Let it begin

Or so I thought...
I woke at 12:30am to pee.  I usually wake 2-4 times a night to see.  I went back to sleep but felt cramps and low back pain that weren't allowing me to rest comfortably.  I ccouldn't really fall back asleep, and thought I was feeling a minor contraction like pain in my cervix area.

At 1:30am I was still laying in bed, and thought I felt a tiny, tiny wetness.  At 1:45am I got up and walked around, feeling simply horrible.  Trying to breathe and relax.  I used the sink to lean on and a gush of fluid was released. I soaked it into pad and bagged it up.  Then I got into shower, just in case this was the real deal.

I was already exhausted from my little running ordeal the days before, plus I had a headache that wouldn't go away, and I was so so tired of being pregnant.

At 2:20am there were still no contractions, so I waited 40 more minutes, and then decided to wake Jeff up.  Rather than wake the kids and our friends for something that may take hours I decided to head to labor and delivery myself and have them test the fluid to be certain.  My water broke with both boys, so it wasn't out of the question that it happened with this pregnancy.  I left around 3:30am.

by 4am, the pad had tested positive and I advised Jeff.  I was so nervous and scared of labor starting and the eminent pain that would be involved.  My body was so tired, my head was killing me, and I had been in pain for long that I was super sensitive to everything.

The OB came in to do a speculum exam around 4:30am, one where she checks for amniotic fluid near the cervix, and checks any progress I have made.  She tested 2 strips and both were negative for fluid.  She was perplexed since the original one was positive.  And decided to take a look under the microscope to be certain.  At 5am, she confirmed that I had pee'ed my pants, and that the slides were negative for amniotic fluid.

Needless to say, I was super embarrassed!  I have never pee'd my pants and felt so silly!  But, I think i was wanting to be in labor so badly that I wasn't paying attention to my body the way I should.

In any case, I went home exhausted and defeated.

Dense

Sometimes I am so dense and unaware...especially when it comes to my own health and discomfort.
I have been thinking that the last several months worth of pelvic pain and pressure were the result of the baby and a casualty of being hugely pregnant.  I even went so far in my head to assume that because I was older and on my 3rd kid that my body was just worn out (partially true...).  When, in fact, this is classic pelvic girdle pain. 

Today, I finally realized that the cramps and my inability to walk, get out of the car quickly, put my pants on easily, bend down, climb the stairs, or get up from a sitting position - that this was not a normal part of being pregnant.  Neither is the pain I have been feeling in my groin.

Today, the pain is so bad that I can barely walk.  Each step causes me to wince and grimace.  While at the park today, Spencer feel off a high area, did a mid air flip and landed on his head and back on the ground.  I witnessed the entire fall, and was close enough that I decided to attempt to run over so I could comfort him quicker.  That was a noble idea--but a huge mistake.  He is OK, and not hurt seriously, luckily.  But, I am in tremendous pain. 

I hope that some rest this evening remedies my woes.  Tomorrow's agenda is to research how to make the waiting game easier, and my birth as comfortable as it can be. 

4.2.13. 9:30pm

Princesses and Rainbows

We had the luxury of spending the weekend at my best friends house for their son's 1st birthday party.  On the eve before the party my boys and their daughter were all playing dress up.

It is known around our house that my younger boy loves princesses, and both of my boys love dressing up.  So when he came out of the bedroom head to toe in pink ruffles and heals it was no surprise to me.

The crown, the dress, tutu skirt, and shoes were adorable.  But, the sword was out of place.  So, I asked him what his plan was with the sword.  He matter-of-factly responded with, "Mom, it's not a sword" and then as if exasperated at having to explain such a simple concept to me, goes on to say "it's a magic wand!"

Taken slightly aback, but not wanting to be bested by my 3 year old, I go on to ask my question again... "Son, what is your plan for your WAND?"  With a wave of the wand, and flick of the wrist he explains "It's for making rainbows!!!" and then struts off to do just that.  Leaving the room to explode in shocked and adoring laughter. 

At that moment, I could not love anyone more.  I simply adore that boy. 

Success or failure?

Since giving birth to Spencer (11-2009), I haven't been using a formal birth control method.  We have prevented pregnancy using condoms and other means.  And, then last year, we decided to try for another baby-it didn't take much trying.  We had sex once, and viola-I was pregnant.  In the months between Spencer's birth and now, I started to experience menstrual migraines.  The migraines did not occur every cycle, mostly every 3rd or 4th cycle.  But, when they occurred, it was always on the morning before my period.  I typically would wake with one.  They are debilitating.  I can not function.  I usually end up vomiting.  Hubby is forced to stay home from work.  


We decided that after the miscarriage that we were going to be done having kids.  2 adorable boys was enough for us.  I was trying my hardest to accept this.  I quit doing Stroller Strides, I started to give away all my baby gear and clothes.  I felt satisfied and happy.  I was doing my best to live each day and appreciate my family.  


The migraines coupled with my attempt to put my childbearing years behind me... I decided to get a Mirena IUD.  From memory, I never had migraines until I was unprotected by birth control. My logic was that the birth control hormones were helpful. I had an IUD after I had Elliott and loved it.  I had always had great luck with Depo Provera.  Though, all of the research indicates that birth control often causes the migraines--I read that to indicate birth control PILLS.  I was going to take my chances.


Man O'man the IUD insertion was painful.  She didn't need to do anything special to insert the IUD since it was the last day of my period.  Apparently, during your menstrual cycle, your cervix is open slightly making the IUD insertion easier.  My cervix DID NOT like the sneak attack.  I cramped for 6 solid weeks, and had a ton of spotting.  Having the IUD was wonderful. I felt balanced and happy for the first time in a LONG time.  I loved the hormones that it supplied.  I gave me exactly what I needed to feel normal again.


