The world is full of double standards. They're all over the place and cannot usually be avoided. But I never realized how full my own head was with them.
I'm full of double standards. They suck, but I don't know how to get around them. I don't even know why I put them there! And it had to be me, who else would be in my head? What am I screwing myself about? Grief.
For some reason I seem to feel that I have no right to grieve right now. I'm blessed with two beautiful children, a wonderful husband, the luxury to stay at home with my children, and so much more. Every time I start to get down about my recent miscarriage, I try to reason with myself. "Yes, you lost that baby, but look at what you've been given!" Really? Really, Amanda? WTH?
I would expect anyone out there that has suffered a loss to be heartbroken! Early loss, ectopic, first trimester loss, second loss, stillbirth, neonatal death, failed adoption, etc...I'd expect anyone to cry, rage, mourn their loss. But for some reason I won't allow myself.
I'd be the first one to say that grief can't be compared, yet I find myself comparing mine. I'm comparing what I'm going through to everyone's situations. She lost a parent. She is losing a husband. She's having her (insert number here) miscarriage. She doesn't have any children, yet. She is living a farce of a marriage. He is about marry for the wrong reasons...for the second time. Why do I do this?
My grief is MINE and mine ALONE. I'm heartbroken. I'm stuck waking up to the fact every morning that I'm no longer pregnant; there is no longer another life inside of me. I keep having the what-she-would-have-grow-up-to-do thoughts, and have to remind myself that she won't be anything...she's dead.
And I'm trying to grieve, but every time I do...every time I start to get misty eyed I go hug my boys. It makes me feel better, but it also keeps me from feeling my grief. How am I supposed to keep this from eating away at me if I won't let it out?
I've also raged and vented about how so many people try so hard to say the "right" thing and end up screwing it up royally. I don't know how many times I've said "the best thing to say is "I'm sorry" and "I'm praying for you" or "I'm thinking of you"." You know what I've caught myself saying when people have said I'm sorry? "It happens." WHAT??? Yes, it happens (duh), but why can't I just accept the condolences?
I want to stand on the mountain and scream at the skies, "WHY ME?!?!?" but then I think, "why anyone? why her? or her?" I even wrote that I didn't feel I deserved this pregnancy before I even found out it was doomed. ("I’ve already been blessed so much…why would I deserve any more?" But I do want more.
But I don't want more, I just want what I thought I was getting. I want my baby back. (and could I freaking shoot myself every time I think that? I get the stupid Chili's baby-back rib commercial stuck in my head every. freaking. time. and now I'm hungry and revolted at the same time.)
Showing posts with label guilt. Show all posts
Showing posts with label guilt. Show all posts
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
Saturday, December 20, 2008
Cry, Cry Baby
Yeah, in case you were wondering, this post isn't about the babies. Or at least not the little ones. All about me right now. (the boys are definitely part of the subject, but it really is all about me.)
These hormones suck ass. Major stinky ass. I spent the majority of the day yesterday crying. Why, you ask? Because I'm a bad Mom. Because I'm not producing enough milk for one child, let alone two. Because upping my intake means upping the times I pump. Because my nipples throb (not cracked or dry or even red, just sore as hell). Because my babies cry (yeah, I know they do that...but in my effed up mind it right now...). Because I'm tired. Because my dogs aren't getting enough attention. Because I want to do laundry. Because I don't have time to read blogs and/or comment. Because I marked 239 posts as "read". Because the sun is shining. Because the sun isn't shining. Get the point? And I really don't like to cry.
Everyone says breast feeding is hard and I've always figured it would be, but I didn't count low supply to be an issue. I know my Mom had it, but my sister had no problem. As it is, I wasn't even sure that my milk had come in until I missed a scheduled feeding + pumping and the next time I pumped I actually managed to get 80 cc's (total). I've never felt the sensation I've heard you feel when your milk "lets down". The girls have really let me down. I'm not sure how much longer I want to suffer through trying to give my boys breast milk. I mean, here's the schedule so far: nurse baby until he falls off or 30 minutes (lactation consultant said don't let him go more than 30 minutes per breast), begin nursing other baby while holding soothie in first baby's mouth, change both babies, give both babies supplemental bottles (thank you boppy!), love on babies until they fall asleep, pump, try to sleep a few minutes, begin cycle again. Do you see what I'm getting at? And if I really want to get any sleep, I have to cut out the pumping part.
