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7.30.2006

The Longest Entry to Date (and it won't be the last)

Originally I was going to post a semi positive missive in an effort to pull myself out of this funk that’s been like a cloud overhead. but then I thought hell, why fake it? If I can’t be totally honest here, then why bother having a blog to begin with?

I don’t think men don’t fully understand postpartum depression (PPD). The men I’ve spoken to recently seem to think it’s more of a “I’m so sad, pay attention to me” feeling. Their answer to PPD is to 1) get laid and get over it or 2) smile, be happy and get over it. Um, guys? Imagine having a nice, sharp knitting needle shoved up the head of your penis and bouncing back from that. If you think you can recover from something like with a nice chipper attitude, some pussy and a smile, by all means feel free to dispense advice to me at will.

But in fairness, how can they know how awful it is to feel this way and not know what to do to combat it? Sure it seems easy enough; normally when I am in a slump I can pull myself out of it by just “doing” it. You know, see the problem, find the solution and just do it. That’s the way I usually tackle life’s obstacles. But this… this… I don’t know, this feeling of moroseness, lethargy and helplessness… it’s hard to bounce back. It’s not just the feeling of helplessness there’s a feeling of hopelessness too. Like things will always be this way. I know that’s not true but it doesn’t stop the defeatist attitude and the “why even bother”. Rather than tackle the things that I know should and need to be done, I’d prefer to just sit around in my bathrobe weeping all day. If I didn’t have to get out of bed it’d suit me just fine. But I can’t do it obviously. I’ve two little ones depending on me to be their provider, their friend, their cheerleader and playmate, not to mention teacher (and chauffer and personal loan officer and hair dresser, maid, personal chef and… oh wait, where was I going with this?). You can’t be selfish and self absorbed and be a good parent. Yet at the same token, you can’t be a good parent if you don’t take some time out for yourself. I suppose the key is finding balance. And balance is what I am struggling to find. I’m on a quest to rediscover myself and it’s frightening. I’m discovering things about myself that quite frankly I’m afraid to face. For years I’ve been self sufficient, independent and selfless when it came to my daughter. Now I’ve two daughters and suddenly I feel the need to take time out for me.

I think that’s part of the problem now, you know, with the PPD and all. Since Trinity’s birth not once have I had a rest. It’s been like a train wreck in slow motion. From the moment Trinity arrived I’ve worried nonstop; I worried about her surgery & her recovery and leaving her alone in the NICU. On average I think I slept perhaps 2-3 hours per night. All other time was spent in the NICU until the nurses kicked me out every few hours to go eat and rest (ha). And since then I worry about SIDS, her constipation, this goddamned acne that is wrecking her beautiful, tender skin… Is she gaining enough weight? Is she gaining too much weight? Am I showing her enough attention? Am I showing her too much attention, especially when Jaalyn is around? Hell, am I showing Jaalyn enough attention? I look into my girls’ eyes and I wonder what they see. Do they see their mom that loves them more than life itself or do they see mom with her haggard appearance, a false, too-chipper-to-be-real façade, alternating between being really sad and really angry? Do they see the loving home and refuge I try to provide for them or do they see a dirty, cluttered house that mom just can’t keep clean to save her damned life?

I’m worn out. I need a break. I need to be selfish in a way that’s not destructive to the household. I need to be loved and I yearn to be loved. Not just by another person, but by me. I miss feeling confident. I miss being in control. I miss being ME. I need a life change, a new image and renewed self confidence. I need a clean fucking home and a place to relax. The house had gone to pot when I was pregnant because I either never had the energy to do anything, Jaalyn destroyed my progress, or the items that needed to be moved were simply too heavy for me at the time. Since I’ve been on maternity leave and depressed the house is out of control. I’m ashamed of it. I pay too much to live in this stupid townhouse to let it look like this (and yes even as I write this I’m trying to psyche myself up to clean up my act.) The problem isn’t the actual cleaning part, it’s my perfectionism in cleaning. I’m completely anal when it comes to cleaning therefore it‘ll take me an hour or more to do something that would take a normal person 15 minutes. For example, if I’m cleaning the bathroom, not only do the necessary components get cleaned (i.e. the tub, toilet, sink and countertops) but I have to take it a step further: the grout in the tiles must be spotless, floor scrubbed (by hand), the baseboards must be thoroughly cleaned with a special brush, walls scrubbed free of dirt, mirror streak free and so on. I exhaust myself in one room with the little details. So imagine looking at my kitchen, bedroom, living room and Jaalyn’s room with my eyes and inclination to be absorbed with minute details and imagine how long it’ll take me to get everything together. And OMG, you haven’t seen the closets… and the attic… and…

