NOT a New Age Hippie

As previously discussed, I trust TV way too much.  I am one of those people that believes everything commercials tell them.  Those "corn sugar" commercials: I totally bought it.  (Evidently they are quite bogus, if you can believe MSNBC, which, of course, is still television.)  Okay, I am not totally sold on EVERYTHING the television says to me, but I am pretty sensitive to suggestion.
This is why I thought I would be a perfect candidate for Hypnobabies.
I know, I know: you are rolling your eyes at me thinking "You ARE one of those gullible new-age hippies".
Well, okay, there may be actually a very strong case that I am a gullible new-age hippie, but hear me out.  Hypnobabies is basically just a form of deep relaxation that allows you to stay in control when you are giving birth.  This was important to me because I was really afraid of having an anxiety attack while delivering.  See, perfectly non-gullible talk.

Unfortunately, once we got to the hospital, I was too afraid the nurses would judge me, so I couldn't follow through on the program.  "Did you hear about the crazy hippie in room 2B?," I could imagine them saying, "She doing HYPNObabies.  I'll bet she even calls high fructose corn syrup 'corn sugar'.  Someone should call social services."
Despite the fizzled ending, the program was actually pretty helpful in dealing with some of my anxieties.  Before I started the program, I was becoming pretty disenchanted with the whole pregnancy thing.  As I became more and more uncomfortable, my perception of LO's movements in the womb changed from fun-loving and playful flips and squirms, to irritated and malicious kicks and shoves.  I actually would get angry with her, telling her to knock it off when she squirmed around inside me.  Obviously, not a healthy way to perceive your growing child.  Once I started the program though, I started noticing my response change.  The program suggests that you listen to the "Positive Affirmation" track daily.  It had me repeat things like, "I love my pregnant body" and "My baby is safe and healthy inside me now". When I first started doing it I thought the whole thing was ridiculous.  I was amused by my crazy antics, and the startled expressions of the shoppers around me."  My uterus is oft and supple" I said as I walked down the frozen food isle.
Okay, I didn't actually do it while shopping; I do have some boundaries.
Anyway, I was amused by doing the exercises, but I kind of thought the whole thing was ridiculous.  Please note how very sensible non-gullible I was in this.
Then, lo and behold, every time I would drive by the Dairy Queen, I could hear the recording's calming voice,"I eat healthy foods everyday for my baby".  I started feeling a lot better about the pregnancy; referring to LO as a "sweet little baby"; it was awesome.
Now, was it enough to keep me serene during an emergency delivery and five day stay in the hospital?  No, it's not Valium, but now that I not facing the prospect of people coming into my room in the middle of the night and jabbing me with needles, I am thinking of picking up some guided relaxation again.
Seriously, I just need to see one commercial for it and I think I would pick it up again.

What are you on and where can I get some: mommy hormones and me

Okay, so that last post was not the happiest I have ever written, but I am compelled to be honest about my transition into motherhood.  I feel as though one of the primary problems setting moms up to for discouragement and frustration during early motherhood is very few people talk about what it is really like to be a mom.
Think about it: no commercial uses the slogan, "Used by ambivalent mothers everywhere".  (Although I really feel that is a missed opportunity; I would totally buy whatever it was they were selling.)
Also, TV moms have this comical, zany birth, which the most ridiculous element of which is how short it is (labor the first time often takes DAYS), and at the end of which they are smiley and out of breath and gently moist with sweat, but beaming and over joyed at their new baby.  Jackasses.  I mean, who gives birth like that?
Also...why do I trust TV so much?
But it's not just TV.  Naomi Wolf, a prominent feminist who wrote a book that was intended to reveal the darker side of motherhood, actually described her child as "queenly", even as "glowing", upon the child's expulsion from the womb.  I can promise you, I did not see my child as queenly, or glowing, nor did my heart sing with our loving bond when they placed her on my chest.  Mostly I was relieved to be done with the labor, and honestly only vaguely aware of what else was happening.
I know there are moms who are attached to their babies right away and just float on clouds immediately after their babies are born, but I feel like those of us who don't experience that face a double whammy: first having a new baby but no hormonal high, and then the second blow of feeling guilty because the mom does not instantly bond with the small bodily fluid production unit that has taken over their home, time, and mind space.
There are a few moms out there that describe more of an experience I can relate to. Anne Lamont wrote a great book about dealing with being a single mom. I also liked this article from a mom honestly describing the time it took to really feel a bond with her twins.
The truth is though, most of the time it's really hard to express anything other than bliss when talking about your baby without fear that someone will call social services.  That's I left in my bummer of a post. To hell with June Cleaver!  She is over represented.  Someone needs to speak up from the disenchanted mommies group, so the negative-nelly blog post stays.

