Zero Hour

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 Read more!

Weak and Powerless

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 Read more!

Dreams, Guinea Pigs, And Grape Soda

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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Even I Realize That This Is A Tad Bit Too Honest

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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Why Do They Call It A Baby Shower...

...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. Read more!

Question?

Why is it that every single pregnancy site tells me that I am feeling huge, clumsy, ugly, blah blah blah? I mean, this pregnancy thing pretty much generally sucks, but I don't particularly feel like any of those things. In fact, one of the few upsides of this whole alien transportation receptacle deal is that I have had virtually no acne (never really had it to begin with, but there was always a pimple or two hanging out somewhere), and now I have an excuse for being rather rotund. The funny thing is, I have only gained about 4 pounds from my initial weight, thanks to the oh-so-lovely experience that is morning sickness. It's not as fun to walk, because it hurts, but other than that I don't feel any more prone to mishaps than normal. So I don't know. Maybe they're talking about all those skinny wenches who freak if they gain 5 lbs. In which case, yeah, they might feel like a (insert large ungainly object here). Considering all the other crap going on, though, I feel like I should get some recognition for what few benefits there are to this whole ordeal. Just something to wonder about.

--Dragon Read more!

It's Better To Face These Kinds Of Things With A Sense Of Poise And Rationality

Whenever I want to write about something that I think makes me look crazy I'm afraid to. I don't know why. Not very many people read this. And no one who knows me even knows this blog exists. I guess I'm afraid this will come around and bite me in the ass some how, someday.

The past few weeks at work have completely sucked. It's been really stressful, which I can generally handle, but on top of that the fact that I have to spend 6-8 hours a day standing in pretty much the same spot has been killing me. My legs and feet really hurt afterwards. Let me say that I am a complete wimp when it comes to pain. I cannot tolerate it at all. When I get off work I can barely walk and it's difficult to climb the stairs (I live on the second floor of my apartment complex). It's gotten to the point where I start freaking out and crying and getting really upset about an hour, hour and a half before I have to go to work most days. They're not like fullblown panic attacks (and believe me, I know those quite well), but I can feel the potential for these episodes to develop into panic attacks.

Sometimes I would purposely show up to work late in hopes of getting sent home or suspended. It's gotten so bad that I started imagining things I could do so I wouldn't have to go in to work. Bad, dangerous, drastic things. Like purposely tripping and falling down the stairs so I end up in the hospital.

I tried explain the pain and how much I hate it and dread going to work to my midwife. She said that unfortunately, it doesn't qualify as a threat to the pregnancy and I can only go early disability if it is a threat to my pregnancy. I was afraid of telling her the things that I've begun imagining. I didn't know what to do. Finally I told my mom what I was thinking and feeling, and she told me to quit, that we would find some other way to get me on early disability. I called my boss and told her I wanted to quit and explained why. She told me not to come in that night and asked me to come back the next day and talk to the main manager and see if we could work something out, considering my leave date is only 3 weeks away.

I still didn't know what to do. I was afraid to talk to the main manager, and I need the money. I couldn't just go on unpaid leave. I decided to try calling my midwife again to tell her the way I was feeling, thinking that anything would be better than going back to work. I had to leave a message and didn't want to explain it all to the receptionist, so I just asked for her to call me back regarding my maternity leave. She didn't even bother calling me back, and when the other receptionist called me for a completely unrelated reason, I asked about it. She told me the same thing that the midwife told me yesterday. I just started crying and told her everything, and she said she would get the midwife right away and explain the situation to her. So she did, and they called the main doctor, who approved early leave starting today. I guess they realized how urgent it was, because they called me back within 20 minutes and told me that it was approved and I wouldn't have to go back to work.

I am so incredibly relieved. I don't know how I would have made it for another 3 weeks. I don't think I could have.

I don't know why this is so hard. Why is pregnancy so incredibly awful? I've hated it from the moment I found out. It only seems to get worse. Is it going to be this bad after the baby is born? Do I just suck at life?