Then one day, around 8 weeks ago, I decided I was ready to start trying again.  I gently broached the topic with my hubby.  He was luke warm about the idea.  I explained more about how I was feeling--the 'incomplete' feeling, the longing for another child, the way I see our family in 10 years, etc..  And he agreed!  I got the IUD out the next day.  It was the most expensive experiment ever ($1300 for the IUD and insertion).  


This is our first month trying.  And, since I am not getting any younger (I will be 38 next month!), I have been going crazy neurotic with ovulation tests.  I have done all of the 'right' things this month.  We will see what happens--though it is not in my nature to be patient.  Somehow, when the pregnancy test is negative, it feels like I have failed in some way.  Let's hope we succeed.  

The upcoming birthday festivities

Spencer's first birthday is coming up in a few short weeks.  He shares a birthday with my best friends daughter, in addition to having a birthday near Thanksgiving (and once in a blue moon--on) most years.  So, planning his birthdays will be tough for a few years.

For Elliott, we have always chosen to have his birthday's in our home town.  He has a summer birthday and occasionally his conflicts with the 4th of July holiday, but all in all it is simpler (for planning purposes) than contending with a major holiday like Thanksgiving.  

All of our respective family live in the same county.  Plus, Grandma was always more than willing to allow us to have the parties at her house.  They have a huge kid friendly yard and a pool with a water slide.  Elliott being our oldest (and at the time--only) child--parties were a pretty big affair.  Now that we have a second child--they seem less of a priority.  I now understand why subsequent children get the shaft.

The killer part for me is always the guest list.  Having the party in San Diego this year makes it a bit easier.  And in the same breathe infinitely more difficult  There is always the question of who to invite.  I don't want to leave anyone off the list lest I insult someone, but I also don't want to burden anyone with an invite if it's going to be drag.  Do I invite all my home town friends?  Do I invite Elliott's friends (who subsequently are my friends as well)?  Do I invite my friends who have kids?  How are we going to fit and feed all those folks into our house?  Since his birthday is in the winter--there is no telling if the skies will be cooperative or not.  

Then, there is the family factor.  If I have the party in our home town I can be assured that my family will attend.  It will be uncomfortable for everyone to be in the same room with one another--but they will do it in the name of my adorable son.  But, the fact that this year I have taken a stand and chose to have the event in San Diego sets my heart up for disappointment.  The last time I remember my Mom coming to San Diego was when Elliott was 2 weeks old.  My sister hasn't been to visit me in more years than that.  And my Aunt's last visit was my wedding--5 years ago.  In their defense, they are busy and traveling costs money.  I understand all of that.  But, it is still disappointing for me--it is only a 3 hour drive. One that I make 6-7 times every year with my kids in tow.  

Irrationally, I admit, I always position their love for me and my kids up against the excuse of not enough money and/or time--and my kids and I always lose.  Or so, it feels.  Now, I know that nothing is that simple or black and white.  But, it doesn't change the fact that I still feel let down and disappointed.  Keeping in mind the whole time, of course, that the party is for my son and not for me.

The invitation was sent.  The only thing left to do is wait, and hope that I don't feel disappointed when all is said and done.  

Confession of an angry Mom

Long ago, in a galaxy far, far away I had a problem with anger. I would get angry quick and unexpectedly. I would often over react and yell; many times saying things i regretted or didn't mean. Yes, I know you are thinking that everyone does this occasionally. And, yes, I agree. But, it would happen to me frequently and the rage associated with it was so unexpected that I deemed it a problem.

I put an end to a few bad relationships, reassessed my self-worth and finished college. After college I sought to eliminate the anger. I bought a book about anger management and realized that anger was a secondary emotion. It was the reaction to feelings about something else. Hmm, for me, at the time, that was enlightening. I also determined that I had what was called sudden anger. I learned some techniques, including blogging as a way to share my feelings and sort out my thoughts. The anger subsided, and I became a calmer, happier person.

However, in the last few months it seems that the anger has crept back into my life. My once rational, calm, reasonable demeanor is now short tempered, hot headed and worse yet...irrational. Arrgghhh.

I have been thinking and analyzing the reasons for my feelings and the cause of my anger. I have come up with this. And like it or not, these are my feelings.

Most of the anger i have been feeling is towards my children. In particular my older child. He is a good, kind kid. But, I realized that I was taking him to seriously. Especially when he would tell me no, or say he didn't like me, or just outright disobey something I asked him. Uh, hello, he is a 2 year old. Of course he is going to test his boundaries and limits. Especially with his new found confidence from swim lessons.

The thing that made me the most angry was when he would take a toy away from his younger brother or try to hurt him. I soon realized that the reason this made me so angry was because I was erroneously thinking he was doing it maliciously or on purpose. Of course, he is not even 3 years old and doesn't yet have the ability to be mean like that. Once I was able to wrap my head around that, I stopped reacting so over the top.

I am glad that I took the time to look deeper into my actions and feelings and find a way to communicate with my children in a more effective and productive manner.

Striving for more or never satisfied?

It has been said, by several people including my husband and my best friend, that I am never satisfied.

I never took this as an insult.  In fact, I always approached it as a positive part of my personality.  I think that striving to be better, constantly wanting to improve on what you are, and working and looking towards future goals are all very admirable traits to possess.

I understand however that it isn't meant as a compliment.  What they are really saying is that I am never happy with what I have and I cant ever be satisfied or appreciate the present.  I am unable to stop, and be thankful.  I can rarely be present because I am too busy looking ahead. I focus on what still needs to be done and not what has already been accomplished.

There are several parts about this situation that are difficult to address. The first is the basic differences in world views.  How do you resolve something so ingrained in your personality with your spouse or loved ones? Being raised with HUGELY different parenting styles we both have traits and characteristics that compliment one another and also challenge one another.

