Colliding Selves and Wondering

  

Yesterday my two selves collided at the top of some steps.

Had a moment in which I asked myself, “What if you don’t descend the stairs and get in the car to join your husband and baby, what if you just walked away?”

 

Looking after a baby, being a wife, is relentless.  Nothing stops.  Not the endless to- do lists, not taking care of another, not the having to be ‘at the top of your game’, not the organising.  Nothing.  Every part of you, every ounce of your energy is consumed by being a mother and a wife.  There’s no room to just be yourself, whoever that may be now.

 

I went to London to stay with a friend overnight on Saturday, usually I try to avoid social situations because well I’m a teacher and I find I spend enough of my time massaging those little egos and attempting to help them negotiate emotional situations without having to do that with adults.  This time however, whether I was just functioning on automatic or determined to leave Berkshire (I don’t know which), I went.  The reality is my friend and I did nothing more exciting than spend a ridiculous amount of money on snacks, go back to her flat, get into comfortable clothes and watch mindless tv.  The next day we got up early and went to a Sunday Sweat session, came home, had breakfast, showered and watched rubbish tv again.  

 

It was amazing.  For those few short hours I was able to ‘just be’.  I wasn’t a mother or a wife.  I was unencumbered.  No one needed me.  I didn’t have to think about anything that needed doing, that I should be doing.  My thoughts, my time and my energy were my own.  That wasn’t to say that I didn’t miss my husband or baby, I did, very much so but I had space to breathe.

 

During this time away I realised that I’ve been low for a while, more than low – angry, felt invisible, taken for granted and voiceless, and it’s taken its toll.  Today, full of cold and on my period I am miserable.  Rather than being able to be thankful for the so many blessings that I have: a (mostly) caring husband, a gorgeous little 6 month old girl, a roof over my head, clothes on my back, a car to drive, food in the fridge, my health…I could go on and on because I really do have much to be thankful for, I feel broken.  While I tell myself it is okay to feel this way, to grieve for my old life, my old body, the person I was before, who my husband and I were to each other, our sex life, my independence, my sense of worth….I so feel guilty, like I am wallowing in self-pity.  More, I feel like I have no right to feel negatively about my life because I chose to get married and I chose to have a baby.

 

I sit here wondering what the answer is to all of this and I am not even sure that this is something to be answered.  I am not even sure if there’s even a point to this post, I just know I stood at the top of those stairs and I wondered.

Direction and Purpose

I'm 40 weeks + 2 today. I have a midwife appointment tomorrow.

On my due date I went to a cheese festival in town, why? Because I could.

I 'could' have sat at home feeling anxious and irritable but what purpose would that have served?  Instead I went out for the day with L, felt slightly anxious in the warmth surrounded by too many people but I didn't stay home.

Yesterday and today it's been like a switch has been flicked, like I woke up and all tension, concern and preoccupation, interest I suppose, in this pregnancy has disappeared.  In fact my interest in just about everything has gone.

It's gone midday and I'm still in my pjs.
We need milk but I can't be bothered to go to the shop.
I've a letter to finish writing....but can't be bothered.

I've never noticed before how much of my identity and psyche has been about work, it's like with starting maternity leave, the absence of the purpose of teaching and planning, coupled with waiting for a little one's arrival....I've lost direction and purpose.

I'm Not an Earth Mother....

Today I am 37 weeks + 4.

In amongst all the 'great' (I'm rolling my eyes here) and oh-so welcomed (sarcasm) advice that EVERYONE has bestowed upon me, not to mention their wonderful predictions (never knew I was acquainted with so many mystics), I've learnt that I am not an earth mother.

I've not enjoyed pregnancy and have been made to feel like I am some kind of monster because of that.

For whatever reasons I've not bought into the 'precious cargo' theory, nor the 'I'm precious and special because I'm having a baby' - my attitude has been 'I'm pregnant not incapacitated' throughout this journey.

I've worried about so much and experienced so much too - jealousy, turning into the female hulk, struggling psychologically with my changing body and lack of control over that, learning to have a deaf ear to everyone's well-meaning but negative predictions and assumptions about my pregnancy, unborn child and fitness to be a mother.  That's just to mention a few things that I can think of off the top of my head!

I'm continuing to work up until a few short days before my due date, with a bit of a Easter break in between, but I have my reasons and to be frank - you aren't owed justification for that decision.

