I'm sorry I haven't been updating as much as I was before and/or would like to. We're currently going through an absolutely hellish situation with baby M, and it's just... it's tough.
It's good to know, and good to note, that the anti-anxiety/anti-depressants are doing their job. I think we upped the dose at the right time.
I'll have a whole massive post another day about what we're going through, but all we need to know right now is that M is very sick, and could use all sorts of thoughts and prayers. So... please do that.
Thursday, July 30, 2015
Friday, July 24, 2015
Perfect Family
"Million Dollar Family"
Of all the phrases thrown at a parent, that's the one that gets me the most. It's the phrase used to describe a family with two parents - I'm assuming they meant heterosexual parents, but I'm not certain - and one child of each sex. And everyone just assumes that other people want this type of family. They assume this so much that when a couple is expecting a child after the first one, they ask "Are you hoping it will be a (insert other sex than first child)?". They continue to ask this after each subsequent child of the same sex that is born to the family. Other variations are "Are you going to try for a boy/girl this time?" or "Are you sad that you have (insert number) of boys/girls?"
I'm going to be perfectly honest. When pregnant with baby number 2, I was actually hoping it was a girl. I know girls, I have girl things, another girl would be a piece of cake. Or as much a piece of cake as a newborn baby can be. I wouldn't have to spend a bunch of money on clothes or toys or things, and O would have a sister to teach how to do things. My co-workers, however, thought it would be "so cute" to have a boy because then I'd have that "Million Dollar Family". They didn't quite understand why I wanted another girl. Don't get me wrong, I don't resent having a boy. I'm... oddly indifferent about it. I'm not thrilled nor upset, I'm just incredibly happy that I have a baby.
I don't know where society decided that speaking up about this sort of thing was a good idea. There are so many women dealing with infertility or miscarriage issues, I'm so grateful I was able to carry two healthy children to term with minimal effort on our part. Why anyone would question if I preferred a certain sex of child over another is not cool, and I always feel bad for my mom friends who have several children of the same sex and keep getting asked if they're going to try for the other one or if they're hoping they have a boy/girl next time.
I'm happy with what I've got, end of story.
Of all the phrases thrown at a parent, that's the one that gets me the most. It's the phrase used to describe a family with two parents - I'm assuming they meant heterosexual parents, but I'm not certain - and one child of each sex. And everyone just assumes that other people want this type of family. They assume this so much that when a couple is expecting a child after the first one, they ask "Are you hoping it will be a (insert other sex than first child)?". They continue to ask this after each subsequent child of the same sex that is born to the family. Other variations are "Are you going to try for a boy/girl this time?" or "Are you sad that you have (insert number) of boys/girls?"
I'm going to be perfectly honest. When pregnant with baby number 2, I was actually hoping it was a girl. I know girls, I have girl things, another girl would be a piece of cake. Or as much a piece of cake as a newborn baby can be. I wouldn't have to spend a bunch of money on clothes or toys or things, and O would have a sister to teach how to do things. My co-workers, however, thought it would be "so cute" to have a boy because then I'd have that "Million Dollar Family". They didn't quite understand why I wanted another girl. Don't get me wrong, I don't resent having a boy. I'm... oddly indifferent about it. I'm not thrilled nor upset, I'm just incredibly happy that I have a baby.
I don't know where society decided that speaking up about this sort of thing was a good idea. There are so many women dealing with infertility or miscarriage issues, I'm so grateful I was able to carry two healthy children to term with minimal effort on our part. Why anyone would question if I preferred a certain sex of child over another is not cool, and I always feel bad for my mom friends who have several children of the same sex and keep getting asked if they're going to try for the other one or if they're hoping they have a boy/girl next time.
I'm happy with what I've got, end of story.
Twofer
I've got a couple things to write about today, so I'm actually going to write two separate posts just so that it isn't one giant one.
Yesterday morning was rough. After M's UTI and treatment, we were finally on the mend until the little dude decided that waking up once during the night to eat is now his new thing to do. I mean, I understand because he lost several days of full feeds while he was really sick. But on the other hand, momma is tired! Plus, O has a bit of a cold with a lovely cough so she wakes up doing that and/or starts her awful whine-cry thing and so I have to get up and comfort her with that. So I'm easily up at least twice a night, which makes me just so exhausted. Everyone says that I should get T involved and have him take one of the kids... But honestly, he never hears them. So even if we did make that deal, it would be me waking him up to go deal with the child and then I'm up anyway. It's somewhat of a pointless endeavour.
Back on to the topic at hand though. Yesterday, aside from the sleepies, was fine for the morning. Everything was as it normally was. Up until it wasn't. For some reason, around 1030am M decided that scream crying was how it was going to do things. It was potentially around a time that I thought he would want to eat, so I made him a bottle and settled down to give that to him. He wanted none of that. I changed his diaper, and he was still screaming. I had to ask O not to snuggle up beside me because I was on the cusp of a meltdown, and as it stands I did yell at M to stop screaming at some point because I just couldn't do it. But it was only that once, and I set him down several times when I felt the bad part coming over me. When I finally got a grasp on myself I just hugged him to me and had this stupid little mantra of "Stop stop stop stop stop".
I took him downstairs, hoping that the cool basement would do the trick (although honestly, our house yesterday didn't have much of a temperature difference with our central air going). No dice, still screaming. I laid him in his crib - in his bedroom - and left the room. It took about 20 minutes and he ended up screaming himself to sleep. He slept for about an hour, which gave me enough time to apologize profusely to O for snapping at her and to calm myself down. And then once he woke up, he was in a great mood.
