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.

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.

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...

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.

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.

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...

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 :)