Wednesday, September 25, 2013

The Kitchen. The Face. The Tiptoeing.

So my kitchen looks like this right now:


And I totally feel this chick right now:


I blame exhaustion, stress, hormones, and blah, blah, blah. But did you see the kitchen? Yeah. And that is all I have to say today. Except for maybe this idea I have of sneaking off to bed before Taurus Man does this thing he does and waits until I'm about to hit the hay before he asks me about some wifely thing I'm supposed to do like steam his shirts or find his pants or figure out his lunch and all that. *tiptoes away quietly*


Sunday, May 12, 2013

My Perfect 1st Mother's Day

I wrote this in the wee hours of this morning, hoping Taurus Man would find it and follow through. He did not actually, so I showed it to him after receiving my gift. As it turns out, Taurus Man is so incredible he didn't need the list.

1. I GOT TWO FREAKING SHOWERS TODAY!!!!!!!!!! WOOOOOHOOOOOOOOOO!!!!

2. Taurus Man did spend money, but on a keepsake Blue Mountain card (he knows they're my fave) and on a gorgeous giant slow cooker I've been eyeing for years but never prioritized enough to get (and the chicken I'm cooking up in there right now smells heavenly). He promises there's more but finally agreed to postpone things until we've covered a couple things later on (but still soon).

3. We all still felt sick, but well enough to spend the day technology free, planning for the evening we spent walking on the beach *dreamily sighs* and taking pictures. We also met a random stranger lady who hollered after us and insisted on taking numerous pictures of us, thus giving us our first pictures as a family of 3. There were many, many smiles all day and night long.

4. I took the garbage out an hour ago, something none of us have been able to do since contracting some weird sudden illness this past week. Triumph!

5-8. Thankfully, there were only two calls today. I luckily missed my mother's call this morning, and Taurus Man's boss's mother called to wish me a Happy Mother's Day. My natural awkwardness made things awkward, but that was the only instance. My dad was the first person to send a text, and Taurus Man insisted that I text Taurus Girl, so I texted a few other moms, including Cancer Woman, and got back a few replies. It wasn't until I got home and finally sat down for the night about an hour ago that I checked Facebook to see Capricorn Girl's wishes as well as some wishes from some dear friends and returned the wishes. No drama, no in-laws/family mess, no explanations or apologies, no crap talking; just serenity.

9. Taurus Man had my Bon Jovi discography ready for me by the time we got home :) See why I love this man? DO YOU SEE?????

10. Jace Lightwood was too busy with Clary to visit, but I'm so smile-y and happy from this wonderful day with my amazing Taurus Man and my amazing Superboy, I really couldn't ask for more. This day was so perfectly blessed I would have never dreamt up something so good.




My Dream Mother's Day

As I've only been a mom for all of two months, this will be my first Mother's Day. I've already specifically stated to Taurus Man not to do anything, but before the day actually starts, I want to get my ideal expectations out there:


  1. I want to take a freaking shower!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
  2. Taurus Man will not have spent money willy-nilly on material things.
  3. Taurus Man and Superboy will both not be sick and feel well enough to give me the day off.
  4. The garbage will all be taken out.
  5. I will not be forced to talk to Cancer Woman and listen to her cry and hold me responsible for everything that happens to her precious Taurus Man, who is (with evidence pointing otherwise) her everything.
  6. I will not be forced to listen to anyone talk about me having "their" baby "for them". It shall be recognized that I experienced a pregnancy and gave birth to Superboy, who is my child.
  7. I will not be forced to apologize for or explain the rumors Cancer Grump is currently spreading about me. As a matter of fact, there will be zero in-laws, gossipers, family people, and the like.
  8. SCREENING! The only person I look forward to hearing from is my dad. Every other person in the universe is a source of stress right now. There is such a thing as "Can I take a message?" or better yet, "The voices in her head won't let her answer the phone/come to the door. Can I take a message?"
  9. The Bon Jovi discography I thought I downloaded last year but didn't will magically appear on my laptop.
  10. Jace Lightwood will come to tell me I am actually a Shadowhunter of high importance and I need to return to my secret house in Idris to save my people.


The Importance of Mothers and Pants on Mother's Day: From One of the Messed-Up Kids

Everybody has a theory on what the perfect mom, mom-behavior, mom-thoughts, and Mother's Day should be like, so I thought I'd send my own out into the blog-iverse after being inspired by this.

First, you should know that as the oldest of my generation of 20 or so first cousins in the family, I've been baby-sitting kids since the next kid in my generation was born: a cousin, 2 years my junior. My childhood was based on being responsible for what the other kids were doing and saying. My adolescence just heaped on even more responsibility. Needless to say, I did not enjoy growing up. I knew I always wanted kids, but I had learned that I wanted to wait as long as possible (the universe just choked on its drink).

I was always a very sensitive child and completely un-materialistic, basically one of those "dreamer" types, much to everyone's distaste. I've spent a lot of time trying to get over my experiences and thought that by becoming a mother myself, I would find some divine explanation that would help me understand why my mother was the way she was. I didn't.

Since this seems to be a big deal in every other piece of material I've found on Mother's Day, I thought I'd give my two-cents. Of course, most of the other material out there is from people that have real good properly put-together lives, so here's the perspective of what it was like growing up as my mother's child, i.e. left with many issues.


  • I don't remember whether or not my mother ever wore pajamas or yoga pants to take me to school, but I do remember her always being dressed to impress, and me living on ill-fitting hand-me-downs or thrift store finds until I was able to donate it all and buy every single thing in my closet myself at the age of 19.
  • I don't remember how often my mother bought herself new shoes, but both of my big toes grew crooked from being forced to grow in too-small shoes because it was a waste of money to buy the right size for me, but made sense for everyone else in the family to have all the right sizes until I was in my late teens. Then it was okay for my brothers to have gaping holes in their shoes and frost-bitten toes.
  • My mother was probably around 30 when she was graced with the treat of her first manicure, and by her mid-thirties made any sacrifice necessary to do her nails. Even when we lived in a homeless shelter and had nothing to eat.
  • My mother accepted every gift we gave her, but complained that breakfast, cake, crafts, cards, keepsake ornaments, etc weren't expensive enough. When I was old enough to buy her gold, she demanded to see the receipt and store catalog, bit on each piece of jewelry to test it, and then threw it in her closet and asked "So that's it?"
  • My mother made sure I got up for school every morning. It was my responsibility to clean the house, fix breakfast, and get everyone ready for school. Even with a cold. Or the flu. Or food poisoning. Or dengue. Or pneumonia. 
  • My mother expected homework to be done every day. Before she got home from work. With time to spare for me to clean the house, fix or help fix dinner, pack lunch, pack book-bags, get things ready for  school the next day, and put the boys to bed. 
  • My mother expected 100% or A+ on every assignment. From everyone. Or I would be physically reprimanded. The rule was if anything didn't go the way she wanted, I would be physically reprimanded.
  • My mother was not a morning person. Therefore everything happened the wrong way every morning. Therefore I was physically reprimanded every morning.
  • My mother made a major effort to accept my friends. She would be incredibly nice to them, whisper secrets to them where I wouldn't hear, and share embarrassing stories about my childhood. Thus ensuring that nobody would believe me if I ever had the courage to reveal the abuse.
  • My mother made every effort to be the 1950's perfect mother and wife. In the public line of sight. I was not allowed to repeat any of her drunken conversations, admit that I was her nightly bartender, or reveal any of the bruises. 
  • My mother took the time to tell us stories on a regular basis. Since my dad's moving job kept him away most of the time, before I finished elementary school I was successfully brainwashed and honestly believed that my own father hated me and wanted to kill me. I also believed that I deserved to be beaten until I couldn't move on a regular basis because I was the worst child in existence with no purpose in life, who intentionally ruined her mother's life by existing. 
  • The laundry was always done because it became my responsibility from the age of 8.
  • My mother always had something to eat. My brothers and I have gone days without food before.
  • My mother always had time for parties, fetes, drinks, and friends. But not time to stand up for me after her in-laws accused me of being adulterous when I acted in a harmless religious play she and her mother introduced me to.
  • My mother feels rage at people. As a bigot who judges people based on their appearance, sexual orientation, personal tastes, etc. 

