Poor Jim. I mean, he had to have known how crazy I was when he married me (although I think my boobs distracted him until it was too late), but now I am crazy AND growing his child. I am sure he is torn between wanting to lock me in a room to contain my crazy and wanting to make sure I continue to grow said baby.
Usually, I am able to keep going (just keep swimming ...) and stay busy enough until I fall asleep to distract myself from my immense feelings of inadequacy and the mourning of my loss of self. But yesterday I was too worn down to do anything but give in. And poor Jim. Crazy pregnant lady cannot express herself well, and in trying to express how I was feeling, mostly ended up hurting Jim's feelings. While I am crazy, hurting other's is not usually my goal. (Unless it involves someone standing in front of me in line unsure of what they want to order when they get to the cashier or when they feel the need to take 5 minutes to count out exact change.) So then crazy pregnant lady realizes that she isn't expressing herself well and is hurting her very supportive partner, which only adds to her feelings of "oh god, I shouldn't have a child", and viola, more crying as crazy pregnant lady realizes the child is doomed by her craziness. Poor Jim.
In short, Jim is now accepting donations of beer (for himself) and a padded room (for me).
Wednesday, October 3, 2012
Monday, October 1, 2012
Apparently its OCTOBER
So apparently I still have 6 more weeks of being pregnant. I gotta say, it feels like I have been pregnant forever. In my defense, I have known since like March 5th that I am pregnant, so it has been most of the year. But as I come up to the end of the pregnancy, I get to have panic attacks about the fact that they GIVE YOU A BABY TO TAKE HOME at the end. I mean seriously, did you know that?! THERE IS AN ACTUAL BABY IN THERE & YOU HAVE TO TAKE IT WITH YOU. This was a little close to home today as one of my employee's had her baby today, and I got to go visit them in the hospital to squish the baby and say hi. There was this little human who like 12 hours prior was still INSIDE HER MOM'S BELLY.
That is just BIZARRE.
Logically, I am very intelligent and I understand how mammals have babies, but still. WEIRD. Although, none of you are probably shocked that I feel that way. Obviously, you know me.
My panic moments don't last long, more passing than anything - although I do try to deflect focusing on the panic too much. But besides my feeling uncomfortable in my own physical body because of pregnancy, I am having this other feeling of being uncomfortable in my own being lately. Hard to explain, but something I am paying attention to and noting, nonetheless.
Escapism has always been a theme in my depression, so I shouldn't be surprised that its cropping up in my worry about the Geekling and me. I warned Jim when he wanted to have a child that there was always the possibility that after the baby that I might leave him with the baby and run away. (worst mother ever) When I am really struggling with depression, I often have escapism fantasies about being able to run away and be someone else. (They don't usually last too long as my intelligent brain starts pointing out all the faults in the plan. Stupid brain.) So I am assuming this uncomfortable-in-my-own-being state is related to this.
In other news, did you know its OCTOBER?! WTF. Its Jim and my 9th wedding anniversary this month and his birthday as well. Normally, I am the planner in the relationship and have my gifts planned well in advance. This year? Yeah, not so much. Think he wants some socks? Maybe with a Star Wars theme? Mostly I just want a nap. And to not have to pee during said nap.
That is just BIZARRE.
Logically, I am very intelligent and I understand how mammals have babies, but still. WEIRD. Although, none of you are probably shocked that I feel that way. Obviously, you know me.
My panic moments don't last long, more passing than anything - although I do try to deflect focusing on the panic too much. But besides my feeling uncomfortable in my own physical body because of pregnancy, I am having this other feeling of being uncomfortable in my own being lately. Hard to explain, but something I am paying attention to and noting, nonetheless.
Escapism has always been a theme in my depression, so I shouldn't be surprised that its cropping up in my worry about the Geekling and me. I warned Jim when he wanted to have a child that there was always the possibility that after the baby that I might leave him with the baby and run away. (worst mother ever) When I am really struggling with depression, I often have escapism fantasies about being able to run away and be someone else. (They don't usually last too long as my intelligent brain starts pointing out all the faults in the plan. Stupid brain.) So I am assuming this uncomfortable-in-my-own-being state is related to this.
