Thoughts on Tuesday

It is 5:55 am.

I have been awake for a few hours.   I made a good ol’ attempt to fall back asleep, and short of that I decided to get out of bed and eat something.

I didn’t eat very well yesterday.

I can hear Ronan coughing in his room, and it’s breaking my heart.  My throat hurts so badly I don’t want to swallow, and I know he feels just as sick as I do – but he can’t tell us.

We have had a bed time breakthrough. (Thanks to Brock!)

Apparently, we thought we were being good parents by going and checking on Ronan every 20-30 minutes after we put him in bed, despite his having difficulty falling asleep.  We didn’t want him to think he was alone, or that we didn’t care.  We would offer him a drink, a snack, a diaper change and a cuddle.

Apparently, children as  young as 23 months are able to manipulate their parents into giving them a reason to stay awake.  As of Sunday night, when he is put in bed, we do not go in again.  As of LAST night, his 2-3 hour bed time sleep battle lasted a short 25 minutes.  When he realized we weren’t coming in, he stopped playing and yelling, and he went to sleep.

Win.

My baby girl changed positions last night.  She’s always been laying down my right side with her feet at the left.  Now her bottom is straight up the center, and I don’t know where her feet are.  Suddenly, my belly feels weird.  Things are changing!

I haven’t gotten much in order since the last time I shared any updates.  I started taping off the moulding in the baby room so I could paint it PINK!  I say PINK! because it’s not a calm, quiet little pink.  Baby, that pink is PINK!  I still want to hand paint flowers on the wall, so I have to get around to that as well.

I packed a birthing bag.  One step in the right direction!

My midwife visit yesterday was rescheduled to today.  I always look forward to them, even though they are weekly now – which seems VERY frequent.

Today… TODAY we find out if Ronan got in to the 2-year program at the preschool down the street!  I am very excited!  Classes don’t start until September, but it would be great if he got a spot.

Mom and Dad bought their plane tickets.  They get here on the 16th of February.  My due date, in case you have forgotten, is the 12th of February.  It has added a whole new level of joy and anxiety to everything.  What if I haven’t had her by then?!  What if I don’t have her before they LEAVE??

No!  We still don’t have a name picked out.  HONESTLY.

Man.  Writing all this stuff out really helps.