We ended up going for a nice long walk afterwards, although O was disappointed we didn't stop at every single playground along the way. About half-way through our walk M pooped, and of course I didn't bring any diaper change stuff with me so we had to cut it short. Although, we were still gone for an hour and did about 3.5 miles. And then when we got back, M repeated the same screaming until he went down for a nap.
I guess I just haven't been reading his cues very well. Today I'm working harder to put him in his crib for naps (although he napped for an hour in his car seat this morning because we were on the go) and going forward I'm hoping we can transition him into his crib full time. I need my room back, and I need my evenings with my husband back. We realised yesterday that we haven't gone on a date since February, and even then it wasn't anything that we are really proud of - we went for lunch and did baby shopping. Oooooh so romantic. I'm hoping I can convince him that we should go to a VIP movie but we'll see.
More to the PPD point, though. I was able to calm down yesterday after one blip of overwhelmed, and for that I'm proud. I'm not proud that I screamed at my infant and made him cry harder, but I'm proud that I was able to get my shit under control so it didn't happen again. Small victories.
Yesterday morning was rough. After M's UTI and treatment, we were finally on the mend until the little dude decided that waking up once during the night to eat is now his new thing to do. I mean, I understand because he lost several days of full feeds while he was really sick. But on the other hand, momma is tired! Plus, O has a bit of a cold with a lovely cough so she wakes up doing that and/or starts her awful whine-cry thing and so I have to get up and comfort her with that. So I'm easily up at least twice a night, which makes me just so exhausted. Everyone says that I should get T involved and have him take one of the kids... But honestly, he never hears them. So even if we did make that deal, it would be me waking him up to go deal with the child and then I'm up anyway. It's somewhat of a pointless endeavour.
Back on to the topic at hand though. Yesterday, aside from the sleepies, was fine for the morning. Everything was as it normally was. Up until it wasn't. For some reason, around 1030am M decided that scream crying was how it was going to do things. It was potentially around a time that I thought he would want to eat, so I made him a bottle and settled down to give that to him. He wanted none of that. I changed his diaper, and he was still screaming. I had to ask O not to snuggle up beside me because I was on the cusp of a meltdown, and as it stands I did yell at M to stop screaming at some point because I just couldn't do it. But it was only that once, and I set him down several times when I felt the bad part coming over me. When I finally got a grasp on myself I just hugged him to me and had this stupid little mantra of "Stop stop stop stop stop".
I took him downstairs, hoping that the cool basement would do the trick (although honestly, our house yesterday didn't have much of a temperature difference with our central air going). No dice, still screaming. I laid him in his crib - in his bedroom - and left the room. It took about 20 minutes and he ended up screaming himself to sleep. He slept for about an hour, which gave me enough time to apologize profusely to O for snapping at her and to calm myself down. And then once he woke up, he was in a great mood.
We ended up going for a nice long walk afterwards, although O was disappointed we didn't stop at every single playground along the way. About half-way through our walk M pooped, and of course I didn't bring any diaper change stuff with me so we had to cut it short. Although, we were still gone for an hour and did about 3.5 miles. And then when we got back, M repeated the same screaming until he went down for a nap.
I guess I just haven't been reading his cues very well. Today I'm working harder to put him in his crib for naps (although he napped for an hour in his car seat this morning because we were on the go) and going forward I'm hoping we can transition him into his crib full time. I need my room back, and I need my evenings with my husband back. We realised yesterday that we haven't gone on a date since February, and even then it wasn't anything that we are really proud of - we went for lunch and did baby shopping. Oooooh so romantic. I'm hoping I can convince him that we should go to a VIP movie but we'll see.
More to the PPD point, though. I was able to calm down yesterday after one blip of overwhelmed, and for that I'm proud. I'm not proud that I screamed at my infant and made him cry harder, but I'm proud that I was able to get my shit under control so it didn't happen again. Small victories.
Sunday, July 19, 2015
Giving No Fucks
It's like a light switch hit me. Once I turned 30 - which was only 11 days ago - I stopped caring about the insignificant people. What I mean by that is that the people who have no impact in my life. I am stopping trying to please people who really don't want to try to please me, and I'm stopping trying to force friendships where they obviously don't want to belong.
I spent pretty much all of Saturday with a dear friend who I rarely see because a) she's a medical resident and b) she lives out of town. Yes, she still comes home to visit but her time is usually booked right up. We spent the day eating a horrible lunch at Milestones - seriously, don't eat there. Everything was awful - then watching a shitty movie at the VIP theatre. I don't even want to admit what movie we watched. As my friend was driving me home after, she says "Don't go home yet" I asked her to repeat what she said and she was like "Don't have to go home yet. Come play board games or something, just don't be home yet". Of course, because I had left T and the kids at home all day there was no way I would do that and she completely and totally understood, but it felt just so fucking amazing to have someone who really, truly, wanted to spend time with me. A LOT of time.
So now, as a grown up, I have finally realized that the people who don't treat me like this... the ones who aren't sad when we can't spend time together... are not worth my time. And they can just get bent.
Medication update: as per Wednesday's appointment with the doctor, we're increasing the dose to 50mg from 25mg. To start, I'll just be taking two 25mg pills so that if it doesn't work for me then we can go back down to 25 without it being a big deal. Thus far, adding the extra pill makes me hella sleepy right after I take it which is why I take them at night. I'm okay with this side effect because it has me going to bed at a normal time, and I can fortunately still wake up easily enough.
