It has been my long-standing tradition to wear a Santa hat on Thanksgiving.
I have decided to implement a similar tradition with Chase, at least until he is old enough to protest:
I thought perhaps I should post something happy and lighthearted to balance out all the negative sounding posts lately. Life is not all bad, really. I'm just having a sort of bad time lately thanks to boredom, poorness, and a lack of more than 4 or 5 consecutive hours of sleep (and that's on a good night). But there are a few good things going on. There's Chase, of course (the kid's going to grow up thinking his name is Buffin. I call him Chase maybe once or twice a day and Buffin about 4732913746984623967 times a day), and I've been working on the carriers when I get the chance (although 3 of the 4 of the sewing machines in the house have suddenly decided to go on strike-- without any forewarning by the way-- and none are working correctly except the serger), and my dear friend Zin has asked me to help her with her fantastic political blog, Locke's Closet. So some things are going well.
And now for the fun stuff- baby pictures, anyone?
--Dragon
BTW, for some unfathomable reason, I can't get the jump to work anymore. I have to go in and see if the HTML got screwed up somehow, which I don't look forward to at all.
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Not only do I have a baby, but wonder of wonders, I actually like him. I was so afraid that I'd just look at him and think, "What am I supposed to do with THAT?" Luckily that didn't happen. I am so glad.
Anyway. On to the gory details...
I went into the hospital Friday the 7th at 5:45am. I woke up that morning feeling very serene. I was completely unafraid. The fact that I knew I was having a c-section and I knew what to expect made it all seem completely bearable. As long as I feel I have control over a situation, I can take pretty much anything.
Sara was waiting for us when Erik and I got there. We went to the Maternity department and checked in, and they weighed me and checked my blood pressure and all the usual procedures to ensure that I was in fact alive and not in any eminent danger. They made me put on one of those horrendous hospital gowns and put in an IV. Unfortunately I do not have very sticky-outy veins (that's the technical term for it, of course) and they couldn't seem to find one on my right arm (I'm left handed) so they had to put it on my left arm. Still, it wasn't too bad.
Then we ended up waiting around for about an hour and a half because the doctor was performing another c-section. I think I had to get up to pee about 8 times. It was terribly irritating. Just before it was time to go into surgery, the anesthesiologist, Dr. Anand came in and introduced himself and let me know what he was going to be doing. Then the nurse came in and took me to the surgery room.
We went in and the first thing they had to do was the spinal block. This was probably the most awful experience I've ever had. They couldn't find a space to get it in and it hurt like hell. Dr. Anand eventually had to call in another anesthesiologist to help. In all they had to try 4 or 5 times. I had to hold completely still and arch my back into a weird position while leaning against the nurse, Kirsten (she was fantastic. She was also the checkout nurse and was absolutely the most awesome person ever. Also, she looked a lot like Jennifer Love Hewitt.) By the last time I was trying incredibly hard not to cry because I knew it would make me shake. I kept thinking that if it didn't work then I'd have to go through labor-- without any anesthesia. This was the first time that I really got scared. Just as I thought they were going to give up, they got it in. Suddenly I felt all tingly and heavy. It was the strangest thing in the world.
They got me up on the table and started to get everything ready. At this point they brought Sara in (I didn't want Erik in the room because I was afraid that he would freak out or faint, and I felt the role of the support person was to actually give support)However, I was pretty much out of it so I barely noticed. The spinal went too high because they put it higher than usual since they couldn't find a space. My arms started tingling and I asked if it was supposed to do that. It wasn't, but the doctors assured me that everything was ok as long as I could still move my arms. They kept asking me to squeeze their hands. I felt like I was having trouble breathing and I had to consciously make an effort to breathe. They kept giving me oxygen and I could barely talk because when I did I felt like I had to choose between talking and breathing. Obviously, I chose breathing. I felt like I just wanted to go to sleep, but a little voice in my head kept telling me that if I fell asleep I would stop breathing. At one point the tingling crept into the back of my skull and I got really scared. From the sound of his voice, Dr. Anand got a little worried, too.
While this was going on, Dr. Mazon was busy doing the surgery. They had warned me that while I wouldn't feel any pain, I likely would feel some tugging and pushing, and that when they actually pulled the baby out I would feel like I couldn't breathe because they would be pushing down hard on my stomach to help get him out. The one good thing about my spinal was that it was so strong I didn't feel anything at all. I didn't even realize they had started the surgery until I heard Chase cry. I asked if that was the baby, knowing that it was but it seemed so far away that I wasn't sure if it was real. I remember distinctly thinking that it was weird that he was actually saying "wah wah."