*sigh*

Man I’m feeling discouraged all over again. Where to begin? The house? Or within myself?

Then again why even bother?



Guess that's reason enough.

I actually wrote this earlier this morning and since then the day has steadily gone downhill. I don't think I've ever felt as bad as I did today. I mean so low that it actually frightened me. I even scared baby daddy. But, this evening after yet another rough time something amusing brought a small smile to my face. Jaalyn is in my room now, talking incessantly, playing doctor with her little plastic doll babies. Since she's been in here I have witnessed the following:

1. When she first came in she had a doll in one hand and a syringe in the other. The syringe was inserted in the doll's, um, vagina. My God she gave her a pussy shot. I'm so demented that this alone nearly sent me into hysterics.

2. As if the shot weren't enough, Jaalyn left the room and came back later explaining that she put the doll on the potty for 100 minutes because "she really, really needed to go to the bathroom".

3. After removing said doll from said potty she was carefully examined by Dr. Jaalyn. Dr. Jaalyn says the patient's heart isn't beating and that means she's really sick. The patient's mommy (me) wonders if she should inform the doctor what a non-beating heart really means...

4. Now I've been told that since I'm the only mommy in the hospital I'll be taking all of the babies home and caring for them. Gee, I feel so lucky. Really.

5. I've been subjected to an examination that shows I'm exactly nine pounds tall and I've been given a paper stating I get to keep the baby. For my trip home from the hospital I've been given the baby, a blanket, a potty and a bottle. And if the baby seems sick I can bring her back for another shot. I can't imagine where the needle will go this time around.

Wait, the baby is sick once more and just got a needle in the mouth. I love it.

And I love her...

7.24.2006

Been out of the loop the past several days. I hate to admit it but I do believe postpartum depression (PPD) has hit me hard. These days it takes everything in me to get out of bed, shower and paste a smile on my face. It’s not like I’m spending the entire day weeping though. It’s not all bad, all the time. There are many bright moments; I just wish I could fully appreciate them without this cloud of discontent hanging over me. Hoping that within the next week I’ll pull out of this funk, if not… I’m woman enough to ask the doctor for help.

So instead of writing about how cruddy I’ve been feeling I’m taking the easy way out and listing the good, bad and the ugly in the most positive way that I can.

1. Good: Last weekend Trinity began smiling the wide open mouth, “check out my gums” smiles.
Better: This past weekend she’s started to softly coo at inanimate objects and that sound alone is enough to brighten even the darkest day.
Ugly: Once she realizes that the mobile, rattles and stuffed animals aren’t exactly providing the riveting conversation that she desires she launches into an ear splitting rage filled tirade. But even this brings a smile to my face; she’s got my temper 100%.

2. Good: The cat isn’t throwing up as many hairballs this week.
Bad: Note the phrase “as many”, meaning she’s still doing it.
Ugly: She tossed her cookies on the foot of Jaalyn’s bed.

(Anyone want a free vomiting feline? Eh? No takers? Damn)

3. Good: Jaalyn’s attitude has greatly improved from the “let me show my anger by punching small preschoolers in the throat” thing that she had going on.
Better: I’m having a bit more success with patience when dealing with her antics.
Ugly: The primary reason I’m more successful is because I’ve been utilizing a very efficient babysitter.
Real ugly: The baby sitter is about 54” wide, 60” tall and plays SpongeBob, Jimmy Neutron, and Fairly Oddparents at the touch of a button, any time, day or night.

