Well, it has officially started. I am nesting. After weeks of no motivation, I now have tons and have gotten a lot done. Now me being the anal, control-freak that I am, had all the big stuff done months ago. The baby's room was painted in January. Clothes washed, hung and ready to go two months ago. No, what I got done yesterday was under the headline 'Why the Hell Would Anyone Care?'.
What did I do you ask? I spot cleaned the carpet, stairs included. I took Clorex wipes and wiped the washer and dryer down, as well as all of the laundry baskets. Yah, real important stuff! I vacuumed the utility room and organized all of the detergents, fabric softeners and spot treaters. I organized the kitchen pantry, refrigerator, counters, etc. The medicine cabinet is now organized with clear, plastic bins according to illness and need. Oh, and the basement/Stephen's playroom is now all organized, vacuumed, etc. And do you want to know something? I still haven't packed my hospital bag.
Friday, May 13, 2005
Wednesday, May 11, 2005
Thanks, Brooke!
I recently finished reading Brooke Shield's book about her postpartum depression and while it was no literary award-maker, it was quite good. When Steve was 4 months old I read Marie Osmond's account of her battle with PPD. I felt she sugar-coated a lot. I did not feel this way with Brooke's book, and I want to thank her for that.
I found that her experiences that predisposed her to PPD and mine were similar. She struggled with infertility before getting pregnant. I, like her, thought that the hard part was GETTING pregnant, but once I did, things would be great. I set myself up. I, too, had an ideal as to what parenting a newborn would be like. I, like Brooke, didn't expect to labor all day only to need an emergency c-section. I, too, didn't expect to be one of the last to hold my baby that I had worked so hard to have. I did most of the work, and was the last to reap the rewards of holding my son. I , too, was very jealous of my husband's ability to go with Stephen right after his birth and hold him. Instead, I got to lay and have my insides sewn up alone. Anti-climatic to say the the least. I was, and still am, very angry about that experience. You know, the one I get to have again next week. I'm sure the hospital hasn't changed its policy on taking the baby quickly away. I'm trying to come to terms with that. Brooke also received no pain management after her c-section. She, too, was made to feel like a complainer. And the way she describes how she felt nothing for her daughter, initially, just described how I felt so well. Oh, and she lost her father a mere three weeks before her daughter's birth. Remember, I found out my mom's cancer was terminal while IN the hospital. Oh, and I guess having a miscarriage also puts you at a higher risk of PPD, and we both had miscarriages. I must say, it was surprising to me that a celebrity didn't fare any better after a traumatic birth than I had.
Another thing that surprises me is that these events in both of our lives are KNOWN risk factors for PPD, yet no one said a thing about it. I hear that some hospitals screen patients for post-partum depression before they leave the hospital. I think that is such a wonderful and helpful, not to mention money-saving for the insurance companies, thing for them to do. I also have recently read that SOME doctors actually discuss the possibility of PPD with their patients before they give birth, particularly if some red flags for the disease come up. Prior to Steve's birth, I DID discuss the possiblity of PPD with my doctor. My SIL developed it with her third child, and brought up her concerns about me being at risk. Therefore, I brought it up with my OB, who told me I had to keep an eye out for it and to call him if I felt I had, in fact, developed it. He never told me what to look for, though.
I do feel I am one of the lucky ones. I recognized it early on and wasn't willing to wait it out to see if it got better. Steve was two weeks old when I called my OB and told him I needed help. I also was already seeing a therapist, so I called her for an emergency appt. She agreed I wasn't over-reacting and needed help. It took many months for me to feel really good. I would have good days and bad days, then good weeks and bad weeks etc. It was frustrating, but I'm glad I perservered and never gave up. I am also SO glad I have a husband who stuck it out with me. I never questioned that he would; I just felt he may get sick of me and only stay with me out of obligation. He assured me that wasn't the case.