Don't let me go on. As I suffer from making-excuses-for-people-itis, let me just say that I think it's very likely that a possible combination of undetected post-partum depression paired with old-fashioned interference from negative family and friends may have started or added to all of that. I'll never know. To this day, she continues to deny ever doing a single negative thing in her life and still regularly insults me over the phone since coming back into my life at the end of my pregnancy. Maybe it can't be helped and that's just who she is. I don't know.

Nevertheless, it still hurts. As a child, you see how other mothers react with their children in school and in movies. I would have preferred to blush from embarrassment at a motherly hug or kiss than to be led away crying with threats of abuse as soon as we got home being whispered in my ear because I talked in class, brought home a 99% instead of 100%, or forgot to sign a permission slip. 

I secretly wished I was actually adopted and one of the other kids' mothers would one day claim me. It didn't matter what kind of pants they wore. I wouldn't have cared if they wore NO PANTS at all. What I wanted was a real mother. The kind that would look at me with love, congratulate me on my achievements, encourage me from my disappointments, hug away any discomfort or hurt, protect me from cooties and bullies, surprise me with cookies or a funny-looking cloud, or at least remember my birthday. 

The hell if I was gonna sit there scrutinizing PANTS with a mother like that. Jeebus. Look at the kind of mother I did have, and I still can't remember what kind of pants she wore.

I know, I totally vouch for Capricorn Girl's thing about "When you look good, you feel good" because it works for me so much. And maybe putting on some "normal" pants will make you look better and then make you feel better. But seriously? When you don't have the time or piece of sanity to spare digging through your wardrobe to take that extra 2 minutes looking for a pair of pants because you prioritize your child's wants and needs and memories? Pants be damned. That does NOT in any way make you less of a mom, or a lazy mom, or an excuse-making mom.

It means you're trying your best to focus on the important things. And if dabbing peanut butter on each other's noses or stopping for a hug or doing a silly dance is one of the important things, then I personally salute you and thank you from the bottom of my heart for being an amazing mom and strongly urge you to keep on keeping-on. Because those moments are what count. Not the spit-up dripping down your neck, the oh-so-old breastmilk stains, the poop on your chin, the hole in your socks, or who or what you're wearing.

Sure, some professional uppity person is gonna make some kind of comment eventually, but they can go suck Eric Cartman's balls. Because they. do. not. matter. Freaking pants do. not. matter. Your child matters

I'm not saying that you should totally ignore your needs and wants by the way. You definitely deserve some love too, and make sure you get it when you can! Just make sure you're doing it for your reasons and not because anyone else says so because they don't understand what the real deal is all about. I'm sure all the perfect moms are turning their noses up at me for saying such preposterous things (or because I haven't showered in 3 days), but if your instincts say sing a silly song, don't step on the cracks in the sidewalk, and count all the blue cars that pass by to treasure the moment; and do your nails, do your hair, try on everything in your closet, and take yourself out for coffee after your kid's in school/alternative care, don't let anyone give you crap about that. For that, you are all my heroes.

And for the record, if your traditional Mother's Day isn't your dream thing, hint about it! And by hint, what I really mean is write it down somewhere people will see, talk about it often with people who are involved, get involved yourself if you can, and hope really hard it works!

Saturday, May 11, 2013

The Good News and Bad News of May




I like to hear bad news first, so that the good news will help wipe away the bad taste left from the bad news. Most people I know like to hear good news first though, so here goes:

THE GOOD NEWS.
We're finally moving out!!!!!!!!!!!!! Woohoo! No more Cancer Grump, Cancer Bitch, vindictive underhanded things going on, etc. We'll be renting the downstairs part of a small house (yay) not too far from here (boo) and by the very latest, we'll be moving in on the 1st of June (yay). We've already paid the security deposit, and just yesterday Taurus Man's entire paycheck (boo) went towards fixing a broken cradle arm in the car (yay) so from his next week's paycheck, our focus will be entirely on saving up for the first month's rent. We're doing it very hush-hush though, we don't want Cancer Grump and/or his people finding out because they will do something vindictive if they know we're leaving. But ahhhhhhhhh the sweet taste of FREEDOM!


THE BAD NEWS.
I know I can spend too much time on negative things, so long story short, the reason we're moving out so suddenly and not at a most opportune time for us is because Cancer Grump and Cancer Bitch were doing things to spite Superboy and I for the past 4 weeks or so, which were affecting both his health and mine; and Cancer Grump made a great deal of threats to me when I called him on it and asked them to stop.  The gist of it is I am now fearful for my life, my son's well-being, our safety, and our health as well. Taurus Man took me to file a report for threats made, but as Cancer Grump promised me, he actually does have contacts everywhere as his relative in the police station tipped him off in time for him to hide from the police. I am now being accused of cursing him and disrespecting him since coming to this house 3 years ago and fighting him for his property as well. I have a few statements to make on that:

  • Whether you guys want to know the full story or whether it bugs me enough, I may be compelled to write a detailed post of what happened. (I don't want to feel like a moody bad-news obsesser, so ask!!!)
  • The one/two disrespectful thing(s) I did say since coming here did include an obscenity. On the 2nd of May 2013, during a phone call made at 1:40PM, after being repeatedly told that my son was being spited because of some secret terrible thing I did to someone, I said "What the FUCK are you talking about? I didn't do anything to any fucking body!" (Grammar Nazis please help me out here; if both things are said consecutively, in one breath, and without auditory signs of being two separate phrases, would that be one or two things I said?)
  • INNOCENT MEN DO NOT HIDE.
  • If people would have taken the time to get to know me instead of believing every piece of gossip they heard, things would have been infinitely better and this situation may not have occurred. 
  • Anyone that has actually taken the time to know me should be laughing at the mere thought of Cancer Grump's accusations. Thank you kindly. 
  • Passive-aggressiveness in my secret blog world is not enough. I want to learn to be a real bitch to the next person that threatens me or spites my son. *mean face* I am tired of letting people walk all over me because of my anxiety and social awkwardness. If I have not tolerated enough, then bring whatever you have to bring to me and feel free to laugh at my ensuing anxiety and/or panic attacks. My son should not have to suffer because of my inadequacies. *runs away sniffling*

Monday, May 6, 2013

BIG NEWS!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I have good news and bad news that are directly related to one another. HOWEVER Taurus Man doesn't want to jinx the good news since it's not confirmed yet so I can't say anything (AAAAHHHHH!!!!!!!) . But just so you know, the bad news is really bad. And the good news is really, really good. The bad news is like :O "OMG that's terrible!!! How could that happen? OH NO!!!" and the good news is like :O "OMG that's the best news ever for you guys!!!! Seriously?? Really?? Thank God!!!!" It's not like I'm being tortured by keeping my mouth shut and I want anyone else to be suffering and fidgeting away pining for me to shout the news from the rooftops or anything. Nope. Not at all. :)



Friday, May 3, 2013

Baby Gender Reveal & Part 1 of Baby Lists Review

Superbaby has arrived and is indeed........................... a little Superman :) I promise you I have an epic labor story and it will be well worth the wait. However, my free time is limited to when Superman is asleep (note: I will probably go through a million aliases before I settle on one) and since we have a growth spurt going on, that means more time feeding (I'm exclusively breast feeding). More time feeding means more diaper and/or clothing changes, and....well let me just say I am one busy mama. Add trying to rest with 4th degree lacerations and Taurus Man unable to do as much with his full time 6 days a week job, and yeah. I am ONE BUSY MAMA. So I'm going to tackle this whole thing in parts. My first day back in the blogosphere? How about we do something easy...like checking back those lists?

