The Dark

I have mentioned before that I have had struggles with depression and anxiety in the past.  It is not debilitating or even constant, it just kind of comes and goes on it's whim and I'm left to decide if I am crazy, too sensitive, PMS-ing, a bitch, or just going through the dark for a moment.

Since the birth of my precious baby boy, I've had ebbs and flows with it, and have struggled trying to decide if I should medicate.  I keep putting it off because I am still breast feeding and the meds do get into the milk.  My doctor has assured me that my mental health trumps that, but because I have way way more good days than bad, I have decided not to take anything as of yet.

But I do want to put it out there because I know that other mothers have struggles with this too.  I know I am not alone and I wanted them to know they are not alone either.  So I am writing to tell you some of the things that go through my mind when I am in the throes of this fucked up disease.  Some of them are comical, others are dark and horrifying.

A couple weeks after L was born, I was obviously exhausted and not sleeping for more than 2 hours at a time.  My husband had reached the point of not helping anymore at night, although really, there was nothing he could do.  I just kinda wanted him to sit up with me while I had to be awake.  One morning, L had been awake for about 3 hours in the early morning and I. was. tired.  I yelled at my husband to wake the fuck up and help me.  He was startled out of sleep and yelled back.  So we were fighting at about 5 a.m.  He went and slept in the other room.  I put L in his bouncy chair, pulled the covers over my head, cried.  And wished I was dead.  I wasn't going to kill myself or anything, but I really literally wanted to die at that moment.

On a daily basis, I get in the car, drive for awhile and then all of a sudden, think I have forgotten L.  I will frantically look in my rear view to make sure that, yes, his car seat is there.  I haven't forgotten him on my driveway.  I also check often to make sure he is breathing, that his blankets aren't covering his mouth or nose, that his shirt is pulled down and not in his face, that I have no lotion or chemicals on my breasts before I feed him, and that his diaper isn't too tight on his belly.

Yesterday I was bored so I started looking at old friends' FB pages.  2 of my high school friends are models and one guy from my high school is a MLB pitcher.  That got me thinking about my own life and feeling like there was so much I wanted to accomplish and never did.  It made me sad and regretful.  I think regret is the worst feeling you can have.

I also read through all of your clever and funny blogs and thought to myself how insignificant and not funny my blog is and how I should just give up on writing because I am not good at it.  That lead to how fat I am and how my skin isn't tan and my face is too round, I now have stretch marks on my belly, and I'm too hairy and my lady parts are weird, and my feet get too dry, and my nails are too short and on and on and on....

One day I was anxious to walk past my open window because I was afraid I would trip and drop L out of it.  I also sometimes have anxiety walking down the stairs with him for fear of falling.  I get nervous driving with him, and I hardly sleep if he's lying next to me because I am afraid Hubs or I will roll on him or get the covers in his face.

I'm going to stop now because I can feel you guys organizing an intervention.  None of these things happen on a daily, or even weekly basis.  They just float through my mind sometimes and usually seem to float out just as quickly.  They are mostly fleeting thoughts and I just wanted to share because I seem to not be able to keep anything private.  But I guess, most importantly, maybe these things shouldn't be private.  Maybe this is another disease that needs to be talked about.

P.S.  I have toyed with the idea of disabling comments on this post because I swear I am not fishing for compliments.  Please don't think I am all "Oooh please tell me how awesome and pretty I am.  NOW!"   That's not the purpose of this post.  I am not disabling them because I do value everyone's input, but please don't feel obligated to say something nice to me.

Hi Ho... Hi Ho...

It's back to work I go.  Or not.

Hubs and I have debated for the last year about whether or not I will be able/willing to quit my job when our baby finally came to us.  After much deliberation and some money laundering, I have decided not to go back. 

It isn't an easy decision.  Well, the part about not taking my baby to daycare is easy, but the part about giving up my professional self to get thrown up and peed on all day is tough.  I think it's because I'm kinda smart.  I don't mean to be bragadocious or anything, but dudes, I am not dumb.  Being home for the last 8 weeks, however, has turned me into a moron.  So I can't really imagine what I'm going to be like after a year or whatever.  You'll probably have to stop reading my blog because I'll be all  "Today I walkt outside on my sidewalk.  The butterflys were so purty and my naybor sayed high to me."

It's wonderful to have the opportunity to stay home, not to mention the choice (thanks feminism!)  But I'd be lying if I said I wasn't nervous.  I'm scared that my brain will wither up and die, I'm scared that I'll be jealous that my husband gets to go out and see other humans every day, and I'm scared that the only thing I'll have to talk to other people about is my children and diaper rash and vacuuming.