They handed him to Sara after they cleaned him up and made sure everything was fine. She brought him over to see me but I didn't even have the energy to turn my head and look, so I could only see him out of the corner of my eye. Shortly after that they took him out to the recovery room to be with Erik and wait for for me to be stitched up. When they finished they lifted me on to a gurney to take me to the recovery room, and as soon as my head was elevated I could instantly breathe better. I was so relieved, because they had told me the spinal would take a few hours to completely wear off, and I was afraid that I would spend the entire time just trying to breathe.
I didn't hold Chase for the first three hours because I was shaking so bad I was afraid that I would drop him, and I didn't want them to put him on my chest for fear that it would put pressure on my lungs and I wouldn't be able to breathe. As you can see, I really enjoy breathing :). They brought me ice chips because I was so thirsty and I thought that they were better than ice cream. It was funny because I was still shaking and so I was dropping ice chips all over the place.
Finally they decided things were well enough for me to go to the mother-baby room. Once we got there I was able to hold him. I love the way new babies move. I remember when I was with a friend when her baby was born how adorable it was to hold her and feel her little arms and legs moving under the blanket. I felt the same way about Chase. I was afraid that since I hadn't held him for the first three hours of his life that it would cause some kind of permanent damage. There is all this mostly pro-breastfeeding propaganda that makes you feel like if you don't have skin to skin contact with your baby right away, then your baby will be scarred for life and you will never have a healthy bond with them. Although he's only a week old, I'm pretty sure there is no permanent damage. And if there is, it's not likely caused by that.
The first pain medication they had me on was morphine. It made me feel pretty good, but it also made my face rather itchy and had the rather unpleasant effect of causing me to have to throw up randomly and without any notice. They were kind enough to put me on tylenol with codeine and ibuprofen pretty quickly, and after that everything was fantastic.
For the rest of my stay, everything was wonderful. All of the nurses and the rest of the staff were incredibly nice and treated me like a queen. Apparently they took up a poll and all the nurses agreed that Chase was the cutest baby on the ward :). Erik was great and I was completely amazed at him for not protesting or complaining when it came to changing diapers or anything else. (Once we left the hospital it was a completely different story, but I'll explain that later) We only had to call a nurse to help with Chase once. The food was surprisingly good, and even the bathrooms were really nice. All the doctors and nurses were completely shocked at how well I did. I was doing so well that they even let me go home a day early.
Everyone who came to visit was absolutely in love with Chase. Erik's family was so excited. It was cute watching them vie for the chance to hold him first, or feed him, or even change his diaper. My brother's birthday was the 9th, and when I asked him what he wanted for his birthday he said he wanted to come to the hospital and see the baby. How sweet is that?
The day I left I was actually able to go to Walmart. My mom said she was trying to keep up with me, instead of the other way around. I was able to walk up the stairs to my apartment with no problem, which surprised me because everyone said it would be the hardest thing I'd have to do for a while. When I got home the house was beautiful. My mom had spent the whole weekend cleaning it from top to bottom and making everything look wonderful.
At my appointment the following day to have the staples from my incision removed, Dr. Mazon told me not to even bother making a two week follow up appointment, which they usually have c-section patients do, because he felt that it would be pointless as I was doing so well. And today, I was feeling so well that Erik and I took Chase to Open Mic to show him off, and I didn't even have to take any pain medication at all the entire day.
Overall, I think that everything was fantastic. The only bad part was the spinal block, and that part lasted a little over an hour. Would I do it again? Absolutely not, but only because I truly do not plan on having any more kids. If for some crazy reason I did, however, I would definitely want to do a c-section, even if I knew the spinal would go the same way. I feel as if I am doing better than some women who had regular deliveries. I am so glad that (almost) everything went the way I wanted. People talk about having a "positive birth experience" and I feel as if I had the best one possible.
So that's what happened. Now I can stop feeling guilty for not writing it down and actually get to posting random mumblings again.
--Dragon
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Dear Pampers Swaddlers:
You suck. You so totally suck. I'm not even going to finish off the two bags of you sitting on the shelf. You're so bad that I am going to forego my normal suck-it-up and use it until it's gone mentality. That's right. You just suck that much. I don't care if the 8-14lb diapers go halfway up Chase's back, because at least they don't leak all over every single item of clothing he owns. So goodbye, you shoddily manufactured, overpriced asscovers. You're supposed to hold pieces of crap, not be them.
--dragon
Yes I know this is a total copout of a post, but it's hard to type with only one hand.
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I'm home! (a whole day early. Yay!)There's a lot to write, but I want to wait a bit to do it. In the meantime, statistics!
