This post is related to the previous one, I swear. Trying to write this led to the other one. Because this is the lie I live: that the me you see when I show up for a meeting or post on Facebook had to overcome all this inner-doubt and tiring inner war just to get out the door or jot down two coherent sentences without screaming "Oh my god, would you shoot me in the face because my mind is driving me crazy?!
Someone recently shared that they were told to "snap out" of their depression. This is so frustrating and heartbreaking to hear. Frustrating, because it's impossible. Heartbreaking, because someone who loves you should know that already. Maybe you have heard that when an anorexic looks in the mirror, their mind fools them into seeing a fat person, no matter how dangerously skinny they become. Depression is somewhat like this - your own mind deceives and lies to you. How exactly does one "snap out" of that? You don't. With therapy, coaching, and constant self vigilance, you can try to combat the lies with rational thinking. But an inner dialog of rational thought trying to overcome constant self-destructive, self-loathing lies very quickly becomes exhausting. You know the television gag where a person has an angel sitting on one shoulder and a devil on the other? Imagine that going on in your head 24/7, every day of your life without pause. But there is no angel or devil costumes to tell one side from the other. The voice of your depression and the voice of your rational side sound exactly the same. Constantly questioning whether your doubts are valid or imaginary gets so tiring that you quickly slip into old habits: it's just easier to believe the lies. But once you give in, your rational voice just gets quieter and quieter until it almost disappears completely.
There is nothing quite as surreal as a rational thought popping into your head that challenges your current trend of thinking, and realizing to yourself this is a familiar line of thinking, how did I forget this? The standard lies of depression happen daily: I don't have enough energy to take a shower, I don't need to get out of the house today, I can't possibly do anything social today. Remembering the truth, that showering and leaving the house and socializing actually make you feel better, is one of the easier set of depression's lies to work yourself out of. The flipside being that it's pretty easy to let yourself slide because you'll always have tomorrow to make up for what you decided you didn't want to do today.
The more profound, deep, or vague lines of thought are much harder to combat because they're that much harder to notice what's happening. Questioning your self-worth, doubting people's love for you, dwelling on the past... these are the dangerous thoughts. They are insidious, sneaky, ever present, and yet difficult to see for what they are: lies.
For me, my "easy" battles are with the mundane decisions of life: do I really have to get out of bed today?; do I really need a shower?; what would be the quickest and easiest way to alleviate my hunger, healthy eating be damned?; do I really have to get dressed?; which of these phone calls/emails/meetings can I put off until tomorrow?; how can I get out of this lunch with my friend?; will it be ok if I watch TV for another hour instead of reading to my kid?; 15 more minutes of mind-numbing internet time won't hurt me, right? Maybe they are easier because they require immediate decision making? Who knows? But being so mundane, something that has to be decided over and over again every day, it's just so easy to make the wrong choice.
My difficult battles are hard to even put a finger on, let alone fully realize them or share them with someone else. The month of November was very difficult for me because of all the Facebook sharing of things that people were thankful for: my inner monologue's response to each and every post was "that's swell for you, but my life sucks ass and I'm not thankful for anything." It took half the month for me to even realize that this line of thinking wasn't rational, and it was a huge step backwards in my mindset from my growth over the past few years. I am still trying to figure out why my brain is stuck on "bitter", when just a year ago I was convinced I was the luckiest person alive.
Another difficult fight I only just put a name on yesterday: my hope has disappeared. I think this is probably connected to my addiction to bitterness. But it's one thing to quietly think to myself how unthankful I am, and another to look at my daughter and have nothing but fear for her future. Attending my neice's graduation made me remember my own, and I spent the entire day puzzling out how I could have felt so much excitment and hope for the future at my own graduation, and such an absence for my neice's future. Throughout my pregnancy, there was this trepidation in the back of my mind, afraid of the world I would be bringing my daughter into. These fears haven't been alleviated.
