and sort of celebrate summer. Adam's family only gets together in a big way a couple times a year, so we actually look forward to these things.

The only drawback is that Reba always invites my mom. Mom then spends the entire time complaining about EVERYTHING and alienating the family members, especially anyone under the age of forty. Mom will insult and abuse me, making everyone uncomfortable. (Or maybe I'm the only one uncomfortable but it's worth mentioning.) In the last year, or so, Mom has managed to branch out and attack Adam's family, too. I've been reduced to trying to explain her behavior, or smooth ruffled feathers on her behalf, instead of actually enjoying myself. By the end of the day, which is always long, I'm exhausted and emotionally battered. Adam and I spend the hour-long drive home in silence while Mom rehashes every slight she feels she suffered at the hands of Adam's family.

I bet you'd love to be in my place.

I know that Reba means well by inviting my mom to family events, but I've decided that I don't have to take her to every event. I shouldn't have to inflict my mother on my husband's family. They're my family, too, and I don't want to lose them because she can't keep her mouth shut.

Unfortunately I made that decision after Reba had invited Mom to this year's June celebration. I didn't have a dignified way to retract the invitation, so I took the coward's way out. I turned my phone on silent and left it in the car so that I wouldn't be tempted to check the voice mail all day. Yes, this makes me a really bad person, and an even worse daughter, but it was the best family gathering I'd been to (sober) in years.

Having the entire day without the tether of my mother's emotional manipulation was fantastic. I played with the kids - actually played - chatted with my sisters-in-law, took pictures and snacked like a champ. It was a completely different experience for me. I'm so grateful for it.

Sure, the whole thing blew up in my face when I got home and checked the voice mail messages and heard the increasingly crazy crap Mom was leaving for me, but I'm going to still consider this a win. I know that she was going for a guilt trip, but all she did was convince me that she's going to have to stop expecting me to be at her beck and call. (In case you think I'm completely heartless, I did call and give her some story about leaving my phone at the tire shop the day before after her third sobbing message begging me to call her because she was convinced that I was sick, or dying, or having the baby and just not telling her.)

It might have been a cowardly move to avoid Mom like that, but I was able to come up with some basic boundaries that I want to implement to improve the relationship, such as it is, between me and my mother. I only have a few more weeks to have a game plan before Nora is here and I'm too distracted to create a viable course of action. If I don't have a plan I'll be reacting entirely on knee-jerk emotional cues and, trust me, that's not the way to handle things. My instinct always tells me to lock Mom up, for instance, and that can't be the only way to handle things.

I managed to hurt Mom's feelings (I guess) and she hasn't called all week. I know, it's only been a couple of days, but Mom is ridiculously needy and going more than forty-eight hours without a phone call is practically a miracle. I hope she stays mad for another week. I need the break.

Watch This

2011-06-06T16:48:00.001-05:00

Sometimes I'm hit with the realization that I've come a very long way in my life. I remember the struggle, the internal fight that I had with myself so that I could allow change to happen. I went through it and I didn't really understand what, exactly, I had opened myself to during that time to make it happen.

My friend, Miss Erin Fae, sent me the link below during a quick chat via Gmail (Isn't the internet amazing?) and suddenly the changes were explained to me. I knew what was new and different about mindset and why it was so capable of improving my life.

Vulnerability.

Dedicate about 20 minutes of your time listening to this and see if you identify.

Brene Brown: The power of vulnerability | Video on TED.com

Can you hear me now?

2011-06-02T15:43:00.000-05:00

I feel like I have a whole list of things to complain about, but I don't want to be that person, so I'm going to find something positive to talk about.

Nora can hear us. She's big enough that she can hear sounds outside the womb and she's showing a marked reaction to the sounds that she hears. It's wonderful. Fun.

Adam, in particular, loves to take advantage of this aspect of pregnancy. See, when she hears Adam Nora always kicks, flips, stretches, turns, etc. so that she can get closer to the sound of his voice. It's painful, but beautiful.

Adam will ask me to come and stand next to his chair, place both of his hands on either side of the belly so that he can optimize the amount of baby he can feel below my skin, and he'll talk. He never says anything important. He will mostly tease and instigate Nora to the best of his ability. Adam always tries for the biggest reaction. He wants my skin to stretch and mutate.

And he laughs.

He'll do it for as long as I'll let him, which, frankly, isn't that long because I'm usually sleepy and I want to be lying on my side and waiting for her to settle down.

I love this bit, though. Whenever I become afraid for the future, the fear that comes with any new experience and the sad knowledge that comes from having lost a child, I think about this time that Adam is using to bond with Nora and I'm okay. He's doing normal Daddy things and that's amazing.

Ask and you will receive....

2011-06-01T10:07:00.001-05:00

32 weeks (and my face), a photo by WhimOfFate on Flickr.

It's been a while since I posted a pic of the belly. I was feeling frisky yesterday, despite the fact that I was getting ready to go to a funeral and decided to smile and show my whole body. Let's just overlook the fat arms and the half-done hair and be happy with the result.

Because words take too long

2011-05-25T13:15:00.000-05:00

This is the orchid I bought for cheap because it was dying. All of the other little pots were proudly housing these delicately beautiful plants that promised to bloom in a matter of weeks. I was drawn to this one, all small and brutally pruned, because I wanted to nurse it. I knew that I could love this orchid, even if she never sprouted my favorite flower.

This is my blackberry bush. I'm actually getting tiny fruit. I've had a couple of pieces ripen and I was able to eat them fresh. This isn't going to be a good year, there are barely any blackberries on the bush, but I have high hopes for next year.

I grew this cucumber! I'm so proud of my first whole, fully formed veggie. Sure, I probably plucked the little guy a bit too quickly, but there's another one ripening as I type this that will be ready for eating, soon.

Speaking of things I've grown and will soon eat, I present my tomato plant. I know, it's a sad, wilting plant, but, in case you didn't know, there's a drought in Texas. We water, but it's already in the nineties and it can fry a delicate leaf in no time flat.

This is one of the roses that just keep blooming. I am surprised that the flower is so bright and pretty. I confess; Adam and I loathe the rosebush and we actively do what we can to kill it. This pretty flower is doing its best to mock me.

See? Look at all of the flowers! Such a disaster. We got the bush from his brother, Erick, a few years ago because found himself incapable of taking care of it any longer. (Seriously, who DOES that?!) We're now responsible for a plant that we have no desire to nurture. It's like a physical reminder of our life.

This is where I admit that I have no idea the name of this flower. I know that it's a wildflower and I have ideas of what it might be called, but I haven't been able to find anything that matches it perfectly. Yes, we planted them, but it was just a packet of wildflower seeds and these were the only ones that came back this year. Next year I'm going to go crazy and plant wildflowers in the corner behind the blackberry bush.

I mentioned that I had a lily pad filled with hand-painted tree frogs from the baby shower. This is my loot. Aren't they fantastic? Maybe that's just me.

This giant mess is what we laughingly call the playroom right now. It's a mess. We've got the entire nursery and all of the toys we've ever bought for any of the kids in our lives, plus the stuff we got from the baby shower in to this tiny room. I'm desperately trying to overlook the unfinished nature of this arrangement.

This is the place I'm supposed to be able to put my daughter. What a joke. I have been really, really nice to Adam about this, but I'm not sure that I'll be able to deal with the Under Construction look much longer

There needs to be more than just a line in the sand

2011-05-18T12:09:00.000-05:00

There's something I left out of the Baby Shower post; Mom spent most of the weekend pestering me about her move. When was Adam getting home? Was he going to help her? When were we borrowing Mike's truck? The "fun" part was that she did it during the baby shower.

When Adam got home we swapped stories about our weekends, even though we had texted one another for most of it, and he didn't like what I had to say about Mom. So, in an effort to expedite some peace in to our lives, he arranged to borrow Mike's truck during his lunch break on Monday morning and prepared to move the rest of Mom's things.

It was at this point that we figured out that she hadn't, in fact, moved all of the little stuff, and there was more than just her bed and dresser to move. I'll come back to that part.

Once Adam let me know that Mike agreed to let us borrow the truck I sorted through our dishes and made stacks for Mom to box up and take with her. I was feeling generous because I thought we were about to be done with all of this mess so I split pretty much everything down the middle, even giving her some of my favorite dishes so that she could feel like she had a set. After I had gotten everything ready I woke her up and told her that Adam was coming at lunch to move her bed and dresser.

She started freaking out.

Mom starts telling me that she wasn't ready and that she had a lot more than just her bed and dresser to move. I was stunned. I had asked her a week before if she was done moving and she said that she'd moved all of the little things she could move in Mae's car. Apparently what she meant was that she was done moving by herself and she wanted us to do it. Big shock.

Anyway, I glossed over the fact that she was nowhere near done and asked her to get boxes out of the garage so that she could move the dishes she'd asked for, even though she originally told me that Mae had given her dishes.

Mom called Mae and borrowed her car so that she could move what Adam didn't have time to move. We only had Mike's truck for half an hour, an hour, tops. We had thought that all she needed help on was the furniture because that's what she told us. I digress.

I was (stupidly) pretty excited that she was going to be gone. I thought that this would be the end of pointless stress.

Mom moved for another hour after Adam went back to work, then suddenly stopped. I checked the room and there was still all kinds of stuff in here, but I just assumed that she was tired and we'd figure out the rest of it later. I expected a phone call in a day, or two, to wrap things up.

The first night without her here was beautiful. We had dinner and watched TV, the same as usual, but there was a smile on our faces. Adam was relaxed. Hermione wasn't barking at every little noise. It was great.

The next day, around noon, my doorbell rings. It's Mom. She starts to tell me this whole story about getting locked out of the new house the day before and how she thought it would be a good idea to break the glass so that she can get in to the house and to her phone. Of course when she breaks the glass it cuts her hand to ribbons. Suddenly she's bleeding on everything and what was a simple annoyance as become and Event.

She has stitches and all kinds of bills, now, and she's not supposed to be lifting anything. I made sympathetic noises, but didn't rise to the bait. It was hard. I mean, who DOES that? Less than twenty-four hours out of my house and she's had a trip to the ER. If she was trying to convince me to let her move back in that was not the way to do it. Being reckless is sort of proving my whole point.

Anyway, she explained that the blood got in her phone and that's why she couldn't call. Mom immediately started pushing me for a day and time when Adam would be able to help her finish moving. I couldn't give her an answer because I didn't have one. Adam's job is really busy right now. He's putting in overtime and he's going to be weekends for a while to get things under control. I told Mom that, but it just made her mad. She left in a huff, throwing over her shoulder that she was getting a new phone and she'd call me later.

A few hours later I got a call from her. There's a new story about switching carriers and paying for a new phone and blah blah blah that makes me cringe. More money she shouldn't be spending for something she can't figure out how to use in the first place. Great.

She started hounding me, "Have you talked to Adam? When is he going to help me?" I tried to explain that he was busy. I said that I had left a message for him and I had texted him, but he wasn't getting back to me. That just seemed to set her off, but before the conversation could come to a reasonable conclusion my call waiting alerted me that Adam was on the other line.

I switched over, but he got called away immediately, so nothing was resolved. Not that it mattered.

Adam came home and we were in the kitchen making dinner together when the doorbell rang. It was Mom. Now, I know that she had a phone because we called on it, so I'm a little pissed that she didn't call first. That was kind of the point, though. She wanted to ruin dinner.

For no reason I can understand she starts moving stuff to the car, the whole time bitching about how she shouldn't be doing it. Here's there thing; Adam was in the kitchen. She could've asked him about his schedule right then, but she chose not to. As far as what she told me the stuff that was in the room wasn't needed right away. Mom was just doing her best to make this as difficult and painful as possible.

We took our plates upstairs to eat and she left at some point. I'm not sure when.

I know, a lot of this sounds like petty whining, but it's taking its toll on us. Adam is so frazzled that he started yelling last night. Adam never yells. Mom is doing her level best to punish us for trying to live our own lives. It's unfair and so stressful.

How do you draw boundaries with a person who only sees her side of things?

We never said that we wouldn't help, we just said that we had to work out a time that worked for Adam. No matter what I say she acts like she heard the complete opposite.

Adam is pushed beyond reason. He wants to throw her stuff out and tell her to never come here again. I thought he was just venting, but he may actually feel this way. I know that family is important, but if that's the stand he wants to make, I'll make it with him.

Today has been quiet, but it's still kind of early. I'm trying to figure out how to approach things. There's a large part of me that wants to warn Mom that she's burning bridges that she won't be able to rebuild any time soon. If she continues to behave in an unhinged way, forcing and pushing and making stupid decisions, we can't allow that sort of instability to be in Nora's life.

I don't want to take a drastic step, but if things keep escalating like this, I'm going to have to do it.

More to come later. It's not like Mom is mellowing out.