However, reading Brooke's book made me realize that my depression may not have been as severe as I thought. I never had images of my baby being hurt by anything. I never had the desire to kill myself. I felt like I wanted to leave and come back when I felt better, if I ever did, but I didn't want to die. I did feel that Steve would have been better off without me for awhile. I did feel like things would never get better. I did feel like what the hell did I get myself into! Then I felt guilt because I tried so hard to have Steve that I should have been the vision of a Johnson&Johnson commercial ad. mother. I mean I got my miracle; what the hell was I complaining about?! I did feel like I lost myself, and all I wanted to do was sit and cry, which with a lovely incision, didn't feel so good. I felt ugly, which didn't help, and out of control of everything around me. There was no routine, there was no order. Hell, I didn't know when I would eat next, ME the queen of routine! Nothing had gone like I thought it would, and I have never in my life been so damn tired before. The painkillers were definitely not helping that area either. Course, I did not want to be in pain, so that was a catch 22. At night I had insomnia. I hate to admit this, but I am on Valium for a bladder disorder that occurred, can you believe the irony, after I had a lap. to remove any endometriosis I had so that I could GET PREGNANT. A complication occurred and I am on one medication for life now, and Valium when things get particularly bad or after a surgery to ward off any resulting trauma. Whatever. Anyway, I found myself taking the Valium as much for my anxiety as for my bladder condition. I assure you this did not last long, and was one of the reasons I got help so quickly. I did not want to become a drug addict on top of all of my other problems. Still with me? But things did get better, and for that I am grateful. I will admit to everyone that I would not be having another child if I had had two already when I developed PPD. I am scared TO DEATH that come next week I will be back in the postpartum hell that I have struggled so long to get out of. I want my son to have a sibling, and Jeff and I wanted to have our two kids. I did say years ago that I may try for a third child if I had two boys first, before infertility of course. Now, no way. Not after PPD. I just can't justify it. I can't take that risk. And this is a risk I am taking. Jeff and I have discussed what we will do if my PPD comes back. I know holding my son and not having my mom there to be with me is going to be indescribably hard. I had dinner last night with my mom's best friend and she discussed her concern about that with me. It's going to be hard, and I won't know how hard until it happens. I hate that. I like to prepare for everything, and this is something you just can't prepare for.
Today I had my last OB appt. and discussed again my fears of the PPD returning. I have been on Paxil and now my OB prescribed oral progesterone. I already have had that prescription filled. He said that the research indicated that the dramatic drop of hormones immediately following birth has a factor in many cases of PPD. So I will be taking my anti-depressant and progesterone to hopefully ward this off. I had read something to the same effect, so I feel comfortable attempting this approach, as does my husband:)
Okay, something more positive. I am now measuring right where I should be for 38 weeks. Prior to month nine, I was measuring on average two weeks ahead, and the belief was that this would be another big boy. Fine by me, I'm having a c-section. Now two of the doctors who have seen me both believe this baby is going to be SMALLER than Steve. My OB asked me again today how big Steve was. I told him 8 pounds, 10 ounces, 22 inches long. Then he asked if it was a girl. Nope. So we don't know why, but this baby appears to be smaller, which if he's healthy I'm more than fine with. The only wrench in my plans is that since we thought he'd be large like his brother, I bought clothes in bigger sizes. Oh, well. If it's a hot summer, I guess he'll be wearing lots of onesies! So much for planning!!!
I found that her experiences that predisposed her to PPD and mine were similar. She struggled with infertility before getting pregnant. I, like her, thought that the hard part was GETTING pregnant, but once I did, things would be great. I set myself up. I, too, had an ideal as to what parenting a newborn would be like. I, like Brooke, didn't expect to labor all day only to need an emergency c-section. I, too, didn't expect to be one of the last to hold my baby that I had worked so hard to have. I did most of the work, and was the last to reap the rewards of holding my son. I , too, was very jealous of my husband's ability to go with Stephen right after his birth and hold him. Instead, I got to lay and have my insides sewn up alone. Anti-climatic to say the the least. I was, and still am, very angry about that experience. You know, the one I get to have again next week. I'm sure the hospital hasn't changed its policy on taking the baby quickly away. I'm trying to come to terms with that. Brooke also received no pain management after her c-section. She, too, was made to feel like a complainer. And the way she describes how she felt nothing for her daughter, initially, just described how I felt so well. Oh, and she lost her father a mere three weeks before her daughter's birth. Remember, I found out my mom's cancer was terminal while IN the hospital. Oh, and I guess having a miscarriage also puts you at a higher risk of PPD, and we both had miscarriages. I must say, it was surprising to me that a celebrity didn't fare any better after a traumatic birth than I had.