I should feel hope. R74 was approved by the voters in Washington state just last month, and legal gay marriages have started in this state just days ago. But the fight for rights has worn me down, and the opposition just sucked the hope right out of me. It occurred to me yesterday that coming out of the closet allowed hate to come out too. A century ago, did the average American spend even a minute of their lives contemplating gay rights, civil rights, or Christian bias? When my mother was born, what percentage of Americans even knew what Islam was? There was never a "very special episode" of Leave It To Beaver about coming out of the closet, equal rights, abortion, single mothers, or even Judaism. That phenomenon started in the 80s with Different Strokes and Family Ties, right? America didn't start taking off the blinders until the 80s? The Vietnam war and the civil rights movement were just grudgingly rolled into the fold by America, so happy not to talk about it any more when they were over. But none of this stuff is ever going to be over. Hell, is it even ever going to be fully accepted?
There are less hate crimes, less gay bashings, less racism in America, surely. But you know the problem I have with that? The word "less". Are we ever going to live in a world without hate?
We opened some kind of Pandora's box with the civil rights movement and AIDS and the fight for equality. Because suddenly these things were up for debate. As if equal rights for everyone should be debated, really? Are we really happier now that people like Rush Limbaugh can spew filth about gays and feminists on the airways in the quest for equality? Why does demanding your rights always lead to this tremendous, painful, dangerous backlash? It's enough to make a person want to slink back quietly into the closet and forget we ever opened our mouth.
My daughter is going to grow up in an America where white people aren't going to be the dominant race for much longer, where gay marriage is legal, where publicly celebrating non-Christian faith is commonplace, where reason and science are favored over tradition and superstition and ignorance. But she will also inherit an America that believes airing hatred on television is a form of fairness, where school districts try to call Creationism science, where laws are passed demanding public schools not cast Islam in a favorable light, where legal gay marriages aren't recognized by the entire country or the IRS or even your local hospital, where the science of global warming faces a public smear campaign because people are more afraid of losing money than losing the polar ice caps and breathable air.
Where does my reasonable fear for my daughter end and the irrational lies of my depression begin? I just don't know any more. I know I'm supposed to have hope, that we are moving on to a better future. But the current now is such a minefield of hatred and lies and danger, I just don't know how to keep hope in my heart.
How am I supposed to fight my bitterness in light of such heavy concerns?
Showing posts with label health. Show all posts
Showing posts with label health. Show all posts
Friday, December 14, 2012
Secrets and Lies
An extraordinary blogger that I do my best to follow posted something last night that was very timely, as secrets and lies have been on my mind quite a lot lately. There is something about going to my wellness group that reminds me of the secret life I live, and that keeping secrets is a form of lying. I feel like I am lying daily to the world, my daughter, my husband, and myself. I started blogging many years ago because the secret life needed to come out. Over the years, I've made private vows to myself to be more and more revealing. I have two motivations for this: helping myself, and helping others who are struggling with similar issues.
The problem with depression is that it's one of the things that no one talks about. It's on the news and the internet a lot now, so it's in the public eye so much more than just ten years ago. I'm sure Oprah and Dr. Phil and Dr. Oz have had multiple shows about it. But how deeply can you delve into depression with a paragraph on a news site, 30 seconds on the news, or even an hour on a television health show? And how easy is it to just tune out? If you do read/watch the entire thing, how long does it sit with you, this whitewash version of a living hell experienced by so many on a daily basis? Does it sit with you long enough to ask yourself who in your life may be hiding this secret life out of absolute terror of discovery?
I'm telling you that you know someone with depression. I'm here to tell you that you know someone living with a secret/lie.
I'm here to tell you that being discovered is not the end of the world. Telling your secret changes everything, it's true. But the biggest change is how it will change your thinking. Imagine living a life where you are not lying all the time. Imagine how much calmer your inner monologue will be, without all that buzzing anxiety and fear. Imagine how much more you can accomplish if half of your energy isn't tied up in strategizing the best ways to keep your secret. Imagine being able to live your life for your future, rather than constantly remembering the past as you worry about the now. I can't say it will be easier. I can't say it will be better. It will be different. But you can adjust to that. I will say that this adjusting is far easier than you've convinced yourself it would be to live a life in the open.