Chase Jonathan Christopher L.
Born 9.7.07 at 10:14am
8 lbs. 4 oz., 21.5 in.
The first though that I had when I heard him crying: "he's saying 'wah'... I never thought babies really said 'wah'..."
Yeah... too much medication will do that to you :)
--Dragon
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So this is it. The zero hour. I have to be there tomorrow at 5:45am... in other words, too frickin' early. I'll be in the hospital for 4 days. After tomorrow I'll no longer be just me. I'll suddenly be me + 1... what a strange thought. How do people deal with the sudden transition between only having themselves to take care of, themselves to think of, to having a whole other person who depends entirely on you for everything? I wonder what the person I will become would have to say to the person I am now. I hope that I like the new me.
--Dragon
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Let me first say that I feel so much better. Thank you so much to everyone who commented regarding my fear of labor. Of the few people I've told so far about it, some have been very supportive while others have made it seem as if I was being selfish and unreasonable, and I was just very afraid that more people would feel that way. I have a tendency to be a shameless people pleaser, sometimes to the extreme. You have helped me see that it's ok, whether they think so or not, because what matters is what I am comfortable with. Again, thank you. :)
That said, right now Erik is driving me nuts. Remember how about 3 months ago, in June, I kicked him out mainly because he refused to step up to the plate and get a decent job? Well guess what: still no good job.
I have done everything in my power to help him find a job. I have done far more than I should have to, more than anyone else in their right mind would do, I'm sure. I created a resume', found ads for jobs that sounded suitable, I signed him up for a class to learn how to write his own resume' and another class to help him work on his interview skills. I even told him what to wear to an interview. It turns out I'm not the only one-- his aunt and sister bought him a bunch of new clothes that were more professional than his old clothes, everyone in his family, even his sister's boyfriend keep an eye out for jobs he might like and let him know about them.
Regardless of all the help he's getting, he still won't do anything. I've told him in every way I know of that he needs to get a new job, that not only are his expenses going to go up once the baby is born, but he can't even keep up with his current bills. He goes from agreeing with me to giving me all kinds of rediculous reasons as to why he can't search for jobs now. For example, his band is playing in an upcoming festival about 2 weeks from now. Now, I'm pretty good at getting a job easily, but even for me 2 weeks is pretty fast. Not to mention if you let them know that you have prior engagements, most employers understand.
I'm not the only one who is getting fed up with him. Everyone in his family has been after him and feel as if he should be taking responsibility. We are all so frustrated with him. Babies cost money. Now, I have plenty of help if I need it. I have my mom, Sara, my dad, everyone in Erik's family including his mom and stepdad, both his aunts, his uncle, his grandma, and his sister and her boyfriend. So if I ever really need something, there is no shortage of people who will gladly help me out. However, it's still Erik's responsibility.
I'm hoping that he will surprise us all when faced with reality in all its screaming, pooping, chubby-cheeked glory, and do his share. But to be quite honest, I really don't believe he will. And it frustrates and angers me to no end. I don't want to be a bitch. I don't want to have to tell him that either he gets a job and starts helping out financially or I'll have to go to Child Support Services and let them go after him. Because they will attach his wages and he'll have no choice but to get a better job, as he'll have barely anything left. They don't care whether he can pay his bills or not. I'm not that cruel. But if he doesn't hurry up and be a man, then I'll have no choice.
I'm so sick of being put in positions like this. I'd much, much rather be nice. If people would only listen to me, everything would work out so much better. It's not like I say these things because I like the sound of my own voice (and really, I don't. It's too high pitched.). I just don't feel like I have any other choice.
--Dragon
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I haven't written much lately because I've been afraid to write about the one thing predominantly on my mind.
I am a control freak. I admit this. Perhaps because there has been so much in my life outside of my realm of control, I have become someone who craves order and organization. I need things to be logical and timely. I need to be able plan and anticipate. I hate surprises (except complete surprises, those are nice. But when I know it's coming, it drives me nuts) and I loathe being caught off guard. Because of this, I'm terrified of labor. I can't think of an adjective that seems to really convey just how scared I am.
There is very little I can plan or even really expect regarding labor. No two people experience the same thing. I could be in labor for 6 hours. I could be there for 36. And there's no way to tell. I could tear or have an episiotomy. Then again, I might not. There is so many variables, and no real way to predict them. This frightens me to death.
Throughout my pregnancy, my midwives and anyone else I talked to about it kept assuring me that I would be ready for it when the time came, that I was not physically ready for it, and so I wasn't emotionally or mentally ready for it. I wanted to believe them. I tried to ignore the fear for a while, to no avail. Then I thought perhaps if I knew more about it, I would feel more prepared. Not so-- it only made it worse, because everything I read made it more and more clear that there was no way for me to know what would happen.