I spent pretty much all of Saturday with a dear friend who I rarely see because a) she's a medical resident and b) she lives out of town. Yes, she still comes home to visit but her time is usually booked right up. We spent the day eating a horrible lunch at Milestones - seriously, don't eat there. Everything was awful - then watching a shitty movie at the VIP theatre. I don't even want to admit what movie we watched. As my friend was driving me home after, she says "Don't go home yet" I asked her to repeat what she said and she was like "Don't have to go home yet. Come play board games or something, just don't be home yet". Of course, because I had left T and the kids at home all day there was no way I would do that and she completely and totally understood, but it felt just so fucking amazing to have someone who really, truly, wanted to spend time with me. A LOT of time.
So now, as a grown up, I have finally realized that the people who don't treat me like this... the ones who aren't sad when we can't spend time together... are not worth my time. And they can just get bent.
Medication update: as per Wednesday's appointment with the doctor, we're increasing the dose to 50mg from 25mg. To start, I'll just be taking two 25mg pills so that if it doesn't work for me then we can go back down to 25 without it being a big deal. Thus far, adding the extra pill makes me hella sleepy right after I take it which is why I take them at night. I'm okay with this side effect because it has me going to bed at a normal time, and I can fortunately still wake up easily enough.
Thursday, July 16, 2015
Following Up
Things with M took a turn for the worse yesterday. Tuesday night, T came down at about 3am (I think? Who can even remember when it's the buttcrack of morning) and asked me to take over as he needed sleep. So M and I slept on the couches. O came upstairs at 630, and I was still so incredibly tired that I couldn't keep my eyes open and my wonderful little girl let me and M sleep until 8. She went back downstairs to her room and was quiet and good for that hour and a half. When I got up with M at that point, I noticed that his fontanel was swollen. I know that if he's dehydrated (which he would be from the UTI and the not wanting to drink a lot) it would be sunken, but I didn't know what to do about it bulging. I didn't ask Dr. Google because we had both a doctor's appointment (3 month checkup) and had to go back to the hospital for his next dose of antibiotics.
Get to the doctor, explain why the little man has the IV still wrapped on his arm, and then mention the fontanel. Doctor is concerned, but knows that we're going back to the hospital so he tell me to mention it when we go.
Get to the hospital - and spend like 20 minutes trying to find parking, end up parking in a lot 5 minutes away - get into a little room right away and then mention about the fontanel. Nurses get us settled in and mention it to the pediatric doctor working in emerg - the same doctor we had the day before - and we kind of go from there. Pediatrician gets us in for an ultrasound to look to see what's going on with the fontanel, and they find that something - I have no idea what because I both don't understand medical talk and I just had so much going on in my brain that day - is enlarged and there's a bit of extra fluid. So they want to consult with the neurosurgeon team.
Did I mention that it was just me in the hospital this whole time? Again, just me and M. They hooked him up to a fluid drip plus gave him his dose of antibiotics. My mom ended up coming at around 415 because she works relatively close, and it was SO GOOD to have her there with me.
Anyway, the neurosurgeons didn't feel incredibly concerned about it, so they ended up discharging us AND the IV came out with a prescription for oral antibiotics. I've never been so relieved.
Through all of this, I remained calm and collected. I did have a bit of tears and choking up when we were waiting for the consult with neuro, but I held it together. The pediatrician came in and checked up on us and asked how I was doing, and he seemed impressed that I wasn't losing my shit. Good thing they didn't have reason to access my records to know that I'm on anti-depressants ;)
I am, however, going to be increasing my dose by a bit starting next week. After speaking with our doctor, I mentioned that I still had moments where I had to talk myself down (although some of those moments were during M's sickness, to which my doctor said it was completely understandable) and he said we can try increasing it. So we'll see if that makes a difference in my somewhat indifference towards things that make me happy?
With regards to M, he's much better today even though his tummy is unhappy with the antibiotics. He's smiling again, and was moving around and playing. His sleeps looked more restful and he wasn't as pasty as he has been. Here's fingers crossed that he's on the mend and we can just move past this.
Get to the doctor, explain why the little man has the IV still wrapped on his arm, and then mention the fontanel. Doctor is concerned, but knows that we're going back to the hospital so he tell me to mention it when we go.
Get to the hospital - and spend like 20 minutes trying to find parking, end up parking in a lot 5 minutes away - get into a little room right away and then mention about the fontanel. Nurses get us settled in and mention it to the pediatric doctor working in emerg - the same doctor we had the day before - and we kind of go from there. Pediatrician gets us in for an ultrasound to look to see what's going on with the fontanel, and they find that something - I have no idea what because I both don't understand medical talk and I just had so much going on in my brain that day - is enlarged and there's a bit of extra fluid. So they want to consult with the neurosurgeon team.
Did I mention that it was just me in the hospital this whole time? Again, just me and M. They hooked him up to a fluid drip plus gave him his dose of antibiotics. My mom ended up coming at around 415 because she works relatively close, and it was SO GOOD to have her there with me.
Anyway, the neurosurgeons didn't feel incredibly concerned about it, so they ended up discharging us AND the IV came out with a prescription for oral antibiotics. I've never been so relieved.
Through all of this, I remained calm and collected. I did have a bit of tears and choking up when we were waiting for the consult with neuro, but I held it together. The pediatrician came in and checked up on us and asked how I was doing, and he seemed impressed that I wasn't losing my shit. Good thing they didn't have reason to access my records to know that I'm on anti-depressants ;)
I am, however, going to be increasing my dose by a bit starting next week. After speaking with our doctor, I mentioned that I still had moments where I had to talk myself down (although some of those moments were during M's sickness, to which my doctor said it was completely understandable) and he said we can try increasing it. So we'll see if that makes a difference in my somewhat indifference towards things that make me happy?
With regards to M, he's much better today even though his tummy is unhappy with the antibiotics. He's smiling again, and was moving around and playing. His sleeps looked more restful and he wasn't as pasty as he has been. Here's fingers crossed that he's on the mend and we can just move past this.