My Baby Shower in pictures

2011-05-17T13:33:00.000-05:00

This is the beautiful tree that my friends made for me. I can't even explain how fabulous it is that they went through so much effort to bring whimsy and fun to my baby shower. If you look in to the foliage at the top of the tree you can see a cute little owl peeking out at you. HOW CUTE IS THAT?!

My friend, Charlotte, got all artsy with this shot. I liked it enough to share it. It's like photography's way of making sure that I pause and enjoy the moment.

Early on in the day I was given bubbles as a distraction so that I stayed on the couch. Blowing them in the house, without Adam there to censor me, was so liberating. Little things can make me so very happy.

My friend, Val, is very crafty and creative. She always brings something personal and beautiful to every event. In the case of my baby shower it was this diaper cake.

This is a group shot of my friends getting ready to launch bean-filled clothes representing frogs at the hand-painted lily pads hanging on the fence. I'm not sure if everyone else had a good time, but I loved watching everyone. I shouted and "whoo'd" like a Southern woman.

Another activity was hand-painting some tiny decorative frogs. I have the finished products on a ceramic bird bath in the shape of a lily pad. They are so bright and fun. A lot of the girls used glitter, so I love them forever. Hooray for glitter!

Now is when I admit that I left out a lot of the gift photos because Charlotte has the uncanny ability to only take a picture of me in the middle of one of my less-than-flattering animated faces. High Energy Chessy does not photograph well AT ALL.

Overall I'd say that this is an excellent representation of my mental state these days - happy.

Soon comes the Mom update. Always fun, right?

It's Belly Time

2011-05-12T14:56:00.000-05:00

29 weeks , a photo by WhimOfFate on Flickr.

I'm getting there. I'm loving the belly. Sure, it gets in my way and I swear I'm a planet, but I love it.

Rain is falling from the sky for the first time since January. It's like the world is healing, not just my spirit.

Fat and Happy

2011-05-11T14:07:00.000-05:00

Today is a new day and I have a better grasp on my guilt. I think it had something to do with Mom spending three hours straight intentionally trying to upset me about this move. It's clear to me that she has created a reality wherein I'm the bad guy and no matter how the request for her to find a new place to live (eventually, mind you) went down, she' s telling everyone that will listen that I “kicked her out without any notice” and that I “left her without options.” It was a matter of getting tough, or letting her win.

I got tough. Sure, it took most of the night and Adam having to remind me a dozen times that I can't control the way she reacts or what she tells people. He truly feels that even if she paints me as the villain in the melodrama she's made of her life it will be worth it in the long run. I choose to believe him.

My baby shower is on Saturday and I'm getting ready to celebrate this baby. She's been on the back burner while I got everything else sorted out and it's going to be good to put her front and center. I'm thrilled to be fat with this child and I'm ready to bring the joy.

I'm so ready to stop letting shadows and drama block me from enjoying what's left of my pregnancy. There are only (about) ten more weeks left to make this baby fat and healthy. There's a good chance I'll not get another chance to be pregnant. I should put as much time as I can in relishing the crappy bits. I'll miss them when they're gone.

Official Announcement of Intention to Vacate Premises

2011-05-10T07:10:00.000-05:00

Friday Mom told me that she's worked some deal with Mae for a house and use of a car until she can afford her own. I've spent the last few days letting that sink in and give her time to change her mind before I accepted it as reality. Yesterday Mom was on the phone setting up utilities, so I have allowed myself to believe that it's really happening.

Mom is moving out, like, soon. I haven't asked for an exact date because I didn't want her to feel like she's being pushed out the door. I figure that as long as she'll be gone before Nora is born I can be happy.

I will admit that I'm not sure that the deal they've worked out is a good idea, but my lesson in all of this is that I have to let Mom make her own mistakes. Beyond that, I have to learn that when she makes those mistakes that she needs to figure out how to get out of the mess. If I'm able to do that I will have FAR less stress and I might even be able to learn to appreciate her. Sure, the last thing is a stretch, but I have to be positive about the future.

Knowing that Mom is leaving has already influenced my mentality and my body. I haven't had a scary bout of contractions all weekend. I went from having contractions for hours and hours last week to having three, tops, practically overnight. I'm stunned. And relieved. That small physical change has done wonders for my brain, too. I'm not the same weepy, emo girl that posted on Friday.

There's hope for the future.

Let's just gloss over the fact that the amount of joy I have because my mom is moving out makes me a horrible person.

Slowly losing

2011-05-06T10:23:00.000-05:00

The stress is starting to get to me. I know this because I"m having way to many "practice" contractions. In an effort to get my mind off of things, I'm going to talk about something else. Excellent plan, right?

I'd like to announce that we have, indeed, picked a color for the nursery. I did that thing you're supposed to do and I painted a square on the wall in the room and visited it at various times during the day to make sure that I liked it.

A lovely woman I'm Internet Friends with sent me this "love tree decal" for the nursery wall from my baby registry. I was happy to discover the shade of green complimented the design without washing out the green of the leaves. It's a small thing, but knowing that we'll have a painted wall and a decorative bit on the wall makes me feel good about myself.

I'm seven months pregnant and Adam and I have done nothing for the baby. We haven't bought anything and the nursery is currently under construction. I'm hoping that I won't let that drag me down. Life is just going to be this way. It's not a reflection of my imcompetence, or a projection that I will, somehow, be a horrible mother. I'm going to believe that.

My energy level has returned and I was able to do some cleaning. I know, I know, I'm a totally modern woman and I don't have to do these things to be considered valuable in my marriage, but some of us like it. I like the half-assed version of a 50's wife that I portray. I can't help it.

I found out a number of people are skipping my baby shower in favor of another girl's baby shower. I knew that one of my friends was going. Christian was stand-up enough to tell me. Everyone else is just not saying anything and I suppose that I was going to find out when they weren't there next Friday. Apparently my friend, Jenn, heard it from some other friend and I had to hear it from another person. So juvenile. I wouldn't be so hurt, but they're the same people that bailed on Mazzy's baby shower. It's lame. I guess I should just learn to cut ties. They're not going to be there for me, even when I really need them to be.

Let me be clear, I'm upset that they aren't telling me that they aren't coming. It's not about them choosing Falicia over me, but that they don't have the balls to tell me that they've made that decision.

Sure, they're former co-workers, but I thought we were friends, too. I thought that I'd been doing a good job at keeping contact, even though I've basically been trapped in the house with this pregnancy. I made the effort to keep lunch dates and celebrate birthdays and I really needed the supoport and the love for this baby.

But, I guess getting in to that isn't remaining positive, so that's all I'll say on the matter.

I think I bummed myself out. I better just stop here.

Pushing the rest button

2011-05-04T13:57:00.000-05:00

Mom's court date has come and gone and we're no closer to knowing how this will end. It seems they reset the hearing. I"m not clear on the details because, frankly, they don't make sense, but Mom has to go back in June. I'm so ready for this to be over. So. Ready.

Despite having no closure on the court case, I'm pushing forward. Mom has to go.

Yes, after all of the stressing I've been doing over Adam kicking her out, I'm the one that told her that she can't live here long-term. My plan is solid, even if waiting is not my strong suit.

In my head she'll save her money, buy a car and then find a low-income place to live. That's not exactly how she's reacting. She's acting like I said that she has to be out next week. There's all this crying and exaggerating and I'm getting pretty annoyed by it. If she keeps this up, yes, I will create a deadline and she won't like it.

Anyway, I looked in to getting her Section 8 housing, but, unfortunately, there's no money for that kind of thing and the office isn't taking applications until September. I told her that I was perfectly willing to wait until she could get on the list and find a place she can afford. In the meantime she could be saving for a car. (Those housing lists are long and she could be on one for a year, or more, easily. She was *supposed* to have put herself on the list when she moved here from Alabama, but never did it.) Even though I've done what I can to reassure her that I'm not pushing her out, she's overreacting. Mom is hounding her friends to give her applications to local places that she can't afford. She's glossing over the whole car thing. It's my opinion that it's my punishment for wanting to have my own life.

I'm trying not to be too guilty about this. I know that Mother's Day is coming up and I should try and suppress all of this anger and let Mom enjoy the day, but it isn't going to happen. If I wait for the "right time" to take charge of this situation it will never be the right time.

Way to make me paranoid, Adam

2011-05-02T08:59:00.000-05:00

It would seem that I've been way to laid back about Mom going to court, according to Adam. He has these ideas of consequences that never occurred to me that will directly impact our life. I have no idea if their is any validity in what he believes, I just know that he's very convincing.

He seems to be concerned that if Mom is convicted we're going to be on the line for some of this. See, Mom told the court she pays rent here (totally untrue, but no one was with her to stop her from lying). Adam believes that if she's convicted and they feel the money she earned at the illegal gambling hall needs to be paid/seized/whatever, then they will look to her assets.

Now, technically she has no assets, but she did say that she pays for the residence here. Since we don't actually own this house, we're paying off a loan, Adam fears that they will try and take the house because her money (supposedly) went in to its purchase/maintenance/etc.

We know that we will be able to fight that because, in fact, she's never put a dime in to this house. Our bank records will show that she's never written a check for anything. Seriously. She's never paid us for a single thing, not even the phone line we had installed in her room at her request. We paid for that for years before we finally just cut it off. We simply don't want the hassle.

Adam seems rather convinced of these dark and dire consequences and it's making my tummy flip and dip in an unpleasant way.

My only concern was that if Mom was convicted it would nullify her disability and we'd be stuck with her forever and ever. She reassures me that a misdemeanor wouldn't be reason enough for them to suspend her benefits. I've tried to research it, but I haven't found an answer that satisfies me. It's the drawback of knowing that Mom is a big, fat liar and I can't allow myself to take her at her word. I need proof.

It's the whole situation. I know that she says that no one else has gone to jail and that they'll basically plead her down and she'll pay some fees and have a bit of probation, but how do I know that she's telling the truth, or that she won't screw this up?

I had a better grasp on this until Adam started freaking out because Mom, for the first time in her entire life, was going to pay back money for the doctor's visit we paid for yesterday. I let her write a check and handed it to Adam only to have a flood of angry whispering come at me. He started in about not wanting any financial ties and then he explained why and just like that I became freaked out.

This morning he was encouraging me to start researching things on line and get all of this information for him so that he's prepared for tomorrow. (He's taking Mom to court.) Having a level-headed husband who occasionally goes overboard is a little disconcerting. I want to scream, "Hey, baby, I'm the crazy one in this relationship. You don't get to freak out about stupid shit. That's my job!"

Adam has also let it slip that he has (let's call it) "A Plan" for Mom. I'm using the term loosely because I have the perception that it more closely resembles a Gut Reaction on a delayed timer. It would seem that my mild-mannered, uber-patient spouse has quietly been fermenting rage since Mom's arrest in January. After we know what's really going down with her charges tomorrow he's going to put down The Stompy Boot of Death. (Last seen in November of 2007).

I'm not entirely sure what this means. If I take him at face value he's going to tell Mom, on the ride home from court, that she's not welcome in the house and she has 24 hours to get out. I have to admit, I'm completely unwilling to accept that this is how it's going to go down. It's just so out of character for Adam.

Every time I've questioned him about it, though, he's seemed to have the same, or similar, response. His idea is that he's going to orchestrate this Exit Strategy and that he'll run interference between me and Mom from now until the end of time. He wants me to cut ties with her, block her number, keep her from the baby, all of it. It's this really incomprehensible response to what is basically just .... Mom. I don't see the justification for this extreme of a response.

In the past, yes, I did do this sort of All Out Cutting of Ties, but that was after she'd held me at gunpoint and had spent the previous five years constantly attempting suicide (for attention, IMO) and I was exhausted. I could see the benefit in being away from someone so obviously destructive. Mom's recent behavior is crap and I want distance, but I'm willing to take the mature steps of slowly building walls and boundaries. I don't want to hurt her because she's who she is and I'm not equipped to handle her, but Adam doesn't see it that way.

He has an entirely different view of how my relationship with my Mom harms me and, in turn, the baby. In his mind he's the Super Hero who will rescue us all from this toxic woman who does nothing but torture me. It seems so testosterone laden that I have a hard time believing this is coming from Adam at all. He's never be one to feel like I need to be "rescued." In fact, most of the time, he's very confident in my ability to be the Bad Guy and save us all.

Just not this time.

I suppose a better person would warn Mom and let her know that there's potential for a lot of bad in her future, but I'm honestly not sure it's warranted, yet. He may calm down, right? If I get her worked up and it's all for naught, then I will have caused unnecessary drama in the house and that would suck. I will just have to get through today and hope for the best.

This is one case where supporting your partner is tricky. Wish me luck.

Coffee will save my soul

2011-05-01T12:13:00.000-05:00

I went to the doctor on Friday. Okay, that's not entirely true. I went to the office, but I saw the Nurse Practioner, not the OB. My doc was out of town and I got the other lady rather than rescheduling.