My MIL is a role model for positive behavior.  She has a knack for speaking only positive things, for making the best of each situation and for never vocalizing the negative.   While it is often difficult to know how she really feels about something-it is very enjoyable and pleasant to spend time with her.  My Mother on the other hand, has a special ability to be honest and forthcoming.  She always speaks her mind and you know where you stand with her.  She doesn't often take things personally and has a tough skin.  Of course, her honesty is one sided, and can often hurt those who are more sensitive than she is.

So when resolving a marital issue--do you ask the other person to change (assuming that a person can change) and moreover is it fair to even ask them to?  Do you accept this as part of their personality or do you work towards a common goal or compromise and if so, how and what?

Is this simply about perspective which can be resolved with a word choice. Is this about manipulating the words to affect the desired result.  When you are comfortable speaking your mind, is it worth taking the few extra moments to pause and think about what you are going to say and how it will perceived; and potentially alter the phrasing.  Or is that compromising your true self to satisfy others who have more fragile personalities.

In disagreements where both sides feel they are justified --  who is 'right' and how do you decide?

All of these are subjective, I know.  Each relationship is unique and one can not possibly advise on how to resolve a situation like this for another person.  I realize that I am asking questions that can not be answered by any another except the parties involved.

I also realize that when our words are hurting people we love, regardless of how or why, that we need to alter the phrasing and delivery.

So, what I am asking is that you provide suggestions for how you 'make the best' of situations even if they aren't going as planned.  How do you see and vocalize the positive when the first thing you see is what is wrong, not what is right?  How do you keep your mouth shut when something goes wrong, and look on the bright side?  Is there a way to offer suggestions without sounding like you are criticizing the progress.  For the ladies--how do you power through hormonal periods of your life and still remain positive and upbeat?

I hope that like parenting, if my arsenal is full of suggestions and ideas, then I can be better prepared to handle the pitfalls challenges when they arise.    Being prepared is a good place to start.

Dont get your hopes up yet

As you all know, I lost my job 2 weeks ago. I spent the first couple of days pretty reflective and depressed. I decided not to search for a job until the new year. I wanted to spend the holidays relaxing with my family. I was feeling dejected and was questioning my self worth.

As a result of these feelings, after only a couple of days I created an account with Monster.com, updated my Linkedin Profile, and filed for unemployment. I also started looking for jobs on Craigslist. I found THE perfect position for my skill set--as a software administrator for a mortgage banking software! How much more perfect could my timing be! I immediately emailed my resume and a cover letter, and the next day the IT director replied requesting an interview. We scheduled the interview for the following Monday, 9am. I knew I wouldn't be unemployed for long! I started to feel less loser like, and more like the over confident person I pretend to be.

Monday morning, I got up, showered, shaved all areas that hair grows unwanted, blew my hair dry, got all dolled up in my interview clothes, and checked my email. I had a feeling.

Good thing I trust my intuition these days. The IT director emailed and said this: I had to make some changes in my schedule and cannot meet with you this morning. I will follow up with some alternate options. Thanks.

I replied and said that I was leaving for the holiday weekend later that day, and would return on the following Monday should he wish to schedule an in person interview for then. Otherwise, I would be happy to do a preliminary phone interview. No response.

I sent a follow up email over the weekend asking if we could reschedule our meeting. He replied and said this: Unfortunately, It was announced that BIG Mortgage Bank would be winding down its operations effective 12/24. Thanks.

Bummer for everyone.

Response to Shame

In my previous post, I included a link to a blog I stumbled on by accident. However, I wonder how much of life is accidental and how much is fate or destiny or whatever you want to call it (lets leave the likes of divine intervention out of this). I don't know the answer to the fate question, but I do wonder about it.

Anyway, I have been really thinking about the post. I have been wondering why people who are molested, raped, or sexually abused feel ashamed of what happened to them. I was thinking about how being abused shouldn't be a source of shame or embarrassment. But, how often it is. How most crimes like this go unreported and the victims never see justice or closure (not that closure is even possible). It really got me thinking, but more than that it got me feeling.

So, I wanted to free myself from feeling shameful or embarrassed (thanks Grace!). A little side note though: I don't want to talk about this with anyone. I am posting it here to free myself from it. But, unless I bring it up, I don't want to talk about it. I have effectively put this behind me, but want to acknowledge that it happened.

I was sexually abused by my step brother when I was 4 years old. It was a brief period of time, and most of it I hardly remember. But, I do remember enough to know that it happened. My sister told my Mom about it a while later, and I remember my Mom asking me what happened. I was flooded with feelings that couldn't be expressed and words that had no way of being vocalized. After all, I was only 4; it would be impossible to express what I felt or thought at that age. Almost 30 years later I can remember feeling powerless and afraid to be alone with my step brother. Yet, I can hardly express my feelings now--I just don't have the words.

My Mom left this husband, but not because of the abuse. I don't think she knew about the abuse until after she left anyway. We spoke of it that one time, and neither her nor I spoke of it again.

I often wonder what sort of effect something like this has on peoples lives. I don't honestly think you can know the answer to this, since life has an innumerable number of variables. But, I look at my life and wonder how things may have been different for me if this event had not occur ed. I don't spend much time thinking about it, since there is no way to change to the past. But, I do feel saddened by the fact that it happened. I feels like I was robbed of a piece of my childhood, of my innocence. Something was taken from me during that time, something that can never be replaced or given back.