Let's look at the hospital things first:

Mother's Hospital Bag Checklist
  • 2 nightgowns (front buttoning)
  • 1 pack of maternity pads
  • 1 face towel
  • toiletries package (soap, deodorant, toothbrush, toothpaste, small skin cream, blistex, comb)
  • 1 Limacol
  • 1 Salve antiseptic
  • 1 Fleet enema
  • 1 pair of socks
  • 1 going home outfit (dress, bra, underwear)
  • 1 towel
  • 2 washrags


  Baby's Hospital Bag Checklist
  • 4 baby vests
  • 3 casacks
  • 2 nighties
  • 2 pairs of socks
  • 2 hats
  • 2 wash cloths
  • 1 hooded towel
  • 2 blankets
  • 1 portable wipes case w/wipes
  • 1 petroleum jelly
  • 1 methylated spirit
  • 1 head-to-toe baby wash
  • 10 disposable diapers
  • 1 package of jumbo sized cotton balls
With these bags, I also added a large ziploc bag with things I deemed most important for both baby and I. Superman's bag had 

The Happenings of March (to be continued)



Woah you guys. It's been awhile! Thankfully my internet connection is back up (for now) and we can all be together again :) Crazy things happen every day, but let's talk about Thursday. Taurus Man and I had an open appointment at the OB-GYN's office because she expected me to go into labor before Thursday and didn't think she would see us until after the baby was born.

However, Thursday morning, Taurus Man and I overslept and were hustling to get there around noon, still very much pregnant. Just minutes away, the receptionist called asking if everything was okay and if I had gone into labor yet. I informed her I was all good and we were ironically just about to get there, so we saw each other about a minute later. My blood pressure was normal, slightly low as usual, and my weight had now gone up to 141 lbs, which my doctor attributed to my swollen extremities.

She was pleased to hear Taurus Man was finally accepted for a job and had started just that Monday after hearing about it for the first time and meeting his boss on Sunday. We chit-chatted for awhile as she squeezed in my vitals to the bottom of my care card and kept asking out loud why on Earth this baby was not out yet.

I slipped off my panties, got up on the table, covered my groin with the available folded sheet, and lifted my dress over my belly (I'm getting pretty good at this process now) as she and Taurus Man entered the ultrasound/examination room to get started. As per the norm, icy cold lube is squeezed on my belly as she feels around until the doppler, picks up that familiar galloping sound, and shows us the healthy heart rate of 152, the highest of all our visits so far.

She then grabs the ultrasound wand thing and rubs it all around, smearing lube all over my belly as she shows us Superbaby's head, opening and closing mouth, beating heart, spine, hands and fingers, butt, legs, knees, and feet. Taurus Man and I get all gooey and mushy inside as we look on. Superbaby's head measures at 39 1/2 weeks, and his/her hip to knee measurement is 40 weeks. "Baby is more than ready to come out," she says "Why is he or she camping out in there? Let's see if we can evict Baby today."

I'm such a pro at this by now that I automatically bring my knees up, keeping my feet together and as close to my butt on the table as possible. I wait for her nod to part my knees, letting one drop against the wall and the other in her hand as she inserts her lubed up gloved fingers into my lady parts. She gasps as soon as she goes in, not even passing my bladder. "This is Baby's head right hereWhy isn't Baby coming? I don't understand. Right here!" I laugh as she continues upward.

I breathe in sharply as she touches my cervix and nods at me "Everything is ready. What is Baby waiting on? Did I tell you last week that your cervix was back? I pulled it forward right?" I nod at both questions as she re-positions herself and continues "It's a little back again so I'm going to pull it forward again and give you a little stretch again, ready?" This is my third stretch, and second pulling forward of the cervix. I nod and start to do deep breaths in through my nose and deep breaths out through my mouth as she taught me.

Taurus Man gives me his hand to squeeze and I close my eyes, still breathing through the sweet pain of such a sensitive area being touched and I feel the familiar rubber band snap down there as I feel her finger pulling my cervix forward. Only this time, I feel it repeatedly like sharp, painful slaps, as she goes back a few more times and pulls again, apologizing all the way and assuring me she's just as uncomfortable as I am, and encouraging me to keep breathing.

I want this baby out so bad I no longer think murderous thoughts in my head when she's doing this. By the fourth or fifth pull my right eye has gotten water-y and I breathe in sharply. She's surprised as I've taken the other stretches/exams with no fuss and assures me she's almost done before finally pulling out.

She pauses and tells me to let her know when I'm ready for her to go back in and do the actual stretch. She looks tired and I feel bad for showing that I felt more pain this time. This time, I believe her when she says she's just as uncomfortable as I am and imagine how her fingers must be uncomfortably twisting through the tight space down there to do her job. This poor lady does this all day. This time, I feel for her, something clicks in my head and I connect with her, and feel like if we're on the same page. I'm transported to another world and I have a twilight zone moment where I realize we share this moment and this experience as women, she knows what this feels like and how I feel, she's doing her job, dedicating her life to this every day, and she's helping me and taking care of me. I prefer getting all the pain done and dealt with as quickly as possible, so just as with my other appointments, I take two quick, deep breaths and nod for her to go ahead.

I resume my deep breathing as she goes back in and shut my eyes tightly as she begins the familiar stretch. I have a mental image of her finger pushing around a muscle-y looking circle, trying to widen my cervix to give my body another head start on labor. I continue breathing through the pain, telling myself this moment will pass as she continues apologizing, until she announces that she's done. I breathe out a huge sigh of relief and she shows me her glove coated with a little mucus and blood and advises me, as before, to expect some mucus, blood, and cramping.

She wipes the lube off my belly and hands me a wad of toilet paper to wipe my lady parts as she and Taurus Man head back to her desk to allow me to get dressed. I join them and she says that's the very most she can do and it's all up to Superbaby to come out and join us now. She asks if I have any stiffening of my belly, and surprisingly, I don't this time. I feel a little pressure pushing down and some cramping, but totally normal otherwise. She writes up a letter and advises me to go straight to the hospital next week with her referral for me to be induced if Superbaby has not come by then. We review the signs of labor again, she asks that I call when I go into labor or after having the baby, that I come back in four weeks after birth to discuss contraception, and wishes us luck.

Taurus Man and I headed straight home as I was uncomfortable with the pressure and cramping and had barely eaten that morning as we rushed out, as opposed to Taurus Man skipping breakfast entirely and it being past lunch time. I start to feel a bit dizzy since my new normal eating schedule throughout the pregnancy has been to eat every hour and a half, and recline my seat as we rush home. We go straight up the stairs and to the kitchen where I wash a pot and Taurus Man takes over to make me a pack of ramen noodle soup, a craving that's come back with a vengeance.

I hear a shrill noise and look around on my kitchen chair (I now have a chair in every room of the house) before I realize it's my phone, ringing from my purse, flung over the living room couch. I get up and it stops ringing just as quickly as I had started hearing it. I walk over to the couch and fish the phone out of my purse. It's my paternal aunt's number. I sigh as I dial my mailbox to hear the voicemail.

My paternal grandmother calls from this number and leaves me uber stressed after every conversation. I am tired, hungry, dizzy, allergy-ridden, and cramping. I don't want to deal with this now. Instead of hearing my grandmother's voice, I hear my aunt, sounding extremely pissed, saying that she's in front of the house and nobody's there and since she's not getting through to me on the phone, she's leaving and had in fact come to drop off a belly firming thing my mom had sent for me with my grandmother in January.