Don’t make that face, I feel guilty enough as it is about doing it. But I swear having her underfoot, reciting line after line of her favorite cartoons and/or movies, destroying my living room or her room and talking non fucking stop is driving me crazy. Using the tv as a temporary babysitter is wrong, wrong, wrong - but it’s so much better than me yelling at her unnecessarily because I’m overtired and depressed.

4. Good: Baby Daddy (BD) and I are getting along better and are back to our typical co-parenting team.
Better: BD now totally appreciates and sympathizes with me in regards to being a single parent to the girls. It completely wore him out to try and play superdad this weekend and more than once I had to rescue my baby from him when she’d screamed herself hoarse (no I’m not joking about this) because he simply couldn’t figure out how to calm her. Made him feel like shit when as soon as I’d taken her from his arms she quieted immediately and gave a weak little cry like thank God you came and got me.
Just Downright Friggin' Hilarious: BD, in an attempt at romanticism, misguided optimism or something, bought a 3 pack of latex free condoms from the drugstore and laid them on my dresser.

Wanna take a guess as to where they are now?

If you guessed placed far back in my underwear drawer you win the prize.

P.S. Thanks Peaches for checking up on me to see if I was okay. That meant a lot to me.



Methinks perhaps Mommy should begin doing her hair and maybe a little makeup before getting up close and personal otherwise instead of the lovely smiles she's becoming accustomed to receiving she'll get stares of incredulity instead.

7.16.2006

Last time I'll talk about it for a while, I promise...

** Note: I've a small confession. I admit I am suffering from a bit of the much dreaded post partum blues (read: blues NOT depression). It comes and it goes and it's probably why I have been doing so much soul searching as of late. Bear with me as I search for peace and ramble. This blog is my primary outlet now.

For someone that claims she doesn't need or even want a man, I sure do spend a lot of time pondering them. I confound myself. I used to be so certain that I did want a man (back when I was younger, er, in my late teens/early 20s); then I was so certain that I didn't want a man. In a way, I still don't want a man.

7.14.2006

Ugh.

Head... hurts... thinking too much.

I'm fighting hormones and postpartum blues by brainstorming. Forgive me this day's rambling session. I look around me, at my daughters, my townhouse, the fucking cat that decorates my floors with disgusting mucky hairballs... and the realization hits me that I want more. Not just for me but for the girls as well. I feel unspeakably cramped in this place. It's un-fucking-believable how much crap I've acquired in recent years. When I moved out completely on my own - sans a boyfriend/baby daddy and with my 9 month old baby - I literally only had a crib, one fork, spoon and knife and a box of canned goods I'd gleaned from my parents pantry on the sly and a lamp. I think I maybe had a towel and washcloth and a bar of soap and that was it. I slept on my carpeted floor, no pillow, no blanket. I had no pots, pans or dishes. Nothing. But I was happy as fuck to escape the misery of living in my parents house. I could deal with the inconvenience of having a stiff neck from sleeping on the floor if it meant not living with those lunatics.

Anyway, my point is that in the 5 years since that time I've accumulated massive piles of pure JUNK. Some stuff I've managed to sell on Ebay, some I've thrown away, but it's like the crap leftover is secretly humping in a corner and procreating overnight because no matter how much I get rid of the stuff keeps piling up around me.