Some of us have dangerous secrets, and to you I say that your life is important, you are important, so stay safe. To all the people in hiding, I say you are important, and I wish I could hug each and every one of you right now. To those of you who have no idea that someone you love is living a lie, I say reach out and hug someone today. In fact, make it a point to hug everyone you love. Human contact is enormously healing, just try it and see. If you're not a "hugger", it's time you learn to change that. Humans are social animals who thrive on communication and physical interaction, and the easiest, quickest way to express caring for another person is through touch. If you give yourself a moment to relax into it, you will realize you are healing yourself too.
As for myself, I'm here to say that I am not just a Pessimist Mommy. I am a depressed mommy. I carry my depression with me like an invisible jacket of immense weight. And I personally apply new invisible paint to my burden on a regular basis. But there's no way to throw this thing off with all that invisible cover-up. There's no way to get better if I don't acknowledge it. There's no way to get help if I don't ask.
Finally, another caution: this post isn't a plea to be fixed. I am not asking for advice or solutions or even help. I merely beg for acceptance. I only seek to be understood. All those people out there living like this, they can only help themselves. You can't fix them, so please don't try. What you can do is lift them up. Listen to them, seek to understand them, cherish them. Make it known that you care. That is the best gift you can ever give.
The problem with depression is that it's one of the things that no one talks about. It's on the news and the internet a lot now, so it's in the public eye so much more than just ten years ago. I'm sure Oprah and Dr. Phil and Dr. Oz have had multiple shows about it. But how deeply can you delve into depression with a paragraph on a news site, 30 seconds on the news, or even an hour on a television health show? And how easy is it to just tune out? If you do read/watch the entire thing, how long does it sit with you, this whitewash version of a living hell experienced by so many on a daily basis? Does it sit with you long enough to ask yourself who in your life may be hiding this secret life out of absolute terror of discovery?
I'm telling you that you know someone with depression. I'm here to tell you that you know someone living with a secret/lie.
I'm here to tell you that being discovered is not the end of the world. Telling your secret changes everything, it's true. But the biggest change is how it will change your thinking. Imagine living a life where you are not lying all the time. Imagine how much calmer your inner monologue will be, without all that buzzing anxiety and fear. Imagine how much more you can accomplish if half of your energy isn't tied up in strategizing the best ways to keep your secret. Imagine being able to live your life for your future, rather than constantly remembering the past as you worry about the now. I can't say it will be easier. I can't say it will be better. It will be different. But you can adjust to that. I will say that this adjusting is far easier than you've convinced yourself it would be to live a life in the open.
Some of us have dangerous secrets, and to you I say that your life is important, you are important, so stay safe. To all the people in hiding, I say you are important, and I wish I could hug each and every one of you right now. To those of you who have no idea that someone you love is living a lie, I say reach out and hug someone today. In fact, make it a point to hug everyone you love. Human contact is enormously healing, just try it and see. If you're not a "hugger", it's time you learn to change that. Humans are social animals who thrive on communication and physical interaction, and the easiest, quickest way to express caring for another person is through touch. If you give yourself a moment to relax into it, you will realize you are healing yourself too.
As for myself, I'm here to say that I am not just a Pessimist Mommy. I am a depressed mommy. I carry my depression with me like an invisible jacket of immense weight. And I personally apply new invisible paint to my burden on a regular basis. But there's no way to throw this thing off with all that invisible cover-up. There's no way to get better if I don't acknowledge it. There's no way to get help if I don't ask.
Finally, another caution: this post isn't a plea to be fixed. I am not asking for advice or solutions or even help. I merely beg for acceptance. I only seek to be understood. All those people out there living like this, they can only help themselves. You can't fix them, so please don't try. What you can do is lift them up. Listen to them, seek to understand them, cherish them. Make it known that you care. That is the best gift you can ever give.
