*Note: I typed this out on Thursday and had to wait until I had internet again, and then until it was actually working to copy and paste and publish this post. Stupid, stupid, STUPID country and everything in it.
Anyone that has been following this blog and/or the
one I had prior to this one will know that a lot crappy things have happened to
me. As a matter of fact, I attract crappy things like a crap attracting magnet.
Despite all the whatevers that have been going on, I have been trying,
desperately I’ll admit, to be as positive and calm and cheerful and relaxed as
I possibly can. If not for the baby or Taurus Man or my furballs, then to keep
the pieces of my sanity floating around until some kind of miracle happens so
that when I tell people “I’m fine” I’ll actually be able to mean it.
Today, however, is one of those days. The kind of day that makes you want to sit on
the floor, throw your hands up in the air and say “I give up. What now?” Yeah,
I should try harder to keep a smile on my face and make everyone comfortable
and try to be more of a positive influence and less of a party pooper. There
are a lot of things I should be doing. But the invisible bubble wrap I’ve
wrapped myself in to keep the bad feelings out? All my bubbles are officially
popped, and it’s not so much fun sitting in popped bubble wrap. (If you don’t
get that I mean that figuratively….well….just know that I mean that
figuratively)
Kitty’s death has finally soaked in. My due date is that much closer. My suspicions of the
crappy hospital protocols I’ll be subjected to in this country have been
confirmed. The options I thought I might have available to me have been
shunned. The liberties I hoped I would have until then are gone. Taurus Man is
getting more and more insistent on putting Hyper Doggy in the garage and giving
away the kittens. There are more and more things piling up on my plate and I
have less and less time to deal with these things and work them out. All those
things on my plate? My plate got too heavy and today I dropped it. I cracked
under the pressure. I fell and hit the ground hard. And I looked around to find
myself in a dark little room, alone.
There is ONE person in my family that still has my
back and has welcomed Taurus Man as my husband and always treated me with
kindness and consideration. She is the only person that regularly checks up on
me, albeit online, and shows any care or concern even while tending to her own
family. She is the only person that has offered to help me with the baby after
delivery. I know I will most likely need help. If Taurus Man is hopefully
working by then, it will be me, by myself, to tend to all the household chores,
take care of the baby, myself, and deal with Cancer Grump’s crap. With my
history, I’m worried about post-partum depression being an issue as well. I
would like to take up this family member very much on her offer, but Cancer
Grump’s track record doesn’t read too nicely. He bullies Taurus Man and I on a
regular basis. I had one of Taurus Man’s friend’s wives come over earlier in
the year to help me cook for a prayer service when I was unwell. Cancer Grump
insulted her and tossed offensive comments about her religion and cooking style
around and tried to start a fight with the priest/pundit and quarreled and
complained through half the program until he finally locked himself in his
room. The friend left hurriedly as soon as she finished and did not look at me
or say a single word. It took until after Taurus Man’s heart attack for her to
finally come forward and admit why she left so quickly and requested that she
never have to come back again. The relative with the curious questions who
stayed with us for a week that I mentioned in the last post? By the morning of
the third day, she was near tears. Cancer Grump had apparently been
interrogating her and quarreling with her every chance he got her alone. Taurus
Man had had a serious talk with Cancer Grump before she came over, stating that
a relative of mine (we referred to her as my ‘cousin’) was coming over and that
Cancer Grump was to leave us alone, especially me with the additional
responsibilities on my hands after Taurus Man’s heart attack. Taurus Man laid
down the law and said he would not tolerate anymore of Cancer Grump’s bullying
me around. So, Cancer Grump had been waiting to get my relative alone to bully
her instead. She actually intended to stay longer, but by the end of that third
day, was desperately trying to make plans to find somewhere else to stay. The
earliest she could leave was a week after she came and she reluctantly stayed
until then. I do not want to risk losing the last family support person I have.
Taurus Man thinks that if she’s willing, I should let her come and just explain
the situation, but I don’t think he understands how troubled these people are
by his father’s actions. The most he can do is ask Cancer Grump not to quarrel
with someone, and by then, the damage is already done, and Cancer Grump does as
he pleases anyway. Most likely, I’m looking at being alone and unsupported with
the baby and everything else that will be going on then. The most I can hope
for is that Taurus Man is still unemployed (which I shouldn’t hope for) and can
help me and act as my line of defense against his dad.
I have done a lot of research on birth over the
years, and I had decided on some options I would have liked to have when I was
ready to give birth. For this reason, Taurus Man and I were working on a plan.