I've not enjoyed battling my way emotionally and psychologically through the uncontrollable changes to my body and hormones.  I've felt out of control at the best of times and seconds away from first degree (unrepentant) murder at the worst of times.  And I swear if one more adult asks me a question that they've not even bothered to mull over for themselves before seeking me out to answer for them....I won't be held responsible for the devastation afterwards!

Am I excited about meeting her, holding her, looking at her in absolute wonder and seeing the person that she is going to grow into?....A thousand times yes!  But this pregnancy thing?  Just isn't for me!

No I've not got stretch marks - yet!
No I didn't get the cankles thing until the last two weeks.
No I've not suffered with carpal tunnel until this week.
Yes I can still do 25 meters under water without coming up for air.
Yes I can still do a tumble turn in the pool and 30 - 50 lengths.
Yes I can (just about) still bend down to pick things up that I've dropped.
Yes I am still working - because I can!
No she doesn't keep me awake with her moving
Yes I did suffer with 'morning sickness until I was about 18 weeks pregnant)
Yes I know I don't look that far gone.
Yes I am tired despite not looking it.

Does that mean I've enjoyed being pregnant?  No, not at all. 

Here's the thing - having lost a baby and gone through that trauma I am acutely aware of how special the baby inside me is, but it doesn't define me, not any more that having lost one does.  I have not made being pregnant the centre of my world, my conversations, my dreams, my hopes, my fears, my life and my relationships.  I've not been overcome with the wonder of how magical an experience this has been and continues to be - why?  I don't know, because it is magical but life goes on.

Talking of life, I'm off to baby-sit my friend's children so she and her husband can have a much needed night out together!!

The Female Hulk

One of the things, and trust me there have been many, that people have neglected to tell me about pregnancy is the mood swings.  In particular the anger.

By my very nature I am a worrier, have control issues, am an internaliser and am a perfectionist.  Have kind of set myself up for constant failure with those attributes.

I have come to realise in the last month that I've turned into the female version of the hulk, you know losing my temper, no one likes me when I'm angry and generally wanting to smash things.  I seem to have the urge to punch people in the throat when my temper flares, luckily for me I've not given in to that.

So many people said, "It's the hormones" and I played lip service to it, I mean I'm meant to be glowing right?  I'm meant to have that second trimester-have-stopped-decorating-car-parks-with-vomit-glow, not the radioactive I'm-counting-to-a-million-to-stop-me-from-punching-you-in-the-throat or unleashing-sarcastic-hell-that-will-make-you-cry red that I'm currently rocking.

Having googled pregnancy and anger I don't feel so unhinged or alone, but how did no one tell me about this?????

I dropped L off at the train station so he could go into London to meet his friends, poor bloke deserves a reprieve, came home and sobbed for the better part of an hour.  I don't recognise myself and the perfectionist in me won't accept that everyone else is walking around like they are on eggshells around me accepting that it is 'just the hormones'.  I'm mortified.  I'm ashamed.  Worst of all I feel like I've no control over my emotions, or just about any facet of my life, at the moment.

Work is stressful - when is it not - with a Teaching Assistant who is about as useful as titts on a fish and a job share partner covering maternity leave that is leaving me 'to pick up the slack' while she finds her feet.  Oh, and did I mention a parent made a complaint against me because she sent her child into school with shorts and a t-shirt to do outdoor PE in (like about 90% of the other parents) and I let the lesson go ahead with the insistence that all children wear at least a jumper?

To say I feel overwhelmed, out of control, fearful that I'm going to be the worst parent in the world and like I really just 'don't want to people' is an understatement.

Frenemies

As you get older the general consensus is that the pitfalls of friendships and relationships get easier, you're adult therefore better at negotiating disagreements and understanding what motivates you.  Not so much me at the moment.

I had a friend that I was close to, we got each through some really dark tough times but then as is natural in life, we drifted in different directions once our geographical proximity increased.

At first when I heard about the important things going on in her life second and third hand from others, I was hurt and disappointed that I was no longer her go-to friend.

When she got a new best-girlfriend I was devastated and I'm ashamed to say resolved to hate her, I found numerous faults in her and with this new best friend to justify my jealous reaction.  At some point, I took a real good look at my motives and and saw them for what they were - jealousy at being replaced.  I began to accept we had grown a part because I was a grown up.

I mourned the loss of our friendship and closeness for a while and then to be honest I got over it, moved on.  She had become a stranger to me, when we did get together in a group I no longer saw someone I was familiar with.  The things she said and did were a totally different person and I finally let go of her.