But my point is that I'm SO ready to move out of this neighborhood. But it's just not in the budget right now. And that's another thing that's been on my mind too: expanding my slightly tight budget. I'm not hurting for money, but just like everyone else I wouldn't turn more of it down. So I've been brainstorming different ideas to take me from Target rags to Saks riches. I've got plans in place for one part time gig; thinking on starting up an online business or two as well to bring in some extra income. I could go back to selling stuff on ebay, but the only downside to that is that all the crap I'm trying to get rid of will still be in my house until it gets sold and shipped. I'd have a yard sale but I, uh, you know... don't have a yard. More like a pine needle covered patch of dirt the complex passes off as a yard, but regardless, yard sales are against leaseholder policies so that's out. Can't use the folks' yard either because they live at the end of a cul-de-sac in the middle of nowhere in the county. I'm actually thinking of leasing a table at an open air flea market and trying to rid myself of stuff that way. But therein lies another issue of how to transport my junk to another location. The Hyundai can barely hold two carseats and a diaperbag let alone a household of crap to unload on unsuspecting buyers.

sigh...

You ever notice how complicated it is to simplify something? At least I have inspiration to instigate change.

7.12.2006

Late (for me anyway) Night Thoughts...

Attempting a second post while the baby sleeps peacefully in her crib.

My second post of the day comes from random thoughts crossing my fatigued mind… given all that I’ve experienced with the girls’ father I’m surprised that I haven’t gotten the usual “hates-all-men” chip on my shoulder. Am I really just that worn down and dejected about the quality of men I encounter or have I reached the point where I really don’t give a damn anymore? Usually when I am feeling hurt, angry, or any other wide range of emotions caused by a male I embark on a man hating, ball bashing rampage of sorts. This time I didn’t and not because it didn’t occur to me to do so. I just… I don’t know… I just didn’t feel like it.

Boy that sounds lame doesn’t it?

I dunno. When I was pregnant I fell hard for a guy and when the feeling wasn’t returned not only did I cower in the corner and licked my wounds, I became angry. Not just at him but at men in general. So much so that I’d plan to take up my “Kleenex” approach once I did begin to date again. (For those unfamiliar with my Kleenex theory: men are just like Kleenex, soft, strong and oh, so disposable.) But, I figured once Trinity had been born I’d lose interest in men as a whole anyway the same as I did when Jaalyn was born. I fall so completely in love with my children that everything else falls by the wayside. Companionship, relationships and everything else in between just don’t matter when compared to the first shaky smiles of a newborn in her sleep. And I was right. Now that Trinity is here she and Jaalyn are my primary focus; and yet I still in some small corner of my heart yearn for occasional companionship. It’s a weird feeling. Like I want to be held and loved and coveted but on my terms. I guess it stems from a longing for adult companionship in general. I can only take but so many Spongebob/Jimmy Neutron/Fairly Oddparents cartoons without cracking my head open from banging it repeatedly upon the coffee table. The sad thing is I find myself watching these things even when Jaalyn isn’t home.

Perhaps the longing for adult stimulation is what keeps me from my usual man hating persona? Perhaps I want someone to do to me what I usually do for people of importance in my life. I’m normally not a “taker” per se, but right now I would love for someone to spoil me for a change. The last man I was seriously involved with was the first and only man to ever really give back to me and it felt good. It took getting used to but once I realized his actions echoed mine and were truly out of love, not because he had an ulterior motive, I finally saw how wonderful it could be. And I don’t mean spoiling in a monetary, materialistic sense. I’ve never been that type of person. But sometimes I wish that there was someone looking out for my best interests as well as me looking out for theirs. I have a token few good friends that do this, but in more of a familial way.

It sucks to be a girl when all these stupid hormones are running through your veins and prompting you to be philosophical at the most inconvenient of moments. But who knows? Maybe one day my Superman will come… I can only hope I’m not so bitter that I fail to recognize his coming. (one day I’ll have to sit down and write about my Superman obsession. I deeply covet anything and everything Superman. As it stands I am ready to redo my bathroom in entirely Superman logos. AND I’M NOT ASHAMED TO ADMIT IT DAMMIT!)

Weepfest '06

I re-read my previous post and all I can do is shake my head. Yesterday, the girls' father and I had it out. No yelling involved this time, a small miracle in itself, but this time I ended up completely losing it and embarked on a major weepfest. He hurt my feelings so badly I cried for hours about it. Part of it was probably due to postpartum hormones, but partly because I simply couldn't believe the accusations he was making. Ever since Trinity's birth he's been on my case and making accusations that I put one child before the other.

