Punch in the gut.

Today’s drama? I’m reeling from news that my beloved sister has chosen to visit my parents in Florida for Thanksgiving, rather than come here to help. I don’t think she understood the scope of our situation, but even if B. hadn’t injured himself my feelings would still be hurt. And they are soooo hurt.

WTF, people?

Down, down, down.

Our situation is verging on dire. B.’s surgery went pretty well. They were able to reattach most of the tendon in his foot, but now they’re saying he’ll be on crutches and not able to put any weight on his foot for anywhere from six to ten weeks - well past labor & delivery and into the newborn phase.

The suckiness of this is really beginning to sink in. I’m exhausted. Just absolutely exhausted, yet I’m the sole caregiver for the twins and a nursemaid to B. (who is admittedly doing his best to be as easy a patient as possible - much better than after his sinus surgery). I will get no reprieve anytime soon. We’re broke again, so funding for babysitters is limited and best saved for the actual labor & delivery. If they’re available, that is. Having no family nearby, if we’re not able to get babysitters when I go into labor, well, I don’t know what will happen. B. cannot care for the kids by himself at all.

All for a pregnancy I wish had never happened, and a baby I’m not at all excited about having. I keep telling myself that the baby is a blessing, a miracle, and part of me does believe that, but it’s not helping me wade through today or prepare for what’s to come.

I feel genuinely sorry for everyone around me*, and most of all Little Boy, Little Girl, and Baby. I am so much less of a mother than I want to be, and they pay the price. It’s gonna get worse before it gets better.

*And obviously myself too.

Enough of October, already.

The suck continues. Last week B. dropped a chef’s knife on his foot, creating a nice gash. We got him stitched up at the emergency room where they told him to immediately see a podiatrist. One week later, after jumping through the hoops the military healthcare system requires, he saw the specialist today and he's going to have to have major surgery next Tuesday. The tendon appears to be severed and regressing up into his ankle. He’ll be completely incapacitated for a couple days, then supposed to stay off his foot as much as possible for 4 to 6 weeks. In other words, the remainder of my pregnancy. If I make it to 40 weeks, that is.

Icing on the cake? We are supposed to attend a wedding this weekend about two hours from our house. Our family is playing a pretty big part in the wedding: bridesmaid, flower girl, and ring bearer. The drive necessitates staying in a hotel for two nights. B. has an MRI on Friday afternoon, which means I’m flying solo for the drive up, hotel check-in, rehearsal, and rehearsal dinner. Look for me - I’ll be the large, pregnant lady with the out-of-control twins at her wits’ end. Fun!

I would ask, “what else can go wrong?” but I know better*. Tempting fate seems like a bad idea.

*Actually, the stomach flu is moving through the twins’ preschool. I’m guessing that’s next on the agenda. Or, real preterm labor!

More from the trenches...

Neither my outlook nor my luck has improved since my last post. What’s happened? Let’s see...

Well, there was my 36 hour stint in the hospital because I was having tons of contractions, pressure and the urge to push. Terbutaline got everything under control, and the contractions subsided into my regular Braxton-Hicks. No recurrences so far. I’ll be 33 weeks on Sunday, so any additional womb time is a good thing at this point.

Our house will be officially off the market next week. All the work/effort/money spent getting the house ready for nothing. We’ll try again next spring.

Upsetting me the most? In all likelihood, tomorrow’s the day we’re trading in my beloved Jetta Wagon for a minivan. As trite as it sounds, it’s soul crushing for me. I looooove that car. I don’t want a minivan. If I had managed my fertility better, I wouldn’t have to have one. Did I mention that the “check engine” light came on in the Jetta today? It flickers on and off, but hadn’t been on in awhile. Almost as if she knows we’re planning on trading her in tomorrow.

Oh, the complaints of a middle-class American. I should feel grateful that we even have the option of having reliable vehicles. I’ve said it before, but counting my blessings only makes me feel like I have no right to be sad about anything else. So add “ungrateful jerk” to my list of shortcomings.

Goodbye sweet Jetta. I love you.

Can I get a break, please?

What an absolutely lousy weekend we had. It didn’t start off badly...B. caught an earlier flight home on Friday night and I was able to pick him up and bring him home to surprise the kids, who were expecting him Saturday morning. Nice, happy reunion there.

Saturday we were excited because two different realtors called to arrange showings of our house, the price of which we just dropped ten grand (goodbye wiggle room! hello short sale!). We busted our hump to ready the house for showing, then took the dogs to doggie daycare ($40), since B. thought the two and a half hours we’d need to be out of the house was too long to leave them in the car. I thought they’d be fine, but didn’t want to push the issue - it was cool & rainy, and we’d have left the car in a safe place while we ate dinner. Had a nice - if hyper - dinner with the kids ($45). While dining, the skies just opened up with torrential downpours. Picked up the dogs from doggie daycare, headed home.