Just like all of the books say--now that I am a Mother, I have been thinking about my childhood and my youthful experiences in more depth. I am often in awe at the fact that my Mother was able to raise 2 girls essentially on her own. My Mom didn't attend college, but was a highly intelligent woman (I will explain the use of the past tense word 'was' later). She has an amazing vocabulary, has a razor sharp wit and tongue, and has never been afraid to express or stand up for herself. On the other side of the coin, it kills me to think that someone who was so intelligent could allow herself to get involved with man after destructive man, marriage after marriage. How could someone who appears so self assured need a man like my Mom does. It is difficult to not place blame when I think about all of the fucked up things that have happened in my life under the tutelage of my mother (many of them while she was under the influence). And, just when I am filled with resentment and bitterness--I remember that she did the very best she could. I hope that every decision that she made was out of love, and not selfishness. I long to believe that she always put us first when a difficult choice was needed. Many days I doubt it, and that forces a irremovable wedge between us. But, some days I can forgive her and I love her more than myself.

So, there you have another tid-bit of my history. All of the pieces that make up my life and make me who I am today. Are you glad or sad you know?

All aboard!

I think it is happening again...I feel like everyone is out to get me, I don't care about what other people think, and I feel like I am the only rational one.

I think I might have caught it before it caught me. Now...what do I do about it?

What would you do?

Hubby and I were preparing to hand out candy on Halloween. We were getting the porch ready for trick or treaters, and I was holding Elliott. As I mentioned before, we live in an urban neighborhood, and do not have a driveway. Several houses on our street have driveways, but ours does not. Our hood is also mixed zoning, so we have SFR's, apartments and condo's as well as businesses, shops and resturaunts.

So, we part on the street, along with many of our neighbors. Most times this isn't a problem, as there is usually parking close by the house, and I don't have to lug things too far. Well, this day I was lucky enough to get RSP (rock star parking) right in front of our house. Hubby was parked behind me, and I backed up very close to his car to try and make enough room in front of me for a small car to squeeze in.

While we were standing in our yard, a gentlemen in a medium size SUV tried to park in front of me. He proceeded to play bumper cars with me and the car in front of him. The first couple of times he hit my car trying to park, I thought...hmm, it was probably an accident and he misjudged the distance. The next couple of times, I realized that he just didn't care. As each time he backed up he hit my car, and when he pulled forward he hit the car in front of him.

The thought of his disregard infuriated me, and I went down to speak with him. I very nicely asked him to please cease hitting my car while attempting to park. He retorted and said, get this...that's what bumpers were for. Now, I did not accept this as an answer, and asked him to park elsewhere, should he be unable to park here without hitting my car again, and explained that I often must park around the corner and lug my kid and his gear from my distant parking spot to my home.

Apparently I made him angry. He backed up hard into my car again as I was walking back to my house and screeched off. Hopefully not to assault someother car with his expert parking skills. When I returned to the porch, and reunited with hubby...I was met with a look of shock and disappointment. Hubby was very mad that I had confronted this man, especially with my boy in arms.

We proceeded to get into a long conversation about the positive and negative merits of confronting a stranger. You can imagine how the conversation went remembering that my husband is mellow, and often times a pacifist. I am curious to know what you would have done in a similar situation? Was I wrong to address this person? Should I have left it alone and not said anything?

Ping Pong anyone?

I have been thinking a lot about the last 2 months. How quickly they have passed, am I documenting them thoroughly enough, is his hitting all of the milestones. Elliott's 2 month mark was this past Saturday. He is such a good baby. I feel very lucky that he is so easy, and doesn't suffer from anything that would classify him as high needs.

I wonder though, if I am giving him the stimulus that he needs. I haven't been the type of parent who is paranoid about every little thing, and I feel pretty lackadaisical about entertaining him. I feel like I have been pretty relaxed about most things.

I have to admit to a few neurotic actions though, or my hubby will call me out. In the beginning I was concerned that our cat would suffocate him. Our cat, Chloe, is new to us. We adopted her in February from the Humane Society, and since she is relatively new to our household, I was still a bit uncertain about her behaviour. And since Elliott cant move using his own volition, I thought it best to not allow the kitty to sleep in the same room with Elliott. My hubby thought I was nuts, but I think I was just being safe. The change came when one night, after a diaper change, I forgot to close the bedroom door and lock her out. She sleep at the foot of the bed, and didn't suffocate the kiddo, and she has been allowed in the room since.

I also have gotten increasingly concerned about letting people hold him. When he was first born, I was ok with people holding him. Then, over the weeks, I think I became more protective over him...and now, I am very cautious about letting people holding him. Maybe because I have a fear of dropping him, I think that some one else will. I don't know.

But, aside from these two things I think I am pretty chill as a new mom. I still check on him periodically, to make sure he is still breathing and alive. Being a mom, I of course, feel guilty that I might not be doing enough. Maybe I should be more concerned with his development, maybe I should read to him more, maybe I should take him less places and keep him safe and unexposed at home...the list goes on and on, as you might suspect. Just fill in the worry, and I have thought it.

I kept this back and forth banter up in my head. Its like a never ending ping pong game of guilt and trust. Similar to my vacillation during pregnancy and labor. It all comes back to having to trust my intuition, my gut instinct. I have to be OK raising my son in a way that is comfortable for me as a person, one that feels right, and is therefore natural. I know that when I listen to him, watch his reactions, sense his displeasure or contentment that as his Mom, I will know the right thing to do. It doesn't always become obvious right away, that is certain. But, I feel like if I pay attention that it does become evident, for example, that something may not be right and a change needs to occur.

I hope that I can always be present with him. Even if I am not the type of Mom who keeps a baby book, or writes him monthly letters. I hope that he will always feel safe and secure, grow up to be confident and happy, and know how much I love him.