I stare at the phone and check my missed calls. I had only missed the one call. Taurus Man and I ran upstairs as soon as we came home less than a minute before the phone rang. The water from my ramen noodles wasn't even boiling yet. Cancer Grump had come home right after us, parked his van in front of the house, and closed the garage gate to come in after us. Had she waited for even 30 seconds before driving off? Taurus Man asks what's going on. I feel like I'm about to cry. (Hormonal much?)

I pull up my aunt's number and quickly explain the voicemail to him and ask him why would she sound so angry that we weren't outside the house as soon as she came? She showed up unannounced, came for the first time in nearly 3 years, and sounded infuriated that we didn't psychically know she would be there and dropped everything going on in our lives to sit in front of our house all day waiting for her to grace us with her presence  I am on the verge of tears now. Taurus Man also knows that I've been worrying about this belly thing for awhile now, because if they were not giving it to us, we would have to spend around $1000 to buy one. He sits me down, tells me not to worry, and says I should call her back, he'll drive and meet her wherever she is, I just need to relax and get something to eat as I hadn't eaten all day. He guides me over to my chair as my eyes well up and I grab his arm as I feel some painful pressure pushing down towards my lady parts, as well as some tight belly stiffening (I would later discover these were contractions) and the cramping continues.

I have low credit on my phone since every call to my paternal grandmother finishes nearly all my credit. I hope it's enough to make the call. My aunt finally answers, still sounding angry and after I explain that my credit is low so I can't stay long, and we literally just came through the door from my doctor's appointment and I was very hungry and just about to finally organize something to eat, I ask if she can come back. She says she came and didn't see anybody in a how-dare-you voice and she's already up the road and going to the town. I ask where she is and say Taurus Man will come and meet her. She hesitates and first she says she's busy in the town and Taurus Man would have to come all the way out to the middle of the town and look for her because she's going to a jewelry shop with her daughter, then asks me to hold on and says to tell Taurus Man to start getting ready to leave and that by the time he gets there she'll be in the town. I repeat to her as I had in the beginning of the conversation when she angrily complained that nobody was home and she waited for me to come downstairs, that Taurus Man and I had just gotten home from the doctor's office and came straight upstairs to organize some food and I was hungry and waiting to eat. We were still dressed having just come through the door and Taurus Man would just jump in the car right away and go, reaching the town in only a minute or two. She tells me to hold on again and then says okay, she's turning around to come back.

My eyes are now full of water at her increasing harshness over the phone. Taurus Man tells me not to worry, go lie down in the room, he'll prop some pillows up for me to lean back on, and bring my soup when it's done. He'll go downstairs and collect my belly thing and I can relax and finally eat and not worry or stress over anyone. He takes me to the room and fixes the pillows for me, asks if I need anything else, and hands me my bottle of water. A minute later he comes back in with my soup and just as I pick up my spoon and start to blow the hot soup, the phone rings again.

My aunt says she's downstairs. I tell her okay, Taurus Man is coming. She says she wants to see me for a minute. I tell her I'm just about to eat and I'm very hungry and very tired (I am about to cry again). She says come, it's only for a minute. I sigh and say okay. (Telling people in my family "no" is akin to committing murder) My belly grumbles loudly as I regretfully push away my long-awaited soup and breathe through the next wave of pressure painfully pushing down as I feel blood collecting between my legs. I wait a moment for it to stop, and Taurus Man takes my hand and squeezes it as I dry my eyes and he heads downstairs with me.

We open the garage door, which I intended to lean up on, afraid of fainting with how weak I felt (low blood count & bleeding & no food all day is a bad combo) and find them parked across the other side of the yard not facing the direction they would normally be if coming from the town, in front of Cancer Bitch's business place. Luckily she's not there to be pissed about that. I walk over and find my paternal grandmother coming out of another one of their vehicles holding a plastic bag and smiling. My aunt has come out and is pulling at her too-tight preteen/teenager-esque cut-out clothes and standing there with her arms folded, a serious expression on her make-up caked face; over-plucked eyebrows raised, excessively lipsticked lips pouting, neck crooked to the side ready to start screwing around her head to say something with attitude.

My grandmother, looking nearly identical to her daughter, starts off with "I want to come when the baby is born and help you with things because I'm feeling bad to know you don't have anybody." My jaw nearly hits the floor. What is she up to? This woman has never been close to my brothers or myself and is practically an outright stranger to me. She was among the first phone calls I made announcing my pregnancy (in the naive hope of a sudden change), and as usual, had not seeked an interest other than to blame me for trying to diminish her "youth" with the impending birth of my child and complain (a favorite past time it seems). My mother had been helping my grandmother while she was in NY and in return my mother was promised that she (my grandmother) was coming to Trinidad to, among other things, specifically help me during my pregnancy and with the baby etc Although while she used my mother's boyfriend for transport and my brothers as caddies to shop in brand-name stores for her real grandkids, my mother literally begged her at every outing to buy something for the baby until she finally bought 4 thrift store sickening pink tutu onesies with the $1.99 tag still on (I had told her numerous times growing up that I hated pink and my mantra through this pregnancy has been "I do not know the gender and I do not want to know. I want a gender neutral theme. I DO NOT want anything pink or blue.") and gave them to me moping "Things are so hard in New York, I don't have any money. Everything was so expensive." Okay lady:
1. I don't want your damned bribery money or bribery things bought with the bribery money.
2. Tell that to the endless barrels every. single. year. (like the 7 from last year) and constant shopping you do for your other grandkids.
3. Why am I not surprised by any of this? At all?

 If she really cared and could pull her lips away from her daughter's family's rear end long enough to spare a thought for anyone other than herself or them, where was she when I needed help 8 freaking months ago when I was puking my guts out and couldn't move on my own, preventing Taurus Man from working because there was no one else to help? Which I had told her when she called to quarrel with me for not calling despite my insistence that I was just getting out of the hospital from needing IV fluids and meds and on my way home. And for the record, why was I calling someone who never cared and made every effort to praise herself and that family, contributed to my body image issues growing up insisting I was always too fat the few times she saw me as a teen (I was a size 5/6 and eventually went down to below a size zero), and was constantly looking for ways to belittle me and make me feel insecure and ashamed of my body and self? I don't read the newspapers anymore and hardly watch TV because I don't want to be around so much negativity anymore. So why have I been putting up with her?

 I definitely do NOT want the soon-to-be-if-not-already-publicized-and-only-there-for-the-self-benefits "help" from a cold, detached, judgmental stranger around my newborn baby while I recover from a potentially painful and helpless position and try to establish bonding with a child I still could not connect with. I know all too well that these people are all about benefiting and praising themselves and ridiculing others Experience is one helluva good teacher. And with these people? It's every. single. time.

So in my shock, I say something along the lines of "What?....umm......o.........k? Wait...are you serious? And you're coming here NOW to....? What? Wait, what?" She strokes my arm and gives this weird big smile that gives me goosebumps "yeah, and how come you're not calling me? I'm calling and calling and you're not taking my calls and your mommy is calling me and scaring me because she's so worried that something is wrong because she said you're not taking her calls either."

I stare at her. Self, be calm and do not yell at this bitch I say to myself. I try to smile and answer her, "I saw your two missed calls and I barely have credit on my phone to call ($55 of credit was finished calling her twice in about a week and a half to listen to her complain about herself just the freaking month before. She knows neither Taurus Man or I are working and we both have medical expenses. Why doesn't communication work both ways?). The last time I spoke to my mother (about a week or week and a half before) I told her the magic jack (our main means of communication) isn't working which she knows and right now our main form of communication is through email, and she knows that." My grandmother's face falls. She looks like if I just told her Santa Clause isn't real. I'm guessing she had no clue I was in contact with my mom. I'm guessing her guilt-trip intended line had no backing to it.

