40 & fabulous! Or not.

Tomorrow is my 40th birthday. When I allow myself to think about it, it stuns me. I’m not upset, just shocked. How can this be? I remember turning 30 as if it was yesterday. Wasn’t it just yesterday?

Still pregnant, 17w4d. The perinatologist is “95% certain” it’s a girl, which was my preference. Easier toddler years, harder teenage years, so I’m told. I can’t even think that far ahead, so I’ll take the easier earlier.

This pregnancy and this baby feel like a lesson to me. As if I’m supposed to learn some greater truth from being in this awkward, unhappy position. It’s still a rollercoaster. In spite of not wanting to be pregnant, I can enjoy being pregnant a little bit. I would enjoy the pregnancy more if I didn’t have to deal with the baby that results. I’m dreading the newborn phase & the accompanying sleep deprivation. Actually, I’m dreading pretty much everything about the new baby, with the exception of labor & delivery. That I’m actually looking forward to. Yeah, I’m a weirdo. I’m hoping to give birth with as little medical intervention as possible while actually in a hospital. We’ll see how that goes.

I’ve realized something about my life. Even before this pregnancy I was struggling with motherhood. Frankly, I’m beat down by it. I don’t know if I’m not cut out to be a stay-at-home mom or what, but life as it is is hard enough. Add in another baby, and all I feel is trapped. Stuck. Like I’m never, ever getting out of this hamster wheel. Which in turn makes me a joyless, cranky and impatient person & mother.

Mid-life crisis, anyone?

Not-so-interesting news.

Still here, still pregnant, 15w4d. Am I handling the situation any better? Some days, yes. Some days, no. I finally realized that my most depressed days might actually be exacerbated by my fluctuating hormones. They make the bad seem so much worse. Other days I fare pretty well; if not happy, at least functioning. The bad days, though? Are soooo bad.

I’ve been able to feel the baby move since late in the 13th week. Early, right? If I lay down and you smush your hand into my belly, you can feel the baby move from the outside too. Active little bugger, already.

My belly has definitely popped, in spite of the fact that I've not gained any weight. I've actually lost about 14 pounds so far, but I think I'm beginning to gain - I'm certainly eating better. I only have two skirts that will fit for much longer, and two pairs of shorts that probably won’t fit by next week. The thought of buying maternity clothes irritates me - once I'm done with 'em, they're basically useless. Seems like a waste of money. I’m hoping to be able to find most of what I need at thrift shops.

Our house will be listed for sale in the next few weeks. I dread the selling process. I hope it goes smoothly/quickly/well. In our favor, we live in a “hot” neighborhood. The house was built in 2003 and has a massive basement/garage, something most houses in the neighborhood don’t have.

In non-pregnancy related news, Little Girl has entered a new phase of behavior. An unfortunate phase. Tantrums, lots of them, over the most minor of issues. In public. In private. Several times a day. We have had days where I have literally been brought to tears because she just won’t stop. In general, when we’re at home I try to ignore the tantrums. That doesn’t work when we’re out in public, though. Let’s just say I’ve been pretty embarrassed more than a few times lately. Hope this phase passes quickly...

Potty training? Little Girl is wearing underpants about fifty percent of the time. Little Boy, not so much. He doesn’t seem to mind having accidents at all. Sitting in a puddle of his own urine? Okey doke with him. I’m at a loss how to properly motivate him to want to wear underpants and use the potty. Frankly, I’m sick of thinking about it. I’m alternately horrified that my children are almost three and not potty trained, and finally understanding of other parents that told me, “just wait, when they’re ready, it’ll be easier.” I’m not sure I actually believe that, but I’m hopeful.

The nicest three hours I've had lately...

I am not well. Physically as evidenced by my three hour emergency room visit earlier this week to receive IV fluids to correct dehydration brought on by diarrhea and stomach cramps. A bug, I guess. Mentally as evidenced by the fact that those three hours were the best I’d had in weeks, in spite of feeling like Ass Warmed Over. I rested in the quiet, darkened room and wished my condition was serious enough to be admitted to the hospital. Anything to get a break from the ongoing nightmare that is my reality right now.

I’ve obviously not made much progress making peace with being pregnant. I’ve realized I might never. At this point I’m simply counting on falling madly in love with the baby once it gets here (assuming all goes well, of course) as I did with Little Boy and Little Girl. If I don’t enjoy this pregnancy, so be it. I hope that’s not an unrealistic scenario and I don’t end up resenting the baby.

Much change is on the horizon. Work has begun to get our house on the market. We’ll have to sell my beloved Prozac, the vehicle since there’s absolutely no way to fit three car seats into an already cramped wagon. We’ll probably end up with a minivan, and I am not excited about that at all. Then again, not much does excite me lately.*

10w3d today.

*Yeah, I know. I'm depressed.

News.

This last long break between posts brought to you by surprise, shock and utter panic.

I’m pregnant. 8w3d today. One baby.

I don’t have the ability to completely explain where my head is right now. Suffice it to say that I’m not handling it well. I had long ago made complete peace with not having more children. Mother Nature—truly, in so many ways a bitch—seems to have other plans for me.