I spoke to someone about it yesterday and they told me that if I cut out the supplemental bottles that the boys will sleep less and want to breast feed more and my supply will increase. I decided to give it a go. Neither child would go to sleep until I gave them at least a little supplement. No amount of nursing filled them up. Trip was actually awake for 5 hours. 5 effing hours the poor little guy suffered. And I couldn't nurse him anymore. He would turn towards me (regardless of who was holding him) and root and cry and break my heart. My babies were hungry and I couldn't help them. Even typing this is making me cry.
Well, as much as I want to go on and on about how shitty I feel right now, someone is getting fussy. Time to start the routine. And seriously, I'm not asking for sympathy or begging for a poor-amanda, but if anyone has any advice, I'm all ears!
These hormones suck ass. Major stinky ass. I spent the majority of the day yesterday crying. Why, you ask? Because I'm a bad Mom. Because I'm not producing enough milk for one child, let alone two. Because upping my intake means upping the times I pump. Because my nipples throb (not cracked or dry or even red, just sore as hell). Because my babies cry (yeah, I know they do that...but in my effed up mind it right now...). Because I'm tired. Because my dogs aren't getting enough attention. Because I want to do laundry. Because I don't have time to read blogs and/or comment. Because I marked 239 posts as "read". Because the sun is shining. Because the sun isn't shining. Get the point? And I really don't like to cry.
Everyone says breast feeding is hard and I've always figured it would be, but I didn't count low supply to be an issue. I know my Mom had it, but my sister had no problem. As it is, I wasn't even sure that my milk had come in until I missed a scheduled feeding + pumping and the next time I pumped I actually managed to get 80 cc's (total). I've never felt the sensation I've heard you feel when your milk "lets down". The girls have really let me down. I'm not sure how much longer I want to suffer through trying to give my boys breast milk. I mean, here's the schedule so far: nurse baby until he falls off or 30 minutes (lactation consultant said don't let him go more than 30 minutes per breast), begin nursing other baby while holding soothie in first baby's mouth, change both babies, give both babies supplemental bottles (thank you boppy!), love on babies until they fall asleep, pump, try to sleep a few minutes, begin cycle again. Do you see what I'm getting at? And if I really want to get any sleep, I have to cut out the pumping part.
I spoke to someone about it yesterday and they told me that if I cut out the supplemental bottles that the boys will sleep less and want to breast feed more and my supply will increase. I decided to give it a go. Neither child would go to sleep until I gave them at least a little supplement. No amount of nursing filled them up. Trip was actually awake for 5 hours. 5 effing hours the poor little guy suffered. And I couldn't nurse him anymore. He would turn towards me (regardless of who was holding him) and root and cry and break my heart. My babies were hungry and I couldn't help them. Even typing this is making me cry.
Well, as much as I want to go on and on about how shitty I feel right now, someone is getting fussy. Time to start the routine. And seriously, I'm not asking for sympathy or begging for a poor-amanda, but if anyone has any advice, I'm all ears!
Friday, December 5, 2008
Give me an inch...
And apparently I completely disregard your feelings in all matters. No really, this seems to be the case with Mr. W.
I really haven't meant to disregard Mr. W's feelings in a lot of things, but it appears I have. He's so kind, loving, giving, and easy going that I didn't know I was doing it. He didn't feel well the other night, so was a little more open with some of his concerns.
For years I have known that when I had a baby my mother would come and stay with me for the first week and basically do anything I asked to help. She did this with my sister both times and was considered a God-send. I knew that I would want this. I knew that this would happen. This was merely a fact, not something that would ever be debated. Apparently Mr. W isn't actually all on board with this.
A few nights ago, when something is mentioned about my parents coming into town next week, Mr. W says something about how he's not very excited about this. I ask him to elaborate and basically what he tells me is that he's concerned that he won't be able to hold his children when he wants to. I'm sure there's a little more to it than that, but that's as far as he would go. I offered to have my parents come at a later time or to have them stay with my sister, but he declined. He said that this is something that he new I wanted and that he had known about since we started trying to have children.
