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.