Labels:
health
Friday, June 1, 2012
Sleep deprivation is kicking my ass
Sleep deprivation is bad for marriage. Daily, if not multiple times a day, I find myself wanting to scream at Eric for the smallest things. Luckily, he hasn't been in the room at the time, and I soon get over myself.
Sleep deprivation is bad for baby. I spend most of her awake hours wishing she was asleep. While she does sleep a lot, most of her time is spent eating and/or dealing with eating: spitting up and pooping. So most of my time is spent giving her food, wiping her bum, and looking at her with a worried expression while I watch her little body try to keep her food down. This quickly gets very, very old.
Sleep deprivation is bad for my blog. Not only haven't I been blogging, but I skipped a day's photograph last week. *sigh*
Sleep deprivation is bad for my sleep disorders. I spend as much time as I can off of my feet, which my body takes to mean I'm "relaxing", which means it's time for my RLS to start up. Some days I can't nap or even sit down without having to deal with my legs wanting to constantly kick and squirm. Which makes for a very humorous picture, I'm sure, for anyone watching me holding the baby while she's kicking and squirming too. But the real problem with RLS is the medication I take, and trying to work in the after-midnight feeding while dealing with nausea and extreme sleepiness. We've developed a sleep schedule where I go to bed much earlier than Eric, he stays up late to give her a late-night feeding, which usually means I get a full 5 hours of sleep before I have to get up to feed her around 2am. Usually. This usually means that the nausea/doped-up feeling has passed. Usually. As an extra bonus, earlier this week I got real evidence of something I long suspected: I have REM Sleep Behavior Disorder. So much for the experiment with co-sleeping.
Sleep deprivation is bad for my pain. Spending as much time as possible off of my feet, means a lot of time sitting on my bum, which means my sciatica is kicking my ass more than every. Literally. Between my arthritic knees and my sciatica-pained butt, the only time I'm comfortable is when I'm laying down. Hence the experiment with co-sleeping. Since that's out the window… well, I'm kind of just screwed all over. Extra bonus? I somehow mucked up my right wrist, so moving it in some directions is painful, and moving it in other directions is excruciating. Sleeping, feedings, bottle washing, carrying baby… all are that much more difficult. No one said this was going to be easy, but come on!
Sleep deprivation is bad for my social life. Social life? What's that? Wait, I'm supposed to be able to leave the house? Not when I smell this bad and my eyes are drooping this low. With greasy hair and ripe clothing, I went grocery shopping and ran to the pharmacy yesterday out of sheer desperation. Boy did my ass pay for that.
Sleep deprivation is bad for baby. I spend most of her awake hours wishing she was asleep. While she does sleep a lot, most of her time is spent eating and/or dealing with eating: spitting up and pooping. So most of my time is spent giving her food, wiping her bum, and looking at her with a worried expression while I watch her little body try to keep her food down. This quickly gets very, very old.
Sleep deprivation is bad for my blog. Not only haven't I been blogging, but I skipped a day's photograph last week. *sigh*
Sleep deprivation is bad for my sleep disorders. I spend as much time as I can off of my feet, which my body takes to mean I'm "relaxing", which means it's time for my RLS to start up. Some days I can't nap or even sit down without having to deal with my legs wanting to constantly kick and squirm. Which makes for a very humorous picture, I'm sure, for anyone watching me holding the baby while she's kicking and squirming too. But the real problem with RLS is the medication I take, and trying to work in the after-midnight feeding while dealing with nausea and extreme sleepiness. We've developed a sleep schedule where I go to bed much earlier than Eric, he stays up late to give her a late-night feeding, which usually means I get a full 5 hours of sleep before I have to get up to feed her around 2am. Usually. This usually means that the nausea/doped-up feeling has passed. Usually. As an extra bonus, earlier this week I got real evidence of something I long suspected: I have REM Sleep Behavior Disorder. So much for the experiment with co-sleeping.