Another thing that surprises me is that these events in both of our lives are KNOWN risk factors for PPD, yet no one said a thing about it. I hear that some hospitals screen patients for post-partum depression before they leave the hospital. I think that is such a wonderful and helpful, not to mention money-saving for the insurance companies, thing for them to do. I also have recently read that SOME doctors actually discuss the possibility of PPD with their patients before they give birth, particularly if some red flags for the disease come up. Prior to Steve's birth, I DID discuss the possiblity of PPD with my doctor. My SIL developed it with her third child, and brought up her concerns about me being at risk. Therefore, I brought it up with my OB, who told me I had to keep an eye out for it and to call him if I felt I had, in fact, developed it. He never told me what to look for, though.
I do feel I am one of the lucky ones. I recognized it early on and wasn't willing to wait it out to see if it got better. Steve was two weeks old when I called my OB and told him I needed help. I also was already seeing a therapist, so I called her for an emergency appt. She agreed I wasn't over-reacting and needed help. It took many months for me to feel really good. I would have good days and bad days, then good weeks and bad weeks etc. It was frustrating, but I'm glad I perservered and never gave up. I am also SO glad I have a husband who stuck it out with me. I never questioned that he would; I just felt he may get sick of me and only stay with me out of obligation. He assured me that wasn't the case.
However, reading Brooke's book made me realize that my depression may not have been as severe as I thought. I never had images of my baby being hurt by anything. I never had the desire to kill myself. I felt like I wanted to leave and come back when I felt better, if I ever did, but I didn't want to die. I did feel that Steve would have been better off without me for awhile. I did feel like things would never get better. I did feel like what the hell did I get myself into! Then I felt guilt because I tried so hard to have Steve that I should have been the vision of a Johnson&Johnson commercial ad. mother. I mean I got my miracle; what the hell was I complaining about?! I did feel like I lost myself, and all I wanted to do was sit and cry, which with a lovely incision, didn't feel so good. I felt ugly, which didn't help, and out of control of everything around me. There was no routine, there was no order. Hell, I didn't know when I would eat next, ME the queen of routine! Nothing had gone like I thought it would, and I have never in my life been so damn tired before. The painkillers were definitely not helping that area either. Course, I did not want to be in pain, so that was a catch 22. At night I had insomnia. I hate to admit this, but I am on Valium for a bladder disorder that occurred, can you believe the irony, after I had a lap. to remove any endometriosis I had so that I could GET PREGNANT. A complication occurred and I am on one medication for life now, and Valium when things get particularly bad or after a surgery to ward off any resulting trauma. Whatever. Anyway, I found myself taking the Valium as much for my anxiety as for my bladder condition. I assure you this did not last long, and was one of the reasons I got help so quickly. I did not want to become a drug addict on top of all of my other problems. Still with me? But things did get better, and for that I am grateful. I will admit to everyone that I would not be having another child if I had had two already when I developed PPD. I am scared TO DEATH that come next week I will be back in the postpartum hell that I have struggled so long to get out of. I want my son to have a sibling, and Jeff and I wanted to have our two kids. I did say years ago that I may try for a third child if I had two boys first, before infertility of course. Now, no way. Not after PPD. I just can't justify it. I can't take that risk. And this is a risk I am taking. Jeff and I have discussed what we will do if my PPD comes back. I know holding my son and not having my mom there to be with me is going to be indescribably hard. I had dinner last night with my mom's best friend and she discussed her concern about that with me. It's going to be hard, and I won't know how hard until it happens. I hate that. I like to prepare for everything, and this is something you just can't prepare for.