--dragon Read more!

So Tired

I feel like I've forgotten where I've been. It's not as if anything of note has happened to me the last few weeks, but it seems as if I'm walking through a cloud. Perhaps it's because of the utter exhaustion I can't seem to shake. I feel like I'm constantly going and going all day long every single day. Even on days I purposely try to do nothing, I still end up feeling drained. Is this because of being pregnant? Perhaps a pre-baby exercise in exhaustion so I know what to expect? Maybe it's because I can't seem to get a good night's sleep. I wake up about every 2 hours to go pee (effing bladder... I can't wait until all my internal organs are back in their proper places), and I can't get comfortable. My lovely soft bed feels like a rock. I fear my medication isn't working because lately I've been getting so overwhelmed by things. But I haven't felt a panic attack coming on or the heavy depression either. So maybe it's just me. I don't know. I can't wait for it to be over, but at the same time I'm absolutely dreading it. I don't know what I'll do. I really don't think I'll make a very good parent. I'm a terribly modest person and I can't stand the idea of people poking around down there or poking and prodding at me like some kind of farm animal. Especially since Erik and Sara will be in the room with me. And the worst part is the not knowing. I'm such a control freak. I like everything to be planned out and to have all the details in order before I do something. You can't exactly do that when having a baby. You just kind of deal with it. I don't think I'm dealing with it very well. I keep thinking about it and for all the planning and lists and organizing I do, I still can't control the situation. It's so hard. Especially because I'm afraid that he'll be born early. I had a dream he was born August 15th. The thought scares me to death. I keep thinking "but I don't have a carseat! But I don't have a carseat!" I know. Silly thing to think about, especially since i live 2 blocks from the hospital. If all else fails, we can walk. It hasn't even happened yet and the whole thing makes me tired.

--dragon Read more!

Seeing Red

A few days ago I bled. Me + pregnant + bleeding= bad. It was 3 am and I woke up feeling like I had wet my pants. I would have been a happy to find I had, knowing what it could have been. But it was red. RED! Bright-fresh-copper-scented blood. (yeah, too much detail, I know) My first thought was Oh, Shit. My second thought was how incrediby bright it was. When I cut myself, or pick at a scab, it's not nearly that red. Much darker, and in far smaller quantities. It only lasted about 20-30 minutes, but it seemed like a whole hell of a lot more blood than one would expect, and far more than my midwife seemed to think. Granted, she didn't see it, but still. I was most likely overreacting, but thus far I have had no complications at all, everything has been smooth sailing and the only real drawback was the 12 weeks of daily vomiting. I was totally unprepared for it.

Needless to say, I was scared.

I had visions of a 10-week premature baby, no pre-delivery time off work to prepare for the baby, and (odd how this seemed important) missing Ozzfest. I kept thinking that I had nothing for him other than the small basket of baby clothes my stepdad bought for me. I spent 3 hours online looking up possible causes (placenta previa being the most likely) and what kind of survival rate a 29 week old baby faces. What kind of problems the wee one might face. I don't think I am adequately conveying how incredibly frightened I was. I'm still worried about it. Yesterday at work I kept thinking, What if it happens again? What if it happens while I'm at work? Boy, that would be awkward. Although knowing my manager, she would probably drive me to the emergency room herself.

I was so scared.

I'm still scared.

--dragon Read more!

Something Wrong?