Sleep deprivation is bad for my pain. Spending as much time as possible off of my feet, means a lot of time sitting on my bum, which means my sciatica is kicking my ass more than every. Literally. Between my arthritic knees and my sciatica-pained butt, the only time I'm comfortable is when I'm laying down. Hence the experiment with co-sleeping. Since that's out the window… well, I'm kind of just screwed all over. Extra bonus? I somehow mucked up my right wrist, so moving it in some directions is painful, and moving it in other directions is excruciating. Sleeping, feedings, bottle washing, carrying baby… all are that much more difficult. No one said this was going to be easy, but come on!
Sleep deprivation is bad for my social life. Social life? What's that? Wait, I'm supposed to be able to leave the house? Not when I smell this bad and my eyes are drooping this low. With greasy hair and ripe clothing, I went grocery shopping and ran to the pharmacy yesterday out of sheer desperation. Boy did my ass pay for that.
Friday, March 30, 2012
17 Days to Go: End of Pregnancy Freak Out
On this blustery March Friday, I'm feeling pretty calm. It would be easy to say that this week's freak out was due to realizing how unprepared we still are with only 17 days left until the keiki's Expected Due Date. I don't think we have enough newborn clothes (20 onesies and 2 sleepers), burp rags (exactly 2), or swaddling (1 swaddle sack and 1 blanket). I'm not overly thrilled with the bassinet I chose. I have to pre-wash/disinfect all the pacifiers, rattles, hygiene items that will be going in the baby's mouth. We need to put together the stroller and the bouncer, then figure out how to install the car seat. Oh, figuring out the baby monitor would be a good idea too.
I could blame it on the birthing classes. Did I really need to see the video of a baby's head crowning? Illustrations of how an epidural is given? Did I need to hear that in America babies are delivered an average of NINE days AFTER their due dates? Oh, and I can't remember any of the breathing techniques we went over.
Nope, it couldn't possibly be anything as simple as my state of mind. Are you kidding? Have you been paying attention to this pregnancy at all? Yes, the difficulties of this pregnancy continue to dwell in the physical realm.
Morning Sickness returned about a week or two ago, and is now firmly in residence once again. The first the days of this week it went after me like it had something to prove for all those days it went easy on me during this last trimester. Which I'm pretty much used to, until my blood pressure went up. This week has been all about The Flirt with Pre-Eclampsia.
The flirting seems to be over - all numbers have been consistently good since Wednesday afternoon. But between the violent wretching, backache, stomachache, nausea with hunger, petechial hemorrhages around my face, swollen feet, headache, exhaustion, restless leg symptoms by midday, blood sugar monitoring, and constant checking and re-checking of my blood pressure... I was a breath away from demanding we induce.
I didn't say it, it didn't happen, I feel much better now, and baby seems to be doing just fine with all of this. I know this because when we played hookie yesterday to go see "The Hunger Games", she spent the entire two hours either kicking me or trying to shove herself through my navel.
Of course, this was all great incentive to finally pack my bags for the hospital. I will refrain from listing how many items I was unable to check off the list due to unavailability. *sigh*
As an extra bonus, OBGYN announced that in light of my inability to eat anything, he was lifting the strict parameters of my diet. I went out and bought various forms of fruit and fruit-based products. There has still been nausea, but so far I've kept everything down for over 48 hours. Anyone know what the symptoms of scurvy are? I'm suddenly very curious...
I could blame it on the birthing classes. Did I really need to see the video of a baby's head crowning? Illustrations of how an epidural is given? Did I need to hear that in America babies are delivered an average of NINE days AFTER their due dates? Oh, and I can't remember any of the breathing techniques we went over.
Nope, it couldn't possibly be anything as simple as my state of mind. Are you kidding? Have you been paying attention to this pregnancy at all? Yes, the difficulties of this pregnancy continue to dwell in the physical realm.
Morning Sickness returned about a week or two ago, and is now firmly in residence once again. The first the days of this week it went after me like it had something to prove for all those days it went easy on me during this last trimester. Which I'm pretty much used to, until my blood pressure went up. This week has been all about The Flirt with Pre-Eclampsia.