The gist was that we wouldn’t consider kids until we could save up to get out
of this house and have a place of our own, where a child could grow up safely
and hopefully happily, without fear of abuse or mistreatment. I told Taurus Man
we would consider it after 5 years of marriage. I figured with both of us
working, we should have a little something to get the ball rolling. With his
mother constantly pressuring us for grandchildren and insisting that she would
financially support us and the child, Taurus Man and I agreed that even if we
were to take her up on her generosity, the earliest we would go was 4 years.
According to my plan, 2 years before we were ready, Taurus Man and I would both
get into shape and have regular exercise routines. 1 year before we were ready,
I would start prenatal yoga and exercises, we would both get check-ups to make
sure our health was top-of-the-line, and we would both be eating as healthy as
we could and Taurus Man would be on multivitamins while I started pre-natals to
see what my body would tolerate and adjust to and whatnot with all my
sensitivities to side effects. 6 months before our planned time of conception,
we would have enough money to live off of for at least a year in case we needed
time off or either of us was too sick to work during my pregnancy and after the
baby was born. We would also make sure that we had a list of essential things
for the baby covered financially for at least the first year, so once the time
was right, it was just to go out and spend money. We would have spoken to our
doctors about trying to conceive, make sure they okay-d our health and saw what
our options were for proper health care in this country, where my dad is, and
where his mom is. We would have chosen the best place with the best options and made
sure we had enough money saved to go with that option and support ourselves
comfortably. 3 months before trying to conceive, we would have enough money to
try egg or sperm donation or IVF if we couldn’t conceive naturally. We would
treat ourselves and enjoy our time as a couple to have “that time” before
taking the big leap into parenthood, and when we were ready, have as much fun
as we could trying to conceive, holding off if it got too stressful, and
stopping to get my much-awaited hysterectomy if we had no luck after 3-5 years
of trying.
You know how I said I’m like a crap-magnet? I didn’t
think that I would become as sickly as an invalid and have to give up my job
after being pressured by the very managers that begged me to take the job in
the first place. I didn’t see endometriosis being thrown at me. Taurus Man,
laid-back, playing-football-three/four-times-a-week-for-fun, healthy as a horse
getting a stress related heart attack with an unknown genetic heart problem at
the age of freaking 27? Taurus Man’s job refusing to continue letting him work
because technically, they didn’t sign the contract yet, so technically they had
the right to turn him away without “discrimination” if technically he wasn’t
legally their employee yet? Taurus Man’s family unleashing hell on us both and
trying to break up our marriage AGAIN? Turning to my family for emotional
support to have their figurative doors slammed in my face? Cancer Woman, my
wonderfully supportive MIL, withdrawing her love and support to renew her
obsession with Cancer Bitch? My depression spiraling out of controlling,
reaching out blindly to anyone there for help to find all backs turned, and end
up in the hospital after a carefully planned out triply backed up suicide
attempt? Cancer Woman insisting to Taurus Man that I didn’t love him if I
didn’t want to live and Taurus Man, after his confusion about his love and
faith in me when his family intervened with the heart attack, turned on me
again to believe her? Trust me, things were not supposed to happen this way. I
know, I know, life laughs in the face of plans. But to end up like this?
Seriously? What the hell?
When I realized my shrunken boobs were filling back
out, my nipples were constantly standing on end and darkening, my typical PMS
of wanting to murder Taurus Man was replaced by mushy lovey-dovey-ness and
non-stop tears during action movies, I looked at Taurus Man and said one word.
“No.”
Taurus Man stared at me for a long time before I
spelled it out. “I CANNOT be pregnant.”
Taurus Man stared at me for a long time again. “Are
you late?”
“No. I still have a couple weeks. But I feel it. I
know. But I can’t be.”
“Let’s wait and see. It might not be. It can’t be. I
highly doubt it. When is the last time we…?”
“I can’t remember. But I know my body. This doesn’t
happen. This has NEVER happened. I keep thinking I love you so much. At this
time of the month, I’m supposed to want to kill you.”
“Oh. I knew something was different! That’s it!
You’re not mad at me! Wow. This is weird. You’re always mad at me by now.”
“But I’m not. Why do I want to hug you and cry? This
doesn’t happen. Not now. And look.” *pulls off shirt*
“Oh yeahhh.” *cops a feel*
“NO. Wasn’t I complaining that my boobs were
shrinking? LOOK. AT. THESE. THINGS.”
“Oh yeahhhh.” *cops a feel*
“You’re an ass. I can’t be pregnant.”
“But you love me. And we’ll wait and see if you’re
late. You know you want kids. You’ll be a great mother.”
“Yeah I do. And I want kids, but not now. What will
we do? I really think I am.” *starts to cry*
“Nah, you’re worrying too much. Don’t worry until
you have something to worry about.”