Public Speaking

I was the kid in grade school who when the teacher asked a question to the class, and was looking around for someone to raise their hand, or worse yet to call on randomly...I intentionally would not make eye contact, and try to look like I was looking for the answer. I never wanted to be called on in class, not even if I did know the answer. I would rarely raise my hand. When we had to read from our books out loud, I would count the number of kids in front of me, and count the paragraphs so I knew which one I would be reading. Then I would read and re-read it to myself, so I could be sure I read it well aloud. I never heard what the other kids read, because I was too busy 'preparing' for my oral performance. I would get very nervous when it was my turn, turn all red in the face, and hope that I did well and didnt pronounce any words incorrectly. I was relieved when my turn was over, and could finally relax and breathe easy.

This anxiety carried over into Junior High and High School. In Spanish class, I would dread having to recite Spanish words out loud. I would be mortified if I pronounced the word incorrectly. It was humiliating for me to not know the vocab words, and forget having a Spanish conversation...I just couldnt do it.

In college, I was a Cultural Anthropology major. I transferred in as a Junior, so most of my classes were upper division courses. As such, many of them were very small classes, some as few as 8 students. These classes were a double edged sword. You got the rare opportunity to truly learn from a professor and not use a syllabus. These were Professors whose work you very much admired. But, you also were often required to talk in class. These classes were a huge contrast to classes such as my Human Anatomy class, which had 850 students in it, 12 teachers aides, and it was recorded just in case you didnt make it to class that day.

One class I took was an upper division course with Brian Fagan, who basically wrote the basic Cultural Anthro book that many Universities and Colleges use. The class was one of those awesome classes, with just 8 students. I was in awe of Dr. Fagan. I loved his teaching style, I admired his work as an Anthropologist, and he was remarkably easy to talk to. After a few classes, he laid out the quarters coursework... The whole class grade was based on 4 oral presentations, memorized, 15 minutes long. He didnt want to have to read or grade anything. I was in agony. I needed this class to graduate. I was on a tight schedule, if I wanted to graduate in 6 quarters. I couldnt drop the class, and find another take its place (it was too late in the quarter).

I cried. I went home and cried. When it came time for me do my first presentation, I went into Dr. Fagan's office and cried. Yup, it is true. I cried in his office, explaining my absolute fear of public speaking. He was very kind and listened attentively, and seemed to understand. But, he was not flexible on the requirements. I gave my speeches with note cards, and for that I received a B in the class.

I have always had this fear of speaking out in public settings. I am by no means shy. I am very outspoken and have pretty strong opinions about things. I just dont like to give prepared talks in front of people, or being called out in public. I am afraid that people will think I am stupid. Yup, that is the truth. I am afraid of being judged by others.

My FIL is involved in Rotary and as such gives speeches with ease, and often. When my hubby was little, he and his Dad prepared a speech (I think it was about Abe Lincoln) that was so good they were asked to go around to all the schools and perform the speech. They both speak publicly with ease. My MIL is a teacher, no problems speaking there. My Uncle is a musician...no problem speaking in public there either. I even suffered from anxiety speaking at my own wedding!

Last year, I scheduled an interview with my now boss. He explained that the job required someone who understood and could train users on our software and could integrate companies business model into the training. Industry knowledge was a given. Also required was the ability to talk in public...duh! Anyone who is a trainer needs to have the ability to speak in front of a group. I didnt tell him about my fears. I figured that I would use this to strong arm me into becoming more comfortable with my voice. I was successful in forcing myself to become comfortable in this environment, and more at ease with speaking in public. It is also easier to do when you know what you are talking about, and have given the same talk over and over.

I still struggle however when I am put on the spot, and with speaking in public depending on the scenario. I have been forced to think about why I have these long standing issues is as a result of a conflict I am having with my hubbys best friend. We have a communication problem. The problem is that he asks very direct questions (often ones that are about my feelings-argh!), and these questions put me on the spot. I immediately feel embarrassed and defensive, and I get nervous. He doesnt mean to make me feel this way of course, although he is a teacher in real life. I think he is truly curious about my answer, and hopes to get to know me better as a result.

Because I am already nervous about being asked a question that I havent thought about before, or know how to answer...I cant think quickly. I already suffer from the inability to think and process things quickly. I need TIME to sort through my feelings, and consider all the variables. For me, it can take weeks to come to terms with some things, and be able to articulate my feelings. Hence the reason I blog. I can take however long I need to to formulate and write out my thoughts and feelings.

Anyway, I always answer the questions. Because if I didnt I would feel stupid. However, the answers aren't really how/why I feel about the question. They are spontaneous replies, and not at all how I would answer had I taken the time to think about it. But, for fear of looking stupid and not knowing the answer --I always say something. This conversational habit we have gotten into has left me feeling uncomfortable talking with this person. And over time I have become bitter and angry towards this person. Of course, this has caused a lot of strife for both me and my hubby.

I would have liked to have realized earlier that the cause of my grief was simply my inability to say-hmm, let me think about that and get back with ya. But, again...I am slow processor of info and feelings. I felt powerless in the conversations. I could have also just explained that I dont like being put on the spot...blah blah blah. But, that would have been too easy. I had to complicate it. Silly, really the whole thing now looking back.

What fun it is going to be to try and move past this one...

Randomness

I was waiting to have my Rx filled last Friday, and read in a parenting magazine about Pro Ana websites that are popping up on the WWW. I googled it out of curiosity, and hit a couple of sites. Pretty shocking. The websites at first glance appear to support peeps that are suffering from Anorexia and/or Bulimia, but upon closer inspection they are actually supporting the disorder, and helping perpetuate the problem.

I learned how to nurse in the side lying position last night. Hubby and I decided to sleep share with Elliott, and kick the co-sleeping bed to the curb. I think I finally have enough confidence as a parent, trust my instincts, and feel that all of us would get a better night sleep. We tried it out last night, and he still was up like an alarm clock at 12:30, 3am and 5am. But, it was so nice to only have to get out of bed once (for a diaper change)! I was unable to master this position before because of the surgery. I couldnt lie/sleep on my side comfortably for several weeks post surgery. Woot!

