Still human

So, I'm feeling like my last couple of posts have been kind of sad. A little edgy too. And in all honesty, it is not a great representation of how I am feeling the majority of the time. I wake up with a full heart, happy to change the diaper of the smiliest baby I could ever be so lucky to have. I cuddle his warm body, vowing to always remember how his soft, cubby thighs feel when I am holding him and how he never hesitates to try to dive headfirst off my lap when he finishes his bottle. I'm so grateful for how sweet natured he is. When he was born, the nurses called him a cuddle bug. My MIL said she just got the feeling he was going to take everything in stride. How, without fail, someone will tell me how he made their day or go out of their way to want to interact with my happy boy. I don't mean to sound braggy. I'm in Love.

I'm still human too though and I much prefer my son's 8am wake up cry to his 6am (or even 4am...) wake up calls. I'm smiling at him through squinty eyes every morning until I can get one or two cups of coffee pumping through my veins. I get concerned with my own energy level and how if I'm tired now and he isn't even walking yet, how on earth am I going to keep up with a toddler? I'm concerned about all the Hersh.ey's nuggets I have eaten in the last few days and stressed that I can't seem to find the motivation to keep my good eating plan on track.

I am very aware that my sensitivity meter is way up. I firmly believe I have less room in my brain for some of the things I used to worry about, but I also feel like I'm extra sensitive to dramatic stories about strangers or even fictional characters. Sometimes shows feel too real, laugh tracks feel too loud, and stories about real people are too stressful to hear. My mom was telling me a story about something she saw on tv (like that show, "I Shouldn't Be Alive" or something) and I could almost feel my breath getting short, like I was running out of air and wanted to change the subject as quickly as possible. What is that feeling? I never acknowledged it out loud, but I wondered if they could tell that I felt that way. I remember feeling a little bit like that when I was a kid (worrying when the kid in a sitcom would do something bad, almost like I was somehow responsible), but this feels very amplified.

I saw a therapist years ago who was very helpful and I feel like this is a good time to get that going again. I don't feel the same desperation for help that I did back then, but I recognize how much it helped me then and that it can help me now. I worry that I won't find someone who I liked as much as my old therapist (I've moved out of state since then) and I need to find the time and energy to get something set up.

I am not quite ready to get into how I am feeling about the possibility of another round of IVF for baby #2. I do know I'm not quite up for another fresh cycle, nor do we have anything close to the money for a fresh round, but with 5 frozen embies, maybe I won't have to. The hope was that we would take this fall/winter to try on our own, maybe we would be surprised. Not yet.

Getting all this down feels good. I've got a lot on my mind and now I feel like I freed up a little more space in my brain. That is some very valuable space. I think I am going to fill it with a little watercolor before bed.

Thanksgiving tomorrow. Gratefulness abounds and a smiley boy awaits.

Thinking of the next few months

The holiday season is always a bundle of mixed emotions for me.  When I was a kid, our family didn't have huge traditions, but the ones we had were special and sweet.  As a newlywed, holidays were wonderful opportunities to celebrate three Thanksgivings and Christmases traveling up and down the east coast to be with the ones we love.  As an infertile, it was a time to hide out and stay low key.  To skip the pitying faces and kids screaming with glee.  It was also a time to be in the stirrups.  Thanksgiving 2009, I'm talking to you.

And now, with an 8(!) month old, holidays feel a little overwhelming.  There is some guilt I feel about wanting to start our own traditions here at home.  We want our son's first Christmas to be all about him waking up early and finding his stocking full and cinnamon buns in the oven.  Fire burning in the fireplace and feetie pajamas keeping him warm.  That picture makes me so happy, since it is a picture I have been dreaming of for years.  The guilt comes in with relatives who aren't able (willing?) to come our way to celebrate with us.  Should we head up their way?  Should we sacrifice our vision and dream so everyone can be together?

As anonymous as my blog is, I still feel like I am being very vague and so this is not necessarily me asking for advice as much as it is me venting.