Let me explain something about Trinity's birth; when Trinity was born she had this abdominal mass, something I mentioned in a previous post. That mass turned out to be a twisted, dead ovary that required surgery to remove it. However, it wasn't until the actual surgery that we discovered what the mass was. Prior to the surgery she was whisked from my arms, taken for MRIs and CT Scans and ultrasounds... she was taken from the nursery and put in the NICU and so on. It was a very traumatic time for all of us. Jaalyn was staying with my parents and was delighted to do so. What should've been a 2 day stay in the hospital turned into a 7 day nightmare. I was discharged after 2 days but my baby remained. What prompted my tears yesterday was that he accused me of putting Trinity's needs before Jaalyn's and because I did so it fostered this rash of misbehavior in Jaalyn now. He implied that Jaalyn's behavior is stemming from the fact that her mother let her down and cares more about the baby than her. Nothing could be farther from the truth.

I missed Jaalyn terribly when I was in the hospital with Trinity. I had no idea I'd be there so long but nothing could've induced me to leave the hospital until I knew that everything was okay with Trinity. The way I saw it, Jaalyn is 5 and was in good hands with my folks; Trinity was days old, was breastfeeding and everything was up in the air about her and her safety. For example, yes, she needed surgery but the pediatric surgeon made it perfectly clear that while this wasn't necessarily a routine operation (routine on a woman, not an infant) there were certain risks involved and the fact that we could lose Trinity was a very real possibility. No one knew how her tiny body would react to anesthesia, the doctor didn't know precisely where the mass was located and depending on the location it heightened the risks... I could go on and on listing reasons why I made the decisions that I did but the bottom line is that if I had to do it all over again I'd still do the same thing. He certainly couldn't breastfeed her, he had no insurance information, couldn't authorize medications, surgery, etc. none of that. I stayed around the clock to bond with her. NICU nurses don't hold the babies unless they are changing them, feeding them, or changing bedding. I needed to bond with Trinity and was encouraged to do so. Breastfeeding was the best way possible and it helped establish my milk.

And for the record, once Trinity was out of the danger zone and adapting to the pain on her own without the aid of morphine I did go get Jaalyn and spent the night with her in our house. This was on the 6th day of Trinity in the hospital. I had the father (grudgingly) stay in the hospital with Trinity and the following day my prayers were answered and Trinity was discharged. But I did see Jaalyn during my stay at the hospital several times; she went with me to the NICU to see her sister and hold her; we visited the gift shops, cafeteria etc. But she (and I) wanted more. By this time she was tired of staying with her grandparents and just wanted to come home to me and I echoed her sentiments. I made sure we talked on the phone, that I told her I loved her and that I was so sorry to be away from her for so long.

So when this attack from the father came, first on the third day postpartum and again yesterday, I was cut to the heart. The point I kept stressing to him was that there were no other options, I had to stay in the hospital with Trinity. But he continues to blame me for Jaalyn's current behavior. He claims I spend too much time with the baby, that I'm intentionally avoiding spending time with Jaalyn. That's simply not the case. We spend time together, we still bond, we are also still learning how to be a family of three; I'm still learning how to be a mom to two. And it's hard... unspeakably hard. I do get discouraged, but I know this is just a temporary feeling. It too shall pass.

Today, I feel stronger. I am angry still but I am sick to death of fighting, especially with him. All these arguments and accusations and such go down in my memory as reasons not to reestablish our former fucked up relationship. Every day I thank God for the clarity He's given me and the giving me the strength needed to make this journey on my own.

7.09.2006

Houston, we have a problem...

I am a mother of two now.

I have to keep reminding myself of that. For five years my heart and soul and worry and tears went into one; now, everything is doubled. It took so long for me to find a balance between my love and devotion to Jaalyn and my love and devotion to myself as well. And now I'm unbalanced all over again.