As such, I have not been a nice person lately. I've been anxious and stressed out and worried beyond belief. This has led me to be a total bitch to pretty much everyone around me. I was so afraid that I couldn't seem to think of anything else, and the fact that everyone seemed oblivious to the kind of torment I was feeling. I kept fighting with my brother (but really, he is a great big effing asshole anyway), fighting with Erik, even fighting with my mom. My mom got so angry at me that she said some incredibly horrible things that she had no right to say, but it convinced me to stop dwelling on it and do something about it.
So finally I discussed it with one of the midwives. I made a list of everything I was afraid of, and believe me, it was not a short list. But the main thing came down to the fact that I feared the loss of control. We talked about the kind of options I had, and I told her I wanted a c-section.
I told her that I had been researching it for weeks, and I felt confident that I understood the risks. I also know what to expect. I know what happens when, I know about how long it will last, and I know what to expect while recovering. I understand that it will take longer to recover from, but in the long run I feel like it is worth it.
I was afraid she would tell me that I couldn't do it, that since there was no medical reason for it. She talked to me about the risks and the fact that she wasn't even sure if one of the OB/GYN's they work under would even consider it, but she said she would talk to the doctor and see if he would even consider it. We talked to the doctor and he agreed to do it.
I was so incredibly relieved. I know it's major abdominal surgery, and considering that I have never been in the hospital and the only surgery I've ever had was to remove my wisdom teeth, it's a rather scary thought. But I am so much less worried and afraid about it than I was about the thought of going through labor. Now, the only thing I have to worry about is not going into labor before I'm scheduled for the c-section on the 7th. That likely won't happen, but it's still a possibility.
I know some people may think that I am being selfish for wanting to do this, and that i just need to suck it up and deal with it, but it's my choice. I don't care if you think I'm a terrible person because I feel the need to control everything and the desire to avoid injury to my private parts. It's my decision and I have to live with it. If I'm comfortable with it, then that's all that matters.
--Dragon
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Remember back when I had this dream? Well, It's August 15th, and there is no immediate signs of an impending baby, so I think I'm pretty safe. Its a good thing, too, because I still don't have a carseat. I probably won't until the 23rd. Damn my broke-ass self.
In other news, we recently adopted a guinea pig. His name is Kenny. He's the sweetest, most adorable little rodent you've ever laid eyes on. We adopted him on Friday and he seemed perfectly happy and healthy. He likes running around and being cuddled, and makes the cutest little squeaking, cooing noises when he's happy or excited. Well, on Tuesday he started dragging his back feet and only using his front legs to pull himself around. Naturally, this was cause for alarm. Since we adopted him from the local humane society (where my mom works), we had a free vet visit. The vet we use is a walk in facility, so we took him down to get checked out. Everything checked out ok, and the vet suggested he might have a vitamin C deficiency, and we should feed him more fruits and vegetables rich in vitamin C. So I looked up what veggies were high in vitamin C and found a whole long list. The only thing we had on hand on the list was celery (who knew celery was a good source of vitamin C, by the way), so we sliced that up and fed it to him. Obviously we would not see an immediate change, but I'm afraid he's getting worse. He seemed pretty lethargic and didn't move around a lot today. He was doing fine yesterday in spite of not using his back legs. We get some money on Saturday, so we're going to get some vitamin C tablets to make sure he is getting enough, but I'm really worried that it might be something else less treatable. I've already gotten really attached to the little guy, and I don't want him to die.
My brother, who is the one we got Kenny for originally, doesn't seem to care very much. I'm the one that keeps checking on him and making sure he has fresh food and water and spending hours researching everything I can possibly find about the care and feeding of guinea pigs online. Hopefully everything turns out ok, but I'm getting really tired of my brother only seeming to care about World of Warcraft. I play WOW too, but I have a life outside of the game. He doesn't. Since he can't seem to make it in regular school (he has severe ADHD, ODD, and hyperkinesia, which apparently is not part of his ADHD but in addition to it), my mom is going to try and see how he fares in homeschool. Unfortunately, that means no time at school where he can make friends and possibly have a reason to do somthing other than spend all his free time in front of the computer. Not to mention he drives me absolutely insane sometimes. The kid has no sense of respect for other people or their property, but that's another post all in itself.
On a happier note, grape soda!
