Time Flies… July 26, 2009

M and C

Originally uploaded by azronmcf

Charlie will be turning 1 in August.

I know this is how it goes but sheesh. It has not really been almost a year has it? She is growing and learning and the little lightbulbs go off and you get to see her understanding when it clicks and Man, I forgot about that part. Her synapses just firing outside of her head for us all to witness. I forgot what awesome energy it puts out there to have this litle creature just soaking everything up like a sponge.

Mogo is about to enter 2nd grade. She can sit down with a book and read herself a story now. It is mind blowing to watch her reading to Charlie. Everyday she continues to amaze me. I am so blessed.

Often I forget to say it out loud how blessed I am. It is easy to go on each day wishing it were friday, wishing my weeks away. So you will forgive the gushing of yet another “Mommy Blogger” as I try to remember what there is to be grateful for because most days? I don’t stop long enough to count all the ways that I am so lucky to live my own life. The depression, the work, the not enough hours in the day.. All that seems to take over and I forget. Only to remember as they are off to bed, or as I am leaving for work in the morning that here it is… while I am wishing away my weeks and looking towards Friday, these little ones are growing and playing and learning and sometimes?

I miss it completely.

Just Call Me Dr. Google… April 16, 2009

When I was a little girl, I was dubbed “A bull in a china shop” by the bitchy Grandma. Wow at 33 years old, I can still hear her saying those words.

Recently, I have been talking to someone who has Adult ADD and she was describing ME.

So I decided to consult Dr. Google. After reading the symptoms I felt as if someone jumped into my brain and typed up all the things I have been struggling with since oh I don’t know… the 4th grade maybe? I took the test, you know the one, at the end it disclaims that it is not a diagnosis but gives you a score and depending on such score it tells you if you should A. Not worry, you’re fine or B. Get thee to a Medical Professional immediately. Well, Dr. Google thought I should get off the damn computer and make an appointment. Apparently the only symptom of this that I did not exhibit was the hyperactivity but it does explain why my feet are always moving… a habit that drives The Old Man bat shit.

My car or my apartment for that matter is a metaphor for what has been happening in my brain as long as I can remember. It is a cluttered, trashy, mess. It is a conscious effort to remember to do simple tasks like brush my teeth or put on deodorant hence I have a whole arsenal of toiletries in my desk drawer at work for such occasions. I have 6 different hair brushes because it is easier to have one in every room so I know I can always find one… but I can NEVER. FIND. ONE! I have never gotten the hang of paying bills, balancing checkbooks, making and sticking to appointments. It is not because I don’t have the money to pay them. There is no reason with my salary that I cannot support our family. Yes, it would still be tight but there is no reason I can’t pay my bills or my rent on time. You know, and it is not because I can’t do the math either. I just can’t bring myself to add those things into my daily regimen… I forget, I procrastinate, and I forget. I totally under/over estimate how long something will take. I start projects only to leave them undone and start sill other projects. I cannot hold my concentration on reading material except if it is really interesting and even then. If it were only one or two of these symptoms, even four? would not mean that I have this problem but I had all but one of them.

My thinking has always been so disjointed and so garbled. I have struggled with a low-grade (and sometimes not-so-low-grade) depression my whole life. Apparently people with ADD are at a higher risk of depression and/or anxiety. In fact ADD often goes undiagnosed because it is attributed to depression/anxiety instead. Those silly ADD folks just can’t seem to take their freaking medicine… imagine that.

So hey, perhaps, these aren’t character flaws. Maybe I am not just an unorganized, undisciplined mess of a failure… maybe this thing has a name. Maybe, if it has a name there is also a solution; a wonder drug perhaps. Maybe I will be able to get my life together for once.

Appointment is set for the end of April.

Personality/Pregnancy Differences April 6, 2009

Mogo & Charlie

Originally uploaded by MogosMama

I suppose it is a given that Mogo & Charlie are so different. I am not really sure why that surprises me. Their personalities are as different as their pregnancies were. I did not post often when I was PG with Charlie. This was mainly because I was trying not to dwell on the fear, I was trying to put only positive energy into the universe where pregnancy was involved but also because I knew that the thoughts floating in my brain were not the type to say out loud until well after the fact. Now that Charlie is 7 months old and passed the point where my PPD reared its ugly head with Mogo, I feel I can talk a little about it. I think I have escaped without falling into a black hole.