Monday, July 13, 2015
Hospitals
Today was not a good day. Or I guess it would have started last night.
Yesterday, M had a fever and his pee smelled very strongly and he was just incredibly uncomfortable and whining. We gave him Tylenol and he seemed to feel a bit better, but by evening he was an inconsolable mess. T thought it was just a tummyache, so we gave him some Ovol drops as well (which he proceeded to barf up along with some formula) and then we gave him a bath. T got him settled down upstairs.
12:30am rolls around, and T had brought M downstairs at some point, and M was making noises again. So I got up with him and he was normal temperature to touch, so I figured he just wanted some snuggles. Got settled on the couch but he kept fidgeting and then started fussing so I got up to make him a bottle. His fever was back again so I figured getting some liquids in was ideal.
I turned the light on in the living room and M's skin was not a great colour and it was really veiny (although I think the actual term is mottled? I could be wrong). Either way, mom instinct kicked in and I knew I had to take him in. So I book it downstairs to put clothes on and get him ready to go. He whimpered the entire drive to the hospital - about 20 minutes away.
We got right in, which was great, and we were put into a room with a door that closed and we saw the doctor right away too. They gave M some Tylenol for his fever and then strapped the pee bag onto him. I knew that wasn't going to fly because when Olivia had a UTI at this age, they did the catheter right away. However, that was when we were able to get right into Peds Emerg, and because it was 2am we were just in regular emerg this time.
Anyway, M drank his bottle, had a couple poopy diapers (increasingly soft poops) but still no pee. Had to get more formula from the nursing station because me in my stupidity only brought one bottle (although how was I to know I was going to be there forever).
By 8am, shift change, he still hadn't peed. At this point I had requested we do a catheter, but the nurse said that they don't like to do that. My theory now is that they didn't have a peds nurse on who felt comfortable cathing a tiny peener. I fortunately was able to get a nurse to sit with Mal so I could pee and move my car, as I had just parked in the 60 minute zone. Thankfully no tickets when i moved it 5 hours after we had got there.
The Peds Emerg section was open at 8, so they moved us over there where we sat and waited for the pediatrician to come see us. She spoke with the doctor we had originally seen, and was more than a little choked that he hadn't cath'd M yet. She expressed this to me, saying that if anything from the potentially bagged urine had come back they'd have to do a catheter sample anyway.
It took 3 different nurses 3 different tries to get the catheter in M. The poor guy was so not happy. The first two attempts were right after he had peed in the bag, so I felt like it was totally futile that we were waiting all night for that and then had to wait even longer to get pee in the catheter. Once the 3rd nurse came and did it, they got a huge sample which was great but the poor little dude had blood happening at the tip.
So we had to wait longer to get the results back, and by this point I was running low on wipes & diapers (I had a full travel wipes case and 6 diapers plus 1 of Olivia's when I got there... left with 0 of both). Then they needed our bed for a more important case, so we were shunted to the waiting room for a bit. Once another bed opened up we were moved back there, which is where the pediatrician explained that M had a very VERY bad UTI and required IV antibiotics. Because he was still drinking, they didn't need to admit him, but I have to bring him back around 10/11 for the next couple days to get the next doses of antibiotics. M was not a happy camper with the IV going in, and who can blame him. The nurse who did it was very good though, even if it took her a bit to find the vein she still got it all in and taped up right away. Once the IV antibiotics are done, they'll reassess and determine if he needs to be on oral ones as well or if the IV ones did the trick. He will also need a kidney ultrasound and an ultrasound to determine direction of how is urine is going (if it's going straight out or if it's going up into his kidneys)
I had consulted a doctor friend of mine about when to go in and the symptoms and stuff, and she was following up with me today after all of this and she was super confused as to why they didn't do any bloodwork to check on his kidneys. T is actually extremely pissed off about this whole situation, and has told me that if M has kidney problems then he's going to go after the doctors for malpractice (although I don't think he's got anything to go on for that).
All in all, I'm still exhausted and wish that none of this had happened. But I'm glad I trusted my mommy instincts that something was wrong.
While all of the fussiness from last night was happening, I had posted some clothing items on a local buy & sell which were apparently hot commodities. I received a bunch of messages for them, some people wanting to pick up that night, and it was getting to be too much. I had to verbally tell myself to relax and that it was okay, which T overheard me doing and it apparently freaked him out a bit that I was doing that. But it worked and I got myself settled.
I've realised that I don't get incredibly happy or excited about anything anymore, but I can get really sad & low easily. I think I'll need to bring this up with my doctor when we go on Wednesday for M's 3 month appointment. Le sigh. This PPD/PPA thing is just such an inconvenience. But here's hoping I can combat it and not be on meds for the rest of my life. Please.
Yesterday, M had a fever and his pee smelled very strongly and he was just incredibly uncomfortable and whining. We gave him Tylenol and he seemed to feel a bit better, but by evening he was an inconsolable mess. T thought it was just a tummyache, so we gave him some Ovol drops as well (which he proceeded to barf up along with some formula) and then we gave him a bath. T got him settled down upstairs.
12:30am rolls around, and T had brought M downstairs at some point, and M was making noises again. So I got up with him and he was normal temperature to touch, so I figured he just wanted some snuggles. Got settled on the couch but he kept fidgeting and then started fussing so I got up to make him a bottle. His fever was back again so I figured getting some liquids in was ideal.
I turned the light on in the living room and M's skin was not a great colour and it was really veiny (although I think the actual term is mottled? I could be wrong). Either way, mom instinct kicked in and I knew I had to take him in. So I book it downstairs to put clothes on and get him ready to go. He whimpered the entire drive to the hospital - about 20 minutes away.