Single motherhood is never easy, I acknowledge that, but at some point you can usually find a happy medium if only for a little while. I desperately need to reach that point now. I'm 18 days into motherhoo for two and I don't like the person I've become. I'm tired and cranky of course. That is to be expected. But I feel like I'm treating one child differently to the other. I mean on one hand I have my newborn; fresh and beautiful and so new... just like I did with Jaalyn, I have this overwhelming "God, I really hope I don't fuck this up" feeling. She's with me 24/7, she stares at me with open, smiling eyes, and we're developing a true bond that goes deeper than the initial breastfeeding bond. Enter the cliche, before I had her I couldn't imagine life with her, and now that she's here I can't imagine life without her.

On the other hand there's Jaalyn... just as beautiful and special in her own way... but unbelievably obnoxious, rebellious and so forth. Typical 5 year old behavior with a touch of new sibling jealousy. I see it, I understand it, but yet it still bothers me. I yell, I get angry and then I feel like shit afterwards. I cannot find balance. I'm tired and hungry (often I have to skip meals or simply forget to eat because I'm either doing something with the baby or Jaalyn or something else.) and admittedly I am VERY short on patience. And I hate that. I've always had tons of patience with Jaalyn, right up til I became pregnant with Trinity. As the pregnancy drew to a close, one of the main things I looked forward to was the loss of the extra hormones that I knew caused me to be irritable. Okay, stupid ass me forgot about the fact that I'd be sleep deprived and prone to be Mommy Dearest in the flesh.

Enter the if onlys:

- If only I could get more sleep some way, somehow then I'd have more energy and wouldn't be so goddamned cranky.
-If only the girls' father would be a bit more helpful. And when I say a "bit" I mean in the sense that the Washington Monument is a "bit" tall.
-If only this damned house were completely spotless. I'd have more time to devote to Jaalyn instead of having to fuss about this being left out, this toy being tripped over.
-If only I could get rid of THIS FUCKING CAT of Jaalyn's.

If only I could be a better mother to both my girls.

I know I can do it, it'll just take time. And I am so damned impatient.

7.08.2006

Okay, I suck...

I created this blog with the intention of updating it every day, or at the least every couple of days or so. And now more than a month has passed. I've been meaning to do it but simply never got around to it. So much has been going on. So much is going on, I've so little time, yet this is actually one of the things I ought to push to the forefront because it would help alleviate some of the stress and pressure I'm experiencing. Allow me to share with you a summary of the last couple of months...Let's start with the pregnancy: At about 34-35 weeks pregnant with baby #2 I began having complications; I had a sinus infection, a sore throat and a UTI. What fun, eh? Then I was diagnosed with gestational diabetes, a bit of anemia, and found out that my baby had a 5 cm cyst in her abdomen that most likely would be operated on very soon after birth. In the weeks up till her birth I saw a perinatal specialist, my regular OB, a new OB, a pediatric surgeon and an endocrinologist AND they all wanted me to see a dietician as well. It's been a whirlwind of doctors appointments, depression mixed with crying jags, anxiety and some more shit. At this moment in time, I hate all doctors and the systems they have in place. The "you scratch my back and I'll scratch yours" system. I'll explain more about that frustration as I get deeper into how all these discoveries came to light.

At any rate I promise to be more diligent in the upkeep of this blog. I think of it constantly, yet never actually make the time to update it. And I really ought to. Writing has always been therapudic for me and God only knows I need to release some stress. What better way to accomplish this as well as hone my writing skills? Maybe someday I can even achieve the goal of freelancing part time. Plus I've taken a real interest in web design so this blog will enable me to play around in that aspect as well. And perhaps I'll be able to better navigate on this damned site that keeps PISSING ME THE FUCK OFF BECAUSE I CAN'T CREATE A NEW DAMNED PARAGRAPH! AARRGGHHH!!!!! Anyway, I did do a wee bit of writing while I was in the hospital awaiting Trinity's surgery so I'll upload that in a bit.