My headache went away finally, after 34 hours. Needless to say, I did not take any more of the medication. I am still suffering with the nipple/breast pain, but we are trying to manage the best we can.

Elliott occasionally will latch on by himself without my direction or assistance. What a pleasant change. Breastfeeding took a positive turn over the last few days. **huge sigh of relief** It still isnt easy, but it is easier than last week.

My sister reported to me today that she quit smoking. Big props to her.

Elliott's Aunt and Cousin came to visit yesterday. We had a great day together. I think with the exception of a couple last people, almost everyone I care about has come to visit and meet Elliott.

We booked our trip to SF for our friends wedding. I am a little apprehensive about traveling with a 2 month old.

I decided that sooner versus later, I need to talk with my work about going part-time, at least for a while. I need to just get it out of the way, so I can rest easier and start to mentally prepare for my return to the office. And should they decline, and insist that I work full-time, then I can also prepare myself for that as well. I have been composing my words in my head for a few days. Wish me luck.

I was teasing a friend over the weekend, and must have hit a sore/sensitive spot. His wife did the hand across the throat thing--like cut/stop. I felt embarrassed and blushed, and as quick as my conflicted brain could changed the subject. Of course, I felt remorseful, but mostly I felt embarrassed for crossing over some unsaid line, and not having known it. I certainly didnt want to hurt any ones feelings, and felt horrible for several days at the prospect that I might have. However, since the cut/stop sign was silent, I didnt feel like it was appropriate to address the mis-speak. But, perhaps I should? It keeps creeping into my thoughts, and I cant seem to let it go.

Elliott has outgrown his newborn size clothes, and is now wearing 3 month sizes. He is weighing in at over 12 pounds and many of the adorable onesies are too small for him. I have a whole bag of clothes to put into storage awaiting #2. Speaking of clothes...I wore a pair of pre-pregnancy jeans yesterday. Granted they were the stretchy varietal, and they were baggy before and now they are tight. But, lets not split hairs. After all this is the first pair of pants I have worn in 6 plus months that doesnt have an elastic waist band.

Not sure if I shared this already, but about 2 weeks ago, I bought the My Brest Friend breast feeding pillow (which I dont recommend). The paper insert in the package had the word waist spelled waste. Now, I am not one to talk about spelling since I am a horrible speller (I was always one of the first to sit down when we had a spelling competition in school). But, hmm...kinda a big difference there, doncha think?

Blips and Beats

Excuse the randomness of each item here, but I am sleep deprived, kinda depressed at my lack of success with breastfeeding and have a major headache.

• thank you to those who have posted comments and suggestions, as well as friends who have emailed or called with advise. I really appreciate hearing your thoughts, and can use all of the options and variables that are out there. Often times I know that the answers are out there, I just need to explore all of the variables and being a new parent, I am treading new ground daily.
• I think I have set myself up for personal failure (the worst kind, in my opinion). What I mean is that I thought that parenthood would consist of XYZ (see below for examples), and I had a plan of attack for what I wanted. What I neglected to understand was that children are human beings with their own ideas and plans for what they want. Duh!
• For example, I thought I would have a vaginal, natural childbirth. Apparently Elliott had a different path in mind (or I wasnt strong enough...that is another post).
• I thought I would baby wear (my kid wont go into any sort of sling for me (we have 4 to chose from)...and will only go in for my husband. I still try almost every day). This makes me sad, because I think that he wants to be held more, but since he is sleeping so much, I often put him down and try and get things done around the house. This is a catch 22 of course...if he wants to be held and comforted and I am putting him down all the time, we arent bonding in the way I hoped and he in turn doesnt get the confidence and feelings of love that he needs. But, if he wont let me sling him, I am forced to put him down occasionally at least. Again, I need to forgo my own needs in favor of his more often. Guilt over being too selfish...it never ends.
• I wanted to breastfeed for as long as possible. But, the way it looks I might not last 6 weeks, and may resort to part-time pumping. (heartbreaking and of course, I feel like a failure for not being strong enough to persevere and find a solution). Elliott gets so much comfort while at the breast. How can I take that away from him? But, how much more pain do I have to suffer, when there is another option. Again, more guilt over being selfish.
• On top of my own personal feelings of failure, I feel horrible for thinking ill of people who didnt do all of the things I mentioned above. Before I had Elliott, in my head, I judged people who didnt breastfeed, baby wear, etc. Dont I feel silly now.
• Parenting is hard. How in the world do women have a gaggle of kids? I can barely manage one.
• I stole the title of this post from a CD my husband put together while he was in a CD Club.
• Could this breastfeeding problem I am having be Thrush? His tongue doesnt look white, but the other symptoms are spot on for me.
• I dont have time to talk on the phone for long periods of time, and I think I am alienating myself from friends and family who are far away. When Elliott is sleeping, I want to sleep or do chores, or use the restroom, or check email, or eat. I dont want to talk on the phone. Which doesnt help my relationships that are far away. Please dont take it personal. This time I have home with Elliott is so short, that I want to make sure I am present with him as often as possible. I dont want to be on the phone, and not give him my undivided attention.
• In spite of all the parenting woes, I still want to stay home from work full time. I cant imagine leaving my little man in the hands and care of anyone else. I dont even like to let anyone else hold him for very long. I feel very protective over him. But, financially know that it is impossible to stay home. I dont even know if my employer will let me work part-time.
• By not staying home and I prioritizing correctly? After reading this post, I wonder if we need to bite the bullet and realign our priorities more in favor of what is most important (our family unit) to us. The fact that the decision is so difficult, makes me bitter again. Prioritizing a family shouldn't be so difficult especially when $$$ is the motivator for our decisions.
• Elliott is thriving, in spite of my boob blunders. He weighed in at 12 lbs and some change yesterday at the BF Support Group. He is gaining about a pound a week. I am very grateful to have a baby who is gaining weight so well. It is a mixed blessing.
• I thought I may have torn my incision. It was red, leaking some fluid and had a couple of drops of blood. I had it checked though, and the midwife said it was healing nicely, and she thought that a piece of skin just grew lightly over it, and tore back.
• My good friend had to put her 3 year old dog to sleep over the weekend, and I am very sad for her and her hubby.
• Sorry to any of those who I have depressed or whose day I ruined with this rambling depressed post.
• Have a great Hump Day.