Then on one occasion when we were all together she started flirting outrageously with L and with no regard to me or my feelings.  She even bragged about it to me in person. I was incandescent with rage, indignation, paranoia and hurt for a long time.  Again, I realised those feelings were more about my present vulnerable state and insecurities than they were anyone else.  I'd lost a baby, that's no small thing.

I'm due to see her in a few weekends, encouraged and pushed by L, who doesn't understand why we're no longer close, and the hard truth is I don't want to see her.

Even worse than seeing her for a weekend is knowing I'm being surprised for my 40th with her flying out to the US, yet I know her visit isn't about my 40th - it's about her and inserting herself in special occasions where she can have the most impact and receive the most attention.

I can't think of anything worse nor something that I want less than that.

I actually don't need or want her in my life.  At all.

Things They Don't Tell You About a Career in Teaching

When you're training to be a teacher there's a great deal your lecturers will tell you, in fact for the most part your head will feel like it's going to explode will all the new skills and knowledge you're trying to cram into it, but there's a vast amount they DON'T tell you.

1. You never stop being a teacher in hundred little ways from meerkat peering at your ducklings to make sure they're behaving, to constantly having to resist the urge to use your 'teacher voice' when any situation feels like it's heading in the wrong direction.  It never stops.

2. You will hate the sound of your own voice.  You've no idea how true this is for me, I have reached the point where I do not want to talk unless it's via the medium of inarticulate sounds or rapid hand gestures.

3. It's okay to say 'no' to the feeling you must work even though you were in school at 07:30, have brought your uneaten lunch home (twice to both of those), not walked outside in daylight for three days - or was it more? You will wake in the middle of night thinking "Shit! I haven't done so and so".

4.  You will crave solitude like an addict and even if you aren't a bath person you'll start taking them because it's one of the few places where you can get five minutes of echoing silence.

5. Everything is a potential resource or has a lesson or activity in it.  Everything - running that bath?  Maths - capacity and volume, English - the poetry of the sound of the gushing water, PSHE - how fortunate we are have running water, History - Victorian plumbing and the invention of, Geography - water sources, Art/DT painting reflection in water and designing a water floatations, Science - the minerals and additives to found in our water....the list is endless

6. It's possible to loath and love your job in equal measure.  You will hate the endless paperwork, the bureaucratic paperwork that stands in the way of getting your ducklings all right help that they need, the long thankless hours, but you will love being the person your ducklings rush to share something with, love their pictorial offerings, love when you see them working so hard to grasp a concept and you will love their nativity efforts.  Most of all you will love trying to help them unlock their potential and encouraging them every stumbling step along the way.

7. You will be exhausted and frustrated and hungry and needing a pee and you will convey all of that to your ducklings.  Then you'll be saddened that you're turning into one of 'those' teachers, it will break your heart in every possible way but from that you will pause, take a breath and exhale and change.

8. There will be days when you will come home and feel the inexplicable need to cry, your day has been relentless and you've been reactionary to a myriad of last minute decisions for books to be scrutinised for marking, for risk assessments, behaviour reports written, parents who wish to speak to you, lesson plans, gifts for hampers, etc. Some days you cry, some days you say "no" and go out for a meal with friends and some days you just have a bath

Not My Finest Hour

Wednesday morning I woke up jangling and discordant from nightmares and my chatty brain.  Over the years I've slowly learnt that work is just work, I can be passionate and committed to teaching but won't allow it to consume me.

Lately I've not been so good at this.  I've felt stressed and overwhelmed with the weight of doing a job share when the other worker hasn't been pulling their full weight, maybe I did take over and possibly it hasn't occurred to my work partner that I might be struggling.  Work has invaded my dreams and consciousness on every level lately, plus.....I'm 12 weeks pregnant and have been having reoccurring nightmares about losing the baby.

So, when that work colleague came to get me to clean the staff room as it was year group's turn and I saw three foot of dirty dishes, cups and a filthy side (bearing in mind I don't work a Monday and Tuesday) I lost my cool.

What followed next was a temper tantrum of a rant, I bluntly told the entire staff room that I was disgusted by such levels of selfish bone idleness from supposed adults.  I audibly chastised that they were a bunch of adults who most certainly wouldn't leave dirty dishes and crap all over the side at home, so demanded to know why they would do it at work.  I continued with my tirade to say I don't access the staff room, therefore no one has to clear after me so why should I do after other said adults?

I was in such a foul mood the deputy head took me to his office to calm down and once in there I only continued with my rant/temper tantrum.  Not my finest hour.

Basically, I've owned up to being petty and silly for allowing something so trivial to get under my skin, I've also apologised for my childish behaviour but....have point blank refused to clean the staff room moving forward: I don't use it as I work through my break and lunch so the other 'adults' can damn well clear up their own mess!