My weight has curiously plateaued. I'm the same weight I was last month. My total weight gain remains at eight pounds, but, happily the nurse reassured Adam that he doesn't need to freak out. The belly is growing and that's all that matters. He seemed to have handled okay. I do admit that it's very confusing to me. I'm seven months pregnant. I've gained just enough weight for a pound a month. It's weird. The happy part is that even if I put on two pounds a week for the last trimester I'm still going to be in very good condition.

I whined about my lethargy, so they upped my iron in an effort to annihilate this anemia. I was told that in seven to ten days I will be back to normal. I'm so happy. Seriously, I can't stand being this weak. I'm crossing my fingers that things will change and soon.

The other bit of change is that I'm switching from Sudafed to coffee in the morning. Crazy, right? Apparently that's going to help at this point.

I have to admit that I'm a little disappointed that drinking coffee is part of my new regimen. I worked so hard to get off of caffeine and now I'm being asked to go back? Bummer.

Now that I've said the mature thing, I'll add this - I've had a cup of coffee the past two mornings and it has been fantastic! I felt like a normal person. More specifically I felt like Normal Me. Even Adam mentioned that the difference in my personality was marked and he had missed me. It was way better than the painful, "Hon, is there any way I can fix the Emo?"

Now, the lack of Sudafed does mean that the afternoons are ever so draining, but I'm not passing out, so I'm tentatively excited. I got to test this whole Caffeinated Power on a grocery store run this morning and I can declare the whole thing a success. I made it all the way through the store and I'm still going strong. There hasn't been a peep out of my heart monitor in a couple of days, either.

I was supposed to go back in four weeks, but I'm worried that preterm labor will sneak up on me, again, so I'm going back in two weeks. Perhaps it's paranoid, but I had no idea that I was contracting so effectively when I was pregnant with Mazzy. There was no pain, no way of knowing that I was dilating at all, and I don't want to accidentally walk this baby out too soon. I'm keeping my fingers crossed for a fully baked baby.

We purchased Mother's Day cards for Adam's mom and my mom. I know, totally lame, but we're tight on money and I know that Reba would prefer a card. Mom is in hot water, so her opinion is ignored. She gets a car and that's going to have to be good enough. Hell, I don't even get a Mother's Day card. Adam is responsible for that sort of thing and he never follows through.

Cake balls for the baby shower have been ordered. I went with Lemon, Red Velvet and Pecan Pie balls. They're going to put little frog faces on them for me. I think. At least they'll have little eyes. I'm glad that they've been ordered. It's one less thing to worry about.

Adam and I have finally agreed on a paint color. I think. It's just a matter of getting him to finish sanding and priming the nursery. He's hoping to have it all done by next week. That gives a week to change our minds about the color of the walls.

My blackberry bush has some berries on it and my cucumbers are tiny, but I'm growing things. It's wonderful. Next year Adam has promised me a place to grow my wildflowers. I've got some lovely brown-eyed Susan's, but their in a pot. I want a bunch of flowers in a corner of the backyard, behind where the blackberry bush is growing. We've agreed to plant the garden in front of it. This way we still have plenty of yard to use for Nora's running and sandbox and general playing.

I know that Mom is leaving. I know that this weight of lethargy and sadness I've been under will pass and I'm a better woman for it. I like who I'm capable of being. Adam has been so supportive during all of this. It's been hard for him because it's like I'm carrying a cloud that blocks his light, too, but we're both coming in to the sun.

The Spaces Between

2011-04-28T13:11:00.000-05:00

My plan to take pictures at Phoenix's birthday party failed. I have an excuse - I was simply too weak.

Sunday morning I woke up totally wiped. Even after taking my Sudafed I was light-headed and feeling like I was going to pass out. I guess some days are just bad. Who knows?

Adam and I argued before leaving because he didn't want me to go at all. I promised to just sit. A lot. I was going to be sitting if I stayed home, so I didn't see the difference. He finally gave in and I was able to make an appearance at the party.

This is where I get to say that I love my niece and nephew and I'm thrilled I was able to get their hugs and kisses. It was totally worth the entirely too awkward conversation between my sister-in-law, her mother, and two of her friends. I'd walk through fire to make sure that these kids know that I love them, and sitting through this party was my trial by fire.

Adam, lucky bastard that he is, got to run around in the backyard and throw water balloons. I would have loved to be able to do that. My favorite thing is to chase them and make them laugh. They never seem to laugh enough.

It breaks my heart. Phoenix is six and Lily is four and they should laugh all of the time. I almost never hear them laugh. Life has been too hard for them and I feel like it's up to us, the adults in their lives, to teach them to enjoy the life they have. I'm sure their brains are serious enough for them as it is, right?

There is no update on my health, yet. I do see the OB on Friday, but I don't think there will be much revealed. I'm going to get weighed, my fundus measured and maybe we'll get to hear the heartbeat. Oh! They'll check my blood pressure and I can find out if the Sudafed is working, still.

I've been feeling worse, instead of better, but I'm not giving up, yet. I've got time to get through this and I will.

Also on Friday is a trip to the bakery to order the cake balls for the baby shower. Here's where I admit that I'm feeling weird about the baby shower. I'm learning that a lot of the people that I invited won't be there. I knew I shouldn't have a baby shower. I'll deal, though. I know that Val, Charlotte, and Jenn are working hard to make this fun and great and I'm not going to let myself freak out and pre-ruin the whole thing.

Even with my head down I can still see the sun

2011-04-23T13:42:00.000-05:00

In an effort to not drag everyone down with drama, I wish to present you with a Super Pic-Filled Blog entry. Oh, yeah.

Belly Time -

Things that Grow -

Wishing I was a kid again -

Tomorrow we head off to celebrate our nephew Phoenix's birthday. They're having a BBQ and cake. We bought him books. I hope they go over well. It's hard to tell what to buy a kid you only see a couple times a year. I'm planning on taking my camera tomorrow, too. I'm wanting to take more pictures of life. I'd forgotten how much I missed it.

Besides, I need to get used to it so that I'm fully ready for Nora and all the photographic evidence I plan on having of her.

No Good Deed.....

2011-04-18T17:01:00.001-05:00

I'm so tired of my life right now. I know that it's temporary and I'm not quitting, I'm just saying - I'm tired of this.

You'd think that a smart woman would chill out after the blowup that we had last week, but my mom is not, apparently, a smart woman. Raise your hand if you're surprised.

Mom is definitely feeling better. I know this because she, quit suddenly, started balking at taking her medication. She started claiming all sorts of ailments attributed to the dreaded Bipolar medication. It's pretty standard for a person with Bipolar to decide that they don't need certain medications, or they tweak their dosage because they're "doing fine" or "cured." There's something about the mania that can be very appealing and it can spiral everything else out of control. Now that mom is feeling better, she's wanting to play God with her medicine.

It's just so sad. Saturday was like dealing with a little kid. She was making things up and pretending to be really, really sick, begging me to let her stop taking her medication. I looked up the drugs and none of them could cause the side effects she was claiming came from the pills. Well, and the fact that ailments kept changing every time she called for me was a big clue. Mom couldn't even manage to keep her lies straight.

So, I did the worst thing I could do when faced with opposition - I quit.

I know, I know, if it were my kid I'd have to fight it out, but she's my mother and grown and I don't need the stress. I'm starting to have contractions and I'm not willing to risk Nora because of Mom's shenanigans.

After two days of her whining and calling for help (on the phone from her room, mind you) I calmly bagged up her medication and walked it downstairs. I didn't discuss it with her, just handed them over.

What do you know?! Sunday morning Mom was feeling fine and it was all because she didn't take the pill that was making her "sick."

My thing is this: if it had been the medication, wouldn't she still be feeling off for a couple of days while her body processed the meds in her system? Or am I wrong?

It doesn't matter, because I've washed my hands of the matter. Mom may not realize it, but this little stunt was the last straw. Having taken over her medication for that small amount of time and having her resist the pills so quickly, telling me that she "always" had to tweak her meds, has reminded me that she's not to be trusted. I have a liar for a mother. I know that, but it's like I - forgot.

We see the family doctor tomorrow and he'll give us the rest of her results. I'm sure they're going to be fine. She's shown remarkable progress and I don't fear that she's losing her faculties anymore. The week after that we see her psychiatrist. That visit may prove to be more entertaining.

I'm going to have to report to him about how giving Mom her medication went and the news isn't good. I'm going to (happily) tell him that she's lying, being combative and not taking the medication as prescribed. I get to tell him that I'm not the person to manage her pills because she's simply not interested in actually maintaining a healthy lifestyle. I'm going to ask him for recommendations for support groups, or a good therapist, that would be able to help me deal with her.

And I get to say all of this in front of her.

Her court hearing is the week after that and once we know what she's facing, things are going to start changing.

I've come back to the conclusion that she can't live here. Instead of putting all of my hopes on getting her in to a retirement village on the cheap, I'm going to see if she qualifies for Section 8 housing vouchers and I'm going to put her on a list. Once that's started I'm going to tell her that she needs to save for a car. Once that is established I'll make sure that she applies for food stamps. When she lived on her own before it was one of the things that she used to make me feel guilty - that she didn't have enough money for food. I'll nip that in the bud.

I can't say that this is going to happen any time soon. It can't. It's going to be a while before she pays the lawyer and gets a car and getting on a waiting list takes forever for single unit housing, but it's going to happen. I can't allow this woman to live in my house.

Sure, I'm being dramatic, but I'm angry and hurt. I worked my ass off to make sure that she's okay and her way of thanking me is to lie to my face? Not only that, but the ONLY thing we ask her to do is take care of her health, both mental and physical, and she's seemingly unwilling to do that. Mom lives in the master suite rent free with free internet access, free food, and she complains about everything; it's not too much to ask her to take care of herself. That's the whole reason she was here. When she was on her own all I heard was that she was broke and couldn't afford food or medicine. She certainly was never able to go to the doctor.

I thought that improving her quality of life, in that respect, would help everything else, but I was wrong. All moving her here did was make her lazier and more likely to waste money. There's been no attempt to improve her life.

I'm just ready to be done with this whole fiasco.

Wherein I become a raging lunatic and Mom cries

2011-04-13T10:23:00.000-05:00

I tried to sit down and write this entry yesterday, but I was still too upset to make sense, so I scrapped the whole thing and decided to sleep on it. I'm hoping that it was the right choice.

So, the good news: Mom's rapidly declining mental state seems to be driven by an untreated bladder infection. It seems she started to notice the symptoms in September, but didn't do anything about it. She didn't want to go to the doctor.

Our trip was able to put a lot of fears about her health to rest, actually, so that it is good. They tested everything; all of her major organs and blood flow in the vessels that feed those organs. Mom got a clean bill of health except for a small heart murmur that he'll check in a year and this damn bladder infection.

Unfortunately, when all hell broke loose yesterday, I used the information to attack her. I'll get to that. Soon.

Monday night was hard. I had spent three and a half hours in a chair with nothing but raisins and water waiting while they ran every test they could in one day. By the time we were done I was tired, sore, and a little dehydrated. I only had one bottle of water with me. Anyway, we head home and Mom starts harping about me calling the car dealership on her behalf to get her money back. I tell her, calmly, that it's nearly dinner time and I've had a long day and it wasn't going to happen. I was tired and my heart monitor kept going off and I wanted to rest. We eat dinner and Mom finds out the money from the insurance company had been put back in to her account, so she starts demanding her medicine. (We were going to have to pay for all of her medication this month because she was broke. I'd already told her I would go the next day, after Adam's lunch, and take care of it for her.) I tried to remind her of the earlier plan, but she's focused. She says since she can pay for it, it should happen RIGHT THEN.

At this point it's nearly seven at night and I was exhausted. My Sudafed had already begun to wear off and I was too weak to stand. I told Mom this, but it started a new argument; she wanted to borrow the car. Um, no. She's not on the insurance and just because her mental state is (probably) brought on by a bladder infection, it didn't mean that she was reliable.

Mom started freaking out, screaming and crying and I got upset. Like a tool, I got re-dressed and got in the car. I dropped off her prescription and came home. It was going to take them thirty minutes to fill the prescriptions and I didn't want to sit in another chair.

Once I got home Mom started insisting on going with me. I politely told her that I had reached my limit of "Mom time" for the day and it would just be better for everyone if I went alone. That went over like a lead balloon, and, once again, we were screaming at each other like animals.

Adam interceded and told Mom that he was going to go with me and Mom was just going to have to stay home. He at least cowed her enough that she pouted in her room long enough for us to leave, pick up her medication and then come home.

By the time everything was sorted out, I was drained. It was eight at night (I usually go to bed around nine) and my stupid heart monitor was going crazy. Adam made me check my blood pressure while we were there and it was low, even with all of the stress, and Adam was pretty pissed. He was thisclose to freaking out on Mom.