We got right in, which was great, and we were put into a room with a door that closed and we saw the doctor right away too. They gave M some Tylenol for his fever and then strapped the pee bag onto him. I knew that wasn't going to fly because when Olivia had a UTI at this age, they did the catheter right away. However, that was when we were able to get right into Peds Emerg, and because it was 2am we were just in regular emerg this time.
Anyway, M drank his bottle, had a couple poopy diapers (increasingly soft poops) but still no pee. Had to get more formula from the nursing station because me in my stupidity only brought one bottle (although how was I to know I was going to be there forever).
By 8am, shift change, he still hadn't peed. At this point I had requested we do a catheter, but the nurse said that they don't like to do that. My theory now is that they didn't have a peds nurse on who felt comfortable cathing a tiny peener. I fortunately was able to get a nurse to sit with Mal so I could pee and move my car, as I had just parked in the 60 minute zone. Thankfully no tickets when i moved it 5 hours after we had got there.
The Peds Emerg section was open at 8, so they moved us over there where we sat and waited for the pediatrician to come see us. She spoke with the doctor we had originally seen, and was more than a little choked that he hadn't cath'd M yet. She expressed this to me, saying that if anything from the potentially bagged urine had come back they'd have to do a catheter sample anyway.
It took 3 different nurses 3 different tries to get the catheter in M. The poor guy was so not happy. The first two attempts were right after he had peed in the bag, so I felt like it was totally futile that we were waiting all night for that and then had to wait even longer to get pee in the catheter. Once the 3rd nurse came and did it, they got a huge sample which was great but the poor little dude had blood happening at the tip.
So we had to wait longer to get the results back, and by this point I was running low on wipes & diapers (I had a full travel wipes case and 6 diapers plus 1 of Olivia's when I got there... left with 0 of both). Then they needed our bed for a more important case, so we were shunted to the waiting room for a bit. Once another bed opened up we were moved back there, which is where the pediatrician explained that M had a very VERY bad UTI and required IV antibiotics. Because he was still drinking, they didn't need to admit him, but I have to bring him back around 10/11 for the next couple days to get the next doses of antibiotics. M was not a happy camper with the IV going in, and who can blame him. The nurse who did it was very good though, even if it took her a bit to find the vein she still got it all in and taped up right away. Once the IV antibiotics are done, they'll reassess and determine if he needs to be on oral ones as well or if the IV ones did the trick. He will also need a kidney ultrasound and an ultrasound to determine direction of how is urine is going (if it's going straight out or if it's going up into his kidneys)
I had consulted a doctor friend of mine about when to go in and the symptoms and stuff, and she was following up with me today after all of this and she was super confused as to why they didn't do any bloodwork to check on his kidneys. T is actually extremely pissed off about this whole situation, and has told me that if M has kidney problems then he's going to go after the doctors for malpractice (although I don't think he's got anything to go on for that).
All in all, I'm still exhausted and wish that none of this had happened. But I'm glad I trusted my mommy instincts that something was wrong.
While all of the fussiness from last night was happening, I had posted some clothing items on a local buy & sell which were apparently hot commodities. I received a bunch of messages for them, some people wanting to pick up that night, and it was getting to be too much. I had to verbally tell myself to relax and that it was okay, which T overheard me doing and it apparently freaked him out a bit that I was doing that. But it worked and I got myself settled.
I've realised that I don't get incredibly happy or excited about anything anymore, but I can get really sad & low easily. I think I'll need to bring this up with my doctor when we go on Wednesday for M's 3 month appointment. Le sigh. This PPD/PPA thing is just such an inconvenience. But here's hoping I can combat it and not be on meds for the rest of my life. Please.
Wednesday, July 8, 2015
30, Flirty, and Thriving
Today is my 30th birthday and I spent the majority of it in some sort of funk. Not the good musical kind of funk, but a funk that I felt lonely and sad for the majority of the day.
Not an ideal way to spend a birthday.
I made the mistake of weighing myself before my shower this morning. The numbers on the scale depressed me not only because I've gained weight back that I had initially lost (oh wait, I lost all that weight because I couldn't eat for 2 weeks after having M) but because I know that it was due to me being a lazy fucktard when it came to exercise or diet. I should be working out daily, but I just can't. Like it's almost like I physically can't make myself get up and exercise. I don't know if that's part of getting used to an infant again, or if it's part of the antidepressants, or if it's just part of being depressed/anxious. That little bit of the unknown is actually kind of unsettling the more I think about it. I don't like not having control over why I do or do not do things, which I guess goes hand in hand with this whole PPD/PPA thing that I'm coping with.
Everyone asked me how I was spending my birthday and I told them the truth: chiropractic appointment. Don't know about supper (we just barbecued hamburgers), don't know about cake (we had ice cream cake at my insistence). No special plans. Granted, when your birthday is on a Wednesday, it's hard to plan anything. But T has apparently set something up for me and my girlfriends for Friday so we'll see how that goes.
Which brings me to my next point. Friends. T asked me who I wanted to invite to this thing, and he listed off all of the people that he had sent the information to. And that was it. I think there were like 10 people on his list. I realized that I didn't actually have a lot of girlfriends, and/or the ones that I do have are ones that I met online and so I can't just see them on a whim. Instead, it's an expensive flight or really long drive.
I mentioned this to one of my girlfriends and she countered with "Why do you need quantity when you have a few good ones?" and I found myself pondering that in itself. Why do I feel the need to have more friends? Why should it matter? If I have close friends who would be there for me no matter what, why do I need more than that? I don't.
