moving on

Is anybody out there?

If you are, you can now find me here, at This Young Mum. I needed a change. SEE YA THERE!

philosophy

my poor baby.

I had my first terrifying experience as a mother yesterday. I haven't called anybody and told them about it because I really just don't want to tell the story out loud.
MY POOR BABY! He was born with an undescended testicle. Not supposed to be a big deal at all. Supposed to descend on its own. But I had a feeling from the very start that this left nut of his was going to cause a couple of problems.
And it did.
Yesterday at around dinner time, Carter started screaming. Just screaming and screaming and nobody could figure it out. I tried Gripe water, infant mylicon, tylenol, anbesol, I tried feeding him, rocking him, walking him and driving him and he just screamed. It didn't take me long to decide that we were going to the emergency room. And you know how emergency rooms are. This was at around 6:30pm.
We see a doctor at around 8. He checked him over, asked questions like 'did you change his formula' and such. And he was about to send us home saying that Carter was fine. But I changed his diaper at the hospital. And his pubic area was just so swollen and red and it hurt him to touch it. So, basically, mommy saved the day. Fucking doctors.
It's a hernia! We're off to get xrays done. We are going to pump radiation into our screaming boy. After that the doctor gets on the phone with a surgeon from McMaster children's and guess what? Carter needs emergency surgery...
You, unless you have a child, can not imagine the horror of a baby that will not stop screaming in pain. And you cannot imagine how painful the thought of someone cutting into him is. I felt like dying. I felt like I couldn't be there for it because I'm not strong enough. But I can't leave my baby's side. How could I do that? So I stood by as they poked and prodded and stuck in IVs and whatever else and they wheeled him away from us and into surgery.

Today he's okay. He needs some tylenol every 4 or 5 hours to avoid discomfort and he can't have a bath for a few days... but he made it. Of course. It was a simple surgery. But there was nothing simple about it. My poor baby.

WOW! This thing's still here?

It's good to know that blogs don't just expire, wither and die. Wait, no, maybe they ought to.
Well at any rate, I plan to stick around for a while. I need some kind of outlet as I drown in motherhood. It is a wonderful experience but also incredibly exhausting and a little redundant.
But he is absolutely wonderful, you know.

I finally got a decent sleep last night. I went to bed at 9 and Mike took care of little Carter for me when he needed his middle of the night feedings. I woke up at 4am and made coffee. This is SO not who I used to be. It's great. I've really grown into my role and now that I am a little more comfortable with my responsibilities, I am returning to the blogosphere. I'm sure I've lost all of my readers by now, so we'll just have to build up again, that's all.

Good to be back.

new leaves

I'm blowing off my psych. appointment.

And I don't feel bad about it.

A few weeks ago I started taking Celexa as well as Wellbutrin to combat the anxiety and depression I had sunk into after getting pregnant. At first, as with any new mood altering drug, it was hard to sleep and I felt jittery and just awful. I was considering just giving up on the whole thing. But I was encouraged to persevere by Dr. Steiner and I noticed the difference within a few days of the new medication. It's like magic.
Side note: I know that I'm pregnant and so these drugs are also being passed to the baby, but if the professionals think this is better for the baby than having an emotional wreck of a mother would be, than I must do what I must do. If the professionals thought it would be better to take me off all of the drugs, I would. I really do want the best for my little bean.
So anyway as I was saying, I began to feel better in no time at all. In fact, I haven't had a weepy spell at all since starting on Celexa. This is big! I was having them at least every couple of days. And that is just the beginning!
I got the nesting urge, and got everything ready for Carter's arrival. His clothes are clean and folded, bassinet is in the corner of our room, fit with blankets and mobile, and all of his things have a special place in our tiny environment.
I am painting for him! I had been meaning to do this for months and just couldn't. But now I'm at it. I am rubbing my belly affectionately without even realizing I am doing it. I sing Jimmy Eat World songs to him and fantasize about the moment we meet, what he will look like, and what his favourite disney movie might be. This is how I knew I wanted to be but I wasn't and I knew he deserved better. Now he has better because I feel so much more like me. Fuckin' eh.

So screw the appointment. I will reschedule. I just don't feel like talking about negative feelings today. I left my last appointment feeling like pond scum, anyway. Next time. Promise.

things i wouldn't know if i never got pregnant

I am going to impart some valuable wisdom to those who have not (or cannot) experience(d) pregnancy. Go forth, young grasshopper, and sow the seeds of wisdom all along your journey.