One Foot in Front of the Other

I'm sitting, alone, in a coffee shop in a food shop, just watching the world go by and processing things.  Once upon a time my anxiety would have prevented me from doing this,  so the fact I drove here - alone - am sitting - alone - is a huge achievement.  I know all things are a journey.

Between you and I I've been somewhat of a crazy obsessed lady lately, it's all been internalised but I've been...target fixated for want of a better phrase.  I lost a baby a few months ago and as you would expect it's been a defining moment for me.  It was a planned pregnancy but neither L and I expected to fall so quickly, so it wasn't really a surprise when I handed him the test and burst into tears.  I could say a dozen things about timings, fears and muted joy but none of that matters, not really, not now.

I can be really good at hiding from the truth and despite learning that this is never possible (Freud had to be right about something) I still do it.  I have this deep inner self-doubt, this childish thing of running away when things get too emotionally intense and I panic.  A voice in my head tells me 'I can't do this, I don't love you enough for this' and then I spiral out of control as panic, fear and self-doubt vie for dominance.  Three snakes twinning themselves about my heart, my head and my confidence.

The moment that test turned positive I told myself I didn't want the baby.  I was going to be a terrible mother, I already had a bad relationship with my body and body image, I was going to suffer with postnatal depression, I wasn't going to cope, I wasn't going to bond with it, and it was going to drastically change mine and L's relationship.  Between that and getting a new job, in which I was going to have to tell my boss more or less as soon as the ink was dry on my contract, that I was pregnant, I felt some sense of relief when I lost it.  At least I thought I did.

I don't know where I am on the losing the baby-getting pregnant again thing.  I just know that I've become obsessed with buying pregnancy tests, checking when I might be fertile, putting our sex life under the microscope, checking if I were to fall now when my due date would be, buying new clothes and checking that I can get some maternity wear out of them, and feeling frustrated that I have an irregular cycle (suspected PCOS).  This is the point in which I would usually inject a bit of humour, like telling myself I need a hobby, to defuse the situation and take some of the intense emotions out of it.  But I'm coming empty.

Taking my unhinged hormones out of the equation I really don't know where I am on... all of this.  I just know that I need to keep putting one foot in front of the other and eventually, eventually, I will arrive at wherever I am meant to be.

Therapist

I'm a big fan of nature and exercise being a natural antidepressant.

This, this here is my therapist....

The road of 2017 has been tough so far, so very tough.  I've been on my knees sobbing more times than I can bear to think about.

I've had days when anger and frustration have taken over me, days when I'm consumed by grief and bitterness, days when I just don't want to 'people' and days when the voice in my head Just. Won't. Shut. Up.

It's a lot to carry even for my broad shoulders.

I do my best to be a functioning adult, but there are moments so dark I can feel myself sinking further, so I lock myself away with my therapist until I can face the world again.  Sometimes it's 20 minutes, sometimes it's an hour and other times I'm coming back day-after-day-after-day, muscles sore and cramping, knuckles and elbows skinned but I am there.  Each punch is an inarticulate emotion, a thought, a fear, a release.  Each kick is a wordless shout to be understood.

I will keep being there.

What If....

Just when I think I'm over losing our baby something comes along that is like being sucker punched in the stomach.
Whoosh that friend has the same due date as you.
I can't breathe.
I can't regain my balance.
I can't process all the emotions.

The strangest thing is I knew before the Drs confirmed it that I was losing baby.
On the fifth day of spotting I cried all day.
I made all kinds of promises to be the best, most loving mother ever, if only I didn't lose it.

The week I waited for another scan to confirm I'd had a missed miscarriage was torture in ways it's hard to talk about.
I didn't need a scan. I knew.
I felt such guilt at the thought it was probably for the best because I was about to start a new job and dreaded telling my boss, L and I rowed about things I can't even remember and Gramps had just been diagnosed with cancer.
I wondered if I had even wanted it in the first place.

Now L wants to try again and I don't know if I do.
What if I'm not mentally fit to be a mum?
What if can't love it?
What if I lose another?

An open letter to that friend who flirts with my husband....

Dear friend who flirts with my husband,

I thought long and hard about writing you this letter, my first instinct was to make it very clear – verbally – that you were in danger of having two black eyes and a broken nose, but I reigned in my primal need to assert my superiority and thought this means of communicating would be less dramatic.