New little roommate

After nine long months, we now have a new little roommate.  She's very cute, and cuddly, but I have to say, being a mom, from the very beginning, is not exactly what I expected.
I mean, of course, the best laid plans go awry, and frankly, we should planned our plan B way more carefully.  Neither my husband or I had ever been in the hospital before, and we were completely unfamiliar with area hospitals, so when all of a sudden I was diagnosed with pre-eclampsia and had rush to the hospital, we had no idea what we were in for.  While I am grateful for everything the hospital did, the process of becoming a mother for me was no where near the empowering, mother-goddess experience that I had somehow come to expect.  The stay before and after labor was degrading at best.  The labor was traumatic: NOTHING like what I was taught to expect from what I had read or heard about.  There was no rush of overwhelming motherly love; our baby did not have a halo or seem dreamlike in her debut.  Other than sheer exhaustion and relief at the labor being over, I was mostly struck at how similar she looked to a very tiny, wet, old man who had just lost a boxing match.

yeah...still super cute

As we drove home from the hospital after our five day stay, I honestly considered that guy from Alien lucky.  Granted, that guy didn't have anesthesia, but after the thing emerged from him, it ran away; no one slapped a bow on it and asked him to breastfeed.  No one tells you about the blood, and the pain after the birth.  The crying- and oh God there is SOOO much crying- and sleepless nights are not so funny or cute when you are actually going through it.
And now... well... she is still super cute, and she is kind of getting more fun, but caring for a newborn is really hard.  It's hard to write about, though.  There is so much pressure to only express bliss and joy at the arrival of your newborn, that I feel like expressing any kind of ambivalence or frustration makes me a pariah, or at minimum suffering from postpartum depression.  But I can't be the only woman who feels this way.  I find it very hard to believe that all woman give birth and meet the challenge with unendling love and patience.

Almost half way through

I know I haven't written in four months, and that is because I have been immersed in the magical experience of pregnancy.
And of course, when I say magical, I mean nauseating.

No one really prepared me for the experience of having a another human being growing inside me, and that is because no one told me that the human would be a tiny, temperamental high school student with bulimia.  All of a sudden I was sleeping between 12 and 15 hours a day. Despite being perpetually nauseaus, my body insisted that I was continually hungry for simple carbohydrates, which I then immediately turned around and puked up.  I lived my life in this kind of hormonal haze that prevented me from understanding anything, unless presented in a TLC reality show a or Lifetime movie, in which case I find it heart-wrenchingly beautiful.  Yeah, so I was pretty much in high school for about six weeks there.
But, now. solidly into my second trimester, I am back on my way to feeling pseudo normal again.

Have you ever seen two people more in need of a drink?