In other news, did you know its OCTOBER?! WTF. Its Jim and my 9th wedding anniversary this month and his birthday as well. Normally, I am the planner in the relationship and have my gifts planned well in advance. This year? Yeah, not so much. Think he wants some socks? Maybe with a Star Wars theme? Mostly I just want a nap. And to not have to pee during said nap.
Tuesday, September 18, 2012
Non-Optional Social Convention
I apologize for not blogging for a month. I have spent most of the last month overwhelmed & undermotivated. And possibly huddled in a corner, rocking & crying. Surprisingly the crying (or really, desire to) is work-related and NOT pregnancy related. Well most of it.
First - I have survived the Geekling's celebratory luncheon. As most of you know, I HATE with a passion showers of any kind. I attend them to support friends & family, but really would rather go to the dentist. Or take my cat to the vet. Or look at pictures of spiders. (shudder) But I also understand that they tend to be a non-optional social convention that family and friends like to attend for major life events. So I had the "brilliant" idea to just have one big shower instead of having 3 - one for each side of the family & one for friends - but apparently, friends and family LIKE to go to these things and I had like 70 people show up. Seriously. What the hell is wrong with you people. Although based on the amount of talking going on while I opened presents, it was just a great place to catch up, and people paid much less attention to me, which I appreciated. Sure, I loved getting to see people that I don't normally get to see, and people that I do get to normally see. I just really struggle with the people I don't know at all, and who don't know (or understand) me. And its all about this pregnancy - which if you don't understand me, makes for VERY awkward conversations. For example: relative I haven't seen in almost 9 years: "OH! You must be so excited!" Me: smiling uncomfortably, "Sure."
Or a relative reading a poem at my shower - which was sprung on me at the last minute - that was pretty much the EPITOME of everything I don't want my parenting experience to be. I fought off an anxiety attack just sitting there smiling politely while a room of 70+ people stared at me while the poem was read, which I shit you not included the line, "The very walls will be silenced too, where once the laughter broke," BECAUSE APPARENTLY HAVING A CHILD MEANS YOU DON'T LAUGH ANYMORE.
I do hope that my guests had fun - even without any games. I mean, seriously. Who came up with the idea of melted chocolates in diapers?! I want to stab them in the face. So we didn't have any games. I just gave away some prizes cuz I like prizes. And my prizes included wine and beer. Cuz I am amazeballs.
Second - I attended our first baby related class - breastfeeding. I plan to breastfeed, barring some sort of inability to do so. The class was nice, but not much I didn't already know or couldn't have googled (how long can you freeze breastmilk?). But I think Jim learned a lot. Mainly that he got to watch videos of BOOBIES. But as I was standing, waiting for the bathroom - really? a 2 stall bathroom nearest the classroom for all the pregnant ladies? really? - I could hear the ladies from my class chatting inside. "Is it your first?" "Us too! Aren't you SOO excited?!" and I immediately felt like a fraud, immediately outside the group. Like all the times in school when I just wished I could blend into the wall, but now my stomach would stick out too far. So it would have to be a bumpy wall.
And then as I sat through the rest of the class and they focused on all the things that can go wrong, and the Geekling decided that recreating the Alien movie in my stomach was a good idea, I started to make plans for which corner I wanted to huddle in until the anxiety passed. (I decided any of them would do.) When I am not being bombarded with all the OH SHIT things that can go wrong, I can remember that apparently women have babies all the time, and have been doing so for something like eleventy billion years. Or twelve. Either or. But the information overload just did me in. And even today, 24 hours later, I find myself diverting my brain when it strays too close to the dangerous territory of remembering that in 8 weeks, I am supposed to have a baby. In fact, just typing that sentence, was too much.
I think I will go to bed now. With some Tylenol PM. And yoga breathing. And wishing for some alcohol.
First - I have survived the Geekling's celebratory luncheon. As most of you know, I HATE with a passion showers of any kind. I attend them to support friends & family, but really would rather go to the dentist. Or take my cat to the vet. Or look at pictures of spiders. (shudder) But I also understand that they tend to be a non-optional social convention that family and friends like to attend for major life events. So I had the "brilliant" idea to just have one big shower instead of having 3 - one for each side of the family & one for friends - but apparently, friends and family LIKE to go to these things and I had like 70 people show up. Seriously. What the hell is wrong with you people. Although based on the amount of talking going on while I opened presents, it was just a great place to catch up, and people paid much less attention to me, which I appreciated. Sure, I loved getting to see people that I don't normally get to see, and people that I do get to normally see. I just really struggle with the people I don't know at all, and who don't know (or understand) me. And its all about this pregnancy - which if you don't understand me, makes for VERY awkward conversations. For example: relative I haven't seen in almost 9 years: "OH! You must be so excited!" Me: smiling uncomfortably, "Sure."