Here’s the thing, as a woman approaching her 40^th birthday I understand all too well how life and societal pressure has this endearing way of striping you of your self-esteem and confidence, and replacing it with a sense of your decaying beauty, of your rapidly diminishing worth.  Obviously the feminist in me wishes to declare from the top of my soap box that my sense of worth isn’t measured in how youthful I still look, if I can pass the pencil test and if I can still be ID for alcohol.  However, that feminist still wears a push up bra, can still pass the pencil test, will glow heavenly from being asked for ID and loves a turned head, so good luck convincing her she’s an confident, intelligent and sophisticated woman who has nothing to prove.  That said, I get it, I truly do. 

Now, that I’ve got that nicety out of the way and reminded you that we’re not so different and definitely not in competition with each, let me remind you of something else; we’re friends and have been for a very long time,.  Sheesh, we’ve got each other through more rough patches than I can remember and more than that we have shared far more happy memories than trying ones.  That’s an achievement in itself.  In light of that, it is not okay for you to flirt with my husband and it’s definitely not okay for you to insist with pride that you are a part of our marriage.  You aren’t and won’t ever be.  I’ll explain why, because it is wrong.  We are married and that is sacrosanct, what I share with my husband is separate to what I share with you just as it should be.  We make decisions and go through things that only we can get each other through, that isn’t a criticism of you – just the natural order of the way things are.  No more and no less.  Some things are private and are meant to be kept within the sanctity of marriage. 

It is wrong for you to use him as a boost to your flagging confidence and self-esteem, it is disrespectful of our long standing friendship, and it is entirely unnecessary.  You are a beautiful, courageous, ambitious and immensely talented strong woman, any man would be lucky to have you on his arm and many women want to be you.  Why don’t you believe that?  What has happened that you feel the need to flirt with your friends’ husbands to make you feel needed and wanted?  Why haven’t you talked to me about it?

I guess ultimately we wouldn’t be having this conversation if I didn’t in some way feel threatened by you, if I didn't feel like I was in danger of losing my marriage.  History has shown both of us how the laws of attraction work, how intense situations induce intense emotions and by default, connections.  This is how it starts, first, it is harmless banter, then the exchange of wit and retorts give rise to enjoyment in the attention, it is thrilling.  It is so thrilling that it becomes actively sought and because that initial thrill can't be replicated the exchanges become more risqué, this leads to attraction and finally, the attraction becomes so intense it is harder and harder to ignore.  I know how it works.

So now I pose the question – is this what you had in mind when you started the flirting?  Is this what you predicted would happen?  There’s that line in Love Actually where Emma Thompson asks Alan, “Would you wait around to find out if it's just a necklace, or if it's sex and a necklace, or if worst of all it's a necklace and love? Would you stay, knowing life would always be a little bit worse? Or would you cut and run?”  Obviously we’re not talking necklaces here but still, would you sit on the fence while I flirted with your husband, be him your ex, waiting to see how far it could go or would you nip it in the bud?  Would you have this conversation with me were our places reversed?  Would you?

The truth is I need you in my life, I want you in my life and I have done for a long time but you’re in danger of crossing a line that isn’t negotiable.  So, where do we go from here?  You tell me.

Love you, love me x

2017 is all Heart

I can't sleep.
L is away for work and I'm home alone.
I've eaten my body weight in junk, not because he's away but because my mind won't settle.
I'm being investigated for a hereditary heart condition and during the start my Dr found I have a heart murmur.
Last week the surgery called to request I book an appointment with my Dr as he wants to discuss blood test results with me.  I've done that for two weeks time.
Today I went for a scan because of the heart murmur the Dr found and to investigate the heredity part, the cardiologist told me I've a leak in one of my heart valves.

I can't process it.
I know I need to wait to discuss the results with my Dr but I just can't process it other than to think 2017 you're all heart.

What Next?

I'm on automatic, sleep has gone out of the window and I'm largely living for those quiet moments in which I can be unguarded and just stop.

It is only May and while 2016 saw the celebrity world decimated with loss it seems 2017 is being personal.  A year for growth?  I don't know, I can't tell, I'm .....numb, just mechanically getting through the days whilst unconsciously bracing for the next event.

2 heart attacks
3 heart surgeries
A house move
Numerous job interviews
A new job
A miscarriage
Investigations into a hereditary heart condition
Suspected stress induced stomach compliant
Stage 4 stomach cancer

Always a internaliser, always able to find the right word to describe a feeling, a situation....I am suddenly without words, without the desire and vocabulary to recognise this.... Period? Situation? Experience?  No words, no labels, no impetuous...just numb in what next?