1. Yellow tums are the tastiest/least offensive.

2. No matter how true it may be, no pregnant woman likes being called huge, gigantic, massive, big as a house or gargantuan or any variation of the word large, for that matter.

3. Food Basics sells the most variety of lemon-y deserts to satisfy your craving, if you're like me...

4. Eating pineapple will not cause your cervix to soften to the point that your baby will fall out of you like a meatball rolling off your spaghetti, unless maybe you eat 25 of them. Soft cheese is not going to hurt you either: cheese is pasteurized these days. So eat the greek salad. Coffee isn't going to hurt the baby and a little bit of fish is good for you, so tell anyone who looks at you wonky-eyed or like you're a piece of shit for consuming these things to fuck off and look around: there are worse things happening than a pregnant woman enjoying FOOD, for the love of Christ!!!

5. Sneezing really loud at the same time as farting is your best bet of covering up the sound.

5 1/2. Your farts can wake you up in the midst of a very deep sleep, if they're powerful enough.

6. It is possible to regret saying something before you even say it. Particularly to the person who knocked you up.

7. Work hard enough at it, and you might just orgasm after all that doggie style you've been forced to engage in...

messed up

Well I don't know if it's normal or not, but I have been ridiculously sleepy for the last few days. I could easily sleep for like 2 days solid, I'm sure of it.
Is this another one of those "happens when you're pregnant" things? Am I sick? Did I develop some sort of syndrome? What the hell is going on?!
And while on the topic of sleep, I have been having the wackiest dreams.
The other night I was being held hostage on a shower by a guy who looked like Matthew Lillard. There were other guys and they had their own girls to hold hostage. I didn't recognize any of them. He was stabbing me and I was bleeding like crazy but I wasn't dying or anything. Then I took the knife and started stabbing myself. I said it was "because I'd rather do it to myself than have it done to me". And there were butterflies EVERYWHERE. And then we all played Balderdash. And I sort of fell in love with the Matthew Lillard guy. But eventually I did get out of the situation and ran back to my old apartment, which didn't look anything like it used to. It was dilapidated and there were cats and broken potted plants all over the place. My super and some black lady were yelling at me insanely. That's all I remember.
But yeah. That's a pretty messed up dream.
I could just curl up on the couch right now and sleep... who would it hurt? I don't have any reason to stay awake really. I mean, if I'm tired, why not just sleep? It could be so easy...

I need to paint Carter a picture... Carter is the baby, by the way. I don't like the name particularly but I gave Mike the power to name if we were having a boy. Because I was certain I was having a girl. Lesson learned.
Maybe I should stay awake and paint him something. Maybe I'll sleep. The choice is mine.

small update...

I've been good lately!
Everything has been pretty good. To a degree, one of the best cures for depression is distraction. So I have been distracting myself. From time to time the beast creeps up on me and I have to change my scenery; go for a walk, a car ride, or just go upstairs and hang out with my mother. That helps. The other day I was at the hospital again, visiting with my obstetrician. Because of my history with my "mood deterioration" they always make me see their social worker, Valerie. She was pretty amazed by the fact that I have been trying to get a medication change for 2 months and haven't gotten any response from the clinic or from my family doctor, so she left some nasty messages on a couple machines for me. Good lady. I am not expecting any phone calls today, though. I've given up. It's been a long time and I am tired of waiting for doctors to get back to me. So I distract myself. And things are good, most of the time.
I have to tidy this basement today.
Oy vey.

haitian vent

This is irritating:

The other day, 98% of all the chicks on my facebook were announcing their bra colours in order to 'raise awareness for breast cancer' (which is good because i was completely unaware until i saw "pink with polka dots" on my aunt's status... *sarcasm!!!*) and then they all gave themselves a hearty pat on the back for doing a whole lot of nothing. And I was all like "this is stupid, you guys are all retarded" and evvvvvveryone thought I was being a big grumpy jerk.
So then the earthquake in Haiti happens and there are a few organizations you can donate to just by sending a text message (completely legitimate - as a quick look at the red cross/salvation army/yele haiti websites will quickly reveal) and you try to get everyone on your list to spread the word and do they?

No. No they do not.