Or a relative reading a poem at my shower - which was sprung on me at the last minute - that was pretty much the EPITOME of everything I don't want my parenting experience to be. I fought off an anxiety attack just sitting there smiling politely while a room of 70+ people stared at me while the poem was read, which I shit you not included the line, "The very walls will be silenced too, where once the laughter broke," BECAUSE APPARENTLY HAVING A CHILD MEANS YOU DON'T LAUGH ANYMORE.
I do hope that my guests had fun - even without any games. I mean, seriously. Who came up with the idea of melted chocolates in diapers?! I want to stab them in the face. So we didn't have any games. I just gave away some prizes cuz I like prizes. And my prizes included wine and beer. Cuz I am amazeballs.
Second - I attended our first baby related class - breastfeeding. I plan to breastfeed, barring some sort of inability to do so. The class was nice, but not much I didn't already know or couldn't have googled (how long can you freeze breastmilk?). But I think Jim learned a lot. Mainly that he got to watch videos of BOOBIES. But as I was standing, waiting for the bathroom - really? a 2 stall bathroom nearest the classroom for all the pregnant ladies? really? - I could hear the ladies from my class chatting inside. "Is it your first?" "Us too! Aren't you SOO excited?!" and I immediately felt like a fraud, immediately outside the group. Like all the times in school when I just wished I could blend into the wall, but now my stomach would stick out too far. So it would have to be a bumpy wall.
And then as I sat through the rest of the class and they focused on all the things that can go wrong, and the Geekling decided that recreating the Alien movie in my stomach was a good idea, I started to make plans for which corner I wanted to huddle in until the anxiety passed. (I decided any of them would do.) When I am not being bombarded with all the OH SHIT things that can go wrong, I can remember that apparently women have babies all the time, and have been doing so for something like eleventy billion years. Or twelve. Either or. But the information overload just did me in. And even today, 24 hours later, I find myself diverting my brain when it strays too close to the dangerous territory of remembering that in 8 weeks, I am supposed to have a baby. In fact, just typing that sentence, was too much.
I think I will go to bed now. With some Tylenol PM. And yoga breathing. And wishing for some alcohol.
Sunday, August 19, 2012
Cruisin'
Yesterday was the perfect summer day. Highs in the low 70s, sunny & a little breeze. I had my windows rolled down, the sun roof open and Prince playing way too loud (to cover up my awful singing). I could have driven all day.
As I was driving and singing and dancing in my seat, I felt HAPPY. Its not all that often, sadly, that my brain sends the "you are HAPPY, dummy!" signal, but when it does, I pay attention. I thought of the many half-cross-country trips I took by myself - really the best way to travel if you want to sing along to the music. Sure, Kansas will make you consider suicide when all you can see FOREVER is corn, but singing and seat dancing really help to distract from the corn. Or the miles of plain highway through Ohio. Or was it Pennsylvania? Or Indiana? Or Illinois? They all kinda run together.
Beyonce and I (my Mini Cooper Clubman's name is Beyonce because she is bootylicous. Cuz she has a big boot. Get it? hehe. I will show myself out.) enjoyed some over the speed limit (but reasonable) cruising, with the sun streaming in the sunroof. But compared to my previous half-cross-country treks, I had cruise control, and since it wasn't 100 degrees, I didn't have to wrap my arm in a towel to prevent sunburn because I also didn't have air. Or power steering. Or power locks. Kids - you probably don't remember these, but once upon a time, in world far, far away, we used to have to use a HANDLE to get the windows to roll down. Like manually! Crazy I know, but true. Also crazy? I drove from OK to NJ and back without a cell phone! GASP! Can you imagine that insanity today?!
The 30 minutes I got to spend in the car, cruising and singing yesterday, really helped renew my sense of happy, my sense of Tracie. Might I prescribe some seat dancing for your day as well?