With Morrigan, my pregnancy was long. After multiple pregnancy losses and some complications requiring 5 months of bed rest, I was filled with anxiety but the post partum was far worse. In the beginning, all was well but slowly I developed a severe case of PPD. Wow, those were some of the darkest days of my life. It took over a year after giving birth to Mogo for me to feel somewhat “normal” again. Now, with Charlie, the pregnancy was normal with the exception of a little thing called Gestational Diabetes. Depression and anxiety showed up much earlier for Charlie’s pregnancy though, those very dark days were met with instant relief the minute she entered the world. Toward the end, I was going absolutely mad. The insomnia, the nightmares about dead babies, all were just so hard to handle. It was a 1 day at a time sort of thing, sometimes it was 1 minute at a time to get through it. I was so scared. I lived at the Labor & Delivery Triage – seriously the nurses knew me and tried hard not to roll their eyes. I had an open invitation to have Charlie’s heartbeat checked any hour of the day. Eventually, Charlie was taken early… for my sake, not hers. I simply could not last another day of not knowing if she would live. Despite the fact that she was perfect and growing beautifully, I was certain the longer she stayed in there the more danger she was in. I simply had to have that baby out – she would be safer in a NICU than in my belly as far as I was concerned. It was so irrational and I knew it was irrational, but it did not stop being true… in my mind anyways. My OB/GYN was awesome. She humored me, she understood, but she also helped to encourage me to hang in there as long as possible. In the end, she agreed that my mental state was not helping Charlie or my blood pressure and she agreed to take her early. I actually showed up at L&D and told them I intended to have my baby that day. No, I was not in labor but I was done and I was not leaving there without a baby. One look at my Old Man confirmed that no, I was not kidding.

You know… I am grateful Charlie was ok and that the only consequences of my impatience were a lazy suck and some formula supplementation. I got off easy. I can only imagine the guilt that would follow had she experienced any complications as a result of my insistence that she make her birth date 3 weeks too soon.

Since her birth, there has been no depression, no horrifying thoughts. The only pictures in my mind have been of bouncing babies and not babies bouncing (as in down the stairs). Charlie has been able to have a Mom that is present; a mom that is clear-headed and sane. She seems so innocent and so new to the world unlike her sister, who always seemed to have this very old soul. I am grateful that I am not experiencing PPD this time but I can’t help but feel like Mogo was cheated. When Mogo was born, I was elated. I had so much joy about her entry into this place that the love seemed to physically hurt. The fear was debilitating. It went so far beyond waking up and checking to see if she was breathing. My jaw would not unclench, my hands shook, and I became concerned that I would neglect her or hurt her. I did not think I was safe to be alone with my own daughter. I knew something was wrong but I thought if I told anyone, they would take her from me. It wasn’t until I decided I was nuts enough that maybe someone should take her from me that I spoke up. I avoided inpatient treatment by the skin of my arse. I was determined to nurse. The only reason they let me go home was because I had a good support system. Matt would leave for work and wonder what he would be coming home to. Sometimes I wonder if he will ever forgive me for that. I am not sure I could forgive it.

Granted, I got the help I needed. Mogo has continued to develop normally and we are bonded; I just can’t help but think that she was cheated out of something very important because her mom went crazy for the first year of her life. I wonder if when she is a woman and starting to think about having her own children, if she will understand when I tell her about what PPD looks like. I wonder if she will be angry with me or feel somehow less loved that I did not have the same problem with Charlie. It just doesn’t seem fair that Mogo has not been able to experience a carefree childhood. She has experienced so much in her little life. She is wise beyond her years. I don’t know if that is because of her experiences or if she arrived in the womb that way. I would like to think that perhaps she chose us because her spirit knew she could handle it. I’d like to think that I am not the reason my 6 year old talks to me like she is 40.

Missing in Action INDEED… May 28, 2008

I know, I know, my last post said I was going to try hard to post regularly. Well, I lied, I do that it is just the kind of blogger I am.

A friend of mine (IRL) mentioned that it had been 40 some odd days since IU had last blogged. First I was surprised that anyone had noticed and then it got me motivated to post again. You see what happened was, somehow I broke Word Press or something and was unable to post for a while and then once it was working again, I would try to write out a post and it just seemed I had nothing of any value to say. Every time I would spew this darkness and venom, then I would hit delete and vow to myself I would try again the next day. Hey if it was making me sick of myself, I could not justify subjecting you all to the gloom & doom. (See I'm a good friend like that.)

So, I am back (at least this week) and here is the thing... baby is growing fabulously. She is kicking in all the right places and a few I was not sure were possible (Yep, I said SHE!!!). I am healthy; baby Girl appears to also be healthy and I am mostly in good spirits. Stay tuned, I change moods at the drop of a hat.