I do not like people right now. Fuck your bras, you idiotic fucking twats.

death by depression

I'm trying!
I really am trying to keep an upbeat attitude and be happy. I even tried to volunteer some place but the co-ordinator never called me back... I would be painting if I had the paint... I am trying. I don't like being depressed.
But what if depression is like a terminal illness?
What if, without proper pain management and treatment, it grows and grows like a tumour, and just keeps slowly trying to kill you?
That is what it feels like. When you can't maintain appearances anymore, and when you are constantly worrying about everything and just waiting for everything to turn to shit... that must be this depression thing trying to kill you. This thing in your brain that grows with every negative thought, gets stronger with every tear or insult, and wants you to die.
That's what it feels like, a lot of the time.. like I am just waiting for this thing to kill me.
But I am trying. Fuck. I just want to feel better.

vagiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiina

I'm just going to say one thing here:
When am I going to make friends with the type of person who would wear an identical clay replica of their vulva around their neck? I want to party with that person.
My va-jay-jay isn't nearly as sloppy looking as these ones and I still wouldn't display it proudly.
But if that's your thing, fuck it. Good for you.

(the forth one from the left isn't so bad, upon reflection...)

why would anyone read this blog it's just insanely pathetic

When did I begin to feel like a prisoner in my own life?

I have what feel to me like flashbacks of another life, before this one. A life where I had friends, a job, money, and I looked great in my underwear. I drank martinis at One Duke and picked up a bouquet of flowers on the way home, just because. I smoked on patios and did some drugs when they were offered. I had a zillion boyfriends and I made art. I listened to music loudly while I devoured poetry on my bed, all night long. I drank wine in the tub and I painted walls lime green.

Now I wake up still tired, and try to fall back asleep. Then I have to get up because the sound of people walking around upstairs is too distracting. I drink 2 cups of coffee and have a shower. Then I sit on the couch. There is never anything on. I get on the computer and I have no one to talk to; there are no new messages on my facebook. I try to read a book, but most of them aren't interesting so I read one I've read before, years ago. I eat too much junk food and my one size fits all bath robe is starting not to fit around my ever-expanding waist. I wonder how much weight I will have to lose after this baby is born.

I know it sounds absolutely awful to even think this way, but I just hope I don't resent this baby. I hope I don't feel like he ruined my life. I hope he doesn't ruin my life. I hope I don't end up a single mom. I hope I don't start wearing mom jeans. I hope I still have the will to put on make up when I get out of the shower, and I hope I don't start getting into floral patterns and "the mom show". I hope Mike loves him and we get married and we are a family. I do not want to lose everything that ever mattered to me in exchange for a baby that I didn't exactly ask for. We're coming so close to the end and I am just terrified of what kind of mother I am going to be. What kind of mother has these thoughts? Aren't I supposed to be excited and happy? Sometimes I am. It's just when I sit in this basement and think about it long enough that I start to wonder if I'm capable of doing a good job at this...

In a parallel universe I am writing the antithesis to this blog entry in a cafe, drinking a cup of coffee spiked with several different liquors and waiting for a friend to arrive and spend the afternoon with me. Maybe I'm writing about the trip I am planning to Barcelona. Maybe I am writing about how happy I am that I am going to have a Masters degree soon. Maybe I am writing about how sorry I feel for this person I know, who has depression and can't get the right medication...

Or maybe this is it. This is me and this is who I've been working up to becoming every second of my life so far. Maybe there is nothing left to dream for and no reason to put on make up in the morning because I'm just going to sit on a couch in a basement all day, every day anyway.

everything that is frustrating me and how i am choosing to deal with it, part I.

I am angry that I don't know how to get limewire on my macbook. I need it to download music. So I can put said music on my ipod. My 200 dollar ipod that I cannot use, because I don't know how to use the 1400 dollar computer. When I think about this it almost makes me throw this laptop out the fucking window and grab a neighbourhood child and tear his throat out with my teeth. Instead I shake uncontrollably while trying not to cry.

I am irritated that my mother thinks limewire is the devil and will not let me use it on her computer (the one i know how to use) and is thus very much contributing to my hatred of the apple corporation right now. Hatred of all technology. I hate technology.

I am pissed off at Mike because he has been facebook creeping some really pretty girl named Tina Gray and he thinks I don't see this in my history files. Normally this would not bother me, except that I am very hormonal and feeling very fat and ugly as of late. I want to cut off his head right now.

Also pissed off that he is gone for the day in Brantford, getting away from me, while I lose my ever loving mind here in this basement all alone. He should be here suffering too. Fucker.

I need a new prescription, some new combination of antidepressants and I have needed this for moooonths. I am incredibly unhappy and I need some sort of chemical to alter this. My fucking doctor needs to get back to me before I jump in front of a goddamn train.