The next morning I was just unable to shake it. I couldn't believe that I'd spent months fighting with her, begging her to do something about her confusion and memory loss, and it could have been fixed with a three dollar antibiotic. So, yes, I started the day with a chip on my shoulder.

Mom was up early, washing sheets because she'd wet the bed, again, because of this bladder infection and every time she passed me she had something negative to say.

"What's your problem? I'm the one who's sick."

Around lunch she called up, asking for her Xanax and it set me off. When all of this started Adam counted her pills and she had a 12 day supply at 3 a day. She was OUT?! It had only been a week.

This is the part of the story where I look really, really bad. Just saying.

I started screaming and throwing her bottles down the stairs. I told her that I didn't want to be involved in this anymore and we'll just tell the psychiatrist that I'm done with her. I wiped my hands of her and she could be the boss of her own life. I'd wasted enough time and energy on her.

It was pretty tame, sure, but it started a flood. Mom, even seeing how upset I was, wouldn't let things go. She just kept pushing, yelling up the stairs and wanting to talk things out. I went down to her room and read her the riot act. I told her she wasn't capable of doing anything and expected everyone to take care of her because she was Bipolar. At that point I broke off in to a rant involving telling her that she's not the only person in the house with a mental disorder and I'm not given a free pass for anything and it was ridiculous that she feels like she should. I spent years in therapy getting a handle on my Borderline Personality Disorder, doing whatever it took to overcome the scary statistics so that I could have a family, a husband, people that loved me and relied on me. I didn't just lie day and say, "This is the best I'll ever be because some shrink told me people with my disease are useless."

I screamed that I spent months being worried about her when I should have been focused on my health and my baby and it could have been fixed if she'd just done the ONE THING we ask her to do in exchange for living here - take care of her health.

At some point I was yelling about there was nothing wrong with her and she needed to stop waiting to die because it was going to be a long wait and the rest of us were tired of being in a wait station for death. We'd had enough death in this house.

There was something about being tired of how selfish and inconsiderate she is about everything. I mentioned that she was fifty-five years old and she should know how to work through a problem without always jumping to trying to run away. Every time we've brought up a problem in the past she's immediately gotten her feelings hurt and said she'd move out, rather than doing anything to fix it, or find a compromise. I was tired of always being the bad guy in everything. I told her that when she does that it feels like a manipulation so that we don't fuss at her anymore and we have to focus on her feelings. And it was bullshit.

I tried, despite the screaming and crying, to keep everything present. I didn't bring up crap from my childhood, other than to say that I'd spent my whole life making sure she was okay and didn't realize that I was the one that was going to have to explain to Nora why Nona wasn't up to playing with her, or when Mom started screaming about how horrible it is to live her. I did say that there was more to taking care of herself that just taking her psych meds.

She kept apologizing and crying and I have no idea if anything sunk in. I know that it wasn't presented in the best way possible, but sometimes life is like that.

I started having contractions and my monitor was going nuts and I spent the rest of the day on the couch. I can't let her get me this upset. I know that. I know the reality of what stress does to a pregnant woman, because of how stressed I was during my pregnancy with Mazzy, and my job is to stay calm and take care of us. It's just so hard.

Today is a new day and I'm trying to maintain the peace. I have to, right?

More of the same

2011-04-09T15:39:00.000-05:00

The good news is that Mom isn't pissy anymore. The bad news? She's worse than before.

It's starting to feel like each day is a step closer to chaos. Mom is so out of it. She is retaining even less and she seems weak and sort of beaten. Her defense is that she's just depressed and I'm letting that be enough.

I made an appointment with our family doctor for Monday. I felt like the familiar face may go over better as an initial exploration in to her cognitive state. Also, if I am freaking out over nothing, he'll be able to tell me that for less money than a neurologist. Yes, I'm cheap. What? I'm thirty-three and in no way prepared for how to manage a fully-Fraggled parent.

The last couple of days haven't done much to ease my concerns over Mom's health. She's either declining very rapidly, or I'm just paying more attention to her behavior than before. I'm definitely making fewer excuses for what's going on and that my change my perception, too.

I wish that I could explain it, really express what it's like to seemingly wake up one day and realize that your Mom isn't the same. It's like there was a switch that went off and she can't function.

I'm learning that the behavior changes might be more severe than I thought. I was told that she was unable to identify the house the other day. She was getting a ride home and she made the driver circle the block twice before she could recognize our house. We're the only two story on our side of the street until the cul de sac. It shouldn't have been that hard for her. I was also told that she was unable to tell the difference between her phone number and her account number. She was asked to give her cell phone number, but she pulled out her checkbook. That's not comforting. What happens if someone takes advantage of that?

I'm still holding on to the idea that there's nothing wrong and that all of this will resolve itself. I'm foolish, right?

Friday Mom got it in her head that she should give the car back. Now I'm dealing with the crap that comes with it. She wants me to try and get her money back. I hate doing things like that, but I'll give it a shot since the down payment and deposit wiped Mom's account for the month and she has nothing to show for it.

I spoke to the used car dealership this morning to make sure that they're going to keep the car. The owner won't be in until Monday and I'll talk money with her. While I was talking to the office manager I was told all kinds of scary things about what Mom's been doing and saying.

Mostly I'm floundering. I don't know how I'm supposed to do this.

Matters of the Heart

2011-04-08T10:09:00.001-05:00

First things first - the cardiologist wasn't able to tell me much, except that I need to run some more tests. I had a magnificent EKG, like a 24 year old woman. That's good news for me considering heart disease is a huge factor in early death on my mom's side. While in the office they confirmed that my blood pressure is in the toilet. It was around 90/70 while sitting/resting. If I'm lying down it goes up to about 104/71, but when I stand it dropped to 86/61. It's not dangerous, but it's bothersome. My brain just won't let go of the idea that it's this low and I'm taking Sudafed to raise my blood pressure. What was it before I started taking the medicine?!

Because I have family history and they want to rule out any really dangerous situations during/after delivery, I was hooked up to a 24 hour holter monitor. I went back the next day and got a 30 day event monitor, which I'm to activate when I feel like fainting. Since I only had a few times when I felt that bad and I haven't had a repeat since starting Sudafed, I don't expect to use it much.

I'm scheduled to have an echocardiogram in a few weeks. Hopefully the combination of all of this information will result in them telling me that I'm fine, just suffering from low blood pressure due to being pregnant and low iron count.

My OB nurse called with my blood work and I'm clean. I don't have gestational diabetes, or a thyroid issue or anything. It's great. My iron count was 11, which is pretty low, and I'm holding on to anemia being the culprit behind all of my problems. It just takes ages to recover fully from anemia and I might be feeling this way long after Nora is born.

Luckily I don't have the time to be concerned about my heart because things with Mom finally hit a head. I had repeatedly tried talking to her about our concerns about her health, her weird behavior, but to no avail. I finally followed through on my promise and wrote her psychiatrist asking for his assistance. I was hoping that he could confirm or debunk behavior changes in correlation to her medication. What ended up happening was unpleasant.

During her visit on Wednesday her doctor called me back so that three of us could discuss what had me worried and see if we could come up with a solution to get it addressed. Mom was livid, which is understandable, but it had to be done. At least I know that her forgetfulness and slightly erratic behavior isn't a side effect of her medicine. He recommended that I start giving Mom her medication every day. She LOVED that, as I'm sure that you could imagine. He also suggested that we set her up with a neurology appointment.

I'm currently digging around for a neurologist in the area that takes Medicaid. Actually, I'm going to have to confirm that she has Medicaid. I think it's that, since she's on disability, but I'm so bad about available social services.

I set up another appointment with her psychiatrist in three weeks, but she's claiming she won't go. We'll see what happens when the day comes.

The ride home was tense and life in the house is unpleasant. She's accusing me of trying to have her locked up, which is only slightly ridiculous. (Ha.) Mom cried and wailed, calling me all kinds of names, trying to scare me in to backing down, but I have no choice. There may be something wrong that we need to fix, or they will diagnose her with something that will change how we all interact. I'd much rather work this all out while pregnant, than trying to figure it out with an infant. It's not my dream situation by any stretch of the imagination.

Typically Mom has been hurt and is lashing out. I can't expect anything less of her. I would hate to be in her shoes, 55 and being 'bossed' by her daughter. I'm trying to reassure her that this is all temporary and that as soon as we know what is going on she can gloat and go back to being her own boss. It's not really working. She's paranoid and convinced that I'm out to get her.

I'm still processing what all of this means. I know that it had to be done, but, man, I'd rather hide my head in the sand and just wait for it to all go away. Unfortunately that isn't going to get us anywhere. This situation needs a strong leader and since she's my mom, it's my job.

Adam has been great. He's not looking forward to the fallout and, of course, this means that we can't ask her to leave because it's obvious she's not going to take care of herself, so he's grumpy. I'm okay with that. I spent years being pissy about Wayne and he's got every right to cuss and pout over this. At least I'm not going to get offended when he bitches about her. I get it. She drives me nuts, too.

My other stress comes from the fact that we're going to be bleeding money for a while. They are going to want money for these tests and Mom is broke until her next check, so we have to buy her meds this month and pay whatever co-pays for doctor visits. This means we're going to have to put off buying anything for the baby. Again.

It's okay, though. I've made my peace with that, too. We wanted new bedding and a new car seat and a new monitor that measures breathing, but we can live without it. I can wait on a new stroller (the other one broke) and playpen for a while. It's just stuff. We still have Mazzy's car seat, so we'll be able to bring Nora home from the hospital. That's all that matters. And I have a Moses basket. It's fine.

Yes, I totally pouted yesterday, hiding from everything and I'm still drenched in gloom, but I have to believe it will pass. I'm not a negative person (anymore) and I will find the strength to get through this.

Oh! and the freaking hospital is a nightmare to register with this time. The online link is broken and my phone calls are being ignored. Adam and I are going to have to pre-register in person on Monday. What a pain in the ass. I know that we have time, but since I started having trouble with pre-term labor at thirty weeks last time I want to be prepared. I'll be 25 weeks tomorrow and I have to feel like I've done something right by this baby. I feel so behind on everything else. It makes me cry.

I want to be less Doom and Gloom and I will get there. I just don't know how.

Limbo Lady

2011-04-03T20:45:00.000-05:00

A couple of posts ago I mentioned that I was feeling weak and mostly like crap. I got to see the doctor on Friday and she didn't really clear anything up. She ordered some blood work and set me up with an appointment to see a cardiologist on Tuesday.

I have to admit, being told to see a cardiologist at six months pregnant is fairly scary. I was shaken. My feeling was that we were going to go in and she was going to tell me to stop being a baby. I had worked it all out in my head that I'm anemic and that everything would go back to normal; it was just a matter of time.

I did the thing they tell you not to do and I Googled the hell out of this. I was hoping to find a simple solution and have my mind put at ease. There wasn't a lot of stuff to find, really, and the stuff I did find was ... not good. I've told myself that this is just my doctor taking precautions and not to panic.

In the meantime I was ordered to cut back just a bit on the amount of water I was drinking and add more sodium. I'm also taking a 12 hour Sudafed in the morning to raise my blood pressure, which is low and the likely culprit for my fainting spells.

Saturday was a nightmare because I took the pill and it raised my blood pressure, but Adam wouldn't let me *do* anything, except play Tetris for eight hours, so I got a headache. I raided the cabinet and discovered that we didn't have anything to take to make the headache go away. I ended up with a thudding skull all day, making me quite pleasant to be around.

Later in the afternoon, though, he eased up and I was able to help him clear out the nursery. We took everything out so that he can prep the space for painting in the next few weeks. I'll admit it was painful to see what used to be Mazzy's room stripped bare. We want to make the place different for Nora.

We know that there is delicate balance we're going to have to walk for the first year, or so. I want to find a way to make Nora feel special without erasing Mazzy from the common history. I picked through and put away toys that were so specifically for Mazzy that sharing them seems cruel, but I didn't take everything away.

Is it weird? I don't want Nora to grow up thinking that we didn't she was good enough to play with Mazzy's things, like we keep her memory above Nora's life. I probably think too much about it. There's the rub; knowing that I'm too concerned with how to make the 'right' choice, but unable to stop myself.

Anyway, that was yesterday. Today was a new day. Since I did so well on the Sudafed in the afternoon, Adam agreed to back off today and I did a bunch of housework. I worked from nine in the morning until four in the afternoon and it was great. There were a lot of chores that had been neglected because I'd been feeling so weak and it was nice to get them caught up. I felt like a new person. It was the second trimester euphoria I remember from before. "Comfortably Pregnant" indeed.