Two Air Masses

Sometimes it's like I was never pregnant.  My body has long since returned to its pre-pregnancy state and as shocking as this may sound there are even days when I forget I was an expectant mother.  Then there are days when knowing I was and am no longer expecting are my only reality.

Yesterday was Mother's Day in the UK.  Oh.

I didn't expect it to be a hard day to get through.
I didn't expect to want to go to bed on Saturday and get up again Monday.
I didn't expect my moods to be such a tumultuous affair.

I was only 9 weeks and 4 days pregnant when we learnt I'd lost it and it was only measuring 0.4m, what it should be around 5 weeks.  Technically it was a cluster of cells, not yet a foetus and not a baby.  I guess knowing this made me believe or convince myself that I hadn't had time to get excited, that not being able to wait until we could buy a few baby outfits wasn't a thing for me.  It was.

I didn't tell L but I checked the baby app to see how it was developing and what stage it was at more or less every day, and I certainly didn't mention I waited eagerly for our 12 week scan to see it for the first time.

*sigh*

All I can do is, once again as I have before during difficult times, remind myself these feelings aren't going to last forever. This is a period of transition and I should think of it like turbulence on a plane: travelling through the collision of two air masses.

The Road to Recovery: My Miscarriage and Me

Things seem to come in waves...the grief, the anger, the disappointment, the acceptance.  Sometimes they dance with each other, spinning and twirling and taking it in turns to lead in a Tango across my psyche.

It's been nearly 2 weeks since I elected to have SMM (surgically managed miscarriage).  Miscarriage: A taboo subject or a topic fraught with emotionally motivated silences?

I'm slowly recovering from my missed miscarriage.  Physically I recovered very quickly but nothing prepared me for the emotional journey it was going to take me on.  I've moved from not wanting to talk about it, not wanting to talk at all to anyone really, to being able to tell some but only those I choose and when I choose.  From this I've learnt people judge you, 2 people have 'judged' me on electing to have SMM and all I ask is...please don't judge me.  Please don't judge anyone when it comes to dealing with a miscarriage.

My sister, T, has experienced 2 miscarriages herself and she confessed to a desire to 'write a paper about miscarriages because it is such a taboo subject'.  I'm not sure that it is a taboo subject, I think I lean more toward the notion knowing how to respond is difficult and that makes it a not talked about subject.  Everyone's experience of a miscarriage is different, both physically and emotionally, for some there is immense pain and lots of bleeding, for others no pain and lots of bleeding, for some no pain and no bleeding... It therefore stands to reason how a person processes and chooses to deal with their miscarriage is unique, is their journey to recovery.

I chose to have SMM over 'allowing my body to do what it's done naturally for thousands of years' rather than subject myself 'to the risks of uterus scarring and puncturing' to quote my sister because, simply put, I didn't have the emotional strength to go through another 2-3 weeks like the last week I'd gone through.  I just couldn't do it.

So again I ask you, please don't judge me, please don't judge anyone, on how they choose to cope with their miscarriage because in doing so what you're actually doing is judging their emotional state, something you do not have the right nor insight into their psyche to do.  It is a painful enough experience without someone weighing and measuring your response and somehow deciding it is wrong.

Anger

Everything makes me angry at the moment, literally everything.

I've screamed at an old woman driving because she lacked the awareness to see I was waiting on a pedestrian crossing to cross the road.  She didn't hear me so apparently she's deaf as well as blind.

I honked my car horn at a couple driving - first they pulled out on me causing me to have to break sharply, then later on down the road they indicated and pulled in last minute but didn't pull in properly so caused me to have to swerve round them.  Apparently Kellogs are giving out licences in their boxes of bran flakes.

Unhelpful and insensitive words of wisdom.  3 separate people have said, "You'll just have to keep trying" like we're talking about reaching the next level on a game or solving a mathematical sum.  Not to sit on the fence here but that advice is about as comforting and useful as titts on a fish.

People telling me what it's okay to feel - EVERYTHING I feel is OKAY to feel but thanks for the validation.

People judging me on how I am or am not dealing with this, everyone is entitled to their opinion just as I'm entitled to say you can stick your judgement where the sun don't shine.

The new series of Girls...utter vomit inducing drivel.  The characters' incessant narcissistic whining is, I hope, complete fiction, surely no one in reality can be that egotistical.

Fighting the company the military have outsourced housing to over getting our pet dander infested and piss stained carpets changed. It seems we have very different understanding of what an "acceptable standard" is, theirs is scraping the bottom of the hygiene barrel and mine is not having to take two antihistamines a day in addition to apologising to every guest we have.