I found a stretch mark. 'Nuff said.

So I am sitting here in absolute silence, on the ugliest and most uncomfortable love seat in the world, hardly blinking and just letting it out and onto blogger. After this I am going to go to bed and cry until I fall asleep and try not to wake up for as long as possible.

the real world: hamilton.

I'm sitting here watching The Real World. They're in DC. It's the first episode. I love this show, it's a little pathetic. So you know how in the first episode it introduces you to every person in the house and shows you bits of the video they sent in to be selected for the show? Well I'm sitting here and I'm wondering what I would do for my Real World audition tape.

...What would I do for my Real World audition tape?

Maybe I could take the camera with me to Harvest Burger, I could chug a 40 of beer in 25 seconds and order a burger, fries, fish, more fries, a chocolate milk and a greek salad and bet someone 20 dollars that i could finish it all? And then proceed to finish it all and throw up puke that looks just like tartar sauce on the ladies room floor?
I've done that! A 100% genuine Lindsay moment.

I could videotape one of my "episodes" where I lay in bed and cry for hours on end. I've done that!

Other than that, I do not know what I could put on that tape that would distinguish me as an original, authentically entertaining person. Shit. Good thing I'm having a baby. He will justify my existence and give me a good excuse for being a super lame-o. Just kidding!

20-10

I was thinking about resolutions.
If there was a year I should be making them, I'm thinking this may be my year. Me and this baby are so close to the end. It's so strange, I've been holding him every second of his life so far and in no time at all he's going to be out of me, into the world, and his own person. I will never see things from his perspective again. He's already growing up too fast.
I don't mind in a lot of ways, really. Being pregnant hasn't been fun for me since day 1. It's been a real struggle, emotionally. I did not miss these emotions that this baby has brought back to me and I want to feel better. I was feeling better for so long, and then I thought I had overcome the depression and then I got pregnant and now it's as bad as ever. I am back to being a slave to my own mind. It keeps me prisoner and it keeps me lonely. I don't go anywhere or do anything. I have lost all of my friends because I just don't want to be out there in the world, with people. So in a lot of ways this pregnancy (and its hormones) have made me feel worse than my depression ever has in the past. My obstetrician and my doctor think that if they can't come up with some kind of medication cocktail that can get me through the rest of this pregnancy I am going to have some wicked post-partum. I'm just taking it day by day. I don't want to be a sad mother. I would call that a bad start.

So, 2010...
What I would really like to do is make this a good year. Last year was great. It was so great. This year is off to a slow start but I want it to be a good year. So. Resolutions.

I'm not going to say no more McDonalds... but I will say 'McDonalds once every 2 weeks'. Fair enough?
McDonalds has been something I've been craving practically every day of this pregnancy. So much so that even Mike has started to get a little grossed out by it (and this is the guy I fart in bed beside night after night. He isn't easy to gross out). Once every 2 weeks sounds fine to me. If I swear it off entirely, I will only find myself bathing in big mac sauce within 7 hours.

I have to start being a little more proactive about my own happiness.
Okay. So I live in a basement. I'm as big as a house. Walking up the stairs practically kills me and I hate going out in public. Why should that stop me from getting out there once in a while and being productive, god dammit? So what I'm thinking I should do is volunteer someplace or pick up a hobby. Volunteering someplace is iffy simply because in a strange situation and I may very well have a panic attack on my first day, but nothing is going to get any better unless I try. Correct? Right. And painting the wine glasses. Mom thinks that's just the greatest thing I could be spending my time doing, even for some extra cash. Let's just give it a try. It might work out. Lord knows you could use some extra money.

I want to start behaving as if this baby is here, watching me, right now.
I want to be a good mother. I want to do right by this baby and I want to be a part of what makes him wonderful, instead of fucking him all up. This is the most important thing in the world to me so I am going to start now. No matter what happens, this baby is mine and he is staying with me and we have to make it work, so I cannot depend on anyone else to raise him for me. Ergo I must stop breaking down and spending hours in bed crying for no reason. I wouldn't want the baby to see me doing that and I don't need to see myself doing that anymore. Must swallow it down and do something to distract myself from whatever ugly thought is prompting that madness. This is where a hobby comes in...

I am going to stop there because I think it's a healthy start. Now I am going to eat a grapefruit for breakfast and have a shower. but I refuse to wash my hair.