--Dragon
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Let me first say that the person in question is a very sweet, kind hearted woman. I do like her. However, right now a lot of things are pissing me off. With much gusto and all that. This is what I would say to her if I could say it and then give her amnesia so she would forget the whole thing. And just so you know, I'm not always a very nice person.
Please stop asking me about the status of my being or the baby's. I am a very private person and I dislike discussing the goings on of my body, whether or not it is currently home to another person or not. Until he can speak for himself, he's going to live by my philosophy of "We don't talk about our bodies in polite company." Anyways, you know what it's like. You've had 5 of them. So just stop asking. Do you not notice how uncomfortable I get when you ask? And by the way, It's not like I see my doctor every day. Unless he suddenly stops moving or something wierd happens, I'm going to assume he's the same from one day to the next. Please don't ask to rub my belly. You are not rubbing the baby. You are rubbing a distended bit of flesh replete with happy little stretchmarks that is covering the baby. Don't ask if the baby is moving or kicking or whatever. I prefer not to think about it. Most of the time, he is shoved up into my ribs having a grand old time contorting my internal organs into new and interesting shapes. Other times he is trying to punch his way out through my nether regions. I personally don't like discussing anything that is that close to my nether regions.
I really want you to stop acting as if you have some sort of right to the baby. So your related. Oh well. If I wanted it to, that would mean diddly squat. Just so you know, you didn't make it. You aren't the one who gets to be a human incubation vehicle. You don't have to do the hard work. Which, by the way, it looks very much like I'll be going that one alone, or almost. You've already had your experience with the "miracle of childbirth" (ugh). Quit trying to act like you have a right to mine. IT IS NOT YOUR FREAKING BABY!!!!
Also, don't get all hurt and upset at me because I am not going to give up my goals to stay chained to this little town so you can have unrestricted access to him. Sorry. I know you decided to let your entire life revolve around your children's existence (oh, and look how that turned out), but I'm not going to. Yes, the baby will play a major role in my life. However, my life isn't going to simply end because I popped out a little pod person. Yes, I'm going to let you be part of his life. Yes, when I move, I'll come back to visit often, and you will be welcome to visit us. But I'm not going to sit here and become a jobless loser because you want another baby around.
I'm really sorry your one daughter is a moron and a whore and refuses to let you see her or your granddaughter. She needs to grow the fuck up and learn that the world does not revolve around her. (Oh, poor widdle baby, her family was so mean to her growing up. Cry me a river why don't you.) However, it is not my responsibility to make up for her lack of humanity. And by the way, you actually have the right to sue for visitation, and you'd probably win, but I'm never going to tell you that because I don't want you getting any ideas. I know you want a grandchild. I don't know why you do, but that's neither here nor there.
And keep in mind, the only reason this one is even in existence is because I royally screwed up. I didn't refill my birth control prescription and wasn't careful. Yes, I'm stupid. I tell myself that every day. But guess what? Unlike some people, including your son (who certainly had his part in this whole baby-making fiasco), I own up to my mistakes (most of the time) and try and take responsibility for my actions. So I'm going to pony up (lol yes I said pony up) and make sure that this baby is loved, cared for, and educated. Call me sick, but I see this as a grand experiment to see if I can do better than half the idiots out there that have no business having children in the first place. Yes, I know that's probably a horrible way to look at it. So shoot me. Oh, and don't tell me there are people (like your sister) who would die to be able to have children and I should be grateful. Believe me, I think she should be able to have children too, and I think she'd make a much better mother than me. However, I don't really have a say in things like that.
Don't get upset at me when I am not happy that you give me something that I don't want and don't have any space for but I have to take for fear of hurting your feelings. It's no wonder your son is such a soft-shelled cry baby sometimes. You asked if I had a baby registry. I told you where it was, and you didn't even bother to check it. You even asked my mom what I needed, and she told you that I really justed needed the basics and didn't want a bunch of extra, frivolous crap. You even told her you were glad I was so level-headed. So why did you turn around and get me a swing? She specifically said I didn't want a swing. If you don't want to get me something that is on my list (which by the way is a damned good, well thought out and incredibly thorough list), then by all means, save your money. I never asked for any gifts. I know you want to "help", but believe me, that was not helping.
Keep in mind that since my mom and brother moved in, the baby will no longer have his own designated space. Instead, he has to share mine. And you know what, I don't want my room overtaken with a bunch of cheap, garish, plastic crap. They baby will not know or care whether it has a stupid swing or a bunch of other space hogging equipment or not. All he needs is a place to sleep, some clothes, some food, some diapers, and someone to make sure he is happy, dry, and fed. I know this is shocking to you, but believe it or not it is quite possible to raise a child without buying stock in playskool or gerber.