Today I had my last OB appt. and discussed again my fears of the PPD returning. I have been on Paxil and now my OB prescribed oral progesterone. I already have had that prescription filled. He said that the research indicated that the dramatic drop of hormones immediately following birth has a factor in many cases of PPD. So I will be taking my anti-depressant and progesterone to hopefully ward this off. I had read something to the same effect, so I feel comfortable attempting this approach, as does my husband:)
Okay, something more positive. I am now measuring right where I should be for 38 weeks. Prior to month nine, I was measuring on average two weeks ahead, and the belief was that this would be another big boy. Fine by me, I'm having a c-section. Now two of the doctors who have seen me both believe this baby is going to be SMALLER than Steve. My OB asked me again today how big Steve was. I told him 8 pounds, 10 ounces, 22 inches long. Then he asked if it was a girl. Nope. So we don't know why, but this baby appears to be smaller, which if he's healthy I'm more than fine with. The only wrench in my plans is that since we thought he'd be large like his brother, I bought clothes in bigger sizes. Oh, well. If it's a hot summer, I guess he'll be wearing lots of onesies! So much for planning!!!
Tuesday, May 10, 2005
Huh?!
My dad has informed me that he and J. are seeing each other again. Huh? Come again? I mentioned the fact that she doesn't want to see our family and has that, well, CHANGED? He said they are working on it. Oh, really. I am just tired of this crap. I know my dad is lonely. I understand this, but I do not want anything to do with this relationship. Do not bring her to my home. Do not bring her by to see the new baby; she is not welcome here. I do not need any stress. I DID like her, however, when you clearly state to my dad that you want it to be only him and you, not US, then that's what you are going to get---ONLY HIM. Jeff said not to worry as she doesn't want to see us anyway, but how come I have the feeling he will try to force the issue. Don't. I respect the fact that he is an adult and thus can do what he likes. That's fine. I do feel like my parents must have felt every time they saw me get back together with an old boyfriend they clearly knew wasn't right for me. It is hard sitting back and watching when I know what is going to happen. BUT he is an adult; he has to make his own mistakes. I accept this. However, I do NOT have to see J. She is not my mother, my friend, my anything. I treated her like one of the family, and how did I get re-paid? Oh, yah. She wanted to cut me and my family out of my father's life. I lost my mom. Let me ask you, was it fair to even think I should have to lose my father too? And therein lies the problem, she didn't think about me/us at all. Furthermore, as I have mentioned before, my son was getting closer to her. Running up and giving her hugs and the like. NO ONE will mess with my son's feelings. NO ONE. I don't care WHO you think you are. It ain't gonna happen. So I plan on having the discussion with my father that he is not to bring her around unless they have officially made plans to marry. Got it. A REAL COMMITMENT, not just talk. I do not let someone into my heart easily, and I let her in. I trusted her; I stuck up for her. It isn't going to happen again. As the old saying goes: trick me once, shame on you. Trick me twice, shame on ME. And I will NOT be tricked a second time.
Saturday, May 07, 2005
Sick!
I am so sorry that I have not posted since, gasp!, Monday. I fell ill on Tuesday with what I call the mother of all colds. It's not bad enough that little Ryan is on his mother's ribs making it difficult to breath as it is, but now I cannot even breathe through my nose. I am a nose breather, and cannot stand having to breath through my mouth. I also have that lovely acid in my throat so breathing through my mouth is very distasteful.