I tried to convince him that my Mom would be completely out of our way. Knowing my Mom and having spoken with my Sister, I know that she won't do anything she's not asked to do and would never overstep any boundaries. Mr. W's family can be quite pushy (his Mom always buys glasses and place-mats and things that she feels we need when she visits...as if we wouldn't go get them ourselves if they were necessary or if we actually wanted them) so maybe this is where his fear comes in. I also think that he is completely oblivious about the reality of having a newborn in the house, much more so about having two of them.
My Sister has assured me that he will completely change his mind after the boys arrive, since her husband had reservations also but ended up crying when she left. My Sister and I have also decided that if he decides, after any amount of time, that he isn't happy with her here then her and my Dad can hop across town and spend the rest of the week at my Sister's house. I've already let him know that this is an option, if he so chooses, and that I respect whatever choice he makes.
Another issue that I didn't think to consult him about until our childbirth class is circumcision. We're having two boys and I didn't think to ask their Father if he was comfortable with having them circumcised?!?!?! Really? What was I thinking (or not thinking)? We are on the same page, but I didn't ask until I was in my third trimester. I'm pretty sure this is something that I should have thought about talking with him about. Instead, the topic comes up in class and I lean over to him and whisper, "You do want to circumcise the boys, don't you?"
Since the other night I have realized that I really need to work on the fact that I am not the only one involved in this pregnancy. He may not be carrying the boys, but he is very interested in what is going on. He loves these children no less than I do and also wants what is best for them. Mr. W has gone above and beyond the call of duty in taking care of me for the past eight months. He is as excited as I am about their arrival. He is a good man, a smart and loving man, and will be a wonderful father. I cannot continue to make decisions without him.
On another Mr. W and the boys front, he is wearing himself ragged. He has worked so hard to get the house finished in time; he has worked so hard taking care of me; he has been pretty much the sole housekeeper and majority cook; he has taken on many extra duties at work. Mr. W seems to be at the end of his seemingly endless energy. The other morning he came home from PT (physical training, work required exercise, usually includes many miles of running and other exercises three times a week) and looked like death warmed over. He actually had to pull off the road while he was coming home because he thought he was going to pass out. Why? Exhaustion. Daily his coloring looks worse.
I am so worried about him. He won't stop or even slow down. Yesterday went to work, took off of work to run me around to appointments, pushed me around in a wheelchair while we shopped (yes I require a wheelchair if I go shopping, walking any further than around my house or standing for more than a few minutes at a time is quite painful), came home and ran new A/V component wires through the wall, crawled under the house a few times to finish the wiring job, and swept the downstairs. This was a slow day for him. On any given day he works from 7am to 4pm or so, cleans the kitchen, cooks dinner, sweeps the downstairs, builds something or another and/or works on something for someone else, does laundry, takes breaks to play with our love-starved dogs, and waits on me hand and foot. I try to do what I can so there's not as much for him to do, but I'm pretty limited. Plus, he actually gets upset with me if I do more than he thinks I should.
The other week, when he was on 3rd shift but also having to go in during the day to do his extra duties, I was supposed to wake him up at 10am. I knew he was very tired so I didn't bother him until almost noon. I was out running errands, so luckily wasn't home to make sure he got up. I got home sometime around 5pm and found him just waking up. He had slept for 17 hours. He didn't wake up to go to the bathroom or eat. He didn't even remember me calling. He had been asleep since about midnight the night before.
As I'm typing this Mr. W is gently snoring in the recliner where he fell asleep around 2pm. I'm not waking him up until dinner is ready. Hopefully after dinner I can keep him from starting on all the projects he told me earlier that he wanted to do today. I know he's afraid that something won't get done before the boys get here (hello??? no one is going to be looking at our floors if they come over!), but what good will he be to them if he gets so worn down that he gets sick. My poor baby.
So, if you've made it this far, and advice on (a) how to help Mr. W feel more involved (b) how to get me to quit being so self centered (c) how to get Mr. W to take a break?
I really haven't meant to disregard Mr. W's feelings in a lot of things, but it appears I have. He's so kind, loving, giving, and easy going that I didn't know I was doing it. He didn't feel well the other night, so was a little more open with some of his concerns.