I would love to wake up with C and N and run down the stairs to see a beautiful tree and Christmas the way I always wanted it to be.  I want to have a beautiful dinner with an open door to whatever family is nearby.  I want those things, but I grew up in a house where really only immediate family were welcome. I want to be more open than the way my own mom was, but the bigger the group the more stressed I get.  I say that I want a big house full of people, but by the middle of it, I am tired and overwhelmed and stressed and guilty.  Maybe those relatives can sense it, maybe that is why they don't want to come this year.  Maybe it is my fault.  When everybody else is annoying, the annoying one is You, right?  


I know it is not really the case.  We are the ones who moved 7 (at best) hours away.  We are the ones asking people in their mid-60's to come down to us.  I have always tried my best to make a warm and cozy home, with plenty of food and pillows and activities for people who can be challenging to please.  I have tried to put my best face forward, even when infertility or pregnancy exhausted me to the point of wanting to run upstairs and hide under the covers.  I'm always the one who takes the stress and pain of everyone around me and holds it in my heart.  If there is a lull in conversation, I jump to try to fill it, if something doesn't go right, I take it pretty personally.  It gets exhausting.

This is not what I want for our son.  I want his holidays to be light and bright, warm and fuzzy.  I don't want him to be responsible for everyone's happiness.  It is not up to him to make sure everyone is happy.  If they don't want to come, they don't have to come.  Our door is open either way.

About looking like a grown up and feeling like a kid...

Or, when your insides don't match your outsides.  Or something like that.

C, Baby N and I went to an acquaintances son's (4 years old) birthday party tonight.  Since I haven't been to very many of those, I think it was pretty typical.  Fun enough, but mostly watching the kids playing and attempting to make conversation with people we just met.

It was a nice night, but on our way home, as baby N slept in the car seat and C and I recapped the party we realized we had very similar experiences.  We knew the hosts of the party through C's job, but pretty much everyone else was a stranger, friendly enough, but still strangers.  We had each attempted conversations and jokes, some worked and some fell flat, but no matter the outcome we both found ourselves struggling with what does or should(?) come naturally to most people.  Just the art of small talk.  Maybe we need to take a class?  Or maybe we just need to get out and be more social?

We laughed when we realized maybe we spend too much time with family in that we were disappointed when people gave Baby N a quick smile and wave instead of the endless hugs and kisses and glowing compliments that he gets from our extended families.  There was a sense of "why aren't you gushing about how awesome my baby is??".  That seems kind of silly to type out right now, but it is what it is.   We got so used to our families gushing with little to no effort on our part that to us, this felt like a little letdown.  Don't get me wrong, everyone was nice.  It is just that so many times in public my insides feel 12 years old, even though my outward gray rooted appearance says 35 and this party was no different.

I sometimes carry baby N on my hip and when I see someone else doing that, I wonder if I look as grown up as they do.

I wonder if I will ever feel as grown up as I look.  Do those two things ever catch up with each other?

About friends...

Moving + not having a job = not too many friends for me. I have been feeling like I need something more for myself for a while now. My sweet N is the greatest, but C has been working crazy hours and I feel a little nuts after spending long periods of time talking to myself or talking to a little boy who can't talk back. My parents are the next closest and while they are great people who only want the best for me, it gets exhausting because I feel a little like I have three kids to take care of when they are over (they are both in their late 60's and have some minor medical issues).

I need someone closer to my age who is going through similar things. I may have found that tonight, but I feel like it has been so long since I really talked to someone I would like to build a friendship with that I keep replaying and picking apart our 10 minute chat in my mind.

I was in the baby section of Tar.get and quickly bonded with someone over our glee that formula was on sale this week. She mentioned that she has an 8 month old boy (only 2 months older than mine) and that we live in the same town (so our boys would likely be in the same class when they start school).