I am really, really happy lately.  In love with my life.  I am enjoying every moment, and looking forward to the future.  I don’t write words like that very often… and it feels really nice.

~~~

I am 38 weeks and 3 days pregnant, and Ronan is 23 months old.

I’m Awesome.

“No you’re not, dude, don’t lie.”

I used to wonder when I would feel like when I finally became a significant blogger.  I had no idea that just any little no-one can have a stalker that tries to ruin their life.  All I can figure is that this person thinks I’m so awesome, they are overcome with jealousy and have to try to bring me down.  Let me fill you in on exactly how awesome I am.

I was married at 19 years old to a man I met on the internet, and divorced by 23.  Good choices.

I left my family and country behind because I thought I was making ‘good choices’ for myself.  I suffer from loneliness and homesickness every single day.  I live THOUSANDS of miles from anyone that loves me.  Who needs family?

My best friend and I didn’t talk for nearly two years because of my previous marriage.  Throw away the friends you’ve got.

I have suffered on and off with various image and eating disorders since I decided in 11th grade that I was fat.  I allow my weight to hover somewhere around dangerously-low, because I feel better about myself that way.  Shit, that’s healthy.

I wanted a baby more than anything in the world for as long as I could remember.  As soon as I had one, I realized I had no idea what I was getting into.  I prepared myself well for life.

I talk too much.  To everyone.  To anyone.  I have never met a stranger, and I annoy the shit out of some people.  It usually hurts to realize that people would rather you’re not around.  I know it, can’t change it.

I have a destructive impulse to correct people.  When someone says something or does something wrong, I will inevitably point it out.  I have been trying to curb this impulse for YEARS, and have seen only marginal improvements.  No one likes a know-it-all.

My mom has a beautiful voice.  I can’t sing.

I took dance religiously for years.  I can’t dance.

I battle depression again and again when I feel alone, isolated, out of touch.  I use my blog and twitter to grasp on to threads of connection.  Surrounded by people, and lonely.

My wardrobe consists of every outfit I purchased during my break-up and divorce phase when I spent whatever I wanted… and nothing since then.  The coolest clothes I have are maternity clothes, because they were given to me.  Not a fashonista.

Of all of the friends I have made since moving to Charlotte, I somehow find a way to not hold up my end of the bargain.  Short of losing friends, I lose the closeness I desire, and end up feeling lonely, wishing I had someone I was close to.  Who doesn’t know how to make friends?

I gave up a job I loved to work a schedule that would allow me to stay home with my son.  Now, that schedule drains the life out of me, and I can hardly handle my basic obligations – like housework and laundry.  So… I decided to have another kid.  Brilliant logic.

I don’t do my hair.  I don’t wear makeup.  I can’t be bothered to accessorize.  I’m lazy?  Or just plain useless.

I suffer from hemorrhoids.  Yup, I said it.  I have been battling constipation and poop problems for nearly 2 years now.  TMI? Whatever.

I am a horrible housekeeper.  I can’t keep a clean home to save my life.  I attract clutter and dust and animal hair, and I’ve never EVER won the battle.  I continually give up, only to try again and fail.  My house usually disgusts ME.

Yes.  I’m sure if I sit here all day, I can continue to find things about myself that are less than awesome.  I could probably fill a book.

But here’s what’s real:

I am a good tech.  I care about my studies, and I care about my patients.  My work holds up.

I write.  I love to write.  Some people love to read what I write.  It’s as much a part of my life as breathing, and I can’t give that up.

I’m honest.  I’m genuine.  I care (usually too much) about people.  I get hurt easily.

I do the very best I know how with my son.  I may not be the best mom in the world, but I am the best mom to him that I can be.  I believe that with all of my heart, and I don’t let others attempt to convince me otherwise.

I have made bad decisions in my life, but I am living my life to the fullest despite the past.

I have a wonderful husband, and an amazing, loving, supportive family.

I am just a person.  Not worthy of idolization, but honestly… not deserving of hate or derision.  I think it takes effort to find something about me worth actually disliking… and I’m not worth that effort.

Why would you make the effort?

Overwhelmed.

In all honestly, I wrote this blog weeks ago.  Before the Miscarriage. Strangely, things have been better since then.  But the emotions were real, the sentiments were real, and it would be dishonest to let this post sit and gather dust when it was so VERY real to me.

Please know that I’m not in that same dark place I was in when I wrote this.  While I haven’t gotten any sleep, I’m still feeling quite good.  I think some of you mothers may relate to this, if even only a little.

Cheers!

———————————————–

My life defeats me.

Why is this shit so hard?

I can’t figure it out.

Is it hard for everyone?

Or just for pussies like me?

I can’t get out of my own head.

I can’t stop thinking about things that upset me.

I can’t handle all of the things I’m supposed to handle.

How do I not make people mad at me?

I want to be the best at everything.

I want to take the best pictures.

Be the best sonographer.

The greatest mom.

The awesomest friend.

How do I fail at everything?

LAUNDRY NEVER ENDS.

It defeats me.

I can’t stand it.

Why can’t I get up off of the couch?

Why can’t I do the dishes?

Why haven’t I gone to get groceries today?

What is wrong with today?

FUCK YOU, LAUNDRY.

Is it possible to fail at EVERYTHING?

Not good enough.

Never good enough.

My house is constantly disgusting.

How to people keep a clean house?

It’s not my kid.

My house was disgusting before I procreated.

I can’t even find the time to WATCH TV SHOWS.

Plan a baby shower?

Something for Brock’s 30th birthday?

ARE YOU SERIOUS?

Keep my house clean.

Do the laundry.

What for dinner?

It has to be healthy.

Something good for the kid, even if we eat like shit.

Overwhelmed, overwhelmed, overwhelmed.

Is there something more than this?

What am I missing?

I JUST VACCUMED YESTERDAY.

Crap everywhere.

I look around and want to cry.

I don’t dress well.

I never do my hair.

Make-up about once a week.

If I’m lucky.

Should I care more than that?

I need to get out of this house.

I don’t want to go anywhere.

It’s easier to stay.

Where is the motivation to get things done?

Please nap, please nap, please nap.

Mommy loves you, but she can’t stand you right now.

Cry, cry, cry.

Don’t cry, mommy.

If I don’t call you, it’s not because I don’t love you.

I want to shut my brain off.

I want to shut it all down.

I don’t want to think, and feel, and hurt.

Who is a success at life?

If you have everything you could have ever wanted, are you still a failure?

It just feels like failure.

Heavy, heavy, heavy.

Pressing down on me.

I was supposed to be better than this.

I am what I am.

What now?

Those Days.

You know you have those days.

The ones where you’re so preoccupied with something that you cant get it out of your head?  The ones where you get so caught up in your own life that you can’t find the way to pull yourself out?

I’ve been having one of those weeks.  I didn’t blog TWO entire days this week.  Every time I sat down and started thinking about what I would write, I felt sick to my stomach.  I haven’t cleaned my house, I haven’t done any laundry, I haven’t even been able to make it to the public library, which was my goal for the week.

Three lovely ladies came to my rescue yesterday, and invited me out of my house and out of my head.  I couldn’t have needed it more, and we had such a great time at the mall.  I probably wouldn’t have left the lair if it weren’t for you, Steph, and I appreciate it so much.  Thank you.

I guess I’ll give some news.

In Ronan-land, we started signing “Please” this week.  It’s very adorable.  He rubs himself from shoulder to belly button.  More like “PLEASE!”… but we get the point, and it seems he does too.

Also, Ronan woke six times last night.  Things seem to be getting better, and then they just jump off a cliff, all the way down to the bottom again.  He hasn’t woken six times in a night in so long, and it’s very discouraging.  We have him in his own bedroom now, on a mattress on the floor.  One of us sleeps with him, as we thought it would a little traumatic to suddenly throw him into a different room and leave him alone when he’s been co-slept for the last 12 months.

I really don’t know what else to say.  This hasn’t been a good week.  I have my fingers crossed that next week turns out better.  Eternally optimistic.