As I was driving and singing and dancing in my seat, I felt HAPPY. Its not all that often, sadly, that my brain sends the "you are HAPPY, dummy!" signal, but when it does, I pay attention. I thought of the many half-cross-country trips I took by myself - really the best way to travel if you want to sing along to the music. Sure, Kansas will make you consider suicide when all you can see FOREVER is corn, but singing and seat dancing really help to distract from the corn. Or the miles of plain highway through Ohio. Or was it Pennsylvania? Or Indiana? Or Illinois? They all kinda run together.
Beyonce and I (my Mini Cooper Clubman's name is Beyonce because she is bootylicous. Cuz she has a big boot. Get it? hehe. I will show myself out.) enjoyed some over the speed limit (but reasonable) cruising, with the sun streaming in the sunroof. But compared to my previous half-cross-country treks, I had cruise control, and since it wasn't 100 degrees, I didn't have to wrap my arm in a towel to prevent sunburn because I also didn't have air. Or power steering. Or power locks. Kids - you probably don't remember these, but once upon a time, in world far, far away, we used to have to use a HANDLE to get the windows to roll down. Like manually! Crazy I know, but true. Also crazy? I drove from OK to NJ and back without a cell phone! GASP! Can you imagine that insanity today?!
The 30 minutes I got to spend in the car, cruising and singing yesterday, really helped renew my sense of happy, my sense of Tracie. Might I prescribe some seat dancing for your day as well?
Tuesday, July 24, 2012
Normal
How in the hell is the end of July already?! I think I misplaced the month in the midst of all this heat. Ugh.
For most of my life, ok some of my life, I have owned my uniqueness and lack of ability to feel like I fit in. But being pregnant is really messing with that. I worry that my belly isn't normal. That its not big enough. My natural waist doesn't appear to want to give up the good fight yet, so its holding strong and dividing my belly into two. Which makes me mad that I didn't lose more weight before getting pregnant. But that's a whole other counseling session. So one of the things I always tell people to scrapbook is their pregnant belly. However, I feel too self-conscious about my not-normal baby belly to take any pics - and here I am at 6 months. If I were someone I was helping with scrapbooking, I would coach her to do it anyway, but I am fighting it because I don't feel normal.
Normal. Something I try to avoid for the most part. But being pregnant makes me desire to be normal, and its kinda freaking me out.
Besides the baby belly, I am also worried that I am not enjoying my pregnancy like "normal" people do. Now, I know I have gotten some great feedback from friends that they didn't enjoy being pregnant either, so I know there is a wide variety of "normal", but that doesn't stop me from worrying. Why don't I enjoy the kicking? Why don't I enjoy the growing belly? Why am I not in awe of the growing fetus?
I know the answer, I am still nervous that me reproducing was a bad idea. (Which probably explains the dream about a giant squirrel chasing me while I protected someone else's child. My counselor thinks I was the squirrel.) I am still nervous that parenting will not be something I enjoy, and I will screw up another's life. Messing up my own life, I know how to do that, but as a general rule, I try not to mess up someone else's. Well except for Jim's, but he signed up for that.
I do enjoy that being pregnant gives me all the excuse I need to sleep. So there is that.
But apparently the desire to conform to the physical norms of the world do not cease because one is pregnant. Its just a different set of rules.
For most of my life, ok some of my life, I have owned my uniqueness and lack of ability to feel like I fit in. But being pregnant is really messing with that. I worry that my belly isn't normal. That its not big enough. My natural waist doesn't appear to want to give up the good fight yet, so its holding strong and dividing my belly into two. Which makes me mad that I didn't lose more weight before getting pregnant. But that's a whole other counseling session. So one of the things I always tell people to scrapbook is their pregnant belly. However, I feel too self-conscious about my not-normal baby belly to take any pics - and here I am at 6 months. If I were someone I was helping with scrapbooking, I would coach her to do it anyway, but I am fighting it because I don't feel normal.
Normal. Something I try to avoid for the most part. But being pregnant makes me desire to be normal, and its kinda freaking me out.