I'm not one of those people that enjoys being pregnant, or basks in the "glow" of pregnancy. Personally I feel like this is just something to get through with as little discomfort as possible and make to the other side unscathed. Obviously, I won't be completely unharmed, as pregnancy is, in itself, a rather messy and painful business, even if you're lucky enough to experience relatively few discomforts until the end. I know people that actually loved being pregnant. Maybe I'm just weird, but to me that is totally unfathomable. It's like saying, "I love having a broken bone" or "I love suffering from the flu"... and yes, I know that pregnancy is not an illness, but it is a debilitating condition nonetheless. There are many things you might do normally that you can't, if you are a sane, caring parent-to-be, that you would never dream of doing while pregnant. In addition to the restrictions you place on yourself, your body poses a few of its own: for example, now that I'm pregnant, I've found that I am completely incapable of working a job that requires a lot of physical energy or standing all day, something I've never had a problem with in the past. Not to mention the fact that for some asinine reason, I now have to take naps in the late afternoon. I can't just not take the nap, I have to do it. If I try and stay up, I'll end up falling asleep. Due to all of these things, and the fact that I find it terribly unnatural to grow a stomach the size of a watermelon or have another person living inside of you for the better part of a year, I really don't enjoy pregnancy. I know, of course, that it's rediculous for me to see these things as "unnatural", as they really are the most natural thing in the world, but that's how I feel. I also don't feel really connected with or bonded with the baby. Perhaps it's because I'm not really showing yet, but I don't really talk to him or rub my tummy the way most pregnant women do. I've always been kind of annoyed at how pregnant women are constantly rubbing or touching their tummies in public. I know that some of this has to do with my depression and issues with being close to people, but I'm afraid that it will continue after he is born. I know some women don't instantly bond with their babies and it takes them a while to really form an attachment, but what if that happens to me? Or worse, what if I never form an attachment with him? I don't want to be a bad mommy, but what if I don't like him? I feel like a horrible person even saying these things, but I really do wonder, what if I just don't get attached to him?

--Dragon Read more!

Monkey in the Middle

As of tomorrow I'm 20 weeks pregnant. So far it hasn't been all that great-- first trimester I had constant morning sickness, and then by the time it subsided, I started getting hit really hard by depression and anxiety (yuck!). But since I started getting treatment for it about a week ago, things seem alot better. I'm not sure if its the medication, or just the thought that finally someone is listening to me and not just blathering on that "no psychiatrist will touch me since I'm pregnant" or that "if it's really that bad I should check into a psychiatric ward until the baby's born because I can't take any medication"... honestly, that woman ought to be fired. She knows as much about mental health as my cat... possibly less, as my cat is very warm and cuddly and makes me feel better when life seems to suck.

The only complaint I have this week is although I haven't started showing, my stomach is no longer the chubby li'l tummy it once was, causing serious issuse with finding a comfortable sleeping position. I can no longer lay on my stomach because the pressure hurts, but my bed is unfortunately very cheap (169.96 at Holbrook's!) and therefore terribly uncomfortable, so sleeping on my side leaves me waking up with various parts that stick out further than the rest hurting. I have to keep switching sides all night long so I wake up about 304872340740482048 more times than normal, even considering that I am a terribly light sleeper. At night I lay there awake daydreaming of buying like 3 egg crate pads and cutting a hole in the middle for my tummy so I can once again sleep comfortably. But alas, I am utterly and completely broke, so it's out of the question.

It's not all bad though, on Tuesday I have the ultrasound, so I get to find out if it's a boy or a girl. Yay! I can't wait. Originally, my fiance', Erik, was supposed to go with me, but he supposed to start a new job next week and will already be missing Monday because he has his own doctor's appointment that day. He wanted to tell his new boss that he couldn't start until Wednesday, but I told him not to. It's been essentially pointless to bring him to all the appointments thus far, and we really can't afford for him to miss more work than necessary. And anyway, my best friend Sam wants to come along. She'll get more out of if than he will, anyway. It's not necessarily his fault, but he just doesn't seem to get it. I've heard that it's not really real to guys until you start showing, and I hope that's the case, because I feel like he's not really all that helpful or supportive. He tries to be, but he's clueless. Oh well. Guys aren't all that bright about baby and pregnancy stuff anyway. At least he never complains about me not touching the litter box or taking out the trash. Points for him for that!

off to make dinner... from everything I hear and read, it's a luxury I will surely miss once the wee little dragon gets here :)

--Dragon Read more!