For years I have known that when I had a baby my mother would come and stay with me for the first week and basically do anything I asked to help. She did this with my sister both times and was considered a God-send. I knew that I would want this. I knew that this would happen. This was merely a fact, not something that would ever be debated. Apparently Mr. W isn't actually all on board with this.
A few nights ago, when something is mentioned about my parents coming into town next week, Mr. W says something about how he's not very excited about this. I ask him to elaborate and basically what he tells me is that he's concerned that he won't be able to hold his children when he wants to. I'm sure there's a little more to it than that, but that's as far as he would go. I offered to have my parents come at a later time or to have them stay with my sister, but he declined. He said that this is something that he new I wanted and that he had known about since we started trying to have children.
I tried to convince him that my Mom would be completely out of our way. Knowing my Mom and having spoken with my Sister, I know that she won't do anything she's not asked to do and would never overstep any boundaries. Mr. W's family can be quite pushy (his Mom always buys glasses and place-mats and things that she feels we need when she visits...as if we wouldn't go get them ourselves if they were necessary or if we actually wanted them) so maybe this is where his fear comes in. I also think that he is completely oblivious about the reality of having a newborn in the house, much more so about having two of them.
My Sister has assured me that he will completely change his mind after the boys arrive, since her husband had reservations also but ended up crying when she left. My Sister and I have also decided that if he decides, after any amount of time, that he isn't happy with her here then her and my Dad can hop across town and spend the rest of the week at my Sister's house. I've already let him know that this is an option, if he so chooses, and that I respect whatever choice he makes.
Another issue that I didn't think to consult him about until our childbirth class is circumcision. We're having two boys and I didn't think to ask their Father if he was comfortable with having them circumcised?!?!?! Really? What was I thinking (or not thinking)? We are on the same page, but I didn't ask until I was in my third trimester. I'm pretty sure this is something that I should have thought about talking with him about. Instead, the topic comes up in class and I lean over to him and whisper, "You do want to circumcise the boys, don't you?"
Since the other night I have realized that I really need to work on the fact that I am not the only one involved in this pregnancy. He may not be carrying the boys, but he is very interested in what is going on. He loves these children no less than I do and also wants what is best for them. Mr. W has gone above and beyond the call of duty in taking care of me for the past eight months. He is as excited as I am about their arrival. He is a good man, a smart and loving man, and will be a wonderful father. I cannot continue to make decisions without him.
On another Mr. W and the boys front, he is wearing himself ragged. He has worked so hard to get the house finished in time; he has worked so hard taking care of me; he has been pretty much the sole housekeeper and majority cook; he has taken on many extra duties at work. Mr. W seems to be at the end of his seemingly endless energy. The other morning he came home from PT (physical training, work required exercise, usually includes many miles of running and other exercises three times a week) and looked like death warmed over. He actually had to pull off the road while he was coming home because he thought he was going to pass out. Why? Exhaustion. Daily his coloring looks worse.
I am so worried about him. He won't stop or even slow down. Yesterday went to work, took off of work to run me around to appointments, pushed me around in a wheelchair while we shopped (yes I require a wheelchair if I go shopping, walking any further than around my house or standing for more than a few minutes at a time is quite painful), came home and ran new A/V component wires through the wall, crawled under the house a few times to finish the wiring job, and swept the downstairs. This was a slow day for him. On any given day he works from 7am to 4pm or so, cleans the kitchen, cooks dinner, sweeps the downstairs, builds something or another and/or works on something for someone else, does laundry, takes breaks to play with our love-starved dogs, and waits on me hand and foot. I try to do what I can so there's not as much for him to do, but I'm pretty limited. Plus, he actually gets upset with me if I do more than he thinks I should.
The other week, when he was on 3rd shift but also having to go in during the day to do his extra duties, I was supposed to wake him up at 10am. I knew he was very tired so I didn't bother him until almost noon. I was out running errands, so luckily wasn't home to make sure he got up. I got home sometime around 5pm and found him just waking up. He had slept for 17 hours. He didn't wake up to go to the bathroom or eat. He didn't even remember me calling. He had been asleep since about midnight the night before.