Besides the baby belly, I am also worried that I am not enjoying my pregnancy like "normal" people do. Now, I know I have gotten some great feedback from friends that they didn't enjoy being pregnant either, so I know there is a wide variety of "normal", but that doesn't stop me from worrying. Why don't I enjoy the kicking? Why don't I enjoy the growing belly? Why am I not in awe of the growing fetus?
I know the answer, I am still nervous that me reproducing was a bad idea. (Which probably explains the dream about a giant squirrel chasing me while I protected someone else's child. My counselor thinks I was the squirrel.) I am still nervous that parenting will not be something I enjoy, and I will screw up another's life. Messing up my own life, I know how to do that, but as a general rule, I try not to mess up someone else's. Well except for Jim's, but he signed up for that.
I do enjoy that being pregnant gives me all the excuse I need to sleep. So there is that.
But apparently the desire to conform to the physical norms of the world do not cease because one is pregnant. Its just a different set of rules.
Tuesday, July 3, 2012
For Ron
Apparently I haven't blogged in a month?! Where did June go! I had hoped to get a blog in about my awesome vacation, but instead I feel compelled to write about my devastatingly bad day yesterday.
Yesterday one of my foster kittens, I had named him Ron Weasley because he was a red & white kitten & very scrawny, died unexpectedly. I have had two sick kittens die previously, and lost a litter of tiny babies, but they were all things I could see coming. Ron's dying struck me blindsided. Anytime I get a litter of kittens, I know they haven't had a cushy life. They usually come from outdoors from undernourished moms, so I am always cautious, concerned and on the look out for red flags. Ron was scrawny and seemed fragile, but he had been given medicine for mites & worms, was eating, drinking, using the litter box, and would come out every time I came into the room to wait for me to pick him up & then start purring. Oh the purring. I would hold him upside down in my arms like a baby, and he would just purr. And he would stay there as long as I had the time to hold him. Or I would set him in my lap, and he would stretch out, never ceasing to purr.
He wasn't interested in playing, but watched his sister run around. Looking back, I could have seen these as flags of something being wrong, but I didn't think they were so abnormal as to indicate sickness. But now, all I can think is WHAT IF, or I SHOULD HAVE KNOWN, even though I know I couldn't have. My husband, who was the last one to see him the morning he died, is also beating himself up that he didn't see anything wrong. And I can logically comfort him that there was nothing to see, nothing to miss, that sometimes kittens with poor starts to life just don't make it. But illogically I just want to scream, NO! NOT HIM! HE WAS MINE! HE WAS FINE THAT MORNING! I keep picturing his little body as I had to find him, and I swear I want to rip my heart out so that it stops hurting. I know its irrational, but I feel crushed that he died alone, that I wasn't there for him. I feel like I failed. I want to go back in time and get him to the vet. I know these first few days are the worst, and that with time, the pain goes from gut-wrenching, instant tear-inducing to a background wistful remembrance.
So I am torn between wishing time would fly so that I could be past this crushing grief & just remember his content purr instead picturing his little lifeless body where I found him when he didn't come out to greet me, and wishing I could turn back time so that I could have a chance to try to save him.
I know I gave him a warm place to live, with all the food he could want and the all the love I had to give. I know he was content to lay in my arms and purr, and he sought out my lap whenever I entered, meowing if i didn't notice him fast enough. I know the hurt with remembering will be raw for a few days. And I know that his little life will leave a permanent little pawprint on my heart.
But I know that I wish it could have been different, and that wish hurts.
Yesterday one of my foster kittens, I had named him Ron Weasley because he was a red & white kitten & very scrawny, died unexpectedly. I have had two sick kittens die previously, and lost a litter of tiny babies, but they were all things I could see coming. Ron's dying struck me blindsided. Anytime I get a litter of kittens, I know they haven't had a cushy life. They usually come from outdoors from undernourished moms, so I am always cautious, concerned and on the look out for red flags. Ron was scrawny and seemed fragile, but he had been given medicine for mites & worms, was eating, drinking, using the litter box, and would come out every time I came into the room to wait for me to pick him up & then start purring. Oh the purring. I would hold him upside down in my arms like a baby, and he would just purr. And he would stay there as long as I had the time to hold him. Or I would set him in my lap, and he would stretch out, never ceasing to purr.