I’ll be forty this year and have so many strikes against me (high FSH, stage IV endometriosis, homozygous MTHFR, PAI-1, a missing fallopian tube) that my mind is still stuck on what happened, not what could happen. As we all know too well, being pregnant now is no guarantee of a baby down the road.

For those of you still grappling with infertility, I apologize. I have become what I used to hate: someone that didn’t manage their fertility carefully and got pregnant by accident.

Because...

I am a bad mom because...

I yell too much. Especially at my son, who seems to not be able to hear what I’m saying any other way.

I haven’t enjoyed my children for awhile. If I spent this much time with anyone I’d dislike them too.

I’ve been so cranky & ill tempered lately that on the rare occasions that I am not, it really stands out. Then I feel guilty for being so cranky & ill tempered all the time.

Being aware of my blessings doesn’t help me enjoy them.

I am a good mom because...

I feed my children well. As much organic, unprocessed food as possible. I bake all their bread.* Yes, we eat occasional junk, but overall their intake is pretty darned healthy.

I am consistent. “No” means “no” - yesterday, today and tomorrow.

I’m not afraid to have my children dislike me. I’m their parent, not their friend. I fully expect to be hated and reviled for many of their growing-up years.

I will never shirk my responsibility towards these two people, as much as I might want to.

*In a bread machine, people. It’s not as impressive as it sounds. Delicious and healthy, yes, but also crazy easy.

Debbie Downer, that's me!

I don’t much like my kids these days.* Every last thing is a challenge. Or a lesson. I open my mouth, words come out, but they fall upon deaf ears. I repeat myself endlessly, but to no avail. They still do whatever the hell they want until a more dramatic intervention is required. I yell too much, but can’t seem to catch their attention otherwise. At the end of the day I’m drained and wasted and full of nothing but negative. We watch too much television ‘cause I can’t muster up the energy or enthusiasm to entertain these two little people one minute longer. It doesn’t help knowing that each day is going to be exactly like the last. The view from the hamster wheel sucks.

The cause of this unhappiness? There’s been a shortage of “me” time the past few months. So much so that I no longer really know who or what “me” is, besides “mom.” Since last November we’ve not had funds for any mother’s helpers/babysitters. This means I’m pretty close to full-on insane. Clients are slow to pay me, we’ve had some unexpected expenses, we’re still digging out from the holidays, so the financial situation’s not going to change anytime soon.

It’ll get better. It’s just a phase.

Right?

*Yeah, yeah, I love my kids, eternally grateful to have them, yadda yadda yadda.

Trying.

I seem to have lost the ability to write. Where once words flowed out of me with relative ease, now it’s a struggle to compose a simple update. Is it because I’m boring/bored? Has Facebook stolen my need to blog?* Whatever the reason, I suck at updating. Sorry.

We made it through the holidays. (Thanks Stacie for the nudge.) It was low key but still exhausting. I’m glad they’re over. Am I a Grinch or what?

The kiddos are back in preschool two mornings a week. Speech therapy is on (hopefully) temporary hiatus pending insurance approval for more visits. They’re starting to string a couple of words together, but it’s slow progress and they are still largely unintelligible, even to me. Frankly, I’m tired of worrying about/working on it/caring about it. We’ll get there.

B. has been local since November. He was supposed to have been gone this week and next, but the trip was cancelled. I was actually disappointed. I could use a little alone time, even if alone means me and the kids. B. is really unhappy with his work situation right now and is driving himself (and me in the process) crazy. I wish he could leave work stuff at work, but he can’t. He’s even more distracted than normal, grouchy, perpetually stressed and constantly trying on different “what if?” scenarios. It’s frustrating because much of what he’s worrying about is out of his control, which sucks for him. I’m trying to be patient, but patience is often in short supply around here.

I’m trying to drink less alcohol, but not because I think I have a drinking problem. More of a caloric thing. I’m heavier than I’d like to be and cutting back from 10-12 glasses of wine a week to 5 -6 is a lot of calories over time. If I could just combine that with smaller portion sizes and less sweets, I might actually lose some weight.

Toddler weirdness du jour? Little Girl is holding food in her mouth for extended periods of time. Usually graham crackers, but it has also been celery, carrots, and meat. She’ll literally walk around for an hour with a mouthful of chewed food. No amount of coercion will convince her to swallow. I think it’s a control issue for her. (Apple doesn’t fall very far from the tree on that one - I’ve been called controlling a time or twenty.)

Potty training is not going very well. They both pee on the potty most every day, but rarely poop and they never take the initiative to use the potty on their own. I’m planning on trying big kid undies in March or April - maybe. I’m dreading it, though. So many of the milestones looming on the horizon (potty training, toddler bed, no more binkies at night) seem like a lot of trouble & work. Isn’t it great how I can be depressed about the future?

*Save me from Facebook. I’m so ridiculously addicted. I used to be the snooty one saying I’d never get sucked in and now look at me. Hopeless.