Fortunately I live in a community that has a lot of stay at home moms.  Unfortunately, they are all Mormon and I can't get a sentence out without saying fuck or douchebag so they typically don't want to be my friend.    So today I joined the community recreation center so that I can at least get some workouts in, and maybe when we're sweating it out to a Latin beat, the other mothers won't mind if I swear a little.  And then afterwards I can beg them to be my friend and our babies can have play dates while we drink vodka punch in the sun. 

I'm boring myself already.
 

I'm Covered in Pee. Or Is That Vomit?

If you've ever changed a baby boy's diaper, you know that you have to watch out.  If you've never changed a baby boy's diaper, here's why you have to watch out.  They will piss on you every. single. time.  L is tricky about it.  He makes me think he's not going to pee and then as I reach for the diaper or the cream or a wipe, he's all of the sudden peeing in his own mouth or all over a stack of clean laundry. 

If it's not pee, it's spit up.  He is constantly spitting up.  And not just like a dainty little burp and some drool.  It's like the vomit spoof on SNL where there's a hose of hidden liquid that appears to come out of an actor's mouth for 30 seconds while they try not to laugh.  Only L's isn't a hose.  It's his esophagus, and the vomit all lands on me.  I started using a towel as a burp cloth.

It sucked, but wasn't that bad until last week when he started crying and didn't stop FOR 4 DAYS.  4 days of crying and whimpering and gas and vomit.  And HE was crying and whimpering and gassy and vomiting too (buh-dump ching!)  But no, really, he would fall asleep for maybe 30 minutes at a time, but even then, he was whimpering and grunting the whole time.  Then he would spit up and literally scream.  Eventually, he lost his voice all together and would just cry this pitiful little airy cry.  Finally on Friday I took him to the doctor because I was exhausted and frustrated and just felt so bad for the little guy.  She agreed with me that he has reflux.

Since then, he has medication twice a day and I am to keep him in an upright position for 30 minutes after he eats.  Which, by the way, is a lot harder than it sounds, especially at 4 in the morning.

He's doing better now, but it's still not perfect.  For some reason, in the wee hours of the morning, he seems to have a lot of difficulties falling back to sleep and also seems extra gassy at that time.  I've cut back on dairy to see if that will help, but right now we have mutual crying/annoy Hubs sesh every day from about 5-6 a.m.   Then if he is able to sleep later, I have to decide if I am going to sleep the day away and accomplish nothing, or get up, try to get something done and be tired and grouchy all day.

Hopefully his little esophagus sphincter will get in gear soon.  And hopefully the medical community will agree that the word "sphincter" just sounds inappropriate and will come up with a new name for it.

The Deed

After Hubs had the Strep Throat, he got cold sores.  For some reason, this always happens to him when he gets a fever.  So let me sum that up for you.. 2 months of no sex, clearance for sex, Strep Throat, and then facial herpes.  Sexy.  We continued NOT having sex because who wants to do it and not be able to kiss a little first.  I love my husband but not enough to get his dirty cold sores on mah face.

About Saturday, I couldn't wait anymore.  Fuck kissing anyway.  So, in my best Fez voice, I said, "We're going to dooo itttt." Then did a little jig.  That was my foreplay.

It worked.

We did it.  It was awesome as far as that actually doing-of-it goes.  What wasn't awesome was that our baby was asleep in his bouncy chair next to the bed.  (Is that weird?  I'm just not quite ready for him to sleep away from me yet.  I still wake up to make sure he's breathing.)  Another non-awesome was that I turned all the lights off because my body is still in wreckage like condition.  It's not horrible or anything, but I don't find it super sexy right now.  Also I was afraid my boobs were going to leak all over the place.  They didn't, but I wouldn't put it past them.

Needless to say, the Hubs and I have gotten along way better over the last week.  (Men are so easy.)

Sports Bras Are Bull Shit

Have I mentioned that I do stupid things?  Maybe once or twice.  Well for some reason, while I was 6 months pregnant, I decided to sign up for a 4 mile charity run in July, thinking, "hmm, I'll be at least 2 months post-partum by then, so I will have plenty o time to get my fat ass in shape and run 4 miles."

Thereby, NOT thinking, "hmm, haven't worked out all pregnancy long + 2 months post-partum = a year of not working out."  I's a smart one.