“You’re not listening!” *throws pillow at his face*
“See, that’s more like it. Get angry. PMS means
you’re not pregnant.”
*stare at him for a long time*
I peed on a stick for the first time exactly a week
after my missed period. As soon as my urine touched the stick, a thick black
line showed up. I ran out of the bathroom pulling up my pants as Taurus Man and
I scrutinized the instruction sheet and tried to figure out what it meant. One
line was negative, two lines was positive. But the pictures showed the other line showing up as negative, and
on the positive result, the other
line was thicker and meant positive. We held our breaths and shook the test and
waited. “Maybe it’s negative?” I asked sadly.
“I thought we don’t want to be pregnant?” he asked
confusedly.
“I know, but it was exciting to think about. But
we’re not ready. But it would have been nice. But we’re not ready.”
“WOMAN. You’re confusing.”
The second line had shown up, albeit thin and faint,
there were now two lines. Maybe I did the test wrong. I’m not sure how you pee
on a stick wrong, but I was sure I did the test wrong. But a stupid smiled
crawled on my face and I hugged Taurus Man. “We’re having a baby.” I said.
“I thought you said the paper said the lines have to
be the other way?”
“It doesn’t matter. I know I’m pregnant. I told you I was.”
We went to the doctor the next day, I peed on
another stick that tested for HCG, and the doctor looked at both his pee stick
and mine and confirmed my pregnancy. As soon as I got home, I called my dad,
Taurus Man called his mom, and then we called everyone else we could think of.
It was either that night or the next morning I put a picture of my pee sticks
on facebook and announced it there too.
You might be confused. I didn’t plan to be pregnant
and I was hoping I wouldn’t be. We weren’t ready for it. But I’ve wanted kids
my entire life. My entire life, every decision I’ve ever made, has been
structured around what I will tell my kids one day and what kind of example I
want to be for my kids. The endo crushed me. After all of my careful plans, all
of my health-nut freak-ness, after barely managing to deal with Taurus Man’s
heart attack, you’re telling me I have an incurable problem that will
eventually lead to infertility? A problem that leads to most of its sufferers
having hysterectomies by the time they are 25(doesn’t matter that I was already
planning one)? A problem that may screw up my insides and kill my careful plans
for children? A problem that is impossible to track and diagnose by stages
unless it’s bad enough to see with the naked eye during surgery? As much as the
diagnosis took a weight off my shoulders by explaining why I bled and was in
pain every day for months after losing my virginity, and why my periods are so
heavy that blood gushes out onto all my clothes, the floor, and my hands, and
why I am in constant immobilizing pain and occasionally have a swollen belly
and swollen extremities and other symptoms of pregnancy every few months, and
why I have menopausal symptoms like hot flashes that get so severe I can’t
breathe and eventually pass out, it crushed me harder than everything else
Taurus Man and I had faced. My greatest hopes and dreams were planned around,
focused on, and were children. So as unprepared as we were for the pregnancy,
and even though it came at the worst possible time, I was pregnant. With a
child. After finally accepting that I may not be able to have children. BAM.
Accidental pregnancy in the middle of WWIII. Life wasn't just laughing in the face of my plans. Life was rolling on the floor, gasping for air, and convulsing from hysterical fits of side-splitting, tear-inducing, lung-popping, screaming laughter.
It was only at today’s OB-GYN appointment that I was
finally allowed to ask my doctor about labor. Call me a hippie, but I was
hoping for a water birth, for Taurus Man to catch the baby and cut the cord,
for the baby to be placed on my chest for skin to skin contact and encouraged
to latch on right away, for the baby to be exclusively breast-fed if I was able
breast feed easily, for the cord to pulsate before being cut, to stamp the
afterbirth, to allow the labor to take its course naturally, to have a birthing
mirror, to videotape the birth, etc. NONE of those options are available. In.
The. Country. Hospitals country-wide follow a certain protocol to keep things
going quickly and to avoid lawsuits. They also bully you and traumatize birthing mothers if you don't like it. No option or say for me. Taurus Man says
he understands how I feel but I should just accept it and move on, since we can't do anything about the situation and the
end result is a healthy baby. WHAT? Nuh-uh. Oh no he didn’t just say what I think
he said to this hormonal mama. I cried the whole way home. I am now sitting
with a bottle of Chloraseptic at my side because my throat hurts from talking
while crying until he distracted me with food.