And as part of that normalcy, I am all anxious about the baby coming.  DH and I went on a babymoon for a week, and as we laid back at the pool, and took our sweet time watching TV or napping as we pleased, I noted parents at the resort spending time with their families.  One couple in particular I noted as I passively completed a crossword puzzles beside the pool.  Both parents were absolutely loaded with every flotation device, bag, towel, plastic toy and first aid item known to man.  In additional, they also each carried a small child under one arm, one of whom had pulled off his water shoes and was using it to beat his father in the legs.  Both of the adults nearly collapsed into the deck chairs, dumping their gear, and exclaiming, "We made it!", before forcing themselves up again because one of their children was attempting to drowned herself in the pool.
Oh, yeah.  Can't wait to get me some of that!
It is supposed to be wonderful right?  I will love this screaming, pooping, drooling bald monkey that sucks up all my energy and time, right?
Someone tell me that there is an upside.

Whew! We are still in business

Friday morning the doctor called and said my HcG levels were high enough that they could check via ultra sound to scan for problems.  We got in there by 1:30 and everything looked good: no bleeding.
We are so relieved.  As of yet, we have  ahealthy, perfectly normal baby.
Almost as retribution for my worry, the baby has started making me sick.  No fun, but I am so relieved to have sign of a growing baby, I don't mind too much.

What a mess

So I am spotting- not even spotting- staining- a little pink/beige when I wipe.  Terrifying naturally, but potentially harmless.  Then again, potentially a sign of miscarriage especially considering I am having mestral cramps along with it.  Yeah, bad signs all around.
Add to that the fact that I got into the doctors to have my first hormone levels monitored on Thursday afternoon, meaning I will have the second level taken Saturday afternoon, and given that the clinic is not open on Sunday, I would have needed to wait until Monday to get the results.
Oh, and I am on half my medication.

Ten o'clock rolls around I am completely drained.  Dim the lights, raise the curtain and cue supernatural meltdown.  The kind where an uneducated observer would swear they were witnessing a one-woman exorcism: hyperventilating, dry heaving, screaming, writhing, snot explosions., each moment becoming more and more buried in anger and despair.
The despair is obvious; there is nothing like being unsure whether or not your child is actually dying inside you:  the massive disappointment, the feelings of inadequacy, and helplessness; it's unreal.
Then there is the anger- at myself- for not being able to hold my shit together and for keeping my husband awake.  It sounds like a little thing, but seriously, it takes quite a man to stay in bed beside a woman who, from all visible evidence, may be channeling the gateway to hell.
It is ironic, but it was probably the idea that I was upsetting him that compounded the melt down: because I was desperate to control myself and not inconvenience him, I dove head first into a frustration spiral with each choke or tremble of sadness.  It wasn't until I decided to go and lay on the couch by myself that I was able to quietly kick my own ass into submission.
So this morning I awake completely sheepish and grateful to my wonderful husband, who frankly sounds a little irritated with me, but understanding.  I am astonished by the amount of crap this man has to put up with.  I have married a saint.
I got a call from the doctor saying that I am far enough along for an ultrasound, and we will not have to wait until Monday, but will know after our appointment today.  My menstrual cramps have moved from my back to my front, and I am about 60% certain that we will not be leaving with good news.  It's sucks, but we'll get through it.  I don't know how, but we will get through it somehow.
I think I may go back on full medication though.

We have lift off!

Hey, look at that!
A big fat plus outta no where!
Damn we're good.
Although, it is still a little hard to believe.  Despite feeling super bloated and being thirsty all the time, I don't really feel pregnant- no breast tenderness or morning sickness, although I guess I am really only five weeks pregnant, so we have plenty of time for all of that. I guess it just doesn't feel real yet.  I was definitely more excited after I got pregnant the first time.  Now I am not sure if it is that I am holding my breath until we are further along, or if it is that we really haven't told anyone yet, or if I am just sort of over the whole pregnancy thing already.  God, that would be sad, because from what I hear, this could go on for quite some time.
My psychiatrist has recommended that I go off my Cymbalta for the first trimester.  She didn't necessarily have any more insight on the issue, she just felt that "if I could go off them, I should". And, well, hell, I don't know what to do, so I might as well try it. The good news is she is fairly certain that going off then returning will not cause anymore damage than staying on, so I might as well give it a try.
So... yeah!
Happy baby!