I decided this weekend that I should probably lace up the old (dusty) running shoes and give it a shot.  The weather was good and everything.  I got outside, walked for a bit, and then the moment of truth, hop, hop, running...  awwwww.  Or not.

It hurt.  A lot.

And my belly kept falling out of the bottom of my shirt.  And my boobs were practically hitting my chin with each step.  I made it, oh about 30 feet, before I had to walk again.  It went like this for about 25 minutes, because that's all I could muster up.

Walk, walk, walk, walk, walk, walk, walk, walk, walk, walk, walk, walk, walk, walk, walk, walk, walk, walk, walk, walk, walk, walk, walk.  jog very slowly. Walk, walk, walk, walk, walk, walk.  walk, jog very slowly, get black eye from nipples banging into face, Walk, walk, walk, walk, walk, walk.  walk, start crying a little, then jog a little, stop to stretch burning calves, Walk, walk, walk, walk, walk, walk.  walk, die a little inside, jog some more, finally just get a good grip on boobs and hold them down (screw the observers!), Walk, walk, walk, walk, walk, walk.  walk.  Finally get home and consider dropping out of the race.

One step at a time, but wow, did it suck to have belly hanging out of the bottom of my shirt.

Huh?

I guess in the year(!) that I've been blogging, it has escaped my notice that Wednesdays are supposed to be wordless?  I suppose it's not that unbelievable since I am somewhat self-absorbed and really busy swearing about shit.

So I decided to participate this week (you know, right after all these WORDS) and post pictures of things that I am currently longing for.  It's sort of an online vision board.  (I had to google "vision board" because I am home with a gassy, screaming baby all day and I have grown stupider and my vocabulary is in the shitter.)

Now these all have to come true because they are on my vision board right?  Please oh please. 

How To Tell When Your Doctor Thinks Your Body Really is Fucked Up

Today was the 6 week follow up.  Hubs was supposed to go with me, but he has been down and out with what we presume is strep throat all weekend.  This is the man whose phone starts ringing at 7 a.m. and doesn't stop sometimes until 2 a.m.  He doesn't DO sick.  So for him to spend 3 days in bed, shivering and moaning means he is REALLY sick.  Which means I have kept him as far away from Logan and me as possible.  I've also started myself and Bugs on a zi.cam regimen in hopes that we can avoid it ourselves.

Anyway, Dr. Awesome came in the room, apologizing and feeling bad that she missed our birth.  She wanted to hear the whole story and was glad we were happy with Dr. Substitute Awesome.  Then she poked and prodded me and said everything looks great. I'm clear to exercise (please oh please let me get some motivation to exercise) and also OK to do IT.  You know, IT.  For weeks before Loganberry was born, I was having contractions and kinda scared to do IT, so Hubs wasn't getting too much action.  And even when he was, it was all about him because the big O for me just caused worse contractions.  My point is, we haven't done IT in a god damn fucking long ass time.  Usually Hubs is ready to go, like whenever.  I'm more like a when the mood strikes kinda girl.  Well for whatever reason since L was born, I am in the mood ALL THE TIME.  It's kinda awesome, except for the part about me not supposed to be having sex for 6 weeks thing.  Oh and did I mention now that I have the all clear, Hubs has strep throat?  Mother fuck.  Or not apparently.

Before the birth, Dr. Awesome asked me if we had thought about what we would do for birth control afterwards.  I kinda laughed and told her I pretty much wasn't worried at all about getting pregnant "accidentally."  I also will never put my body through hormonal birth control again for obvious reasons.  Now that I have a baby, however, I keep thinking that maybe the Universe will continue it's comedy routine and I'll get pregnant immediately.  I love love love being a mommy more than anything, but I seriously doubt my abilities to parent 2 infants at the same time.  So... I started investigating IUDs.  I decided to ask her about that one that's on TV all the time.  There is no estrogen and they say you can get pregnant immediately after it is removed.  Dr. Awesome pretty much told me she didn't think I needed it. 

Insert laughing here...

So that is how to tell when your doctor thinks your body really is fucked up.  So fucked up that you don't even really need birth control because your body naturally provides it for you.  I should clarify that she didn't say we don't need any birth control... we should use condoms.  She was just worried that if we decide to have another baby that it might take awhile for my cycle to normalize if I were to have an IUD.  And I agree. 
I'm not sure if we will try for another one or not, but I definitely don't want to further compromise any chances we may have.


I have loads to tell you about still, but Hubs and L are sleeping and me thinks I should be too.  But my brain is exploding with stories to write and it is my goal to get them out here this week.  Stay tuned!