On Thursday I decided I better bring in our dog Madison to the vet. for her heartworm check-up as well as for some S*entinel flea/tick/heartworm pills. When I was in high school our dog got fleas from the neighbor's dog, and well, that will NOT be happening in this house if I can help it! So I brought her in to the vet. that I love who is about 20 minutes or so from the house. Well, it took way longer than that to get there this time as our community is building on every scrap of land left. By building I mean these monstrous houses that are so big you have to wonder who really needs a house that big to begin with. What I do not like more, however, is that the city is letting the construction company run the traffic. So they have blocked off one lane with their trucks and are only letting one lane go at a time. All the while I have a whining dog, who knows exactly where's she's going, and a child in the car. I also have one hell of a cold and absolutely no patience. BUT, this dog was getting these pills damnit because I am not about to have fleas in my house, especially with a newborn. I am a bit anal about some things.
Well, Madison did get her pills and my breathing situation got worse. I am allergic to cats and some dogs. This is not usually a problem unless I am not taking my allergy medications which I'm not. I should have thought about this, but I was too preoccupied with Madision getting those damn pills. UGH!
Today was my nephew, and Godson's, communion. I am not Catholic, but felt it was important to be there. I was not able to make the party, but I am happy to say that I made it through the mass. It was not easy to find something to wear, I tell you. The dress pants that I was going to wear along with my shirt/sweater combo. did not cover my belly. I did not find it acceptable to wear into a church. Can you imagine the priest's face? No, not cool. Luckily I have way too many black pants and was able to find a pair that used to WAY too big, but sadly fit beautifully today. Less than two weeks, I keep telling myself:)
I don't think I am going to make it anywhere for Mother's Day tomorrow. Jeff is home, so he has Steve, and frankly I do not care for the holiday due to my mom not being alive, and dying a few days prior to Mother's Day two years ago. Jeff will probably go over to his mom's for a bit with Steve, and I will lay in bed getting rid of this cold. Sleep seems to be the greatest gift Jeff and Steve could give me right now. At first I felt guilty about not going over to my IL's, but then I told myself it's my day too, I'm sick and nine months pregnant. I think people will understand, and if they don't , well, I have to take care of myself first and foremost. I started feeling somewhat like my husband and son should stay here with me, but truthfully, what can they do for me? I also don't think I will make it to the cemetary to visit my mom, but as a good friend of mine said, that's just a physical place to visit and she's not really there. Her spirit is in heaven and therefore I can talk to her wherever I am.
My boys, Steve and Ryan, did send me some flowers on Friday(with Daddy's help). I love tulips and there are a wide variety of colors in this bouquet. It was really sweet.
I am starting to get excited and a bit scared as Ryan is about to be born. I pray I make it to my scheduled c-section date. Having this planned this time has really helped me to relax. Last time everything was so nuts. Oh, how I hope I have a better experience this time around. I want to enjoy every minute of my newest, sweet baby boy.
On Thursday I decided I better bring in our dog Madison to the vet. for her heartworm check-up as well as for some S*entinel flea/tick/heartworm pills. When I was in high school our dog got fleas from the neighbor's dog, and well, that will NOT be happening in this house if I can help it! So I brought her in to the vet. that I love who is about 20 minutes or so from the house. Well, it took way longer than that to get there this time as our community is building on every scrap of land left. By building I mean these monstrous houses that are so big you have to wonder who really needs a house that big to begin with. What I do not like more, however, is that the city is letting the construction company run the traffic. So they have blocked off one lane with their trucks and are only letting one lane go at a time. All the while I have a whining dog, who knows exactly where's she's going, and a child in the car. I also have one hell of a cold and absolutely no patience. BUT, this dog was getting these pills damnit because I am not about to have fleas in my house, especially with a newborn. I am a bit anal about some things.
Well, Madison did get her pills and my breathing situation got worse. I am allergic to cats and some dogs. This is not usually a problem unless I am not taking my allergy medications which I'm not. I should have thought about this, but I was too preoccupied with Madision getting those damn pills. UGH!