This childbirth is special to
me. Extremely special. Like rainbows and sparkles and fairies and unicorns kind
of special. You’re telling me I’ll be forced to have an enema and possibly
Pitocin and/or an epidural and preferably back labor on a hard-ass hospital bed
because it’s protocol? That I will have an episiotomy against my will because if the baby doesn't shoot out as soon as he/she is crowning, that means the birth is taking too long? My flesh needs to be sliced the very minute the baby starts making progress out of my womb because of your fucking protocol? After forcing the baby out as quickly as I can (or as quickly as my body can be forced to) according to protocol, my child will be whisked away until you see fit to allow me to bond with my baby? Some unknown type of formula will be shoved in my baby's mouth with no encouragement or effort to help me breastfeed because of fucking protocol? If I do not push when I am told because I am exhausted or scared, you will bully me, quarrel with me, yell in my face, and talk down to me because I'm not following your orders per said timed protocol? If my after birth isn't sliding out of me as soon as the baby is out, you will reach in and yank it out because it will take too long to allow me to deliver it naturally? And then charge me extra for your MANDATORY surgery like performance? Because it
makes your job easier Ms. Doctor Lady? Even though I’m paying you
$12,000-$13,000 (minimum) to sit there and pull this kid out? You’re going to do the SAME
THING the nurses and midwife will do in a public hospital? And I shouldn’t do research or read or
ask questions about this stuff? I’m supposed to relax and wait until that day to figure out what’s going on?
Because the women who have spoken about having the kind of birth I want, who
all EXPERIENCED it and had happy, healthy babies, will mislead me? Because it's a coincidence that the women who have given birth in this country have ALL had episiotomies and left the hospital with at least one "minor" complication? Because
spending 5 minutes with my baby after birth is against protocol? I can’t HOLD MY BABY until WHEN? I can’t SEE my baby
until WHEN? THE FUCK WOMAN??!?!!?!
So yeah. The second those words came out of Taurus
Man’s mouth, the tears started rolling. Typical Taurus Man. But he thinks I’m
being unfair and blah blah blah. Readers, we don’t care about anybody else but
me today. Today I’ve been devastated. Today we will all sit and crook our heads
to the side and go “awww you poor thing”. I told Taurus Man this is why I
didn’t want to have a baby in this STUPID country and I had made all my plans
in the first place. I know there’s nothing we can do but go with it. But did
you hear me? Today, we will crook our heads to the side and say “awwwwww, you
poor thing.” It’s about ME and what I wanted right now. Sure, a lot of the
babies born in this country are born this way and are healthy. Not good enough. This country has an extremely high infant/newborn mortality rate and post-partum complications record for all of their fancy advancements (this protocol has probably been in effect since the 80's or before). Countries like the US, Australia, South Africa, Europe, and parts of South America have these options available. Are you saying this third-world country is more advanced than them? So advanced, that every time the public questions the mortality rate or a woman tries to sue for what she believes is mistreatment, or a family tries to sue for the death of a laboring woman or newborn baby, the government covers it up while doctors and nurses alike go on strike as they play the blame game until the public forgets about their cause and allows them to pretend it never happened? So advanced, that THIS is what they do, and stick to the same medieval protocols to get the same results (death, complications, etc) instead of reviewing their protocols to leave room for advances in medicine and scientific research? Give me my time to mourn the death of my right to choose and have options and
have a say. Now, repeat after me. “Awww, you poor thing!” Very good. Carry on.
Taurus Man is also under the impression that the
baby will DIE if he/she is around animals like Hyper Doggy and/or the kittens.
Okay, okay. He didn’t say die. He
said get sick. Same thing. Anyway, he wants them all out of the room before the
baby comes. The fuck did you say bitch? Nuh-uh. Not my babies. But Taurus Man
is Taurus Man, and when it comes to things like this, I can whine and protest
all I want, but he will get his way. My arguments that hurt my throat more?
Grizzly and O’Malley, our first fur babies, were sent to live downstairs. From
the garage to a kennel to the back and side of the house, Taurus Man insisted
that they would be happy roaming free and playing in the grass. The bitch used
PETA quotes to get to me (I’m an avid PETA supporter). Bitch. But I said okay,
they did look happier playing and rolling in the grass. What happened? Cancer
Grump gave them away to some stranger. Without a word to us. My babies, GONE.
Taken by some animal eating, organ selling, abusive CANNIBAL. Taurus Man said I
have an active imagination and the guy might be an animal lover and blah blah
blah. We don’t care. My sweet canine babies were gone. Stig was the best cat I
ever had. He had to go outside because he was greedy. He’s an ANIMAL. Duh. But
he’s greedy so he has to leave. Blah blah blah. Less than a month after being
outside, he disappeared and we never saw him again. The most human-like,
loving, and affectionate cat that ever existed, gone, possibly kidnapped by a
cat eating psycho or killed somewhere deep in the bushes. My loving,
nose-kissing, face-hugging baby was gone. Jolie was a cute little kitten.