Tomorrow I go for my glucose test in the morning. Tuesday is the cardiologist and Wednesday I take Mom to see her shrink. I'm going to be busy the first part of the week, obviously, so I needed to be ahead of my house stuff so that I could do all of the running that needs to be done.

I'm hoping that I feel secure enough on Wednesday that I will be able to borrow the car all day and I can do some fine tuning to my registry. There are a few items I need to add, but I can't seem to pick them via the internet. I want to touch them. I'm funny that way.

The baby shower invitations go out in two weeks. My friends are in charge and I'm not entirely confident they'll be ready. I've vowed to just be happy with whatever I end up having done for me. It's better than freaking out, right?

I'm overly worried about what's going to happen in six weeks. I'm 24 weeks now and I was on bed rest at thirty weeks with Mazzy. I keep getting stuck on that and the fact that we are nowhere near set up for this kid. Everyone seems to think since we have a lot of the stuff we don't need to feel rushed for anything. That's great, but I don't work that way. I want to be done. Now.

My Sudafed is wearing off and I'm wiped. It feels like flipping a switch and suddenly my arms are too heavy to type efficiently. That's a pretty good indicator I should sign off and get ready for bed.

Fire One!

2011-03-29T13:56:00.000-05:00

Yesterday Adam and I had a long conversation about Mom. We have to address things directly, for once. We're pretty comfortable digging our heads in the sand and waiting for life to change.

Adam has decided to be more involved in the "Mom situation." This is distressing. I know that Adam means well, but he doesn't have 30+ years of experience with Mom's version of Bipolar Disorder. Of course, he may not have the automatic programming that I have that makes allowances for her behavior and he may prove to be more effective.

I'm sure that from the outside it will seem that we are overreacting to a normal, not scary situation, but I don't know if there are ways to fully express what it's like to live with a Bipolar person that doesn't manage her disease very well. I don't have a stigma against Bipolar. My two best friends, Randy and Charlotte, are both Bipolar and I have lived with both medicated and unmedicated versions of both of them. I know to recognize what is the disease and what is the person underneath it all.

Mom is a lifetime of pain and hurt. She isn't one of those cases that didn't get diagnosed until I was an adult, no, she's known since she was fifteen years old that she has Bipolar Disorder and has never done anything about it. Mom has been in the hospital multiple times for stretches as short (ha) as two weeks and as long as three months at a time. She's had doctors and pills and years of therapy available to her and her only stand is to say "it's not my fault." She'll fiddle with her meds and ride the highs until she's blown past all of her money. But, Hey! That's okay. Chessy's worked since she was fourteen years old and she always has rent money. (Yes, I paid the rent in emergencies from the time I was fourteen years old until I finally got away at twenty.)

My whole childhood was focused on getting away from her. I never wanted to live with her again. I never felt any pull to take care of her. I gave up my childhood and my teenage years taking care of her. I put my time in.

But....

I married a soft-hearted man who thought that he was doing me a favor by inviting my mom to move to Texas. (I was getting several calls a week from Mom who was in 'trouble' with one thing or another. He thought that I would be less worried if I knew that she was nearby. What a joke.

I'm resentful of the fact that I'm stuck holding her hand through yet another disaster of her own making. It's not that she's in the house, it's what having to look at her destructive behavior does to me. It's knowing that I still have no control over my life. I'm still having to look over my shoulder and be worried that she's going to overdose on pills or cut herself. Or worse. (We don't keep guns in the house because she's been known to use them and not on herself.)

When I was pregnant with Mazzy we were so focused on the damage that Wayne could do that we brushed over Mom and her part in our daughter's life. Pregnancy with Nora has brought up all of these unresolved issues for me. I know that she's going to be in the house, pulling the same crap she pulled on me and my brother and I'm scared. I know how hurtful it can be to be constantly rejected by someone that you love. Even if she manages to adore Nora and never compare her to her dead sister, Nora is still going to be able to hear the stuff that she says to me. My daughter is going to grow up listening to her grandmother tell her mom how bad she is, how ungrateful and mean. That can't be good.

I feel like I've talked this to death. It's the same cycle over and over again. I accept my part in it. It's apparent that I'm too angry to be effective. I'm stubborn and I'm trying to so hard to get my own way that I'm sure that I'm overlooking what damage I might be doing do her psyche. I've looked in to support groups, but they don't have anything that would work for this situation. I won't give up, though. I can't. This is too important.

Meanwhile, I actually started this entry for the purpose of explaining that Adam has started his reign of terror. Mom woke him up around three this morning and he retaliated. He felt like if she could be awake and making a mess in the kitchen and starting laundry then she could totally be doing something productive, like cleaning her room. Adam made his point by banging on her bedroom door and yelling at her. At three in the morning.

I'm not sure what he was hoping to accomplish, but it seems the war is on. We're supposed to start eating downstairs at the table. (Yes, have one we never use.) He thinks that structuring the Family Unit will have some impact on her eating and sleeping schedules. I said that I would give it a try, but I need a table cloth or place mats first. If she doesn't eat with us, fine, but we're going to stop leaving food out for her.

We were planning on changing things once the baby was here, but he thinks we should start early and get her used to it.

Frankly, I'm scared. I don't want to have to have dinner with my Mom. I don't want to share my life with her. I want her to just suddenly be an entirely different person and capable of taking care of herself.

There's a good chance that Mom is going to live thirty more years. We have to make something work.

Too weak to finish this sentence....

2011-03-28T14:42:00.000-05:00

I've tweeted about this, but since I've got just about nothing going on because of it, I'm going to blog about it, too. Lucky you, right?

A few weeks ago I started feeling occasionally weak. Nothing scary, but I'd get really tired after doing surprisingly little. Then, a couple of times, I got so light-headed and dizzy that I had to lie down to feel better. Now it's happening nearly every day. It's frustrating.

I see the doctor on Friday, but in the meantime I've been cleared to add an iron supplement and we'll go from there.

In addition to that I've got a stuffy/clogged ear. I'm not sure if it will go away on its own, or not. I may have to make a trip to my family doctor and have him clear that up. Fun. I love feeling like I'm incapable of taking care of my ears.

I took a risk and broached the subject of looking in to outside housing with Mom. It...didn't go well. I can't say that I'm surprised, but it was still a difficult conversation. No one wants to make their mom cry every time they speak with her, but that's what happens. I've got a nearly unblemished record. Go me.

There's nothing I love more than feeling like an ogre.

I thought that telling her that she'd be happier if she wasn't always getting asked to do things, follow rules that she doesn't believe in, would work. I though I could appeal to her sense of self-preservation, but I was wrong. Instead she took it like some huge rejection, like we hate her or that she's a horrible person. I tried, but she said that she couldn't explain to me how it made her feel because I'll never understand. She brought up the whole, "What are you going to do in thirty years when Adam's gone and I'm dead; how will you feel?" I'm not sure if she's asking me about guilt she thinks I'll have for wanting the two of us to live in separate homes, or when Nora doesn't want me living with her. I suppose she doesn't think I've thought this through.

It's all I think about. How do I make my relationship better with my mother? How can I give her a better quality of life? How can I make it so that I'll allow her to have a relationship with Nora?

I feel like I'm having the same conversation over and over again. I'm so tired of this rut. I may not know where she's coming from, but she doesn't try to understand where I'm coming from, either.

I get around to it. Eventually.

2011-03-22T13:19:00.002-05:00

22 weeks a photo by WhimOfFate on Flickr.

Yes, I'm too lazy to get dressed. I've been feeling off all day long. I woke up with what I'm assuming is low blood pressure. Every time I feel like I've got it under control, I get dizzy, weak and I start seeing spots. I have to lie down for a while. Rinse. Repeat.

That's just normal, though.

I'm slowly building my registry for the baby. It's so hard to ask for things. I'm happy to report that I finally settled on some bedding and that has opened the door to visualizing the nursery. Link to bedding for those that are interested. There are some cute little pink owls that go to another bedding set that I'm hoping to add to sort of soften it up. I'm very baby about keeping things girlie. I'm very unisex in my head. I don't have to want girlie things because everyone else is going to shove them down my throat and down Nora's throat. Gender roles confuse me. It's like we're trying to make demands on our child's personality before they even have a truly developed one.

My girlfriends and I got together this weekend and chatted about the baby shower. They wanted to know what I have in mind and they're going to take over for me from there. After the first baby shower fiasco anything will be better. My idea is that we're going to have an outdoor carnival with some gift-giving thrown in. Like, a party with a side of baby stuff.

I really want to celebrate being pregnant. I want there to be joy and laughter. It's a silly thing, but I'm always looking for ways to make life more enjoyable. I want people to have fun, but I'm not concerned about whether or not people think it's weird.

There has been a lot of chatter from family about how there's going to be a "shadow" over Nora's life because she's a girl, because Mazzy died, blah blah blah and I'm wanting to combat that. I don't believe that there will be a shadow or cloud over Nora's life just because she's a girl. Stupid people have said stupid things about how having a boy would've been "easier" on us. Or that they think it's great we're having another girl because we'll "get to experience what we missed out on" (with Mazzy.) I think everyone has ideas and theories and that's great, but they aren't me and Adam and all we care about is being parents.

I get annoyed. For now we'll put my little outbursts off to "hormones" and wait until later before I make any real moves.

Strangely enough my favorite part about this weekend was pulling the weeds in the front yard. I hate the landscaping, but we're funny about that. We figure if we have a boring, generic front yard strangers won't assume we're awesome (we are) and that we have cool things or nice taste. I'm overly worried about being robbed because we have just what we can afford and if anything is stolen we will be without for years. And thieves don't know that.

I still fantasize about having this amazing backyard. I want a pretty space to sit and escape my life. I live in this house nearly all of the time. I need my escape to be easily accessible, like walking down the stairs and out the door. Whee.

Spring is doing lovely things for my soul.

This is me Happy.

2011-03-13T13:51:00.000-05:00

I know the weekend isn't over, but I'm pretty sure that this is my favorite weekend (so far) this year. Yesterday was packed with fun stuff that only boring married people like to do. We got up early and did some housework. My glasses finally came in and we made the trip to pick them up. Adam was in a good enough mood that we left there and went to Home Depot so that we could pick out plants for the season.

Picking out plants is usually no fun for me at all. Adam gets what he wants and doesn't listen to anything and I'm forced to help keep them up even though he didn't pick anything I might eat or think was pretty. This year went differently. We picked a blackberry bush for the backyard and Adam got starter cucumbers and tomatoes. I was able to pick out an orchid to take care of this year. (We'll see if I can get it grow and not die.)

The blackberry bush is probably my favorite. I wanted blueberry, but Adam doesn't eat blueberries. Maybe I can convince him next year. I like the idea of berries growing in the backyard. I like useful plants. I'm weird that way. Sure, I like pretty flowers, but not pretty plants. I want my time spent playing in the dirt to produce something.

We have a really tiny backyard, so we can't go crazy planting every year. We usually pot a few things and harvest what we can from the potted plant. I'm hoping that, over time, we'll be able to plant more in the ground. We have a section of the backyard we can use for garden space, but convincing Adam to plot it out and make it a reality is hard. Impossible. It's never been done.

I can't fight him this year because of the whole being pregnant thing and he might get away with it next year since Nora will still be on the small side, but the year after that it's on. I want my daughter to have a concept of growing things and knowing where her food comes from. I think it would be nice if she was able to participate in the food chain, even if it's on such a small scale.

After we purchased our plants we came home and played in the dirt. I was so excited we put the bush in the ground that I danced around like a poorly trained penguin. Seriously. It put me in such a good mood that I was chatty and motivated to do more around the house.

Today has been good. Maybe it wasn't as blissfully exciting, but I've enjoyed the day. I've been productive. Adam has finally agreed that I'm strong enough to go to the store with him to shop for the week.

I'm doing my best to stay busy and cleaning as much as I can. I'm looking forward to making pot stickers and fried rice for dinner. I haven't had that in a while and the baby and I LOVE it.

Sometimes I feel like I'd do more if I wasn't always dreading running in to Mom when I'm in the kitchen, but I'm working on overcoming that reluctance. It's my house and my heart is much fuller when I'm slicing vegetables and making cookies. I like to be busy. I know that I won't be able to do a lot of these things for a while after Nora is born because I'm going to be breastfeeding, but I'm going to be back at it when she's older.

My only complaint right now is that both sets of bedding that I like for the nursery are currently unavailable. I'm hoping that something will come up before too long. I've got to have it on the registry before the baby shower.

I hope that this peace and contentment can stay with me a few more days, even in the face of Mom's upsetting behavior. I don't want to be sad, or scream, or constantly angry and frustrated. I know that I'm not really that person. While Mom was gone there was such calmness in my life. I want to find a way of recreating that even though Mom brings such chaos.

Tacos and sausage

2011-03-10T14:15:00.001-06:00

We got to see the baby yesterday. After months of being convinced it was a boy, we found out that we're having a girl.