The tightrope

I often feel bitter about the fact that women bear the brunt of the 'burden' of child rearing (please don't read this as regret or anger towards my son or my decision to have children). From their conception, we as women are limited in our activities (food restrictions, medication, alcohol), our mobility (exercise, movement, sleep), our consumption, and our freedom. After the pregnancy, we are further tied to them via breastfeeding, diaper changes and the endless soothing and nurturing that is required. Later we are bound by morality and lessons, school schedules, and play dates.

In a moment of frustration and bitterness at my husbands freedom to do whatever he wanted (he spent the majority of the day on the computer working, and the evening watching baseball--although in all fairness he did take the dog to get washed), but get nothing done (I asked for a couple of simple tasks-my honey-do list was small and had carried over from several days ago). I asked him for one day to sit with me, and not move every time I had to breastfeed. I wanted him to know what it felt like to be constrained (perhaps he would be less frustrated when I asked him for something). He basically laughed in my face, and said no. Just as well. Who would get me water if he was tied to the couch too. But, then again who is going to get me water come Monday when he is back at work?

I do not want to imply that I these things aren't done willingly or with love for my son. I just want to bring to light the great amount of sacrifice and selflessness that it takes to be a good mother. I wonder with all that we give up, why it is also accompanied by such vast amounts of guilt and grief.

Are we giving enough time to our child, did we handle that situation correctly, could I have done something different, given more, shown more patience, love, or guidance...The list is endless and the guilt never ending for some. It is a tight rope to walk, and unless we all find balance both in parenting and in our marriages, we are bound to fall.

Who gives to Mom's? Who makes sure we are alright? Who nurtures us? Who takes care of us when we are sick, or sad, or lonely? I am working the details out now, and hopefully will be able to find my balance soon.

Birth Story-Part II

Up until the birth of my son, I had never been admitted to a hospital before. I had never had an IV, a catheter (or 2), I had never been hooked up to oxygen, or fetal heart monitors. I had certainly never had surgery (unless you count having a mole removed...). I was steadfast on minimizing the amount of medical intervention that was involved in the birth of my baby. I had adopted the mind set that women birth babies every day, every second without intervention, and often times unassisted. I didn't want an epidural, or any drugs. I certainly didn't want to be lead down the spiral path of intervention (bag of waters broken, pitocin, epidural, heart monitors, c-section).

I wanted to labor and birth naturally, the way my body intended. I also wanted to ensure that my son's arrival into this world was not traumatic or medicalized. It was important to me that I wasn't restrained while I was in labor. I was adamant about the need to be free to move around, and not be limited to a hospital bed. I didn't want to be hooked up to an IV, or any monitors. I also didn't want people to treat me like I was sick.


From 8:30am on Saturday to 2:30pm on Sunday things went exactly as I had planned. Then, the intervention happened. Beginning at around 3:00 pm on Sunday, it was clear that I wasn't progressing, was suffering from exhaustion and my contractions had slowed to a grinding halt. The pitocin suggestion was offered, and we realized that something else needed to occur in order for us to move forward successfully.


Once we moved downstairs to labor and delivery, it was a whole new world. As soon as I was moved, I had an IV inserted. I was so out of it, I didn't realize that she couldn't find my vein, had made several attempts before finding it and I was bleeding all over the place (UCSD is a teaching hospital, and the nurse was obviously learning). I have a loose memory of seeing blood on my wedding ring.

Next came the fetal heart monitors, and my heart monitor. Then the epidural. I was pretty scared to get an epidural, as I have needle phobia and all in all phobia about things being inserted into my spinal cord. But, this was probably the least painful thing about the whole process. It didn't hurt at all, and the most uncomfortable part of the process what having to curl up and apply pressure to my very full bladder. It was done before I knew it, and my doula said it was the fastest epidural procedure she had witnessed. I was still having strong contractions at this point, and the need to push was still there. It was an odd sensation for the epidural to kick in, and be able to move my feet and legs, but to not feel pain. I still had the massive urge to push and bear down, but it was remarkably painless.

After that we needed to decide on the type of catheter I was going to receive. This is where the key decision needed to be made. If I opted for the pitocin then one type of catheter was required, but if we went straight for the c-section then a foley catheter was required. So, hubby and I consulted everyone, weighed all the options and decided for the c-section.

It was about 4:30pm by now, and the frenzy had begun. Since moving down to L&D, I had been surrounded by at least 5 people, and at any given time, at least 2 or 3 were doing some sort of procedure on me. The surgical nurses were now involved, and they took over for the birth center gals and the L&D gals. I had the foley inserted, I was partially shaved, and my husband was prepped for the OR.

It didn't take long for them to wheel me in, swab me with betadine, lock my legs down, give me a stronger dose of the epidural, test me to be sure it was working, hook me up to oxygen, and prepare to cut me open. To say I was nervous is an understatement. I was shaking like crazy, even before the epidural kicked in from nerves. My husband finally was brought in. I think they almost forgot him, as the anesthesiologist had to say several times, "Are you going to bring the husband in?". I was relived to see him. He stood by my head during the procedure.