He wasn't interested in playing, but watched his sister run around. Looking back, I could have seen these as flags of something being wrong, but I didn't think they were so abnormal as to indicate sickness. But now, all I can think is WHAT IF, or I SHOULD HAVE KNOWN, even though I know I couldn't have. My husband, who was the last one to see him the morning he died, is also beating himself up that he didn't see anything wrong. And I can logically comfort him that there was nothing to see, nothing to miss, that sometimes kittens with poor starts to life just don't make it. But illogically I just want to scream, NO! NOT HIM! HE WAS MINE! HE WAS FINE THAT MORNING! I keep picturing his little body as I had to find him, and I swear I want to rip my heart out so that it stops hurting. I know its irrational, but I feel crushed that he died alone, that I wasn't there for him. I feel like I failed. I want to go back in time and get him to the vet. I know these first few days are the worst, and that with time, the pain goes from gut-wrenching, instant tear-inducing to a background wistful remembrance.
So I am torn between wishing time would fly so that I could be past this crushing grief & just remember his content purr instead picturing his little lifeless body where I found him when he didn't come out to greet me, and wishing I could turn back time so that I could have a chance to try to save him.
I know I gave him a warm place to live, with all the food he could want and the all the love I had to give. I know he was content to lay in my arms and purr, and he sought out my lap whenever I entered, meowing if i didn't notice him fast enough. I know the hurt with remembering will be raw for a few days. And I know that his little life will leave a permanent little pawprint on my heart.
But I know that I wish it could have been different, and that wish hurts.
Sunday, June 10, 2012
Sad or Just Pregant?
Sorry for the lack of blogging. Besides wanting to sleep 10-12 hours a night, I am struggling with not wanting to do the things I normally enjoy doing. (Well, not wanting to do anything at all is more like it.) Normally, pre-parasite if I found myself not wanting to do the things I normally enjoyed, I would schedule an extra appointment with my counselor and be on the look out other depressive signs. But now I am all discombobulated and don't know what to do. I have all my normal depressed signs: feeling tired all the time, not enjoying my normal activities or any activity, irritability and a general feeling of discontent. (Not having any suicidal thoughts, mind you, but generally I can sense when something is going the wrong way and right the ship before it gets too far off course.) But oddly enough, many of these "symptoms" are also "symptoms"of pregnancy. (Read into that what you will.)
So instead I feel like I am stuck feeling unmotivated to create, read a book or even just watch TV. I have a vacation planned to Vegas next week with Jim and some friends, and I am GREATLY looking forward to that since I haven't had a week off to do nothing but relax in over a year. (I don't actually have any vacation or paid time off from my job, but there was a glitch in the system with some unpaid overtime, so I traded it for some vacation time. THANK GOD.) So I am hoping that a week off to relax with help "reset" my general feeling of being wrong. (I love finding the perfect word to describe a feeling or a sight or an event, but the perfect word is eluding me here.)
In the mean time, I do the things I have to do (go to work, do my treasurer duties for the animal rescue, clean stuff around the house, feed 4-legged children, walk the foster dog, eat mostly healthy things), but I feel like I am faking my way through the day. And I am tired of feeling off my game. Tired of not having the energy to enjoy what I am doing. Tired of faking my way through the waking hours of the day, only to have nightmares while sleeping.
And while reading this, apparently I am too tired to be my normal funny self.
So instead I feel like I am stuck feeling unmotivated to create, read a book or even just watch TV. I have a vacation planned to Vegas next week with Jim and some friends, and I am GREATLY looking forward to that since I haven't had a week off to do nothing but relax in over a year. (I don't actually have any vacation or paid time off from my job, but there was a glitch in the system with some unpaid overtime, so I traded it for some vacation time. THANK GOD.) So I am hoping that a week off to relax with help "reset" my general feeling of being wrong. (I love finding the perfect word to describe a feeling or a sight or an event, but the perfect word is eluding me here.)
In the mean time, I do the things I have to do (go to work, do my treasurer duties for the animal rescue, clean stuff around the house, feed 4-legged children, walk the foster dog, eat mostly healthy things), but I feel like I am faking my way through the day. And I am tired of feeling off my game. Tired of not having the energy to enjoy what I am doing. Tired of faking my way through the waking hours of the day, only to have nightmares while sleeping.
And while reading this, apparently I am too tired to be my normal funny self.
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