Yep.

Another girl.

Adam's pouting, but only because he guessed wrong. We're both really happy and excited. The only concern was that the baby was growing correctly. Indeed, she is like a little sprout.

Oh, so, from now on her name will be Annora or Nora.

As I was saying, Nora is growing just fine. She's measuring three days ahead of schedule and is estimated to weigh about two ounces more than average. Exciting. At least I can shut Adam up about my weight. He's been complaining that I'm not eating enough, but obviously the baby is just fine.

I spent the morning sorting through Mazzy's clothes to see what we've got. What we have is a LOT. We won't really have to buy any clothes or socks for Nora.

There are a few things that I would like; like bibs and burp clothes and maybe new shoes. I want new bedding and we need a new stroller, car seat and play yard.

So, yes, the shopping is going to begin. Mostly it's me staring at things online and wishing I could order them NOW, but knowing I have to wait. I've started the most pathetic registries known to man. I've got a total of fifteen items. Lame.

I'm hoping that once I'm at the store, with a gun in my hand, I can come up with some other things.

Wow, what a scattered entry.

Complicated

2011-03-07T14:12:00.000-06:00

Things have been tough around here lately. Mom is having a stress reaction and I'm not sure how to handle it. The fact that I have to admit that is galling. I've been "handling" my mother for as long as I can remember. She usually keeps to a fairly predictable pattern and when things get out of hand I have the tools to cut off any real badness.

Not this time.

There seems to be a combination of her worsening mental state, an ineffective drug cocktail and what appears to be dementia. (I kid about the dementia. Sort of.) Mom is manageable as long as whatever the psychiatrist is giving her is working properly. The idea is that she can handle rough situations without slipping too much. Sure, she has bouts of behaviors that I complain about, but it's nothing compared to what she's like when she's not medicated and destructive.

I'm not qualified to handle this.

She's forgetting EVERYTHING. We'll have the same conversation three times in a row. This weekend we had a blow-up over mail that she accused me of tossing out, only to remember hours later, after much prompting, that she mailed it the day before.

Sleepwalking is becoming an issue. Mom eats in her sleep. I'm actually considering taking the nobs off the gas stove before bed so that she can't accidentally do something we'll all regret.

Have you ever chatted with someone and you just know that they aren't all there? Like their mind has wandered or what you're saying isn't making sense? That's what it's like speaking with her lately.

For all of the smack I talk about my mom she hasn't been like this in years. The last time she was this bad she went on an bender and she cracked. When I say she cracked..... She held me at gunpoint for hours threatening to kill me. I'm pretty sure that if the gun hadn't been loaded and I hadn't hidden the bullets months before I'd be dead. I left home after that.

None of that matters, now, except it would probably explain why I'm so tough on her. I'm not very good at letting go.

I've approached Mom about her medication not working. She didn't respond well to the chat at all. We both know that if the medication isn't working the doctor will want to hospital her temporarily until he's able to get everything sorted out.

I thought that tomorrow was going to be her court hearing. Apparently it's her arraignment. They had postponed the arraignment last month so that she could get a lawyer. This means that she'll have another month, or so, of not knowing what's going to happen and that will only compound her stress.

Adam has zero experience with anything like this. Zero. He's freaking out. My light-hearted bitching about Mom via text is met with sincere worry and offers to rush home and protect me. That upsets me. I don't want him concerned about anything else.

This whole situation is sort of darkly funny. What is it about me being pregnant that makes the people around me become potentially harmful and stress-inducing?! Sure, there's no such thing as a "normal" pregnancy, but I had high hopes.

I'm not sure if I should be grateful or horrified that this is going on. I've got to put so much energy in to Mom that I don't have time to deal with my pregnancy and motherhood fears. Sure, my brain still addresses it and I'm having vivid nightmares and losing sleep, but oh well..

And there you have it. I'm not even sure it makes sense, but I can't keep it inside. It will only fester.

Another pic

2011-03-04T13:27:00.001-06:00

19 weeks a photo by WhimOfFate on Flickr.

So, I managed to find the time to get back on the computer. Go me. The new camera doesn't take as long to talk to the computer as the last one. I'm not sure why.

Anyway, this is me at 19 weeks and wearing an actual maternity shirt. I voted for comfort this round. I still feel cute, but I guess I look a little closer to my age. Maybe. No one has offered to give me options this time.

(There was a couple of times strangers told me that just because I was pregnant didn't mean I had to keep the baby. I was "too young" to take on that sort of responsibility. It was ... weird.)

Five more days until we know the sex of the baby.

Yes, there is a belly.

2011-03-04T09:42:00.001-06:00

17 weeks a photo by WhimOfFate on Flickr.

This pic is from 17 weeks. I'll try to get another pic up, soon. I'm just lazy. It's on my camera, but I'm making this quick because I need to switch out the laundry.

It might look like a mighty belly, but that's what a 4 pound gain looks like. Yep, I'm 19 weeks, now, and all I've gained is 4 pounds. It's so weird. I guess it gives me lots and lots of room to gain at the end when this pregnancy goes to shit (like the last one) and I'm a bed-ridden boob stuffing her face for weeks.

Something to look forward to, right?

Blurb

2011-02-25T14:27:00.001-06:00

Waiting to find out the sex of your baby is like waiting for Christmas, only worse because it's better than My Little Pony or a bike, it's a BABY. I've been counting down the days and finding it very frustrating that I'm barely any closer to knowing.

The baby seems to know that I'm freaking out because he/she has been kicking more AND he/she is kicking hard enough that Adam can feel it. I know, it's a little thing, but I love being able to give Adam something during the whole baby-making process.

This weekend should be pretty cool. Adam and I are going to order new glasses. I love new glasses. I've worn glasses since I was six months old, so I find them a fun accessory. I think they're a huge part of my personality. I'm a girl who wears glasses (and finds boys to make passes.)

After we do that we're going to shop around for some plants for the backyard. I have no idea what Adam has in mind, though. I'm just going to go with the idea that I can look at pretty flowers and hope that I can pick something out that he'll let me bring home. I wish I had an idea of what his plan for the backyard entailed.

Mom is slipping and sliding down the sanity line. I'm probably being harder than I should be, but oh well. She's been drinking and moping around the house. Every time I see her she is slightly more sullen and abrasive than before.

She is dreading the court date and it's oozing out of every pore. It's making me wish I lived on an island far away from her.

I suppose that's it for now.

Not everything is a downer

2011-02-16T09:54:00.001-06:00

Cupcake
Originally uploaded by WhimOfFate

My friend, Val, had promised me a cupcake on Sunday, but wasn't able to make it. Monday came and she was stuck at work until super late and I sent her straight home so that she could celebrate Valentine's Day with her boy. (That's two days without a cupcake for those of you counting.)

Last night she got off work even later than Monday, but popped by anyway to make sure that I got my cupcake. Beautiful, right?

It was strawberry flavored and the baby didn't immediately turn it's nose up at it, so I count the whole thing a success.

Let's be honest here.....

2011-02-15T13:12:00.000-06:00

I forget, sometimes, that my goal in this blog is to be honest about what I'm going through. I made a promise to myself when Mazzy died that I would be brave and unafraid to talk about what life is like for a grieving mother. I think, for the most part, I've been able to do that.

Unfortunately there are things that I've been too chicken to talk about. I didn't share the process, as it happened, to decide to have another child. I was too scared to say the wrong thing, or write on the wrong day. It's so personal and, yet, polarizing. People are going to have opinions about having a baby and I didn't feel strong enough to handle the feelings of other people when it came to wanting another baby.

Here I am, 17 weeks pregnant, and I'm totally afraid to talk about what I'm going through. I seem so determined to project the right image. I want to appear strong, because I am, but I was afraid that saying I was struggling with the emotional aspect of this pregnancy would make me look weak. Unworthy.

It's so stupid. The first trimester was spent terrified that I would lose the baby and now that my little Tadpole is moving around, I'm hit with how real it all is. I'm going to have another baby.

The little nudges that I was so eagerly awaiting have triggered an awareness inside of me that's unsettling. I'm going to love this child. I'm going to be attached.

I can be hurt.

Yes, I've loved my baby from the beginning, but there's a line.....it's like the difference between loving your boyfriend/girlfriend and loving your spouse. Both are powerful, real and solid emotions, but getting married creates a sense of Forever and finality that just dating can't put in your heart. Or, at least, it did for me. Having the baby move and knowing that I will hold this child and feed it with my body the way I did Mazzy, has drawn that line for me. It's real and inescapable.

Terrifying.

In the middle of all of this Adam is having some sort of mid-life crisis/post-smoking depression that demands my attention. Not only is he dealing with that, he's dealing with a lot of the same issues that I'm having about our baby.

Going in to this I knew that there would be, let's say "hiccups" on the emotional road to motherhood (take 2), but I thought that I had a solid support system in place. I have great friends who I know love me and want good things for me, but they're busy. Very busy. I'm left to sort through the chaos and emotional upheaval alone.

Which, really, if you think about it, is the way that everything goes. No one ever has the safety net needed during hardships. Or maybe that's just me.

Hello, Flickr! I forgot about you.

2011-02-13T11:02:00.001-06:00

Hermione, Regal Guardian
Originally uploaded by WhimOfFate

In celebration of figuring out how to charge my camera, get pictures off the damn thing, and upgrading my Flickr account, I present you with this photo. Enjoy.

This and a bit of nothing

2011-02-11T10:28:00.000-06:00

This isn't going to be concise or direct or even have a point today. I tried and tried to think of an entry that I could write and post and there isn't anything going on that denotes an entire entry. Hello mental chaos!

We finally got in for my check-up. It was super quick, but it helped. I don't like the four week gaps in the beginning because there's nothing solid going on with the baby and I'm constantly worried that there is just a dead fetus floating in my womb and I don't know it, yet. Yes, morbid, but I had three miscarriages at different stages of pregnancy when I was younger and it's a valid concern. It is!

I was able to hear the heartbeat and that makes up for the totally confusing information that may, or may not, be the baby moving. I mostly lean toward "not" the baby moving because it's so random and light. By the time I was this far along with Mazzy I'd been feeling movement for weeks and I knew her little Morse code kicks from gas bubbles. This baby isn't as active, so the movements are rarer and more brief. Instead of ten to twenty minutes of "conversation" I might get three, or four, little nudges that might be the baby, but they're gone before I can confirm anything.

I discovered that no matter how much I'm showing, I haven't really gained much weight. I'm at five pounds for the last sixteen weeks. It's normal, but I could've sworn I was bigger. I thought I was at least in the eight to ten pound range. Oh well.

Adam and I aren't bickering, now. We've figured out what was wrong and fixed it. It's the benefit to being married to a person who gets you. I love him. It's mostly that I love the way we deal with things. I feel strong and powerful when we work through something.

I'm a dork.

Valentine's Day is coming up and we don't do anything for it. I used to make little handmade gifts for him, but it seems silly, now. Also, it's impossible to get my hands on materials these days.

(The lack of car thing is bugging me this week, but I know that we can't afford a second car. I'm prepared to wait.)

I've been feeling a bit detached lately. My friends have all been very busy. I'm feeling left out, I guess, but I haven't pushed the issue, either. It is what it is. I'm okay on my own. I do a lot of nothing, but that's okay. There isn't much we could do, now, anyway. I'm just a lazy pregnant lady and they all have things going on.

I haven't been writing. It's frustrating because I know that I have the time, but I don't ever make myself do it. I know that if I just give myself a set time to get work done it would happen smoothly, but I haven't made it happen. My lack of motivation has a lot to do with being tired and taking so much longer to get housework done these days. My priority is wife, then creative pursuits. I don't get much done creatively.

Lately I've been wishing that I was a better cook. I wasn't concerned with it before. I had enough recipes to feed the family and I could even say that they were edible. Maybe they weren't imaginative or skilled, but they served a purpose. My brain is filled with ideas that I could never really execute. I think I understand food better than I used.

Growing up my mom was a bit of a minimalist in the kitchen. She cooked everything in the microwave. If it couldn't be cooked in the microwave, she cooked it on high. Mom wasn't a patient person, she still isn't, and that impatience was most evident in the food she prepared the family. I would watch her and I had no interest in food.

It's funny, and stupid, but I can't help but think that if Mom had paid better attention to meals that I wouldn't have found it so easy to become anorexic. I didn't mind not eating because there wasn't anything that appealed to me at home. I could eat three bites of everything and be done. Or less.

I think about having to lose weight after this baby and I'm a bit horrified. I love food, now, and I don't know how I'm going to manage. No worries, I can't do anything until I'm done breastfeeding anyway.

We have an official date for finding out the sex of the baby. March 9th. After that we can finally start addressing the kid by its name. What a wonderful feeling. Now I just have to wait a month.......

It's nearly lunchtime. I warned you there wouldn't be anything important in this thing. Have a lovely day.