As I'm typing this Mr. W is gently snoring in the recliner where he fell asleep around 2pm. I'm not waking him up until dinner is ready. Hopefully after dinner I can keep him from starting on all the projects he told me earlier that he wanted to do today. I know he's afraid that something won't get done before the boys get here (hello??? no one is going to be looking at our floors if they come over!), but what good will he be to them if he gets so worn down that he gets sick. My poor baby.
So, if you've made it this far, and advice on (a) how to help Mr. W feel more involved (b) how to get me to quit being so self centered (c) how to get Mr. W to take a break?
Thursday, January 24, 2008
crap
While reading a blog (and enjoying the reading except for that split moment) I had a thought and a moment that made me want to cry and vomit at the same time. It actually brought tears to my eyes.
In 16 weeks (give or take) I will begin seeing something that, although it is beautiful and I am ecstatic for them, will hurt me beyond words. The women due around the same time as I would have been will be giving birth. I will not be. I hope and pray that I will be pregnant and have seen a heartbeat by that time.
Please don't take it personally if, when this time comes, I'm not quick to comment. Please know that I am thinking of you and so very happy for you. I may just need time to grieve.
In 16 weeks (give or take) I will begin seeing something that, although it is beautiful and I am ecstatic for them, will hurt me beyond words. The women due around the same time as I would have been will be giving birth. I will not be. I hope and pray that I will be pregnant and have seen a heartbeat by that time.
Please don't take it personally if, when this time comes, I'm not quick to comment. Please know that I am thinking of you and so very happy for you. I may just need time to grieve.
Monday, January 21, 2008
dark thoughts
After lunch today, while reading a book, the thought of bulimia crossed my mind. It had been mentioned in the book (not a significant part, just a minor mention). The thought was so tempting...tantalizing...
As much as I love food, I hate it. The anorexic in me...there's no point in even finishing that sentence. I do my best to get rid of those thoughts when they work their way into my conscious thinking. Sigh.
As much as I love food, I hate it. The anorexic in me...there's no point in even finishing that sentence. I do my best to get rid of those thoughts when they work their way into my conscious thinking. Sigh.
Sunday, September 16, 2007
Nightmares and Daydreams
My mother's best friend has prophetic dreams. She dreamed when someone close to her was going to die. She dreamed when my sister was pregnant. She had a dream about me a few weeks ago.
My twin brother and I were both in the dream. I was holding a strawberry blond babydoll (girl) & my brother was trying to take the doll from me. I told him, "No! It's my baby".
Insert guilt here. For those of you just tuning in, Evil SIL miscarried a little over a week ago. I got my BFP Thursday. I know it's completely illogical, but still...the guilt is there. Like I've taken their baby. Like I said, illogical.
Now don't get me wrong, I still do not think Evil SIL should have anymore kids. I'm not saying I wish her the pain of IF, but I do wish the the lack of desire for children. I wish for my brother that the son they have together is enough. As far as my guilt goes, my brother and I have that mythical twin bond. I never physically felt his pain, but emotionally, yeah it was there. So his loss hurts. And IF has taught me the pain of other's BFPs when my arms are still empty.
And if this wasn't all weird enough, my sister took a HPT last weekend. She's actively TTA, though.
So once again I've rambled on...damn this head cold!
My twin brother and I were both in the dream. I was holding a strawberry blond babydoll (girl) & my brother was trying to take the doll from me. I told him, "No! It's my baby".
Insert guilt here. For those of you just tuning in, Evil SIL miscarried a little over a week ago. I got my BFP Thursday. I know it's completely illogical, but still...the guilt is there. Like I've taken their baby. Like I said, illogical.
Now don't get me wrong, I still do not think Evil SIL should have anymore kids. I'm not saying I wish her the pain of IF, but I do wish the the lack of desire for children. I wish for my brother that the son they have together is enough. As far as my guilt goes, my brother and I have that mythical twin bond. I never physically felt his pain, but emotionally, yeah it was there. So his loss hurts. And IF has taught me the pain of other's BFPs when my arms are still empty.
And if this wasn't all weird enough, my sister took a HPT last weekend. She's actively TTA, though.
So once again I've rambled on...damn this head cold!
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