"Well you're not calling me and your mother is worried and said she's scared and that something is wrong with the baby." She says coldly. Now her face is serious; lips pressed together, staring at me with what my old Social Studies teacher used to call "dagger eyes", arms folded as she pulls away and simultaneously deepens and harshens her tone. I look from her to her daughter, fighting back hormonal tears as they both stare me down as if waiting for the cue to attack. Why are my mother's phone calls to me of interest to her anyway? Can't I have some privacy? Must this ______ family stick their nose in EVERY. SINGLE. BIT. of my personal business?

In any case, even if it were her business, every phone call my mother makes to me sends me into a stressed frenzy for days as I have to explain to her that her ex-boyfriend dreaming I had the baby does not mean I'm in labor, and just because my pregnancy isn't identical to hers, that does not mean something is wrong with my baby. I go through things like this in every conversation with her as she makes snarky comments and puts me down assuring me the baby with be just as scrawny and ugly as I am or underweight and sickly because my pregnancy isn't going "right" like hers did etc. I would like to smack her and her we're-just-friends-now "ex-boyfriend", but I go "mmmhmmm, okay" instead and I spend hours locked in the bathroom crying after each phone call.

The last time I spoke to my mother she was avoiding my grandmother's calls so now I wonder what kind of chummy relationship they're having behind my back despite my mother's hatred for her in-laws, for my grandmother to use her as a supposedly excusable trump card in coming over to ambush and interrogate me like this, days away from my due date, knowing fully well about what a difficult pregnancy I've been having and how stressed I've been. To top things off, I'd like to bash in my grandmother's head with my phone. I spent $60 in phone credit last month and was left with just about $4-$5 by the middle of the month after TWO phone calls to only my grandmother, who spends the majority of the call insisting that I should call her instead of her calling me, telling me to hold on as she carries on conversations with her daughter and grandkids in their house, talks about supposedly not having money and things being hard (her favorite topic choice for conversations with me), and complains about the last time she was sick in NY.  I purse my lips and try to force a smile at her and start saying "I can't call because I don't have much credit on my phone" as my aunt butts in.

"I'm hearing rumors that you're bad-talking me and my husband and my children somewhere, like facebook." I'm like "What?" She screws around her head and says "You're talking about me on your facebook status, you better clarify who the ______ family is....you better clarify your status and clarify who you're talking to" Apparently I need to clarify a facebook status I wrote nearly a week ago [to my paternal aunt: aka facebook police: aka personal stalker: aka possibly menopausal narcissistic nutjob. The gist of it was something like "The day people from the _________ family can stop being manipulative story tellers, liars, and thieves, is the day I will stuff the biggest medium-rare steak I can find down my throat. Note: Pigs will also be flying and gold will be falling from the heavens." That was right after a phone call with my mother as she again insisted that I contact her family and go help them with things in their house, it was my duty to probe through their private lives and forcefully invite myself into their circles (after being threatened and outcasted), as well as my responsibility to go over to certain relatives' houses and help them cook and clean and took after their children like I used to as a teen and ask them to please come and cook for me and help me with the baby until someone said yes.

I had told her that in nearly three years of living here, I had tried to establish contact with the few members of the family that had not completely outcasted me and after going through hell and back with Taurus Man's heart attack, my own terrible health, and the beginning of my pregnancy last year, I decided to stop being the only one to run around calling and visiting. I told my mother that relationships are a two way street, people in the family have my number and know where I live and I left the door open to them to be involved in my life and none of them have taken it up to be there. I assured her that yes, I did tell certain aunts and uncles that I was pregnant and yes, they know where I live and have both mine and Taurus Man's number and not a single call or visit or concern was placed from any of them.

I did not believe it was my responsibility to continue feeding these unhealthy, stress-inducing one-sided relationships. Calling and visiting works both ways, and with everything I was dealing with last year, I could not realistically take care of my suicidally depressed sickly self and heart attack recovering husband as he had his two operations done and recovered, and once my pregnancy begun, I was bedridden with morning sickness and fainting spells and had more days where I was too weak to even lift my head off the bed than days where I could get up and move around. I'm not the kind of person to call up everyone and cry my sorrows to them, and as far as I see, that's none of their business anyway. I let them know about Taurus Man's heart attack and then again about my pregnancy. I left the communication ball in their court and no one picked it up. I've had enough to deal with as things have been, and I was not making that my problem.

But still, my mother insisted that I needed to go help a pregnant aunt and I needed to go around to the family asking repeatedly for help with the baby until someone would agree to come. I'm usually the first person to jump up and help people, but when I myself am in the position I have been in for the past year, my priorities have changed and I chose to put myself and my baby first. I was definitely not going to beg anyone to come and be there for me to hear any crap about it after or have anyone throw it back in my child's face in the future (something my mom's family regularly does). With each phone call I continued to insist that I was fine and I was not going to beg these people that I had been non-existent to for the past year, others for the past three years, and continued asking my mom to please drop it. Obviously that did not happen.

For the past few weeks my hormones have turned me into a water fountain even though I hate letting myself cry, so the more my mom kept pushing this family thing, especially as she spoke about people that have hurt me and wronged me, is the more and more I let it get to me until I got to a point where I needed to vent about it. Hence, my status. Bad move on my part, I know. Terrible judgement call. But considering the fact that that's the only hormonal release I've put out into the world for anyone who knows me to see at 39 1/2 weeks in, I think I haven't done too badly at managing my hormonal emotions.

To back myself up here, I have less than 200 friends on facebook (now brought down to 92 and still deleting), most of whom are school friends from different countries. There are some of Taurus Man's friends and cousins, a few cousins on my dad's side, and specifically four cousins from my mom's side. Those four cousins are the only ones who would know anyone from the family name that I referred to, and seeing as none of them are in contact with me on facebook, nor do I ever see any activity from their profiles, I assumed that it would be safe to put that little status out there, especially as it became quickly covered with songs, links, etc and other notifications that sent it way down to the bottom of my profile.

Why even have it there then? That was my way of getting some of my hurt out there, without actually telling anyone anything to hurt them or cause problems. I was sure nobody would see it and I would have some time to think things over, get the hurt out, and then delete it. I rarely update my facebook anyway, and the only people that are in frequent contact with me are some of my friends, who care less about some family name they've never heard of. The internet crashed either that same day or the next morning. No biggie, I would delete it as soon as the internet came back. I was still upset about the family thing, but I was cool and no longer crying about it.

Yet, here was my paternal aunt, a week later, yelling in my face that I was using her name and passing rumors about her and making people say things about her. What the WHAT? I had used the family name,  which she was related to by marriage, and that meant I was accusing her of things when she's always been there for me and was causing problems and gossiping about them all on Facebook. :O <<<<See my face right there? With the jaw dropping through the floor and straight through to the netherworld, surprising even the devil himself? Yeah. I assured her the status was not about her or anyone she claimed I was talking about, told her specifically who it was about and she interrupted me again to continue yelling that yes, I was accusing her and talking about her and passing rumors about her, her husband, and her children as I stupidly continued repeating "no it's not, I never accused you of anything, I never talked about you, I never spread your name, etc".

I was a sobbing fool by this point. Do I get no credit of having the slightest bit of character that she would so readily and seriously assume and wholeheartedly believe that I would go around falsely accusing people like that? I repeated that it was not about her, again told her who it was about, and told her that I had not accused her of anything or said anything about her, her husband, or children. Still, she continued to rant and went on to say that the entire _____ family has been there for me my whole life and she has always stood by my side and been for me my whole life and that hit a nerve. I was just standing there quietly, crying and taking it all in like a 2 year old being scolded for breaking the cookie jar, but this lady had her facts mixed up.