Not being a able to move on and have closure. I'm still bleeding and no one can tell me how long this is going to last, psychologically this is a torturous reminder of the fact I carried my baby for four weeks while it had already died. My womb was a birth grave.

Raw

I've rolled the idea of posting about this in my head for a while now, the long and short of it was that while I was thinking about it all I was actually talking to myself and drafting a post...

I'm going through a missed miscarriage.

The bleeding started Thursday, nothing much, just spotting.  This continued for a few days, in fact right up until my first mid wife's appointment on Tuesday.  The cramping was worse than my cycle, not excruciating but definitely enough to make me feel sick.  I mentioned it but obviously prior to that I had googled the shit out of it.  You do.  Every body does.  I was told 'implantation bleeding' and nothing to worry about, was I worried???  I don't think that I was, I mean I must have been because I mentioned it and had googled the shit out of it but stressing?... No, not particularly.

Then Tuesday night the bleeding started just as we were going to bed.  I sobbed, loudly and inconsolably while L stared at me with that hopeless expression of a man who is watching his wife, his soul mate, the love of his life, grieve.  We both knew.

That night I lay in bed next to him, listening to him snore and smiled through my tears, oddly amused and glad that one of us was... was what?  Sleeping, that there was some kind of normalcy to the situation.  I don't know.  I just know my heart swelled.

Tired I phoned my GP's surgery and incoherently talked them through what was happening and had happened.  They were all very nice and tried to comfort me but to be honest I was too far gone at that point for anything anyone said or could have said to be heard.  I was given an appointment for the following day.  I remember being so angry that I had to wait, in the state that I was in, for another 24 hours before I could have a scan.  It felt like torture, the mental and emotional torment was hideous but I wanted, no needed, to be alone so I sent L into work. 

All day the grief and guilt came in Tsunami-esq waves that battered me to the point of being doubled up over the sink as I cried and drowned in my emotions.  I knew, in my heart that Peanut was gone, I was never going to see them on a scan, I was never going to hold them in my arms, I was never going to hear the rustle of their nappy as they padded into our room from theirs, and I was never going to watch them sleeping on daddy.  While I mourned the loss of Peanut, I tried not to remember the private scan we had booked, or the sleeping cot donated by the friends who were sleuth like in their working out I was pregnant, or the ticket we had booked to the US for Christmas, or even the names we'd picked: Scarlet Elizabeth or Maximilian Christopher. 

Underneath the mourning was the guilt, L and I had been rather subdued when we discovered I was pregnant.  It had taken me a good couple of weeks to process being it and all that it meant.  For me that means fighting the urge to be overwhelmed and terrified of the unknown.  It had taken that long for me to get over the thought 'but timing is shit'.  We had so much going on, L's Gramps had had a heart attack over Christmas, his parents now US citizens still hadn't sorted out their passports so we'd spent a good few days helping out with that.  We both worked full time up until we moved house, L went straight into work because he had to leaving me to deal with the physical move out and move in, plus all the Kafka-esq bureaucracy that comes along with dealing with the Military and housing standards.  I didn't have a job but was registering with agencies, applying for them, attending interviews....Sheesh I could go on... but why?  So when I knew Peanut was gone I felt such guilt, had they known?  Had they felt like they wouldn't be loved or weren't wanted?  I can't bare that thought, it rips me apart.

At the hospital today I had my blood pressure taken and peed in a cup, I was still giving a positive on the test.  The scan image wasn't great so the nurse used an internal camera, I'm sure she told me the name but... the details are lost on me.  She asked me to wait and see the doctor because there was a small sac but nothing definitive.

The doctor was calm and kind as he told me I'd lost Peanut, Peanut measured 0.4 and was showing as 5 weeks with no heartbeat.  I was meant to be 9 or 10.  I had a missed miscarriage which was why my body was still displaying pregnancy symptoms and I'd need to come back a week later for a scan but he really was very sorry.

Some how I've come back from the hospital phoned to cancel the private scan, left a voicemail for the mid wife cancelling my 16 week appointment and letting her know what's happened, filled out questionnaires for my new job, sorted car insurance and done chores.

I can't bare the thought that Peanut may have felt unloved or unwanted, nor that I may potentially have to carry them inside for another week before getting medical help.

My heart is truly breaking.