The flirting seems to be over - all numbers have been consistently good since Wednesday afternoon. But between the violent wretching, backache, stomachache, nausea with hunger, petechial hemorrhages around my face, swollen feet, headache, exhaustion, restless leg symptoms by midday, blood sugar monitoring, and constant checking and re-checking of my blood pressure... I was a breath away from demanding we induce.
I didn't say it, it didn't happen, I feel much better now, and baby seems to be doing just fine with all of this. I know this because when we played hookie yesterday to go see "The Hunger Games", she spent the entire two hours either kicking me or trying to shove herself through my navel.
Of course, this was all great incentive to finally pack my bags for the hospital. I will refrain from listing how many items I was unable to check off the list due to unavailability. *sigh*
As an extra bonus, OBGYN announced that in light of my inability to eat anything, he was lifting the strict parameters of my diet. I went out and bought various forms of fruit and fruit-based products. There has still been nausea, but so far I've kept everything down for over 48 hours. Anyone know what the symptoms of scurvy are? I'm suddenly very curious...
Monday, March 5, 2012
42 Days to Go and Pregnancy Sucks
With 42 days left until my Expected Due Date, I'm pleased to report I can't recall the last time I vomited. Hurray! There has still been the occasional bout of nausea over the past few weeks, I'm still (impossibly) more of a picky eater than I was before I got pregnant, and eggs are still a big no-no. My appetite comes and goes, but in general I am hungry more often, and eating on a regular basis. About two weeks ago I finally gained back all of the weight I had lost in the First Trimester, and for about a week I have been holding steady at +2.5 pounds over my Positive Pregnancy Test Day weight. Woo-hoo!
Today I read an article about morning sickness over at Pregnancy and Newborn magazine online entitled I hate food, and it really struck a chord. I've had a love/hate relationship with food for all of my life. I've been overweight my entire life due to poor diet and a steady intake of junk food. My mother swears I adored raw tomatoes as a toddler, but my memory tells me I have always loathed them. I remember as a child fighting with my mother regularly over her forcing us to have milk at meals, but by the time I was in high school I was a bona fide milk lover. As an adult I eat a lot more foods than I did as a child, but I still refuse to eat seafood, can't tolerate spicy foods, detest cheesecake and sour cream, and think coffee is just nasty. But as an adult, I have frequently found myself complaining too loudly and too often about my own fussy eating habits - I have been known to utter the phrase "I hate food" quite often. Because loving some food, hating some food, and having low tolerance for most everything in between has led to quite a boring diet. Not to mention bad for me! One of my greatest fears is being diagnosed with Diabetes, at which point I will be forced to give up the few foods I enjoy, and somehow survive on foods I can merely tolerate, while possibly having to choke down some foods I hate.
Being diagnosed with gestational diabetes was a real kick in the pants. But so far, nowhere near as bad as I thought it would be. Now that I've fallen into a rhythm of avoiding too many carbs at a time while eating protein and veggies more regularly, it's become quite tolerable. Unfortunately, food is still on my brain much too often, as I'm constantly worrying about what I'm going to eat at my next meal that won't bring back the nausea while still being appetizing enough to actually have the meal instead of skipping it. So I am extra thankful that the vomiting and nausea are on the way out, or all this thinking about food would be just intolerable!
So now that I'm finally enjoying a healthier pregnancy, I think I'm ready to start writing seriously about my favorite topic: Pregnancy Sucks. Because it really, really has been a sucky pregnancy. I have experienced so much bad luck, I've questioned how the human race has possibly survived this long - surely "survival of the fittest" should have eliminated a species that has as much trouble during pregnancy as we do. Nine months is a long gestational period in the animal kingdom. Nine months of being incapacitated by ailment after ailment? It seriously boggles my mind. I've experienced so much, not expecting most of it (not even being aware of even the possibilities for much of it), that I have time and again wondered the age old question "If I had known then what I know now, would I have done this?" Would I have gotten pregnant knowing how miserable I was going to be? Right now, I'm still convinced this whole thing is going to be worth it. But I have no idea what would happen if my present self went back in time to tell my about-to-get-pregnant self all of the hardships I've had to endure. I'm not sure I would still think it would be worth it if I knew about all of it ahead of time. I find that a bit disturbing. I'm seriously considering consoling myself with a bit of chocolate. I really, really hate chocolate. It's deliciousness only marginally outweighs its insidiousness. Only just. Problem is, that just adds to the innate evil. And don't even get me started on all the Girl Scout cookie stations I encountered this weekend. Surely steering clear of all of them like a good girl has earned me some small, chocolatey reward? Right?