Taurus Man was the one that took her in without telling me anything. But she
meowed funny and he got a funny vibe and he thought she might be possessed or
have some deep rooted problem and he was afraid of her. As quickly as we got
her, she was gone, and never heard from again. My sweet, scared little baby was
gone. Kitty got curious. She tried to jump out the window numerous times and
succeeded numerous times. She brought fleas inside every time she escaped and
broke Taurus Man’s internet antenna thingamajig. She had to go outside. She was
actually living quite comfortably on the steps and hunted in the grass next to
the house and made a few friends. But she was hit by a car just recently and
died. Sweet Mama Kitty that just had babies, only wanted love and freedom,
gone. Schizo cat is just scary and I stay away from her. I do not mix matters
with that she-demon. I see her on one side of the step, I carefully go down the
other. Her previous owner encouraged her to scrape and bite and possibly
overdosed her on catnip. Not her fault, I know. But she is one scary
psycho-cat. She, ironically, the one that I stay away from and cannot bond
with, is still here, chilling out in the garage. Any animal that leaves this
room is either killed or kidnapped or eaten or somehow or the other GONE. We cannot have outdoor animals roaming free in the grass. They ALL disappear. Hyper
Doggy is my favorite and she has to go too? To that place of no return? Nuh-uh.
The kittens have just lost their mama and they have to go too? Sigh. I know
Taurus Man will get his way and he means well, but today, he’s the bad guy, and
we’re all going to feel sorry for me. In unison now, “Awww, you poor thing.”
Thank you. He’s all Hyper Doggy will be happier and she can run around more and
have more space and get fresh air. Yeah. I’ve heard that before. And then
Grizzly and O’Malley were GONE. Plus, Cancer Grump has a habit of leaving the
house, garage included, wide open when he leaves to go somewhere. Who’s to say
someone won’t see my pretty doggy and steal her? Do you know what criminals do
in this country when they want to rob a house and there’s a dog in front of the
house? They CHOP THE DOG TO DEATH. Cancer grump ALWAYS leaves the garage open.
There was even an instance where a man threatened to come after me when I was
home alone and tried to come through the garage but couldn’t figure out how to
unhook the hook on the inside of the garage door to open it. And I’m supposed to slap a smile on my face and let my baby
girl go down there? Nuh-uh bitch. Nuh-uh. I told Taurus Man that after this, I
don’t want any more animals or babies. I can’t take losing anybody else or
watching anybody else suffer under Cancer Grump’s wrath.
I haven’t done any real cleaning since I was
hospitalized in June. I was ill and soon after we found out I was pregnant. Then
the pregnancy symptoms from hell took over. Taurus Man told me not to worry about
cleaning. Everything has been standstill since. All of the dishes in the
kitchen are dirty. I have a hundred loads of laundry to do.
Before Taurus Man
cleared the cobwebs the other day, this place looked like a haunted house.
There is A LOT to be done. As much as Taurus Man will tell me not to worry,
it’s now December, and there is still A LOT to do. I need all of this stuff
taken care of before the baby comes and I still need to plan out what kind of
meals I’ll be cooking and freezing before the baby comes.
Cancer Woman has insisted on sending down some baby
clothes, supplies, and maternity clothes. We have no say in whatever it is, we
don’t know what it is, but we are grateful. There has been no mention of when
she will start shopping to send these things, but we will need to go to the
other side of the country to clear customs once everything is shipped.
Hopefully it will not be too close to the due date or when we bring the baby
home so that I'm not waddling around with a dropped baby awaiting labor or a newborn baby and post-partum me trying not to faint in the unsanitary over-heated warehouses these places are headquartered in. HOPEFULLY.
There is A LOT to do and not much time. My pretty
spreadsheet gave me the luxury of doing one thing a day, but did not take into
account my palpitations, fainting, or constant bouts of weakness. The only
exercise my doctor wants me to do is 15 minutes of walking in the morning and
night with at least an hour’s sleep during the day. I am not allowed to do
anything more. I am not allowed to lift or move more than 10 pounds of
anything. I’m starting to not like this doctor. I don’t think she understands
what I mean by “I have A LOT to do.” That also means that aside from Taurus Man, who comes home from every other football game with an injury (currently, a dislocated thumb and sprained ankle) I have NO help to do all of these "lots of things". That spreadsheet doesn’t even cover
everything. My third trimester starts this month. Half of that list isn’t
done yet. I hate the world today. I really, really do. All together now, “awww
you poor thing!” Great job guys. Great job.