Here and Now

un|cer¦tain¦ty
[ʌnˈsəːt(ə)nti]
NOUN
the state of being uncertain:
"times of uncertainty and danger"
synonyms: unpredictability · unreliability · riskiness · chanciness · precariousness · unsureness · changeability · changeableness · variability · inconstancy · fitfulness · fickleness · unsureness · lack of certainty · indecision · irresolution · hesitancy · doubt · doubtfulness · wavering · vacillation · equivocation · vagueness · ambivalence · lack of conviction · disquiet · disquietude · wariness · chariness · scepticism · queries · questions · dubiety · incertitude · hesitancy · tentativeness · unsureness · lack of confidence · diffidence · doubtfulness · doubt (uncertainties)
something that is uncertain or that causes one to feel uncertain:
"financial uncertainties" synonyms: doubt · qualm · misgiving · apprehension · [More]

Pretty much sums up what's going on at the moment.

To Accept It Is What It Is

Have you ever had a relationship which hasn't taken the shape you wanted? Have you ever had expectations for a relationship only to find no matter what your ideals they aren't being fulfilled?

I find myself in this exact situation and I wonder at what point I am just going to accept it for what it is and stop trying to shape it into something it isn't, and I dare say won't ever be, and save myself the heartache and disappointment.

This person and I have been in each other's lives for nearly twenty years, they have known me since I was a babe in the arms of mother and I am apart of their family, yet... We have no emotional connection and there is little affection between us.

We don't argue or fight but to not exchange hostile words doesn't mean we get on. Or have a relationship. To say we don't or haven't exchanged 'hostile words' is being liberal with the truth, there have been numerous occasions in which this person has flung barbed comments in my direction both one-on-one and in a public environment. I don't respond for varying reasons; my mumma didn't raise me to be spiteful or vindictive and the escalation of negativity would only cause heartache to many.

It makes me very disappointed that we don't share a bond, that we don't do the kind of things together I assumed, however wrongly because to assume is to make an Ass out of yoU and ME, that we would in our special relationship. It confuses me that I not only don't understand this person's cold demeanour and random acts of spitefulness, I also don't understand why after so many years of our relationship not meeting my expectations I still continue to hope it will.

If I'm thoughtful about the whole situation I find it is me that is at fault, it is me who is and has been trying to impose my 'idea' of how things ought to be on us. The reality is I should stop tormenting myself with what isn't and can never be and respect what we have. I ought to accept it is what it is. And move on.

Things That Happen When L Goes Away

L is away for the next two weeks fulfilling his work duties, I keep telling myself that since we'll be moving in the new year and it's going to be a regular occurrence again (that's different issue, sorry post, for another day) I'd better get used to it.

So as not to drown in my own misery I'd thought I'd keep this post lighthearted and let you in on what really happens whilst he's away...

1. I stay up passed my bedtime every night, obviously I tell him I am NOT doing this because it's a hell of a lot easier than explaining rubbish tv is fascinating.

2. I will eat an entire bag of sharing popcorn to myself in one sitting. At 111 calories per serving that's nearly 2,400 calories in a 'snack'. Have just literally put the bag out of reach!

3. I will get into my pjs as soon as I get home from work, when L is here he at least makes me wait until 18:00. Don't know why he bothers, it's not like we are expecting guests.

4. I will watch every z list celebrity film on the Hallmark channel I can find, if not that then Snapped or Fatal Vows. L seriously mocks me for this like Westerns and War films are sssoooo much more entertaining.

5. I will graze listlessly on just about everything and anything without really eating a whole proper meal, apparently when he goes away so does my ability to make a decision on what I fancy to eat. As a whole meal.

6. I will take 2 days to clean the house instead of the few hours it usually takes. I have to space these things out, you know, to stave off the boredom.

7. I will suddenly forget to pick up after myself and have a habit of 'shedding' clothes. This sounds worse than it actually is, by the I mean I will leave my dirty clothes in a heap on the floor either in the bedroom or bathroom and just not bring them down stairs straight away. It's that staving off boredom thing again. I promise. I will swear when L calls that I haven't turned into hurricane Catrina (his nickname, one of many for me) and am keeping the place neat and tidy.

8. I will snack on cheese and think this is an entirely appropriate snack as it's got calcium in it. I will pretend I haven't when he returns.

9. I will drag out an old teddy he got me about twelve years ago and sleep with it. I know, I know, I'm a 38 year old woman who sleeps with a bear.

10. I will not tell him that I miss him so he doesn't feel bad about leaving me.

Ten years dating (yes I know I take my time) plus eight years of marriage and my routine of bad habits when he goes way hasn't changed. I'm sure they're why he fell in love with me.