Lastly, if I say that I want to keep the gender a secret, don't act like I'm some kind of strange creature who obviously is not from the same species as you. It's my freaking body and I'll tell you as much or as little as I want. Why the hell couldn't I have my little secret? Why is it such a crime to want to know something that you don't? You'd find out eventually. And you'll adore it whatever it's got inside it's diaper. And then, when my silly airheaded friend slipped and told you all the gender, why did you have to say, "oh, now I can buy a bunch of cute boy clothes!" When I told you a major reason I didn't want to tell you the gender is because I didn't want a bunch of gender specific crap.
People get too carried away with the "cuteness factor" of babies. That is why I didn't want you all to know, because you can't seem to get it through your thick heads. I hope and pray for the slight chance that it is a girl just so I can spite you all and dress her in all the "cute" little boy clothes you got me. Oh, and by the way, I live right across the street from a baby consignment shop. Don't think I'd have any qualms about marching over there and trading in all the stuff you guys got me for what I actually need. I know you purposely didn't give me reciepts because you knew I'd return the stuff if you did. Well guess what, I'm alot smarter than you think, I'll always find ways around whatever kind of roadblocks you put up.
I know this makes me sound like a heartless bitch from hell, but this is the accumulation of nine months of frustration and biting my tongue because I don't want everyone in Erik's family to hate me from the outset. But boy, am I getting fed up with all this kow-towing. And the baby isn't even born yet!
-Dragon
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Sometimes I feel like this baby is going to end up with one parent and one trememdously overgrown playmate he calls daddy.
Every month the local hospital holds an orientation for expectant parents in order to allow them to pre-admit and give them an idea as to what to expect when they arrive. I found out about it 3 weeks ago and told Erik right away (he was standing right next to me, after all). So I call him today to tell him we were going and how long it would be. I was going to go to the store afterwards to get something for dinner and discussed this with my mom as we were leaving, right in front of Erik.
Halfway through the orientation, he started texting his cousin. I told him several times to pay attention and he kept saying he was. First off, no, he wasn't. He was texting. Erik has ADD and can't even hold a coherent conversation while watching a moving or using the internet, and text messaging is distracting even for someone with a normal attention span. Then he got an attitude and said that I should have told him sooner because he made plans tonight. I told him 3 weeks ago. That's pretty damn advanced notice. That pissed me off so I decided not to bother with it until the orientation was over. When we left, I said we were going to stop at the grocery store for a moment so I could get something for dinner. Of course he started pouting like a petulant child and refused to admit anything was wrong. After making a few attempts to get him to cheer up, I decided to ignore his behavior.
When we left the store, I asked him if he would save $25 out of his next paycheck for the upcoming carseat program as I don't know exactly when I will get my first check for disability. He asked what I was talking about, and I mentioned that I had already told him, but repeated that there is a program held by the county each month that allows you to buy a new carseat for only $25 dollars if you attend a class about proper installation and automobile safety. He says fine but says he doesn't remember me ever telling him anything about it.
By this point I was really irritated. He has gone with me to several appointments where they told us about it and gave us flyers. There has been a flyer posted on the bulletin board in the kitchen since April. I mentioned it to him at my baby shower, where I said that Sara wanted to get me a carseat, but the one she wants is out of stock so she has to wait for it to come in, but I still wanted to go to the class and get a carseat from it for Erik's car. He tries to tell me that he didn't remember any of it and thought that if I really had told him he would remember something as important as that. Of course, there have been many times where we've had essentially the same conversation, but he continues to insist that I never tell him any of the things I say I have.
What am I supposed to do, buy him a dayplanner and write every thing I want him to remember in it? The main reason I broke up with him is that I. AM. NOT. HIS. MOMMY. It isn't my job to do everything for him. Every time something doesn't go his way he throws a fit, pouts or runs away from the situation. He almost started crying at my baby shower because we were all playing a game where we took turns diapering a baby doll blindfolded and whoever was the fastest won. No one cared how bad at it anyone was. My mom has had 4 kids and she put the diaper on backward! He flat out refused to do it, even though the other two guys there tried. When I had shown him how to do it previously with just the two of us in the room, he was incredibly resistant then. Well he's going to have to learn to do it eventually.
Any time he has to use his brain or be responsible, he acts like a child. My mom keeps saying that many men grow up rather quickly once there's a real baby involved. I hope she's right, because if he continues to act this way after the baby is born, then he won't be allowed to see him at all. It's better to have one mature, responsible parent who is happy and able to take care of you and provide the nurturing and positive role modeling a child needs than to have 2 parents when one of them is unreliable and a bad influence. I don't want a son who is weak and feels like everything should be done for him. All men should be able to show emotion, to be able to hug other men, to cry when the want to. But just because you are in touch with your emotions does not mean you should be an immature crybaby who can't even take care of themselves.