Today was my nephew, and Godson's, communion. I am not Catholic, but felt it was important to be there. I was not able to make the party, but I am happy to say that I made it through the mass. It was not easy to find something to wear, I tell you. The dress pants that I was going to wear along with my shirt/sweater combo. did not cover my belly. I did not find it acceptable to wear into a church. Can you imagine the priest's face? No, not cool. Luckily I have way too many black pants and was able to find a pair that used to WAY too big, but sadly fit beautifully today. Less than two weeks, I keep telling myself:)
I don't think I am going to make it anywhere for Mother's Day tomorrow. Jeff is home, so he has Steve, and frankly I do not care for the holiday due to my mom not being alive, and dying a few days prior to Mother's Day two years ago. Jeff will probably go over to his mom's for a bit with Steve, and I will lay in bed getting rid of this cold. Sleep seems to be the greatest gift Jeff and Steve could give me right now. At first I felt guilty about not going over to my IL's, but then I told myself it's my day too, I'm sick and nine months pregnant. I think people will understand, and if they don't , well, I have to take care of myself first and foremost. I started feeling somewhat like my husband and son should stay here with me, but truthfully, what can they do for me? I also don't think I will make it to the cemetary to visit my mom, but as a good friend of mine said, that's just a physical place to visit and she's not really there. Her spirit is in heaven and therefore I can talk to her wherever I am.
My boys, Steve and Ryan, did send me some flowers on Friday(with Daddy's help). I love tulips and there are a wide variety of colors in this bouquet. It was really sweet.
I am starting to get excited and a bit scared as Ryan is about to be born. I pray I make it to my scheduled c-section date. Having this planned this time has really helped me to relax. Last time everything was so nuts. Oh, how I hope I have a better experience this time around. I want to enjoy every minute of my newest, sweet baby boy.
Monday, May 02, 2005
The Good Wife?
I am sitting here very tired at almost 9:00PM. Steve is in bed, put there by mommy, the downstairs is picked up, directed by mommy. I did this on the floor even though I swore I wouldn't. Reason: my son will do a half-assed job, even by two-year old standards, if I'm not right there so he knows that I know that he's not really cleaning up. Where is my husband? Oh, no not at work. Actually, the good news is that busy season has officially ended so now he'll be home at a more reasonable time. So for two weeks, things will be back to normal around here. After that, all hell breaks loose as baby boy #2, now officially known as Ryan Michael, arrives. Oh, yah, where IS my husband you ask??? At basketball. Then out for drinks at a bar where I hear only adults go.
I feel a bit guilty complaining, but then I think maybe I shouldn't. But maybe I should. Reasons for feeling like I might be being selfish about this all. #1---He took care of Steve all weekend long. He let me sleep in. I did not change one diaper. #2---He has been working long hours for almost 4 months which he hasn't exactly enjoyed either. #3---This job enables me to stay home with our children, which I do enjoy most of the time. Or I know is important, or the right thing for me to do, or something like that. Ask me when I'm not pregnant or recovering from a c-section. #4---He did all the laundry. And brought the basket upstairs the same day. I will put my stuff and Steve's away. He will put his own clothes away.
Reasons why I feel upset, and a little angry, that Jeff is at basketball. #1--- I am 9 months pregnant. Enough said there. #2 Steve is 2 1/2 years-old. Enough said there. #3--- I have been taking care of Steve pretty much exclusively Monday-Friday for four months so Jeff could do all the work he had to do. He never had to worry about getting off of work in time to pick Steve up from daycare or the like. He knows I am always here, and that Steve is in good hands. And to be honest, me not working almost saves us money. We did the calculations, and with child-care and other work related expenses, plus having to pay more taxes due to our dual income, well I almost would be paying to work. Remember I am a teacher in a middle-class suburb. Loved the job, not the salary. #4---When does my busy season end???? #5--- Jeff came home at 5:30 to eat and then left at 6:15. Yah, no help there. And he won't be home until 10:30. Nice to see you honey! #6---One of the few times we went out sans Steve, we went to dinner with his boss. The time before that, we went to his company party. I am always the 'good wife', I feel. I go to the parties, the dinners, the plays, and yes I do sometimes enjoy them. But I also would like my husband to plan a night for just the two of us. I actually had to remind him yesterday that it would be nice to go to dinner next Saturday by ourselves since I would be having another one of his children the following week. Gosh, I'm a bitch. #7---Mother's Day will be at his parent's house. I will be going. Ever since my mom died I dread this holiday. Last year, I didn't go anywhere. I had paid to do a breast cancer walk in memory of my mom. I even bought the supplies to make Steve a shirt that said 'Walking in memory of my Grandma'. Needless to say, that shirt never got made, and I only got out of bed that day to go to the cemetary. So if I do make it, or try, to my IL's house on Sunday it is a HUGE thing.