Final point is that I always feel like I could or should have more. I'm an online shopper and I seriously need help with that. Even though I have a closet and a dresser and like 4 Rubbermaid bins filled with clothes, I seem to always go online and find myself more. I'll reason it like "I don't have a lot of pajama tops" or "I do like the way those tanktops fit". But I mean, I don't NEED this stuff especially while I'm on maternity leave. Maybe it's my subconscious way of not falling into the stay at home mom trap where I wear frumpy pants and stained tops. If I have nice clothes, maybe I'll give off the false impression that I'm put together and not losing my marbles at my toddler running around a parking lot while the infant in the bucket seat screams because he's just not happy with the current situation.
Not an ideal way to spend a birthday.
I made the mistake of weighing myself before my shower this morning. The numbers on the scale depressed me not only because I've gained weight back that I had initially lost (oh wait, I lost all that weight because I couldn't eat for 2 weeks after having M) but because I know that it was due to me being a lazy fucktard when it came to exercise or diet. I should be working out daily, but I just can't. Like it's almost like I physically can't make myself get up and exercise. I don't know if that's part of getting used to an infant again, or if it's part of the antidepressants, or if it's just part of being depressed/anxious. That little bit of the unknown is actually kind of unsettling the more I think about it. I don't like not having control over why I do or do not do things, which I guess goes hand in hand with this whole PPD/PPA thing that I'm coping with.
Everyone asked me how I was spending my birthday and I told them the truth: chiropractic appointment. Don't know about supper (we just barbecued hamburgers), don't know about cake (we had ice cream cake at my insistence). No special plans. Granted, when your birthday is on a Wednesday, it's hard to plan anything. But T has apparently set something up for me and my girlfriends for Friday so we'll see how that goes.
Which brings me to my next point. Friends. T asked me who I wanted to invite to this thing, and he listed off all of the people that he had sent the information to. And that was it. I think there were like 10 people on his list. I realized that I didn't actually have a lot of girlfriends, and/or the ones that I do have are ones that I met online and so I can't just see them on a whim. Instead, it's an expensive flight or really long drive.
I mentioned this to one of my girlfriends and she countered with "Why do you need quantity when you have a few good ones?" and I found myself pondering that in itself. Why do I feel the need to have more friends? Why should it matter? If I have close friends who would be there for me no matter what, why do I need more than that? I don't.
Final point is that I always feel like I could or should have more. I'm an online shopper and I seriously need help with that. Even though I have a closet and a dresser and like 4 Rubbermaid bins filled with clothes, I seem to always go online and find myself more. I'll reason it like "I don't have a lot of pajama tops" or "I do like the way those tanktops fit". But I mean, I don't NEED this stuff especially while I'm on maternity leave. Maybe it's my subconscious way of not falling into the stay at home mom trap where I wear frumpy pants and stained tops. If I have nice clothes, maybe I'll give off the false impression that I'm put together and not losing my marbles at my toddler running around a parking lot while the infant in the bucket seat screams because he's just not happy with the current situation.
Monday, July 6, 2015
Hiding
I think I'm afraid to connect with my husband.
That's kind of a weird statement, actually. But it's true. Every night, I put O to bed around 830 and then I just stay downstairs. Sometimes I will be doing laundry or something like that, but most of the time? I watch Netflix or read a book. Or now that I have the laptop, I write a blog post or spend time cruising the internet. Logically, I could be doing this same stuff upstairs close to my husband but instead I'm hiding in my bedroom.
I'd like to pretend that it's because M is asleep on the couch for the first part of the evening - as is our habit, as T is on baby duty between me coming downstairs and him coming to bed - but I don't know if that's all that it is. Maybe on some deeper level, I'm afraid that I'm not really anything anymore. I don't have a lot of interests; or rather, I have interests but they're sucky. I like shitty teenage drama TV shows and writing, I like yarn crafts but hate how long it takes me to make anything (which is why my kids don't have any blankets that I've made but my friends all have stuff). I love music and movies and whatnot... but apparently over the years me and T have kind of diversified with our tastes. He has expressed how we never watch the same TV shows anymore, but I can't help it that I'm just not interested in the same shows he is. Or that I'd rather watch a rerun of something than to start something new, simply because I don't actually have the time to watch the show when the kids are awake. Plus if I do watch anything new while the kids are awake (seriously it never happens that way), it has to be something that is appropriate should O look over or watch it. T has been rewatching House, and a lot of those episodes freak O out a lot. And why not? Tons of blood and people saying "Ow!" while they're at the doctor... No wonder she thinks that the doctor is scary.
Regardless, maybe I should make a goal for this summer where I actually spend time with my husband. Perhaps once we've moved M into his own room it'll be easier. God I hope so at least...
That's kind of a weird statement, actually. But it's true. Every night, I put O to bed around 830 and then I just stay downstairs. Sometimes I will be doing laundry or something like that, but most of the time? I watch Netflix or read a book. Or now that I have the laptop, I write a blog post or spend time cruising the internet. Logically, I could be doing this same stuff upstairs close to my husband but instead I'm hiding in my bedroom.
I'd like to pretend that it's because M is asleep on the couch for the first part of the evening - as is our habit, as T is on baby duty between me coming downstairs and him coming to bed - but I don't know if that's all that it is. Maybe on some deeper level, I'm afraid that I'm not really anything anymore. I don't have a lot of interests; or rather, I have interests but they're sucky. I like shitty teenage drama TV shows and writing, I like yarn crafts but hate how long it takes me to make anything (which is why my kids don't have any blankets that I've made but my friends all have stuff). I love music and movies and whatnot... but apparently over the years me and T have kind of diversified with our tastes. He has expressed how we never watch the same TV shows anymore, but I can't help it that I'm just not interested in the same shows he is. Or that I'd rather watch a rerun of something than to start something new, simply because I don't actually have the time to watch the show when the kids are awake. Plus if I do watch anything new while the kids are awake (seriously it never happens that way), it has to be something that is appropriate should O look over or watch it. T has been rewatching House, and a lot of those episodes freak O out a lot. And why not? Tons of blood and people saying "Ow!" while they're at the doctor... No wonder she thinks that the doctor is scary.