She was sweet and open and the whole time we talked I felt like my desperation to have a friend was so obvious. I suggested we get coffee sometime and we exchanged email addresses. I don't know what will come of our meeting. Sometimes your life crosses paths with someone and it is not meant to be anything more than a fleeting moment. Or, we could have a nice friendship.

I hope it is the latter. I need a friend.

About anger...

When I wrote that last post, I had no idea I would have an opportunity just a few days later to put it into action. Without going into a whole bunch of detail, family (inlaws) have been in town for a few days. C has a new work schedule and wasn't available at the moment my protective mom arms reached out and took care of a situation.

For something as simple as my feeling like the television was way too loud for the little baby ears working some time in the bouncy seat and I requested a reasonable volume, it escalated into frustration and anger from all sides. I felt alone in my battle and trapped in my house. I don't think I have ever felt so angry in my 35 years on this planet.

I come from a family of throwers, never throwing things at people, but there are a few of us who have been known to throw a book or a box or a plate (or a vacuum, Grandma!) in anger and frustration. I threw my cell phone (and broke the case). Baby N was well out of way of any yelling or throwing, in fact, happily bouncing away in another room oblivious to anything other than a happy hippo hanging off what we call the "bouncy house".

I was furious and furiously trying to find a place to put my feelings. I started making food for DH's overnight work shift and got halfway through before I started pacing again. If it was possible for smoke to come out of the top of my head, it would have poured out and set the fire alarm off. I paced for 20 minutes white knuckling what was left of my cell phone case.

When half of my problem went up to bed, I approached the other half in the hopes for a reasonable discussion. My sweet boy still needed one more bottle before bed, but he was still happy in the seat, so I took the opportunity to try to clear the air. I'm one who has trouble sleeping until a problem is resolved.

I feel like I am being a little lame withholding details, so hopefully this is not too confusing to follow, I just wanted to get it off my chest.

Fortunately (or unfortunately depending on the kind of person you are), one of my inlaws is a therapist. With my body at the full capacity for stress and frustration, I approached my inlaw who helped me slowly unclench and talk out the situation. And after 2 and a half hours, I was feeling a little better, although puffy eyed (still) and headachy.

I slept pretty good. Have had a great morning with my baby boy and C is back from his overnight shift. I still haven't spoken to the other half of the conflict and I'm not sure if it will be discussed any further or we will just magically move past it.

I don't have a problem with magically moving past it, but I want to clear the air if it could save the weekend and help for any future situations. I strive to be someone who can learn from my experience.

I have said it before, but I want my son to grow up in a house where he feels comfortable saying what he needs, expressing his feelings without fear of the consequence or judgement and live in a house where he feels secure.

Changing

diapers in the back seat of my car in the 98 degree heat of summer is brutal. But, then my little guy smiles at me as he sticks his little heel in the poopy diaper that I haven't moved out of the way fast enough and I laugh and I remember worrying that I would never experience this. To be honest, I never really pictured myself changing a diaper in the back seat of my car, or on a folding chair in the bathroom of my car dealer or on a big flat rock at the river's edge. But I have and I do and I laugh.

IVF gave me a little edge. It took away some of my modesty and shyness. But, it gave me the strength to be a mom now. The kind of mom who does what she has to do. IVF makes you do what you have to do, stick a needle in your own thigh in the bathroom at work, put your legs up in stirrups for a room full of doctors and nurses and take hormones that bring you to the brink of edginess and tears and then push you right over.

And now, the things I have to do are not as physically painful, but they require new effort on my part. If I have questions about my sweet boy, I have to be proactive (even more than I am for myself) to get my questions answered and "take care of business" as my Dad would say. I am extra aware of my surroundings and if someone is yelling or smoking (for example), I need to be strong enough to get my baby out of there and either say something or just get up and move. It is not that I wouldn't have done those things to protect myself, it is just different with my baby because it feels more urgent and I feel more protective (of course, the new goal is not to become over-protective....but that is another story).