Anyway, I feel like lately I am doing a lot for my husband and just wish he wouldn't make me feel guilty when I say I need some help. I do know, and appreciate, that Jeff does more than the average males that we know. But still, I don't feel like he gets it when I tell him how tired I am, how uncomfortable I am, how I can be in pain from a baby doing flip-flops in my belly where there is no longer any room. Every woman I have talked to gets this, of course, because they've been there. Am I being selfish by wanting my husband here? For wanting him to feel a little of how I feel every day? To feel appreciated?
I feel a bit guilty complaining, but then I think maybe I shouldn't. But maybe I should. Reasons for feeling like I might be being selfish about this all. #1---He took care of Steve all weekend long. He let me sleep in. I did not change one diaper. #2---He has been working long hours for almost 4 months which he hasn't exactly enjoyed either. #3---This job enables me to stay home with our children, which I do enjoy most of the time. Or I know is important, or the right thing for me to do, or something like that. Ask me when I'm not pregnant or recovering from a c-section. #4---He did all the laundry. And brought the basket upstairs the same day. I will put my stuff and Steve's away. He will put his own clothes away.
Reasons why I feel upset, and a little angry, that Jeff is at basketball. #1--- I am 9 months pregnant. Enough said there. #2 Steve is 2 1/2 years-old. Enough said there. #3--- I have been taking care of Steve pretty much exclusively Monday-Friday for four months so Jeff could do all the work he had to do. He never had to worry about getting off of work in time to pick Steve up from daycare or the like. He knows I am always here, and that Steve is in good hands. And to be honest, me not working almost saves us money. We did the calculations, and with child-care and other work related expenses, plus having to pay more taxes due to our dual income, well I almost would be paying to work. Remember I am a teacher in a middle-class suburb. Loved the job, not the salary. #4---When does my busy season end???? #5--- Jeff came home at 5:30 to eat and then left at 6:15. Yah, no help there. And he won't be home until 10:30. Nice to see you honey! #6---One of the few times we went out sans Steve, we went to dinner with his boss. The time before that, we went to his company party. I am always the 'good wife', I feel. I go to the parties, the dinners, the plays, and yes I do sometimes enjoy them. But I also would like my husband to plan a night for just the two of us. I actually had to remind him yesterday that it would be nice to go to dinner next Saturday by ourselves since I would be having another one of his children the following week. Gosh, I'm a bitch. #7---Mother's Day will be at his parent's house. I will be going. Ever since my mom died I dread this holiday. Last year, I didn't go anywhere. I had paid to do a breast cancer walk in memory of my mom. I even bought the supplies to make Steve a shirt that said 'Walking in memory of my Grandma'. Needless to say, that shirt never got made, and I only got out of bed that day to go to the cemetary. So if I do make it, or try, to my IL's house on Sunday it is a HUGE thing.
Anyway, I feel like lately I am doing a lot for my husband and just wish he wouldn't make me feel guilty when I say I need some help. I do know, and appreciate, that Jeff does more than the average males that we know. But still, I don't feel like he gets it when I tell him how tired I am, how uncomfortable I am, how I can be in pain from a baby doing flip-flops in my belly where there is no longer any room. Every woman I have talked to gets this, of course, because they've been there. Am I being selfish by wanting my husband here? For wanting him to feel a little of how I feel every day? To feel appreciated?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)