I'm so tired of this. Why can't he just grow up and take responsibility for himself?
I know I whine alot, btw. Sometimes, though, I have reason to.
--Dragon
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...When there are no babies to be *seen* and all the showering was done prior to arrival?
hehe.
I had my baby shower on Saturday. My best friend Sara organized it. It was done up in lime green and navy (two of my favorite colors) and everything matched right down to the refreshments. We played games and opened presents. In general it was pretty fun.
Of course one of my friends decided to spill the beans that the baby is a boy, despite the fact that I have been incredibly adamant that I do not want Erik's family knowing the gender beforehand. That rather pissed me off, but oh well. There's always the slight possibility that it's a girl. If it is, then I'll laugh at all of them for ignoring my wishes and getting me a bunch of manly-man boy stuff ;). We'll know soon enough. The other thing that really bothered me was another friend, Samantha, who knows me very well and whom I have told about my decision not to breastfeed, asked whether I was or not (in front of 10 other people including Sara's boyfriend and Erik's mother and aunt), and pressed me for my reasons why when I said that while I was fully aware of the benefits, I wasn't going to do it. I was really uncomfortable with her asking that in front of everyone, and continuing to press me even after I said several times that I would discuss it with her later. Finally I said, "Can we all just stop discussing my boobs now? Let's play a game, shall we?"
Overall, however, it was really nice and I'm very glad that Sara was the one doing the organizing, because she did a fantastic job.
--Dragon
BTW, what is it about pregnancy that suddenly makes people feel like they should be privy to the most intimate details of your life? Come on people, you all know how much of a private person I am. Have a little restraint.
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Oh, and contrary to what the little ticker on the bottom that shows how far along I am, I do not have cankles!!!!!
--dragon
Also, I can still see my feet and put on my shoes. So there, you little rainbow colored baby-thing, take that!
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I've waited some days to post this. I needed time and distance to gather my thoughts.
I have written about my troubles with Erik. About my lack of attraction to him and my ongoing frustration with his childish, selfish behavior. Well, I've finally taken care of it.
I told Erik around the beginning of June that he needed to get on the ball and find a better job, as well as getting into some kind of counseling. I gave him until the 30th, and told him if he didn't meet those requirements, he would have to leave. I also made it clear that I would help him find a place to live and give him ample time to get situated. Of course, him being Erik, he didn't even bother starting to look until the beginning of the 3rd week of June. He only applied at a few places, refusing to try fast food or gas stations (which make up about half of the jobs he is qualified to do), because he feels he is "better than that". And of course, he never even bothered to look for a counselor, instead giving me every excuse in the book as to why he shouldn't.
One morning I asked him how his job hunting and search for a counselor were going. He told me the places he had applied (and had only checked back once at a few, and hadn't checked back at all at the rest), and whined about how he shouldn't have to find a counselor and tried to turn it around to say that I thought I didn't have problems and how I was saying that everything was his fault and blah blah blah. I told him that the 30th was fast approaching and that if he failed to meet my terms, which he had agreed to, then he was going to have to leave. I had already told him if he left, my mom and brother would move in so I could have a reliable, trustworthy roommate that was going to pay their bills and help me out. As usual, he turned everything I said around and twisted to mean things that made absolutely no sense, like how it didn't matter what he did (it did) and how I had been planning this all along behind his back (I wasn't, and he knew about it from the start). Of course, he had to play the victim.
So even though I made it very clear that he did not have to leave right away, and I would help him find a place to live and was all set up before he left, he refused any kind of help and had to be a martyr, whining about how he didn't have the money (which was part of the reason I was kicking him out, duh) and I was being cruel and unfair. I hate how he always plays the victim. I hate how he always tries to make people feel sorry for him and plays me out to be some kind of monster to all of our friends and his family. I'm not. I've tried to be as nice and helpful as possible. I've tried to make sure that we stay friends, that he is included in things related to the baby, and not say or do anything to make him feel or think that any of this is his fault.
I know he is hurt and upset, but he has no right to try and guilt me or get attention by making me out to be the bad guy. Since when is making sure that I can make it and be able to provide for myself and my soon-to-be child a crime? If he won't step up and be an adult, then I can't be with him. I can't be his mommy and the baby's mommy. I don't have the time, energy, strength, or patience. He abandoned me at the midwife's office yesterday, an hour before my lamaze class (which I ended up missing, thanks to him) because he somehow got it into his head that I never loved him or cared for him at all at all and was just using him. EXCUSE ME. I did and do care about him, but I can't afford him. All he'll ever do in life is be a weight. He has no desire to change or be better or even get a decent job. How am I supposed to take care of him, take care of the wee one, go to school, and work at the same time? I'm sorry, but I am just not that good.