Blogging has been taking a back seat lately, but life has been equally joyful and exhausting. I have been finding tiny moments to pluck my eyebrows and catch up on emails and even think about something other than changing diapers and washing bottles. Working on my hobbies still doesn't last more than 20 minutes at a time, but I'll take what I can get.

Talking to Myself

Talking to myself has long been a habit of mine. Especially while driving in my car. Years ago, I had a long commute and used the time to work things out while talking out loud. It was my own brand of therapy.

Now that 3 and 1/2 months have gone by since my sweet boy was born, I continue to get flashes of myself and my own needs coming into focus. Like back in April (my last post), I all of a sudden felt frumpy and gross. I needed an overhaul and took care of it. I got my teeth cleaned, my hair cut and colored and started going back to the gym, I even found a pretty top that made me look good while still hiding the belly jiggle. It was nice to wear something new that wasn't a stretched out maternity top.

Then, at the end of May I realized it was time to get my weight back down for good, and I wanted not only to be my pre-pregnancy weight, but I really wanted to be my pre-IVF weight. Which meant I had about 50 pounds to lose. 22 to get back down to pre-pregnancy, plus 30 to get down to my favorite weight (the one where I felt great and got lots of compliments). It is funny to be pregnant and everybody tells you how great you look as you continue to expand...now that I'm not pregnant anymore, those compliments have stopped for obvious reasons.

So, I started (not a diet) but a way of life change in my eating habits. Sugar is OUT. No more sugar in my coffee (I'm getting used to it), no more maple syrup in my oatmeal (dried apples cut up instead for a touch of sweetness) and no more ice cream on the regular. Dark chocolate (70%) is a decent substitute when I need something sweet. No more white bread, rice and pasta (substituting rye bread, quinoa and lots of fruit, veggies and nuts). So far I am down 7 pounds! I know that the weight loss will slow down, but I already feel so much better and while I can't get to the gym as much as I would like (and taking my boy for walks in 100 degree heat is not my idea of a good time), I do feel really good about eating so much better. Lifting a 14 pound baby and going up and down the stairs 16 times a day works as exercise for now.

And now that my physical self is getting back on track (although I still have 43 more pounds to lose, my hair could use a touch up already and my belly could use about a million more sit ups...) I realized yesterday, while talking to myself in the car, that I needed something else. I look at my beautiful son and love taking care of him, but I don't want Mom to be my sole definition. I don't want to be boring to him. I want him to look at me and think that I am awesome (for more reasons than I am the one who keeps him clean and gives him food).

And so, now I am figuring out what else rounds me out as a person. I was just saying to my parents that lately I feel like I am running in circles. Most days, I can just seem to get the bare minimum done; taking care of my son, empty the dishwasher, start dinner and maybe I get a shower. On a good day, I can take care of my son, empty the dishwasher, start dinner, take a shower and maybe do the laundry. Most everyday, I look at the clock and am shocked that it is already 9pm and I can't seem to account for what I did all day. I realize this comes with the territory of having and infant and that it will get easier, but as I work on getting myself back together, I see that this is another area that needs help.

My hubby is understanding and takes over for a few hours when he comes home from work, so I can get a little break, my closest friends with kids live about a days drive away, but their phone support does help too. I am finding lately that my mom, who tries to be supportive, isn't very helpful lately. She doesn't seem to want to hear struggle or bad news from me. She even went so far as to suggest that I had ADHD (which is not the case) and said that she noticed that she could hear in my voice that my hormones were back (I had told her a few days prior that my period was back). I might be wrong, but I honestly felt like I heard a little disappointment in her voice, that the happy cloud of oblivion I was living in since I had my son, was dissipating and real life was starting to kick back in. She was trying to make excuses for why I felt like I was running in circles instead of just listening and offering helpful suggestions, which is all I was looking for.

I don't want my son to grow up in a house where he can't express himself when he is angry or sad or frustrated. I want to be the best mother I can to him and right now, I am working very hard on being honest with my own needs and wants, so I can be an inspiration to him and to myself.