One of the realtors called to reschedule the showing to Sunday because of the rain. Okay, thanks for communicating - half of the agents don’t bother. Sunday morning we came downstairs to blood all over the couch and the dog bed. Our dog Feral had a two inch open gash on his shoulder, presumably from an altercation at doggie daycare. I can’t believe we didn’t notice it Saturday night, but it didn’t seem to bother him, so that’s probably why. Off to the emergency vet, and $450 dollars and nine staples later, Feral is on the mend. While at the vet, the second real estate agent called to let me know that she never brought her clients over on Saturday because of the rain, but they were down the street now and could they come by. Right then. Sure, I said, even though the house was not ready to be shown.

In the midst of all this, we’re trying to juggle having the dogs & the kids out of the house for the afternoon showing, as well as being at the house for a scheduled visit from a DirecTV repairman. Who never showed up. Turns out when I made the service appointment they meant next Sunday, the 4th. We’ve been without signal for a week now, I made the service appointment earlier this week, so I was shocked that it was going to be ten days before a technician could come out. Hubby gets on phone and after much drama we end up cancelling DirecTV. Oh well, we’re broke anyway.

And finally, this morning (not technically the weekend, but we’re obviously still on a roll) I started assembling the ingredients to make pancakes (a breakfast mainstay for Little Boy & Little Girl - we almost always have ‘em in the freezer) I found the new bag of flour to be completely riddled with bugs. Gack.

I’m back to being depressed. It feels like all this shit, major and minor both, could have been avoided if I had just managed my fertility correctly. Like I did for twenty years, but obviously neglected to do when it really mattered. I am reminded every day how much rests on my shoulders, and how much more is about to rest in my arms. Having B. home was supposed to be a relief, and it is, but you know what? I still do everything. He helps, but I run the show. And I am so tired of running the show.

So, where were we?

Oh yeah, pregnant. 28w3d now, in fact. Starting to feel pretty large and slow. Weird pregnancy, in that I struggled to gain weight well into the second trimester, then bloated up really fast, then stopped gaining weight again. I think most of the fluctuations have been water weight, but I’m the only one that seems even remotely concerned about it. My ob/gyn practice is not at all alarmed, so I guess I shouldn’t be either.

I’ve been doing a tad better mentally. B. is out of town for the month of September, so I’m alone with the twins. We’re also experiencing a babysitter drought, due to financial reasons + our regular babysitters having really crappy schedules this semester. You would think that this combo would render me completely insane, but I’ve been managing oddly well. In fact, I’ve been taking better care of myself (eating healthy, sleeping a lot, etc.) since B. has left, and my stress level has been lower too. Which leads me to the conclusion that he might be the source of much of my stress. I know I’m harboring some pretty significant resentment towards him. I’m not sure what this says about our relationship, but probably nothing good.

Little Boy & Little Girl started back at preschool this week, so that means I have three blissfully childfree mornings a week. Heaven, I tell you. Expensive heaven, but heaven nonetheless. I get sad though, when I think about the fact that these mornings until the new baby arrives in November are likely to be the last significant chunk of alone time I’m going to have for at least a year or two.

No movement on the house. People come look once or twice a week, but no offers yet. I’ve been frustrated with the inability of the visiting realtors to show up during the allotted window of time that they specify. If you say you’re going to show the house between 1:30 and 2:30, don’t arrive at 3:00 and expect me not to be here. Trust me, I don’t want to be here when you’re looking at my house, but if I’ve already been driving around with two kids & two dogs in the car for the past hour, we’re not getting back in the car. Sorry.

Moving. Hopefully forward.

Our house is officially on the market. B. has been away the past few days as I’ve put the finishing touches on the house and worked with the realtor to get the house listed. Each step along the way has been sad for me. I don’t want any of this: to move, another baby, such a drastic upheaval of our lives. It’s all just happening to me and I’m along for the ride. Nice attitude, right?

The biggest stressor about moving is the preschool situation for the twins. They are currently enrolled in a nearby school that I absolutely love. When we move this fall (assuming the house sells) we’re likely going to be too far away for them to continue to attend their current preschool. This breaks my heart. I am skeptical that I’ll be able to find a comparable program in the ‘burbs. If I do manage to find an acceptable substitute, what’s the likelihood they’ll have two openings? In Atlanta’s competitive school market, the odds are slim. All I know for sure is that my kids have to go somewhere two or three mornings a week as scheduled, or I’ll lose my last thin hold on sanity. I cannot fathom being alone with them plus a newborn 24/7. As much as I already need their time at school, I’m really going to need it after the new baby arrives.

Like most everything else about my current situation, it depresses me. I have made myself a promise, though. After the new baby comes and after I’m done breastfeeding, if I’m depressed I’m going to finally bite the bullet and get on some medication. I’ve resisted over the years, but if things turn out to be as miserable as I think they will, I’m not going to resist anymore. That’s a long way off, though. For now I just have to cope as best I can.

One last note...a previous commenter had suggested that I get more help with the twins in order to have more time away. I’m somewhat ashamed to admit that I do have a good bit of help, a babysitter two or three nights a week from 4 to 7 p.m., plus B.’s help when he’s local. I try to get away as often as I can, but it’s still not enough. I can go do something absolutely lovely for myself (pedicure, a nice meal, etc.) but I still have to come home to the grind. The routine is always waiting for me, no matter how long I step away from it. Knowing that I’m going to be more tied down in the future, not less, well, I don’t know if there’s enough time away in the world to fix how I feel about that.