I never stop learning how to be a better wife

2011-02-03T13:26:00.001-06:00

Lately Adam and I have been bickering about, well, everything. I have a really bad habit of wanting to have "what if" conversations and Adam hates them with a passion rarely seen in my mild-mannered husband. I usually recognize when I'm heading down the wrong path and I pull out, conversation aborted pretty much before it's even started, but hormones (let's blame them while we can) have made me forge in to dangerous behavior. We were chatting last night and I started in on one of those hated "what if" conversations when all of the sudden Adam exploded.

I'll spare you the marital details because, really, what was said had nothing to do with us. The whole point of the story was to tell you that Adam's anger prompted us to talk about what's really going on with Adam.

It turns out that Adam has been under a lot of stress at work. He's the youngest person in his office, and has been for ten years, and they can often treat him like he's the 20 year old kid that got hired on all of those years ago. This can mean that they discount his opinions. Apparently Adam hears that he's "wrong" more times in a day than I do in a month and it's starting to dig in to his brain and cause problems.

It wouldn't be that big of a deal except that most of our fights have been about the baby. I have a lot of fears that make me edgy and unwilling to listen to him when it comes to the baby. I had a rough time feeling like I was being listened to when we had Mazzy when it came to her care and I'm overcompensating by attacking him before the baby is even here to "clear the way" for taking care of the kid in the future.

So....extra tension.

Now that I know that Adam feels invalidated at work I'm hoping to be more understanding. I recognize that he needs support right now and that I should push my paranoia about the future aside until I'm a bit more rational. (Yeah, I see the flaw in this logic, but maybe we can come back to my needs closer to the birth of the baby.)

Sometimes being a partner is hard work. We have to occasionally push aside what we think we need to build up our spouse so that we can get our needs met later. Well, that's the idea anyway.

Tomorrow is a doctor's appointment in the snow. The entire city is freaking out and I'm going to be so nervous driving the five-ish miles to the appointment. Adam will technically be driving and that makes me more scared. Why? Because he's never driven in snow before. I have. He's not going to let me behind the wheel, though, not with his stress level where it's at right now. He needs to feel like he's in control of his personal life until tensions die down in the workplace.

At least he has high hopes for tomorrow. I'll try to have them, too.

Why grow up? Oh, yeah, because if you don't you're going to amount to nothing.

2011-01-31T14:08:00.001-06:00

What's on my mind may not be what everyone else is worried about. The last few weeks has been making me address my past, my childhood and the things that have made me responsible.

It's funny to even type that sentence. Me? Responsible? Ha! I still wear giant footie pajamas. But, by nature or luck or design, I'm the responsible one in my family.

I know that Mom is a bit of a lost cause, but I wonder about the "kids" in my family. There are a lot of kids in the 20-30 range that are baffling me. I have several sisters and brothers who don't seem capable of making solid decisions. They can't maintain a residence, or a job, and the ones that can do that still mismanage their money and overspend. There is so much irresponsible, selfish behavior around me that I want to scream.

How is this happening? How are people being brought up to think that it's acceptable to run home to mom and dad way past their maturity should have kicked in? Is it just this family or other people seeing it happen, too?

When I was Elizabeth's age (21) I was living on my own. In fact, I had been on my own for over a year. I managed to have a job, pay my rent, have food and still socialize once in a while. I had no problem saying, "I just don't have the money. Maybe next time." I was never late on bills and I didn't spend on crap I didn't need. I was so determined to live on my own and independent of my parent's influence that I did everything in my power to make the right decisions.

I'm not saying that all of my choices were great and there's not a lot I could hold up from my early twenties that's solid and real, but I did it all on my own. I never borrowed money. It never occurred to me to ask for help. If I couldn't make it happen on my own, well, then I didn't need it.

There were a lot of hard times before I got married, but I learned from those struggles that I'm capable of amazing things. I'm confident in myself in good times and bad. I think that kids are missing that.

My question is, "Is it something that parents aren't teaching their children anymore, or something that children are refusing to learn?"

Do you consider yourself responsible? Are you confident that you're capable in the face of adversity? Do you find the day-to-day confusion of making ends meet in this economic climate overwhelming or just another bump in the road?

Personally I can't say that I can credit my parents for my ability to take care of myself, exactly. Yes, they are directly responsible for awesomeness, but not because they intended to teach me anything. They are were a hot mess and my only hope in life was to get good at life, and fast. If I had followed their teachings I'd still be expecting the world to take care of me.

I'm hoping that my experience is limited and that there is hope out in the world. I don't want to think that I'm sending my unborn child in to a vacuum of stupidity and reliance on parental support well past the point on necessity.

Of course, because I have no idea how I happened to figure this out, how am I going to impart this mentality on to my child? I guess that will be taken in to account after I meet my child and figure out what sort of personality I'm working with here.

Get this stuck in your head

2011-01-26T15:32:00.002-06:00

Adam took one look at this thing and told me I was never allowed to make my own YouTube anything....ever.

There's a light rain

2011-01-24T14:01:00.002-06:00

The last few days has been cold and wet. I'm getting tired of the inconsistent weather. I'd like to walk to the mailbox once in a while. (We have a community mailbox that's located at the end of our street. It takes a bit to get there.)

So, completely unrelated to anything serious, I'd like to encourage you to check out my friend, Sara's, artsy-cute-fun Monsters with Sammiches Cafe Press Shop. She's a quirky, imaginative little artist and her monsters always bring a smile to my face. I'm hoping to get my hands on some of the cute stuff, soon. She was nice enough to draw me my own monster a while back to inspire me to write more and it's come to my aide often. Check her out.

In case you're wondering, the mom thing is going to be ongoing for a while. I've managed to not freak out on her, but there's tension building. I'm not sympathetic enough for her and she's pouting. I want to smother her with a pillow for expecting me to make her emotional state better over this fiasco.

You know, the usual.

Mazzy's birthday was on Friday. I'm still not sure what to do with that. Like, other mom's get to tell Facebook or Twitter, forcefully reminding them that their life changed 1, 2, 3, etc. years ago and it's beautiful. I have to hide it, like a dark secret. Mazzy's birthday rolls around and suddenly it's the 1950's and I was sent to Fallen Woman shelter and forced to give my baby up for adoption. All of the memories, none of the open pride.

This year gave me a little boost, though. Pomegranate Pretty's best friend gave birth to two healthy baby girls on January 21st and suddenly it wasn't *just* Mazzy's birthday to me, it was their birthday, too. I'm that kind of person. I need that perspective once in a while. I'm much more likely to push my bullshit aside when there's another person, or persons, that need joy and positivity from me.

These little things that happen that take away the pressure of my grief and my healing are helping so much. Life is happening and I'm so glad for that.

I'm looking forward to the energy pop that happens during the second trimester. I feel like I've been half-asleep since November.

You've got a collect call from an inmate.....

2011-01-18T14:45:00.003-06:00

I've spent all day on the chaise next to the one land line phone that we have in the house. It's corded, all old-school, so I can't move from this space so that I can hear the phone when it rings. Why? Easy. Mom's in jail.

A while back my mom, who's on disability, made friends with this other lady who owns an antique shop and Mom started working there a couple days a week for cash to supplement her income. After a while the lady mentions that she wants Mom to work at her gaming joint, which is totally illegal in Texas. Mom talks to me about it and I tell her that it's her choice, but I don't support it and if there's fallout that I wouldn't bail her out.

Mom goes ahead anyway and takes the job because the money offered is too enticing. Months go by and Mom blows all of the extra money on stupid stuff, which isn't really relevant to the story, but it still irks me. Anyway, Mom gets approached by the cops and she gives them her name and address and stuff, but they just walk away. She thinks that it's all over.

Fast forward to eight o'clock this morning. I'm happily stuffing my pregnant face and about to watch a show before tackling the house when I notice a Sheriff's vehicle coming down the street. Mentally I'm laughing, wondering if they're looking for my criminal former-sister-in-law. The joke was on me. There was a knock on the door, loud and insistent. I knew that sound. Everyone knows that sound, even if they've never heard it before. It's authoritative and demanding and you can't help but want to smooth the ruffled officer's feathers as soon as possible. "Don't taze me, bro!"

I was probably overly nice. I couldn't help it. I woke up Mom and let her talk to the officers with as much privacy as I could. I knew that I would find out what was going on soon enough without being a problem.

It turns out that Mom had three warrants in her name in correlation with the gaming room. Luckily they were all misdemeanors, but she had to be hauled off anyway. She had to take the perp walk and everything. Yes, I'm a jerk and I think that's hilarious.

You might not be surprised to learn that I'm all about tough love. If you willfully break the law, you should pay for it when you're caught. You can be my mother, brother, kid, husband, whatever. She knew there were risks with what she was doing and I made my stand clear.

My brother, with the peppered history, doesn't believe in that sort of behavior. He's been bailed out of every bit of trouble that he's had his whole life. He's furious with me for not getting Mom a lawyer and taking care of the whole mess. He doesn't understand why I won't do something about the situation. It seems like we'll be fighting for a while over this. Bring it on, little brother. You might be stubborn and opinionated, but I really, really won't break on this. He can't make me feel guilty for standing up for what I believe in.

The lady that started this whole thing has agree to pay for the percentage of Mom's bail, but only after finding out that Mom didn't have enough money in her account and I won't do it. For the record, she thinks that I'm heartless and mean, but she can't make me bend, either. My issue with Mae, the lady in question, is that she told Mom that if Mom ever got popped that she'd pay to bail Mom out. It's time to pay the piper, Mae.

At this point Mom's been bonded, they just have to process the whole thing and officially release her. It can take anywhere from 2-4 hours before completion. Adam and I will probably have to drive to Conroe and pick her up, but lucky for us we have experience finding the place because of Erick.

It's starting to feel like I can't have a pregnancy without someone going to jail. At least it was only for one day, although I was hoping that Mom had to stay the night, just to teach her a lesson. Adam claims that the Gods need sacrifice and the tears of my mother do nicely. Anything to keep the baby healthy, right?

I suppose the situation poses an interesting question. If your parent was arrested for willfully breaking the law, would you bail them out? Do you think that your answer would be different if they were calling you from a jail cell, crying and begging? (Yes, she cried and she begged. I didn't bend.)

Life in the house is going to be interesting for a while. I know that Mom's feelings are hurt and that she's going to want me to coddle her and make the whole experience go away, but I feel so angry and frustrated with her. She could lose her disability over this fiasco and then where will we be?

Navigating

2011-01-17T12:10:00.002-06:00

On the top of my list of things to do this week is bring order to the nursery. I've neglected the space in favor of naps and copious hours of television in the past few weeks. I don't think about the tasks ahead as much as I should, I guess. I just do them. Something needs to be done, so I do it. Cleaning and organizing the nursery is a prime example.

Adam came home for lunch and, as usual, asked me how my day was going. I started prattling on about chores and cleaning and all of the sorting that I've done in the nursery. I've had to separate between toys that Seth will us and toys that the baby will be able to use right away. I'm a few sentences in to my nonsense when I notice the tension on Adam's face. It happened so quickly. He still freezes when I say anything about Mazzy.

I know that he wants the baby and that he'll be fine once there's physically someone for him to love, but this middle bit is fraught with tension and grief.

Today was Mazzy's original due date. Her birthday is on the 21st. She would have been three. I know what causes him to pause, but the guilt is still there because I can know these facts and still make myself do what needs to be done. Adam is still so raw, even after all this time. I want to make things better for him, but I don't want to be overly sensitive. I don't want to put too much thought in to every thought. I want him to toughen up.

Is that wrong?

It's come to that. I feel like Adam needs to let some of this go so that he can finish healing and be more open to what is coming in to our life. His heart will continue to be an open wound if he doesn't stop letting this hurt him. We have to make changes. We have to grow.

Even if we aren't ready, because our family is growing at this very second, bigger and stronger and soon there will be another child who will not understand this grief and these pauses.

Irrational

2011-01-16T16:08:00.002-06:00

I'm turning in to the laziest version of myself since my teen years, and even then I was type A-ing my way through school. It seems ridiculous after the fit I threw to get this netbook that I barely use the thing. I think that apps for our phones will be the downfall of casual blogging. If I don't get on the computer to check my email, Facebook, etc.; I don't think about sitting down with my thoughts anymore. It's sad.

It's raining today. It's been raining all day, it seems, but the patter on the roof and streets is soothing. I've had anxiety lately.

Why?

No real reason, because if there was a *real* reason for anxiety we could get control over it, right?

I've been pointlessly concerned over making the announcement on Facebook that I'm pregnant. I've got a lot of family and some fringe friends on there that I'm not comfortable knowing everything. I was going to wait until I was officially in my second trimester, but week 14 starts the day after Mazzy's birthday and I just felt uncomfortable with saying anything at that time. I jumped the gun a bit and got it out of the way. Maybe it will confuse the due date hungry mongrels that are pressuring me for a specific date. I want to scream, "You stupid fuck, due dates don't mean anything. They're just a goal you can't aspire to achieving. I don't need the damn pressure!"