It felt like it took forever! I could see Elliott being brought over to the table where he was examined and cleaned, Hubby cut his cord after it had finished pulsing. He was then brought over to me. He was placed on my chest for a moment (we got a photo), but the surgical team needed the space, so he was taken back over to the table, swaddled and his Dad got to hold him while they took some additional pictures.

They finished up the procedure, and placed Elliott on my chest while we were wheeled out to recovery. While we were in recovery we made our first skin to skin breastfeeding attempt. We weren't very successful for several reasons, the first being my complete lack of coordination due to the drugs and anesthesia. And the second being my utter lack of experience. Elliott on the other hand was rooting around looking to latch on. He is a champ at that. My doula was there luckily to help me keep a hold of him, and comfort him and me in our first attempts.

We stayed in recovery for a couple of hours and then moved back up to the 4th floor. We stayed in the hospital for 3 more sleepless nights before we came home. Nothing but vital signs, liquid meals, and measured urine. Elliott did great on all his tests-apgars were 8 and 9, his weight was good and he didn't lose too much over the first few days, he hearing test was fine. All pediatrician visits were positive. I was up and around after the first day, and have been pretty mobile since.

So in summary, I am still processing my feelings about the birth and the entire event. I feel deeply saddened that I wasn't able to birth my son vaginally. I feel a little like I let him (and myself) down. Personally, I feel that I missed out on a rite of passage as a woman and a mother. I am still mourning the loss. But, in the same breath I feel that I did the very best I could, and could not have labored any longer without assistance. Not to mention the health risks that were at hand. What I need to remember is that Elliott is here, he is safe, he is perfect in every way possible. I wouldn't change a thing about that.

I am head over heals in love with my boy. No amount of sadness about the way he came into this world will ever change that.

The ride of my lifetime

My life has taken me on many journeys. I left home when I was 14 years old, I have been without a home, I have been through many family changes (multiple step dads, living with my Aunt, parents in jail/prison, family addictions as well as personal), 50 plus moves, an equal amount of boyfriends. High School, college, jobs.

Through it all, I think that I have managed to keep it all together, and can say with some confidence that I turned out to be a fairly well rounded, stable individual. That is until I got pregnant. And now all rhyme and reason is out the window.

I can honestly say that nothing in my life to date compares to the emotional and physical ride that pregnancy has taken me for. From morning sickness and worry, to sleeplessness and fatigue, to insecurity and depression, to anger and resentment. Wee!

My stack graph of emotions

For the last few years, I have been thinking about the idea of emotions and how they work. I observed that many people around me took medication to positively affect their emotional states. I knew that I didn't want to be that person, however I used to think that perhaps I had some sort of emotional disorder-bipolar or depression, and would end up taking meds to help balance me out.

However, after thinking about it (extensively) and researching it, as well as being around several friends (both close and not) and a family member...experiencing their depression and bi-polar disorder; I concluded that I was normal (whatever that means) and that emotions follow a cycle. Like nature, they are cyclical and I have come to terms with the fact that this emotional cycle of mine is normal too.

What I discovered about myself is this. My emotions are like a stack graph. Think of a historical view of the stock market plotted out on a 2D graph with an X and a Y axis. That is what happens to my feelings. About every 1-1.5 years I will have a bout with depression. The depression period used to be more frequent (every couple of months)-which is why I initially thought I might have a chemical imbalance. But, now a days it is less than once a year.

I have yet to identify what triggers the depression (but my guess is anxiety and feelings of being overwhelmed). But, I can tell you that while I am in this depressed phase, I don't realize that I am depressed. I don't feel right, and I can tell that I am not myself, but I can not logically say--wow, this must be depression. I feel lonely, angry, isolated, misunderstood. My fuse is extremely short, I have little to no patience for people or their actions, I feel like everyone is 'out to get me' and I am negative and bitter. I also lose my self-confidence and question my abilities. I cant look people in the eye, I feel shy and am self conscious. All qualities that I don't usually feel.

Saturday, I realized that I was in the midst of one of these low phases. I was finally about to talk (I use this term very liberally) to my husband and over the next 24 hours we were able to work out most of the details. I feel totally better, and like I am on the upward journey back to the stable point on the Y axis again. Whoo hoo for me.

It is weird though to look back onto the last week or so, and think about what I was feeling and thinking. It is like I was another person. I also worry that after the baby is born that I might suffer from post-partum depression.

One of the things my hubby suggested is this theory for me:
As a young person and as a teenager, and for a long time after I was only able to handle situations, and was never able to express or manage my feelings. This was due to my manic, unstable upbringing and life experiences. I have always felt free to share the details of my life's situations, all the while being pretty reserved about feelings.

Then, things began to stabilize, and normal life was discovered. I became more aware of my feelings, but I took a long time to process them and understand them. I thought about them for a long time before I was able to express them (if I ever was able to).

In the last few years I decided that I wanted to be more in touch with my feelings, and to be able to share them more. Hubby was always saying that when you express yourself emotionally that you allow yourself to be vulnerable and people identify with that. So, I started to blog, and share my feelings publicly and as a result-they are becoming easier to identify and easier to recognize. I am forcing/allowing myself to be more forthcoming with my feelings in writing and this is helping me to be more comfortable with my feelings in general.

As a result of this new found freedom with my feelings, my ability to more quickly identify them, and to articulate them-I now want to verbally express them more often...but I am still hesitant to share them out loud. This is pretty new territory for me. I am much better at writing them down, sending them via email, or communicating via mass media using my blog.

So friends, if you are reading this-know that I am trying to become more open, more expressive, and as a result closer emotionally. I hope that this journey is worth it in the end (for all of the work I have put into it!!!) LOL.

Finally **smile**