Today I read an article about morning sickness over at Pregnancy and Newborn magazine online entitled I hate food, and it really struck a chord. I've had a love/hate relationship with food for all of my life. I've been overweight my entire life due to poor diet and a steady intake of junk food. My mother swears I adored raw tomatoes as a toddler, but my memory tells me I have always loathed them. I remember as a child fighting with my mother regularly over her forcing us to have milk at meals, but by the time I was in high school I was a bona fide milk lover. As an adult I eat a lot more foods than I did as a child, but I still refuse to eat seafood, can't tolerate spicy foods, detest cheesecake and sour cream, and think coffee is just nasty. But as an adult, I have frequently found myself complaining too loudly and too often about my own fussy eating habits - I have been known to utter the phrase "I hate food" quite often. Because loving some food, hating some food, and having low tolerance for most everything in between has led to quite a boring diet. Not to mention bad for me! One of my greatest fears is being diagnosed with Diabetes, at which point I will be forced to give up the few foods I enjoy, and somehow survive on foods I can merely tolerate, while possibly having to choke down some foods I hate.
Being diagnosed with gestational diabetes was a real kick in the pants. But so far, nowhere near as bad as I thought it would be. Now that I've fallen into a rhythm of avoiding too many carbs at a time while eating protein and veggies more regularly, it's become quite tolerable. Unfortunately, food is still on my brain much too often, as I'm constantly worrying about what I'm going to eat at my next meal that won't bring back the nausea while still being appetizing enough to actually have the meal instead of skipping it. So I am extra thankful that the vomiting and nausea are on the way out, or all this thinking about food would be just intolerable!
So now that I'm finally enjoying a healthier pregnancy, I think I'm ready to start writing seriously about my favorite topic: Pregnancy Sucks. Because it really, really has been a sucky pregnancy. I have experienced so much bad luck, I've questioned how the human race has possibly survived this long - surely "survival of the fittest" should have eliminated a species that has as much trouble during pregnancy as we do. Nine months is a long gestational period in the animal kingdom. Nine months of being incapacitated by ailment after ailment? It seriously boggles my mind. I've experienced so much, not expecting most of it (not even being aware of even the possibilities for much of it), that I have time and again wondered the age old question "If I had known then what I know now, would I have done this?" Would I have gotten pregnant knowing how miserable I was going to be? Right now, I'm still convinced this whole thing is going to be worth it. But I have no idea what would happen if my present self went back in time to tell my about-to-get-pregnant self all of the hardships I've had to endure. I'm not sure I would still think it would be worth it if I knew about all of it ahead of time. I find that a bit disturbing. I'm seriously considering consoling myself with a bit of chocolate. I really, really hate chocolate. It's deliciousness only marginally outweighs its insidiousness. Only just. Problem is, that just adds to the innate evil. And don't even get me started on all the Girl Scout cookie stations I encountered this weekend. Surely steering clear of all of them like a good girl has earned me some small, chocolatey reward? Right?
Labels:
health,
pregnancy,
When Pregnancy Sucks
Tuesday, February 28, 2012
48 days to go
With 48 days to go, I swing back into the "I'm not surprised by anything" mind-set.