I told her again that it was not about her, I said nothing about her, and as a matter of fact, the family had not been there for me, and when some members of the family (named a specific instance) were doing certain things (specifically referred to events that should have ended in me calling the police) the rest of the family stood by quietly and watched, no one stood up for me, defended me, or was there for me and my support from this family had been nil.

She started yelling again and said I was a liar because she supported me my whole life and she was there for me my whole life and she let me use her phone to call my dad. Are you for real? My dad asked her, as his sister, to let us communicate with her phone as he wasn't in the country to know what was going on when the ______ family was unleashing hell on me, and three years later, this is something to hold a grudge about or demand praise for? Had my thank you's and my dad's thank you's not been good enough? Has the times of my parents financially supporting her family or the fact that to this day my dad still runs errands etc. for them when he's in the country not been good enough? What exactly does she need to repay this debt of my ear touching her cell phone? And I say DEBT because the rest of her rant was about how she was there for me and supported me and even let me talk to my dad on HER phone. Are you FOR REAL? As I later told Capricorn girl when relaying the matter to her, BITCHES BE TRIPPIN, YO.

I continued crying and insisting that I had not slandered her name or her family's and the _____ family had not been there for me

25 Things I Wish I Could Go Back In Time And Tell My Pregnant Self

1. Hormones are real. Don't let anyone give you crap about them and stop holding them in. Your stress is the baby's stress. Release your hormonal fury and chill.

2. Find a strong, outspoken friend to be your advocate when you can't speak for yourself. Especially when you're alone in the delivery room and the doctors and nurses are ignoring you as the baby's head is coming out.

3. Depression before, during, and after pregnancy is a real thing. If one doctor's treatment is "just don't be depressed", get a second opinion. If you talk to someone who insists it's all in your head, get a third opinion, or forth, or fifth and so on.

4. You don't owe it to anyone to have your baby in a certain place, in a certain way, or to make yourself uncomfortable to convenience anyone other than yourself and your baby. This is YOUR journey.

5. Don't let people treat you like a surrogate or a vagina. When people talk about you having their baby, or thank you for having the baby for them, correct them. This is YOUR baby. You are a woman about to bring life into the world. You deserve a little respect for that.

6. Don't let people tell you that you don't matter or make YOUR pregnancy all about themselves. People who have had their chance played the game already. People who are waiting on their chance still have no right to undermine or belittle you. This is about YOU and YOUR BABY.

7. Fight for your rights and for your respect early. You won't be in any shape to when you're crying at 3AM praying the baby stays asleep while you feed him while you work out your bad feelings from an earlier conversation with an insensitive person.

8. There is such a thing as maternal instincts, and all of yours will be right, despite the lack of support to follow them.

9. Anyone that wants to be involved with the baby? Tell them you may not need help with the baby right away as you try to settle in and bond, but you'll need all the help you can get with things around the house. Make or take suggestions for ways any willing volunteers can help and keep that list closer to you than your bottle of Benefiber. Take all this help at least for the first week, if possible, a month. Once you're sure you're not going crazy and had your special time with your baby, THEN everyone else can come. Put you and baby first.

10. Take volunteers up on their offers to help both before and after baby's arrival. You need to relax as much as possible and may be glued to the bed for awhile after birth.

11. Don't just quietly mention that you want at least a week to yourself (aka visitor free) after birth. Repeat it firmly and often. You will be on a hormonal high for about a week or more and trust me, you'll appreciate every last drop that you can squeeze out of that just for you and your baby to bond rather than to be used smiling through pain and entertaining excited guests that don't want to leave as you pray you don't poop your pants in their prescence.

12. Pain. Not a joke. Your instincts will be right, those bitches WERE contractions in early February. They will last until birth in mid-March. Labor will be all natural, speedy, dream-like, emotional, incredible, and deeply missed. 4th degree stitches will pique your curiosity. You will question whether stitches are supposed to hurt like that. They are, but only when someone leaves gauze inside you and it gets infected. By your 2nd clueless week, the infection will increase and be worse than labor pains. Uterine cramps will be similar to medium period pains. None of your pregnancy, labor, or post-partum pain will ever be as bad as your endo pain. Nevertheless, stock up on painkillers so you can focus on caring for the baby (and YOU!).

13.4th degree stitches mean you will feel pain to sit, stand, lie down, walk etc for an unknown amount of time at the stitches site. Once you can tolerate using the stairs regularly, the pain will be brought down to only feeling a slight pull of healing muscles/tissues as you move. Keep the baby in bed with you, have food brought to you, and focus on nothing more than eating, drinking TONS of water, feeding baby, and lying down for at least the first week. Lying down is your new best friend.

14. Sitz baths (with Savlon/Dettol, hot water, and Epsom salts) were a gift to humanity from the gods. If you can't do them 3x a day, do them once a day, but do them. They WILL make a difference. Perineal irrigation with warm water, Savlon/Dettol, and Epsom salts during bathroom visits was a gift from superior alien life forms to save your life. Do it. Every. Single. Time. On that note, the handheld showerhead thing you hardly ever use in the bathroom? Say hello to your new best friend.

15. Your first bowel movement after birth won't be so bad because you researched what to expect. 4th degree tears mean your sphincter is damaged which means that every bowel movement after birth will make you think of your labor: you can't stop it from coming and there's some level of pain involved.

16. Constipation. Benefiber and prune juice will not be enough. Be religious about whole grains and fruits and veggies, even when Taurus Man insists on buying food. You will be chugging water like a champ because of breastfeeding anyway.

17. You will have an over-active letdown, or over-supply of milk. Nothing you do will work until you start hand expressing and pumping to relieve engorgement and slow down the flow so your baby can eat properly. Two sanitary pads per boob every few hours will be the best nursing pads you can find. Nevertheless, always keep two thick rags or big hankerchiefs with you as back ups.

18. Everyone will have an opinion on everything from parenting to your recovery. Don't take people talking smack about you from anybody. One little comment from a good person, a paragraph from a good friend, a condescending lecture from a relative; none of it matters. Stop it in its tracks or have your appointed advocate help you out. Hormones are a bitch that will drag you through hell. Opinions, demands, lectures, insults, and drama can suck Eric Cartman's balls.

19. Everyone does NOT bond with their baby as soon as he/she is born. That's what movies are made out of. The hormonal high after the birth will help, but bear in mind this high will feel like a combination of being drunk and taking a super strong dose of some kind of happy pills. There will be this kind of woozy feeling like if everything is floating by and so amazing and you will cry for every. little. thing. for at least a week. When it's gone you will be in shock and feel like you've just been slapped in the face (to say the very least) and thrown out naked in the cold.

20. That being said, post-partum depression may not start right away. Once you realize it's rearing its ugly head, get help right away. It can happen to anyone at anytime without a logical reason. Do not talk to people you know will belittle you, blame you, and insult you for feeling that way. Find an alternative early on. Your advocate will come in handy here.

21. Have someone to go to with everything. Capricorn Girl will be your saving grace and keep you going when all seems lost. This is not a journey to venture into alone. Find a support person or a support group. Whichever works.

22. Prioritize you and your baby above all else.

23. Read my lips. D-E-L-E-G-A-T-E. You hear me? Don't nod your head at me that way. Delegate like your life depends on it.

24. Give yourself a break. OCD, ADHD, anxiety, and all their friends can also suck Eric Cartman's balls. Take in the moments as they go by and love yourself, encourage yourself, give yourself credit, and be proud of yourself for the amazing thing you're doing and for the amazing thing you're about to do. (Also for not committing hormonal murder)

25. Write down, take pictures, record; whichever way suits you. You'll cherish being able to re-live the emotions and every moment you materialized one day, whether it's to relay every detail to a curious soul, remind yourself of everything you WILL forget by the time you're ready for another child, or to convince yourself that you do not entirely suck as a mother when everything gets you down, capture the moments. At least whenever you can.