I am the one that got pregnant. I am the one that is going to be the primary caregiver. I am the one that is going to have to completely change my entire goals to accomodate. It takes two to tango, but apparently it only takes one to fall flat on their ass. But so what? I have to suck it up and be strong. I have no choice. There are no other options for me. He doesn't even have any goals. He could care less if he lives the rest of his life doing exactly as he is doing now. Nothing for him has really changed. In fact, having a kid was his only goal. So, mission fulfilled, I guess. And yet he's the one who sits around moping and feeling sorry for himself? He's the one who feels abandoned and used? I'm sorry, but as completely empathetic and understanding as I am trying to be, that's just a little bit of a stretch for me.
I know I'm writing this out of anger, but I refuse to take it out on him. As my mom likes to say, if all else fails, kill 'em with kindness. And so I will. It's not like I'll gain anything by doing anything else.
--dragon
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When I think of the baby, I don't think of a tiny helpless infant. I think of a little boy with sandy hair and green eyes, maybe 2 or 3 years old. I've tried to imagine him as a baby, a new and wriggly little bundle to cuddle with and sing to when I'm kept up at crazy hours, but for some reason I just can't picture it. Instead I see myself chasing (no pun intended :P) him across the lawn, or him reaching up to me with hands covered in mashed potatoes and a sloppy grin. Perhaps it's easier for me to imagine a personality for a toddler than it is for a baby, but I've met plenty of babies, and even when they are very small they have some hints of their future personalities. Or perhaps it's more of a fear that I won't be able to hash it out as the parent of a newborn and the image of a walking, talking terror is my imagination showing me my percieved reward if I can only make it through the first 2 years. I'm not really sure.
Sometimes I think I must be crazy. I have a really hard time with long term commitments. I can do anything for 6 weeks at a time. After 6 weeks, I can usually convince myself to do it for another 6 weeks. But to push those 6 week blocks on for at least 18 years? Am I nuts? Everytime I have something good going for me, I self destruct. Am I going to be any different as a parent? Or am I going to throw my hands up in despair and walk away forever? Right now I don't feel any sense of attachment to the wee one. I read and hear other people saying how they loved their babies from the moment they knew they were pregnant, or how they talked and sang to their bellies for the whole 9 months. I know right around this time (26 weeks) babies can hear what's going on around them, but what do I talk about? What am I supposed to say? I feel as if I'm supposed to just know these things, but I don't. I keep hoping that as I get farther along these feelings will come naturally. I have a very hard time becoming emotionally attached to people. I try to remain very logical in my relationships with people, because I feel irrational and out of control when I become too emotionally involved with people. But with my very own child? Isn't just kind of wierd?
--Dragon
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Recently I've begun feeling the baby kick. I've been feeling it the last few weeks, actually, but until about this week I wasn't really sure whether it was the baby our just random bubbles in my tummy. Well, I now am pretty certain that it is the baby. And boy, does it feel weird! The only way to describe what it feels like is that it feels like "bloops". They even make that sound when the midwife takes his heartbeat, you can hear him kicking and it like "bloop" "bloo-whoop". :) Yesterday I really really had to go to the restroom, and our roommate and his girlfriend were in the shower. I didn't want to wait another half an hour, so Kire and I went down the street to Safeway, as we needed to get some things from the store anyway. As we were sitting at the stop light, the baby was doing what felt like tae-bo on my bladder while Erik was sitting in the passenger seat fidgeting and shaking the whole car. Finally, I yelled "Stop it, both of you!" It was pretty funny to see the look on Erik's face, because obviously he didn't know who "both of you" was.
The funny thing is, I'm 23 weeks and I still don't wear maternity clothes. It might have to do with the fact that I never seem to have enough money to go out and buy new clothes, but also, other than a few pairs of pants, I don't need them yet. You wouldn't know I was pregnant unless I told you. Also, most of my favorite shirts are in the longer style anyway, so I haven't needed to buy any maternity shirts. I guess that's a good thing, but I wonder how long it will last.
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I had my ultrasound today. It was exciting. And also rather hard on the bladder :P
but the results are in:
yay! I was really hoping it would be a girl, but that's ok. Boys are nice too. If you teach them to be, that is...
--Dragon
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