Regardless, maybe I should make a goal for this summer where I actually spend time with my husband. Perhaps once we've moved M into his own room it'll be easier. God I hope so at least...
Saturday, July 4, 2015
The Good, The Bad, and the Obsessively Clean
One good thing (I suppose?) to come out of this situation is that when I get started on cleaning something, it gets done. Like 100% done. I can't half-ass it anymore. Because of this, I give myself only one thing to clean in a day so I don't get crazy.
So today, I tasked myself with cleaning the downstairs bathroom. It's not that it was horribly dirty and would take me forever, but rather it was just something that needed to get cleaned. So I set forth with my bucket of cleaning supplies, the Swiffers - both Wet Jet and regular -, and plugged the ol' iPod in to get me going. O decided that watching mommy clean was more interesting than being upstairs with daddy and M, and also it was fun to dance to her playlist. If there's nothing else cuter than a 3 year old singing and dancing along to adult music songs, I haven't found it yet.
I deep cleaned that bathroom. I'm talking washed the bathtub twice because the first time "wasn't good enough". I scrubbed at the sink with a sponge and a toothbrush. I used the Swiffer to wipe the dust off the walls and then I washed them with the sponge.
Yeah. That bathroom is sparkling now.
I then decided to vacuum and tidy up the bedrooms and hallway, and get started on laundry. But that wasn't my task for today, it was just bonus.
All in all, today was a win. Sure, I cleaned so hard/intensely that I was literally dripping sweat. I don't know if that's impressive or embarassing though.
So today, I tasked myself with cleaning the downstairs bathroom. It's not that it was horribly dirty and would take me forever, but rather it was just something that needed to get cleaned. So I set forth with my bucket of cleaning supplies, the Swiffers - both Wet Jet and regular -, and plugged the ol' iPod in to get me going. O decided that watching mommy clean was more interesting than being upstairs with daddy and M, and also it was fun to dance to her playlist. If there's nothing else cuter than a 3 year old singing and dancing along to adult music songs, I haven't found it yet.
I deep cleaned that bathroom. I'm talking washed the bathtub twice because the first time "wasn't good enough". I scrubbed at the sink with a sponge and a toothbrush. I used the Swiffer to wipe the dust off the walls and then I washed them with the sponge.
Yeah. That bathroom is sparkling now.
I then decided to vacuum and tidy up the bedrooms and hallway, and get started on laundry. But that wasn't my task for today, it was just bonus.
All in all, today was a win. Sure, I cleaned so hard/intensely that I was literally dripping sweat. I don't know if that's impressive or embarassing though.
Friday, July 3, 2015
Guest Blog by Anonymous
*not anonymous to me, but to the world at large via my blog*
"Mental states are fluid and always changing. You think you're having a good day and think you can tackle a task. Suddenly you are panicking about everything in your life - house cleaning, social engagements, donations, even picking up your child from daycare and your friends who are traveling. When you realize this is happening, you begin to have anxiety about needing to go on meds again, whether or not you are completing the right task first, looking like a complete failure, not finding anything to wear or having a meltdown in front of your close friends and a lounge of random people. The mental illness overtakes your reasonable side and makes you turn into what you are fearful about - someone who didn't finish what she set out to do; someone who cancels her social promises; someone who isolates herself until she is despondent. #fuckmentalillness"
A close friend of mine texted that to me about 10 minutes ago. Of the two, I'd say that anxiety is much worse than depression. I mean, don't get me wrong. Depression is the absolute pits. But the way that my PPD has manifested is into anxiety about things, and getting my priorities all mixed up. Instead of feeding my child and then cleaning something, I get frantic about cleaning and then realize that i need to feed the child.
Or I randomly decide to rearrange the furniture in my daughter's room even though both my daughter and infant son are awake and could use some mommy hangout time. I legit told my toddler to take care of the baby for a minute so mommy could move her bed across the room. I had to complete the task before I could deal with either of them, which logically I should have just left it for a minute or just not started it at all. I texted T about how heavy the furniture was and his response was "It's fucking solid" which means I'm totally going to get in shit when he gets home for moving it by myself instead of waiting for him. But I had to do it. It's like I had to prove to myself that I could do it.
"Mental states are fluid and always changing. You think you're having a good day and think you can tackle a task. Suddenly you are panicking about everything in your life - house cleaning, social engagements, donations, even picking up your child from daycare and your friends who are traveling. When you realize this is happening, you begin to have anxiety about needing to go on meds again, whether or not you are completing the right task first, looking like a complete failure, not finding anything to wear or having a meltdown in front of your close friends and a lounge of random people. The mental illness overtakes your reasonable side and makes you turn into what you are fearful about - someone who didn't finish what she set out to do; someone who cancels her social promises; someone who isolates herself until she is despondent. #fuckmentalillness"
A close friend of mine texted that to me about 10 minutes ago. Of the two, I'd say that anxiety is much worse than depression. I mean, don't get me wrong. Depression is the absolute pits. But the way that my PPD has manifested is into anxiety about things, and getting my priorities all mixed up. Instead of feeding my child and then cleaning something, I get frantic about cleaning and then realize that i need to feed the child.