Friday, February 22, 2013

Are you There? It's Me, the Vagina.

I've discovered that the suckiest part of being pregnant is not the traumatizing stories or dangerous old wives tales strangers, friends, and family alike are suddenly compelled to share and insist you repeat. It's not even the people making eye contact with only your belly or boobs and grabbing your belly out of nowhere. Heartburn, constipation, diarrhea, Braxton Hicks, and cervical pain are all a piece of cake. It's the part where you are gradually belittled and pushed aside to no more than a mere vagina. Just a body part waiting to carry out one function.

You're not a woman anymore, you're not even a person in general. All you are is the obstacle between everyone out there and a baby's face. From my experience within my own family, all anyone cares about is what color the baby is (I kid you not - a huge factor in my family), whether he or she is pretty or ugly, and who he or she looks like. As soon as they've pushed their way through to get a good, long, scrutinizing look, they take off, never to be heard from again, only to push their faces in to take a look and make comments and poke around that very same baby when he or she starts going through puberty, and again when they become of marrying age. I've kept my distance from my family for these reasons, but with my due date getting closer, the only way to avoid people now would be to hide under a rock in the middle of Antartica.

Now, people are making my hormones cry me to sleep at night. It's my fault the baby hasn't gained enough weight. It's my fault the baby is moving as much as he/she is. It's my fault the baby might come early. It's my fault my blood count is as low as it is. It's my fault I haven't gained as much weight during the pregnancy. It's my fault I had the flu and the cold. It's my fault the hospital bags took so long to organize. It's my fault the house isn't cleaned and rearranged already. It's my fault the baby room isn't finished.

Wanting a gender neutral green & white theme is stupid and people will buy blue/pink based on what shape my belly is, and the baby BETTER be the gender they're buying for. It doesn't matter what I want, only what they want and they're telling me it will be a boy/girl, just wait and see. If it's a girl, I better look for bright pink and cute princess dresses because that's what all girls are supposed to wear whether I want to shove that old fashioned concept down my child's throat or not. If it's a boy, I better make sure everything he has is blue and screams "BOY" because that's what you're supposed to do with boys, whether I want to follow that stereotypical notion or not. It doesn't matter what I feel, what I think, or what I want. I am not important in any of these decisions, nor should I expect to have any kind of say whatsoever.

I should not breastfeed my baby at night, only during the day, and the baby should be bottle-fed formula at night only by my husband, not me. Cleaning, cooking, washing, and taking care of the baby are all solely my responsibilities and the only help I should ask for/accept is with regards to traditional old wives tales of "rubbing the uterus back in place" even if I don't want any more strangers near my lady parts, and "oiling down" the baby. I should get rid of the things I actually do have ready for the baby that doesn't meet the approval of one or two particular people, and use nothing until they can get the products they insist I use. The only things that are necessary for the baby are things that were used by other moms 20-30 years ago and anything more is just being obnoxious.

It doesn't matter what the hospital, doctor, nurses, or clinic staff say, if this person says I should use a 30 year old product instead of following modern day medical advice, that's exactly what I should do, no exceptions. If I know I have severe side effects from a certain medication that leads to me being hospitalized, I should still take it because someone can get it for cheap over the counter in another country. If someone has offered to buy a book/toy/article of clothing for the baby and asks for my input, I should not mention that I would like to follow a gender neutral (GREEN AND MOTHERFUCKING WHITE PEOPLE. IS THAT SO MOTHERFUCKING HARD TO UNDERSTAND? "Excuse me ma'am/sir, can I help you?" "Oh yes please, I'm looking for something gender neutral, green and white preferably, can you show me what selections you have available?/I was looking at this actually, do you have it available in green and/or white?" "Why yes, come right this way/No, I'm sorry, you'll have to check another store." "THANK YOU" End of fucking story. WILL THAT FUCKING KILL SOMEONE???? WILL IT MOTHERFUCKING KILL THEM?!?!?!!?!) theme or have a preference of certain things over another. I should understand that I have no say in any of the decisions being made about myself or my the baby, and things like colors aren't big deals anyway, but I should be very understanding of how important those things are to every one else out there, like the people going on about how it BETTER be a boy because they bought all blue or it BETTER be a girl because they bought all pink.

Why am I keeping the baby from being born? Why am I hurrying the baby to be born? Why don't I make the baby put on more weight? Why don't I use *insert old wives tale here* instead of *insert sound modern day medical advice/common sense here*?

It goes on, trust me. It might not seem like a big deal; I've tried to talk to one or two people about it and they certainly don't think it is, but for a young mom-to-be trying to figure out how to be a good mother with no example to follow and figure out how to provide the best she can for her baby, all of these opinions/orders don't make things any easier. How are you supposed to have any kind of mother/child relationship with so many hands twisting you this way and that and demanding that you follow so many orders? Whatever happened to motherhood being a beautiful thing? Or the mother/child relationship being a sacred/special one? Isn't breastfeeding my decision and kind of up to the baby and my milk supply more than the orders from someone else miles away? Don't I as a parent get to decide whether or not I want to swaddle my baby or rock him/her to sleep? Can't I decide whether or not I want to bathe my baby in a bucket/bowl or a baby bathtub? Can't I make decisions about diapering my baby, or wait to see how cloth diapering works out, or what kind of disposable diaper works with the baby before getting stocks of a certain kind of disposable diaper? Can't I plan for teething rings, play mats, and toys when the baby reaches those stages if I have no say in anything else at the very least? Can't I decide on who I am and am not comfortable informing about my cervical information, labor information, and see first when the baby is born?

What irks me more than anything is knowing that I always keep my head down and take things like this very quietly. I don't make a fuss, I don't argue, I don't stand up for myself period. I say nothing out loud and everything in my head. I always look for the lower, more respectful road. That stupid road gets me HERE. Fighting back tears for the fourth time today alone. The people that curse and scream and lie and cheat and steal? They're all living the high life, doing as they please, and they know damned well nobody can dare come near them and breathe anything remotely close to "you better", "you should", or "you have to". THEY are bowed down to and welcomed everywhere they go with open arms, revered as kings and queens of their time. Me? I'm just a vagina pushing out a kid people want to see.


However, even if I am just a vagina, I think what I'm about to do, you know, the whole bringing a baby into the world thing? Yeah, that. I think it's still pretty important. I think that not just anyone can pull that off and I'm pretty special for it. Look at a penis. Or a boob. Or an elbow. Think they can handle the pressure? No. That's why it's my job. I might be bruised and swollen and sore afterwards, but I'm the one who handles this job. Even if nobody else realizes it. Even if all the fingers and toes and nose hairs give themselves a parade afterwards. They might hide me away under a hospital gown, but I'll know what I accomplished. One day, all us vaginas will unite and show 'em all who's boss. Until then, very, very quiet rounds of applause for us all. *quietly cheers*





Saturday, February 16, 2013

Pregnancy, Belly, Baby, and Hospital Updates + Lists

Firstly, just about a week or two after the last belly pic I posted, I had an insane belly growth spurt! Have a look see at my 9 month belly:

I feel amazing, and have had insane energy bursts throughout the month, which have allowed me to get a ton of things done. My belly itches a lot more often, and I've noticed that it's gotten redder, but it's been no cause for concern with the nurses and doctor at the clinic or my ob-gyn, so I'm not worried. My only hiccup has been with the blood count as I stated in the last post, and I'm working on that round the clock these days. Bending down with the bigger belly hurts more and is more uncomfortable, and adds to the bone pain as well, so I try to avoid that as much as possible. I either still have the cold I got from my grandmother/thieving liar (too tired to make that ranting post about her I said would be coming) or it's turned into some kind of virus as I've been exhausted and drowsy for the past couple of days with a slight fever and normal cold symptoms. That's just been annoying as I want to get everything done ASAP. There has been a lot more upper back pain and insane rib pain (possibly from an injury I sustained before leaving NY), which is probably because I've gone back to wearing my old bras 24/7 to help with the weight of my boobs, so it's a choice between the lesser of two evils. I've had to give up the granny bras because the chafing led to rashes which spread to everywhere a seam on any of my clothes touched my body until I tried going without said granny bras and the problem eased up. I've also given up Taurus Man's boxers in exchange for some granny panties, mainly so that I can comfortably wear panty liners again (the importance of this cannot be stressed enough!). Heartburn is back, but I keep it under control by avoiding onions, garlic, and oily foods. Also, I don't hold back with Tums, as not only does it help with the heartburn, but the added calcium helps ease the bone pain if I take a couple every day (as I was advised to do by the nurse in the clinic). I've also been getting cervical pain for about a week now, every night from 11pm-2am for the first few days, then until 4am, and then not only through the night but through the day as well, and since yesterday, with a feeling of pressure pushing down as well. I'm grateful for it as I'm guessing this means my body is preparing for labor (thank you GOD!!!!!!), but at the same time, I would love to get some sleep. An hour long nap is not sleep, people. That's supposed to be after the baby comes, not now. I think it's safe to say that I've rarely been subjected to hormones throughout this pregnancy. Before this month, I probably had three angry crying episodes total and realized it was most likely hormones shortly after thinking things through. This month though, I've been super cry-y. I'm sure it's hormones because I usually keep my emotions to myself and I absolutely despise me and crying in the same sentence. My boobs are also itchier and I actually accidentally squirted milk out of my left boob last month while lathering myself in coconut oil (I was craving the smell of it and thought, why not? Apparently that's why not lol). My feet still hurt and I think my calves and thighs got bulkier and more muscle-y than before. I'm not sure if I've mentioned frequent urination kicking in before, but I can't get more than two straight hours of sleep because of the scheming plots hatched between Superbaby's dance moves and my bladder. Speaking of which, I'll be back in just a minute. *waddles off quickly*


Secondly, I made a new list of the baby things Taurus Man and I still need to get and categorized the list for better understanding and less clutter. Yes, I am aware I need to see list-makers anonymous and go to list-making rehab and take anti-list-making medication. Whatevs. You see that complicated looking "baby essentials checklist" on the last post about the baby and hospital lists? This new list is that list without the things that are crossed out and now put into categories instead of having things listed at random. Isn't that easier? *searches for excuses* I also intend to use this new format to update the final list of baby essentials that I will judge for myself when Superbaby gets here, and of course, share with all of you lovely darlings.


BABY ESSENTIALS
FEEDING

  •        Sterilizing tablets/electric sterilizer [Avent]
  •        Bottle warmer
  •        Bottle brush
  •        Bottle drying tray
  •        Hot water thermos
  •        Insulated bottle case
  •        Breast pump
  •        Breast milk storage containers
  •        Burp cloths
  •        Pacifier
  •        Pacifier case/holder
  •        Nursing bra
  •        Nipple cream
  •        Nursing pads
  •        Medicine dispenser (dropper)
  •        Bulb syringe
  •        Formula (small can for emergency if exclusively breastfeeding)
  •        Gripe water (Little Tummy’s)
  •        Digital thermometer
  •        Kettle (electric preferably)



HYGIENE

  •        Bathtub (infant-to-toddler stage) w/safety feature [Fisherprice]
  •        Hooded towels
  •        Diaper pins
  •        Humidifier
  •        Hair brush & comb
  •        Diaper pail/small garbage bin
  •        Wash basket/laundry hamper (exclusively for baby)
  •        Baby laundry detergent [Dreft/Lanher]
  •        Contoured changing pad
  •        Bucket for cloth diapers



BABY ROOM/NURSERY

  •        Crib sheets
  •        Crib mosquito net
  •        Crib bumper
  •        Pillow case
  •        Pillow (to position baby)
  •        Baby monitor [Motorola]
  •        Musical crib mobile
  •        Night light
  •        Flannel cotton (for diaper liners, crib sheets, burp cloths, etc.)
  •        Pants
  •        Sleepers/all in one snap button outfits



EXTRA ITEMS

  •        Postpartum support belt/belly band
  •        Extra maternity pads/adult diapers
  •        Washtub
  •        Scrubbing board
  •        Real coconut oil
  •        Witch hazel 
  •        Aloe vera
  •        Vitamin C supplement [Emergen-C]
  •        Stool softener/fiber supplement [Benefiber]
  •        Calcium supplement [Caltrate]
  •        Pregnancy/lactation safe painkiller [Tylenol]
  •        Extra prenatal meds [Natele, Astyfer, Becoplex w/iron]
  •        Extra wipes
  •        Extra disposable diapers
  •        Extra supply of bottled water [8 liter containers]



So, what do you think? :D I also crossed everything off my hospital lists and I'm totally ready to grab my bags and head on over to pushing territory. I've also written out checklists of the items in my hospital bag as well as Superbaby's hospital bag and included these lists with my contact info and Taurus Man's info (in case of some weird emergency only I would think up in my head where all my documents are lost and I can't provide the info myself) in each bag and tagged my name all over the outside of both bags, and included labels of my name and phone number on the inside of each bag as well as on easily misplaced items such as the bottles of medical mumbo jumbo and wipes case. Here are said lists:

Mother's Hospital Bag Checklist
  • 2 nightgowns (front buttoning)
  • 1 pack of maternity pads
  • 1 face towel
  • toiletries package (soap, deodorant, toothbrush, toothpaste, small skin cream, blistex, comb)
  • 1 Limacol
  • 1 Salve antiseptic
  • 1 Fleet enema
  • 1 pair of socks
  • 1 going home outfit (dress, bra, underwear)
  • 1 towel
  • 2 washrags


  Baby's Hospital Bag Checklist
  • 4 baby vests
  • 3 casacks
  • 2 nighties
  • 2 pairs of socks
  • 2 hats
  • 2 wash cloths
  • 1 hooded towel
  • 2 blankets
  • 1 portable wipes case w/wipes
  • 1 petroleum jelly
  • 1 methylated spirit
  • 1 head-to-toe baby wash
  • 10 disposable diapers
  • 1 package of jumbo sized cotton balls



I think everything there is self explanatory. I'd just like to explain that by packages, what I mean are basically little baggies. Do you know those clear plastic packages baby things like onesies and blankets come in? I've actually found them to be the perfect size to store things like Q-tips, tampons, pads, etc. I used one to put some cotton balls in (even though it's not on the list, I figure they would need it since you have to bring everything else), which will be placed in the changing station once the baby comes home, and a larger one to put my toiletries for the hospital in. I think it's super handy and the material is way stronger than the ziploc bags I was using before.




By the way, "casacks" are the things on the left, and baby nighties are the things on the right. I think they're hideous and I don't like them at all, but that's what the hospital wants, so that's what the hospital gets.


There will be a final list for what exactly has gone into my packed back-up bag as well. Taurus Man is currently working on painting the crib (it's 3AM), so it should be ready for me to start organizing after I get some sleep and actually wake up during daylight hours. By organizing, what I mean is that there are three parts to the crib Taurus Man built: the actual crib, a changing station, and a closet. Once the paint has dried and Taurus Man has put in the shelf liners and installed the rod for the closet, I can start packing our baby things in there. 

It is now 5AM and I am so exhausted I honestly can't remember anything I intended to write or did write. Good morning and ciao until next time!