Yes, the due date is something I have anxiety about. I've no desire to put a time table on this pregnancy. I want the baby to bake at its own leisure and the rest of the world can suck it. The doctor will know when it's been too long and that's plenty of reassurance for me.

I remember waiting and waiting and waiting on Mazzy and feeling like, somehow, I was failing my family because I couldn't "make" her come out on a certain day. I don't want that looming over my head this time.

Speaking of the pregnancy, everything is different. My whole approach is more quiet, reserved. I'm thrilled to have the opportunity to have another little baby, but I don't have that magical feeling I had the first time. Maybe it's because I've done it before, or because my first child died, but it's almost mundane. I haven't even taking a single pregnancy photo this time. I think, in part, that was because I feel fat, not pregnant. As soon as my fluff stops looking like fluff I'll take a picture. I don't need evidence I was fat. Right?

There's more anxiety wrapped in all of that. It's not an active anxiety, but a dull hum in the back of my mind that fears that something isn't right. Like I'm not enjoying this the way that I should.

I know from experience that all of this will pass. I will be strong and mighty and whatever hum of disquiet in my head will hush to a memory if I stay true to my heart. I'm remarkable that. (As long as I remember that I'm remarkable.)

Mom is home, now, and the change is sharp. I'd managed to forget what it was like to constantly be on edge because the person that I am can be so damaging to my mom. She reminds me continuously that I'm abrasive, rude, mean, etc. and I'm still capable of being hurt by that. Despite rationally knowing that this dynamic between me and my mother will never change, that the pain between us will never heal, I react. I want to prove her wrong, or lash out, depending on the day, and the cycle continues. There are some people that aren't meant to live together and Mom and I are two of those people. There is no solution, just better ways of coping with the less-than-ideal situation.

I try not to have anxiety about how this will shape my child's future. I've learned that making too many future problems in my head will create those problems in my reality and I don't want to live that way anymore.

I hope that 2011 is starting out well for everyone. There is hope and promise in our lives, we just have to look for it.

Spirited

2010-12-26T16:31:00.004-06:00

Typically of my life, and my luck, right after I posted that the baby had a heartbeat I started bleeding. At first I thought it was just because I had an exam that day and I'm a bleeder by nature. No big deal. Then the bleeding stopped. Okay, I can live with that. And it sort of went on like that for the next ten days. Starting and stopping, making it hard for me to believe that things were okay.

I called the nurse and she asked me to come in. (I have to say, I loathe *that* trip to the OB. Hate it.) So, there we were, barely on time because I had to get Adam to come pick me up for an appointment that they had to squeeze me in to. The office was extra cold and I was freaking out, but we made it through.

It turns out there is a tear in my uterus. It has a fancy name, which, by the way, wasn't in my fancy pregnant lady book, but it won't harm the baby. Adam and I have been told that we can't do anything all naked and in the dark. I can live with that. Sort of. It also means that anything that I might do with lit candles and soft music when no one's home is out of the question, too. Bummer.

Despite being scary, it was over faster than the build up and we were able to enjoy the holiday. We've still got a bit of luck left, it would seem.

Momcation is growing to an end. She's getting her ticket the first week of January and then she's home. My brother managed to hurt her feelings. Go figure. Now I get to clean up the emotional carnage he's left behind. It was still worth it, though.

I hope that those of you reading this had a lovely holiday, filled with peace and hope for the future. I know I did.

Heartbeat

2010-12-10T16:23:00.003-06:00

I'll confess that part of my reservations about this pregnancy have come from the fact that I'm ridiculously comfortable. There has been very little nausea, certainly not anything I would define as "morning sickness." (There...I stuttered and spelled morning like "mourning" and I think that is key.) I've been terrified that while the tests said yes, and the blood work came back positive and I've gone up two and half bra sizes in four weeks, when we got to today, this magical appointment where they show you what the seeds of your husband's love have sewn, that there would be no heartbeat. Nothing. Just a blob that would soon be dispelled, either by nature or by force, and I deeply didn't want to go through that, again. Not with the anniversary of Mazzy's death in a matter of days. (December 13th for those who are counting. And I count.)

Luckily for me, because I know from experience that this isn't always so, I was able to see my Tadpole, all properly measuring and there, in the bit right where it should be, was the flutter, the barely decipherable movement that will one day be a whole heart.

For the most part I'm calm, calmer than I can remember being in my adult life. There is peace and happiness in my home and my heart, but my imagination is a wicked thing and I know that when I sleep my dreams are filled with fears that shouldn't be there. No, that is untrue. They should be there, but they are unwelcome fears.

I'm shoring up for a long pregnancy, grateful that I have a supportive husband and a long Momcation. (Oh, this magnificent time away from her...I could go on for days. so perfect.)

2010-12-09T15:29:00.002-06:00

Adam's office had a free lunch today. Everyone was allowed to invite their spouses. It's a weird feeling, being among all of those grumpy career phone men. Most of them are divorced from their second, or third, wives and were flying solo at the restaurant. There's one newer couple, around mine and Adam's age, that got married two years ago. It was the first time I'd met his wife. She's very much what I thought Jarod would marry. Did that sound catty? It wasn't. I just knew that someone who was concerned about his appearance as Jarod is would want someone very put together as well. (In case you didn't know, Adam and I are well-suited. I can clean up well, but I generally prefer to lounge around in sleepy pajamas and an over-sized t-shirt.)

The other two couples were men on their second wives, one of which is married to my husband's mother. That's right, Adam works with his stepfather every day. I'm very proud of the way that they are capable of keeping work life and family life separate. It does mean that while I'm suffering through an awkward office lunch I also get to visit with my mother-in-law. Bonus, right? It's a good thing I find Reba so funny.

There was a general announcement made after Thanksgiving about the baby. Everyone seems very excited. Honestly, they seem more excited than I think that I portray. It isn't to say that the joy isn't there, because it certainly is, but I'm far more cautious going in to this pregnancy and this leg of motherhood than I was when I became pregnant with Mazzy.

I'm concerned that this will continue to be a trend as we get further along in the pregnancy, where I'm quietly wishing that no one would look at me, or talk about it. I got so caught up in the initial excitement, the knowing that we did it without drugs or extra help, that I didn't think through the frustration I'd feel to have everyone involved.

Tomorrow I see the doctor for the first time since I got the blood work confirming that I was pregnant and that the numbers were increasing correctly. She will set out the game plan for the next few months and I'm hoping it's good news. There was a lot of scary talk before I got pregnant about how this would go and I'm hoping that after she sees me and evaluates how my body is reacting, she'll chill out a little. The prospect of going once a week to the doctor is not a pleasant one for me. Especially if there's nothing to be worried about.

We'll see.

yawn

2010-12-08T15:36:00.002-06:00

It's like I went in to hibernation for the last few weeks. Let's play catch-up.

Mom:

I have LOVED every moment since she's been gone. If my world was perfect, she'd never come back. I haven't thrown a tantrum, sobbed, felt bad about myself, hated the world or argued with anyone in all of the time since she's been gone. I had been concerned that I was in dire need of medication, but it turns out I just needed to stop feeling stressed all of the time.

It isn't like I don't care about my mom, I do, but we clash horribly and there's nothing I can think of to increase our quality of life when we're both in the house. No one is happy. We just don't have another choice.

Elizabeth:

She's recovering nicely. She's gotten back together with a loser boyfriend and has started that merry-go-round, again. I'm giving it another couple of weeks. If they make it past that I'll be surprised. They're bad for one another.

Me:

Actually, I'm doing pretty good. I found out, shortly after my last post, that I'm going to have a baby. Pretty weird, right? Elizabeth gets pregnant and then loses the baby only to have me get pregnant. I think the timing was such that we were pregnant at the same time, but I didn't know it, yet.

I'll be eight weeks on Saturday. I have my first visit with the doctor on Friday. We're hoping to get a peek at the Tadpole while we're there. Adam is worried that I'm going to have twins. (He had the same fear with Mazzy, too.) I don't think that it's possible that I'm having twins. Any of the symptoms they tell you to look for are completely missing. Hell, if I didn't have a couple of positive pee tests and two positive blood tests, I wouldn't be so sure that I was pregnant at all. I have slept more than really reasonable in the last three and a half weeks, so there is that. Most days I don't have enough energy to sit up, let alone type. I'm hoping that I can shake off that cloak of exhaustion, soon.

The year is winding down, but things are starting to pick up around here. With any luck I'll be able to keep things updated regularly.

You Blinked, Didn't You?

2010-11-06T16:40:00.002-05:00

It's almost like everything I wrote was a lie. Elizabeth is no longer pregnant. She went to the doctor, after some spotting, only to find that she was not peeing positive anymore. In just a matter of a few days, it was all over.

I felt so bad for the girl. She'd just gotten to the place where she was working out being happy about the future, being strong, and she now feels like it was for nothing. I mean, if we'd just waited a bit more she never would have had to tell her parents that she was pregnant.

I suppose, in the end, that the experience was good for her and, over time, she'll heal and be stronger, smarter, for it, but I can't be sure. I want good things for the people around me. It seems harder, and harder, for that to happen.

So, now I have an emo 21 year old on my hands and I'm trying to be sympathetic without losing my patience. She was pregnant for a week. It wasn't the end of the world. She's just so torn up about something that, ultimately, was going to be a hardship for her. She doesn't even have a boyfriend, for crying out loud. Geesh.

I heard from Mom. She made it to Alabama, but only after her engine seized, she wrecked her rental car, and had to drive a second rental car the rest of the way there. I'm pretty sure that our much needed respite will be over and she'll be home too soon.

And she won't have a car and I'll have to be looking at her face for months and months without a break.

The idea of it makes me very twitchy. I wish I could freeze things as they are right now, just sort of crappy, and not actually deal with the impending doom I know is heading my way.

2010-11-04T15:04:00.002-05:00

It looks like there's going to be a pregnancy in this house, after all, even if it isn't mine. Elizabeth, my sister-in-law, is pregnant. She's due some time in early July. We're all still reeling a bit from the news. We're hoping for a smooth pregnancy, but our luck is never quite that good.

Adam and I are sort of relieved that we postponed the Clomid until March, in light of recent developments. I couldn't imagine going through the emotional upheaval of the fertility drugs, Mazzy's anniversary, Christmas, etc., and Elizabeth's pregnancy all at the same time. I would probably explode from the hormonal rages.

That isn't to say that we aren't going to to keep trying, despite Elizabeth doing the baby thing already. If I get pregnant, well, we'll deal with what that means. I know that it's hopeful to believe that we'll still get pregnant on our own, but what else do we have on our side?

Mom left for two months this morning and I feel so relieved. No matter what happens in the next two months, I have one less thing to worry about. Celebrate.

A self-indulgent kick in the pants

2010-10-08T15:51:00.004-05:00

Yesterday was beautiful and today was all residual sadness from nightmares that wouldn't end. I guess it's colder than I thought.

I don't want to sound awful, but I was kind of pissed when I woke up from dreams where I was screaming Mazzy's name and still feeling her weight in my arms, her stillness. It's going to be two years in a couple of months and I kind of just wanted to have the next few weeks of sanity before the painful bits came seeping in, again.

We're still not pregnant and it's becoming harder to visualize that happening. When you take what you've already had stolen from you and add the idea that you may never have the chance, well, it becomes sort of awful.

I, in my rational brain, don't want to be stupid about this, or dramatic, but the floor plans for tragedy are already there, I just have to say the words out loud. It's too easy, sometimes, to find the sadness when I recite the story of my life.

Through all of this, of course, Adam and I stay strong, stay together. We're powerful. It's our super power - strength during adversity. We overcome things.

I've pulled out my crochet and I've been writing. I need to keep my hands busy. Idle hands give me to too much space for pain and for the opportunity to cry when there's no need.

I am no different than any other person who's experienced loss. I'm not suffering anymore than any other person on this planet, so why do I allow myself to be brought down by something that is Universal? It's selfish and indulgent and I'm going to work hard for the rest of the year to stop myself from letting it win.

Frame this

2010-10-07T14:38:00.004-05:00

The news has all these lovely words for what's going on, scientific explanations for why the weather has been so amazing lately, but all I care about is that it's orgasmic. In the mornings there's a chill in the house, a stillness that infects every room and seeps in to my bones, reminding me of a life I've lived before this one. I have only good memories with the calmness that comes from this kind of weather. It's not cold enough to make me think of bad things, just good things.

It's days like this that make me wish that it was possible to take a photo of a feeling. I want to hold on to this week and come back to it whenever my heart hurts or when I feel smothered by reality.