Or I randomly decide to rearrange the furniture in my daughter's room even though both my daughter and infant son are awake and could use some mommy hangout time. I legit told my toddler to take care of the baby for a minute so mommy could move her bed across the room. I had to complete the task before I could deal with either of them, which logically I should have just left it for a minute or just not started it at all. I texted T about how heavy the furniture was and his response was "It's fucking solid" which means I'm totally going to get in shit when he gets home for moving it by myself instead of waiting for him. But I had to do it. It's like I had to prove to myself that I could do it.
Unpretty
I have this annual tradition (is that even the right phrase? I feel like annual tradition is kind of redundant) where I get my hair done on July 1st - Canada Day, for those who don't know - because the salon is usually not as busy and my husband is home to watch the kid.
I didn't do that this year.
I tried to convince myself that the reason I didn't book the appointment was because we couldn't afford it (partially true), or that I didn't need it (again, partially true), or that I should wait until after the postpartum hair loss has finished so that I don't spend all this money on a hair cut only for it to look like shit once I lose a bunch of hair... but in all honesty, the reason that I didn't book the appointment was because I didn't feel like I was worth it.
Somehow, over the past 3 months, I've lost my sense of self. I went from wearing makeup and nice clothes every day (for work, of course, but still) to trying to decide which drapey shirt I would wear along with which set of leggings and what giant underwear I would pair it with. Oh, and which nursing bra - even though I'm not nursing anymore - I would wear because real bras are garbage.
What happened to me? I love being a girl. I've got a drawer full of fancy brand cosmetics, hair products, and various styling tools. I have a closet jammed full of gorgeous clothes... and here I am, frumping myself up and letting my unmade face be seen in public way more than it logically should.
It's because I just don't feel like myself yet. I mean, I'm getting there. And it's an adjustment being at home because I don't need to get myself all done up and T likes to tell me that he likes it better when I'm not wearing makeup or doing my hair. But that honestly can't be true. I really wish that he would be honest with me about appearance stuff for once, instead of just saying that he thinks I want to hear.
How on earth did this turn into me throwing him under the bus...
I didn't do that this year.
I tried to convince myself that the reason I didn't book the appointment was because we couldn't afford it (partially true), or that I didn't need it (again, partially true), or that I should wait until after the postpartum hair loss has finished so that I don't spend all this money on a hair cut only for it to look like shit once I lose a bunch of hair... but in all honesty, the reason that I didn't book the appointment was because I didn't feel like I was worth it.
Somehow, over the past 3 months, I've lost my sense of self. I went from wearing makeup and nice clothes every day (for work, of course, but still) to trying to decide which drapey shirt I would wear along with which set of leggings and what giant underwear I would pair it with. Oh, and which nursing bra - even though I'm not nursing anymore - I would wear because real bras are garbage.
What happened to me? I love being a girl. I've got a drawer full of fancy brand cosmetics, hair products, and various styling tools. I have a closet jammed full of gorgeous clothes... and here I am, frumping myself up and letting my unmade face be seen in public way more than it logically should.
It's because I just don't feel like myself yet. I mean, I'm getting there. And it's an adjustment being at home because I don't need to get myself all done up and T likes to tell me that he likes it better when I'm not wearing makeup or doing my hair. But that honestly can't be true. I really wish that he would be honest with me about appearance stuff for once, instead of just saying that he thinks I want to hear.
How on earth did this turn into me throwing him under the bus...
Thursday, July 2, 2015
Where There's Smoke, There's Fire
Literally, unfortunately.
Today was a good day, despite being cooped up for the 4th day in a row when I've got both kids at home with me full time. There are fires up north from us (I'd reckon about 6 hours north) and they're large enough in size that the smoke has drifted down to us. Because of kids being, y'know, kids, I haven't gone outside with them at all because it's been so bad. Monday and Tuesday were far worse as it was so thick you could only see about 1-2 kms ahead of you, but even today it was hazy and a campfire smell in the air.
I say it was a good day because, despite my threenager O having multiple melt downs over nothing and little M just wouldn't nap (probably because of all of the melt downs), it was relaxed. It was chill. There was nothing I couldn't handle. I had time to myself, got both kids into the car to pick up my new glasses, and I didn't feel stretched thin.
And then T came home with my early birthday present - a new laptop.
I had been campaigning for this because I really think that writing things down will help me get through the frantic/anxious/depressed/crazy time PLUS I have goals of writing a book. And I like the idea of being able to write for an hour or so at night before going to bed, and the current bedtime routine we've got going on leaves me room to do that.
So here's hoping that there will be more consistent updates on here, and perhaps news about book :)
Today was a good day, despite being cooped up for the 4th day in a row when I've got both kids at home with me full time. There are fires up north from us (I'd reckon about 6 hours north) and they're large enough in size that the smoke has drifted down to us. Because of kids being, y'know, kids, I haven't gone outside with them at all because it's been so bad. Monday and Tuesday were far worse as it was so thick you could only see about 1-2 kms ahead of you, but even today it was hazy and a campfire smell in the air.
I say it was a good day because, despite my threenager O having multiple melt downs over nothing and little M just wouldn't nap (probably because of all of the melt downs), it was relaxed. It was chill. There was nothing I couldn't handle. I had time to myself, got both kids into the car to pick up my new glasses, and I didn't feel stretched thin.
And then T came home with my early birthday present - a new laptop.
I had been campaigning for this because I really think that writing things down will help me get through the frantic/anxious/depressed/crazy time PLUS I have goals of writing a book. And I like the idea of being able to write for an hour or so at night before going to bed, and the current bedtime routine we've got going on leaves me room to do that.
So here's hoping that there will be more consistent updates on here, and perhaps news about book :)
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)