Day three of my cold, and it's worse. So much worse, that my nose and lips are swollen and chapped from all of the sneezing, blowing, wiping, and open-mouth breathing. I have never understood the cold cycle that includes days of feeling better followed by a worse down-turn. Yesterday I was able to get myself showered and out of the house to run to the pharmacy and grocery store. I wanted to hit one more shop, but told myself why push it? tomorrow I'll be all better! That did not happen. Nope, I woke up swollen and stumbling and incapable of properly reading a calendar of all things. I misread the reminders left in TWO places for an appointment, forced myself to throw on some clothes, and was on my way to the door when Eric pointed out that the message on our answering machine said the appointment was for tomorrow. Instantly, my mind re-deciphered my interpretation of the calendar reminders, confirming he was right without any need to listen to the phone message. That's a new one! Then again, yesterday I swear I got high off of a regular dose of Tylenol, so... like I said, nothing is really surprising me too much right now.
Getting yet another cold during the pregnancy reminded me of the six months I spent working and/or volunteering at a day care center about ten years ago. I was taking classes at the community college in hopes of becoming a preschool teacher. The idea just felt so right at the time. Until I got sick, and then stayed sick the entire rest of my time there. I actually abandoned the whole thing because of my health. I was told that it was common to get sick a lot in the first year, but six months straight of cold after cold was my limit.
So now what am I doing? Having my own child, so I can live with my very own germ-factory 24/7. Yet another sign that I am a crazy person. The show House M.D. could easily devote an entire season to my health history and still not diagnose/cure me 100%, and yet I chose to get pregnant. Pregnancy and motherhood are incredibly taxing on the human body. What was I thinking?!
At least I don't have to go through the trouble of getting a Whooping Cough vaccination. We're having a mini-epidemic in the area, with story after story on the news begging people to get vaccinated. The latest one last week claimed that 90% of adults aren't vaccinated. Considering this is something currently being bundled with Tetanus boosters, I can't quite wrap my head around that. But it did get me on the phone to ask about my last Tetanus shot and get confirmation that not only did I get the proper bundle, but I wouldn't be due for another booster for another year. Whew.
Day three of my cold, and it's worse. So much worse, that my nose and lips are swollen and chapped from all of the sneezing, blowing, wiping, and open-mouth breathing. I have never understood the cold cycle that includes days of feeling better followed by a worse down-turn. Yesterday I was able to get myself showered and out of the house to run to the pharmacy and grocery store. I wanted to hit one more shop, but told myself why push it? tomorrow I'll be all better! That did not happen. Nope, I woke up swollen and stumbling and incapable of properly reading a calendar of all things. I misread the reminders left in TWO places for an appointment, forced myself to throw on some clothes, and was on my way to the door when Eric pointed out that the message on our answering machine said the appointment was for tomorrow. Instantly, my mind re-deciphered my interpretation of the calendar reminders, confirming he was right without any need to listen to the phone message. That's a new one! Then again, yesterday I swear I got high off of a regular dose of Tylenol, so... like I said, nothing is really surprising me too much right now.
Getting yet another cold during the pregnancy reminded me of the six months I spent working and/or volunteering at a day care center about ten years ago. I was taking classes at the community college in hopes of becoming a preschool teacher. The idea just felt so right at the time. Until I got sick, and then stayed sick the entire rest of my time there. I actually abandoned the whole thing because of my health. I was told that it was common to get sick a lot in the first year, but six months straight of cold after cold was my limit.
So now what am I doing? Having my own child, so I can live with my very own germ-factory 24/7. Yet another sign that I am a crazy person. The show House M.D. could easily devote an entire season to my health history and still not diagnose/cure me 100%, and yet I chose to get pregnant. Pregnancy and motherhood are incredibly taxing on the human body. What was I thinking?!
At least I don't have to go through the trouble of getting a Whooping Cough vaccination. We're having a mini-epidemic in the area, with story after story on the news begging people to get vaccinated. The latest one last week claimed that 90% of adults aren't vaccinated. Considering this is something currently being bundled with Tetanus boosters, I can't quite wrap my head around that. But it did get me on the phone to ask about my last Tetanus shot and get confirmation that not only did I get the proper bundle, but I wouldn't be due for another booster for another year. Whew.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)