Mogo lost out on the name game... Lampie was just too much for us to stomach, Eyeball was just preposterous, and Apple had already been taken by Gwenyth & Chris. Old Man & I decided on the name Charlotte Layne. We will probably call her Charlie though. Mogo thinks that it is ridiculous to call a girl by a boys name and she vows to never call her Charlie "EVER!" She feels very strongly about this but alas, she does not get a vote. Aside from the name drama, Mogo is terribly excited. She talks to the baby and insists on kissing the baby (i.e. my belly) good bye any time I leave. She has so many questions about the baby's development and we talk a lot about when she was in my tummy. It is a pretty cool time for us when I can stay out of my head that is.

So, little one is scheduled to join us the first week in September if all goes as it should, only 14 more weeks to go and yes, I am holding my breath.

Forgiving Myself x 10 February 12, 2008

I saw this over on Flawed but Authentic. Seemed like a good idea. I certainly have a few things to forgive myself for. So, this list is sort of an exercise in “Acting as if” where I list all the things I am going to forgive myself for – at some point.  Hey – Progress not perfection right? I’m working on it, just ask my shrink. 

1. I forgive myself for not eating the things I make Mogo eat (you know – healthy).
2. I forgive myself for being a Working Mom with Zero Domestic skillz.
3. I forgive myself for allowing the TV to act as a babysitter on occasion.
4. I forgive myself for having a wonky reproductive system.
5. I forgive myself for being an Anti-depressant lifer.
6. I forgive myself for Aidan’s death.
7. I forgive myself for being fat. (Ouch – typing those words kind of stung)
8. I forgive myself for wanting this baby so bad I can taste it and for subjecting myself & my family to this freaky-ass roller coaster.
9. I forgive myself for wanting more than I have.
10. I forgive myself for needing so much reassurance.

 Ok now, the hard part…

I don’t even have a title for this one. December 5, 2007

By chance, I came across a blogging community that I had not bothered to look for before. I found myself on one of the “deadbaby blogs” today. There was this woman, she is my age and she recently lost her son. Her story and her words could be mine. Yep, I picked that scab today. I read and read until I was in tears. Reading her words, makes me see how far I have come. I remember those feelings that the world should come to a halt because mine certainly had. I felt hopeless and broken. I remember brief periods of laughter followed by guilt for forgetting about him for even a second. The physical ache of my arms being empty.

2 years ago today, I was in this womans shoes. I was having her thoughts. It is strange to see your craziest thoughts written on someone else’s blog. I still think of him every day but it is fleeting. He is never far from my mind but he does not consume it. I can live again. My heart still aches, and on occasion I still go in to the “Aidan box” to smell his blood stained cap. I think I have sniffed the sweet baby smell right out of it.

If she were to read this, she might think I am being trite when I say that it indeed gets different. I am not sure it really ever gets better but it definately gets different. I can do different.

My head is a size smaller… I swear. November 21, 2007

So, I went to a new Head Shrinker and she did that Crazy Voodoo head shrinking thing she gets paid to do. I told her about my Mother (even though I vowed I was not going to) and we rehashed the craziness that has been my life over the past 10-15 years. Apparently, it is no wonder I am anxious (lack of any serious Mother issues aside). It feels like I have been in crisis since age 17 because well… I have been. Now that my world is filled with a little less Drug Addicted Ex-Husband, fewer dead babies (this week anyways) and is instead filled with a little bit more “what the hell am I going to cook for the PTA pot-luck?” and “Oh shit I need an oil change like pronto” I have to figure out how to respond to non-crisis like stimulus in a normal mellow manner (and no, I don’t get to smoke pot to achieve this). I guess the head shrinker is gong to help me learn how to do all that with the help of an ungodly amount of Prozac. Sounds like a tall order to me.

My head will continue to shrink once a week for an hour or so; at this rate I should be in a smaller hat size by next fall. “Jill” – The Head Shrinker is very easy to talk to and not at all the blonde bimbo cheerleader type my inner asshole assumed she would be. I think she will be someone I can do business with and I guess that is a start. So, stay tuned, I fully intend to become well adjusted any minute.

Life on life’s terms and whatnot November 15, 2007

So I have been MIA for a bit. Dealing with life on life’s terms and whatnot. It is the whatnot that always seems to get me. Now I am trying to re-group and start again. My last post was whiny to say the least. Basically that is where I have been lately; I have been to the Land of whiny. Just call me Eeyore.

At last posting I was having sort of a shit-hemorrhage. You see there was this “thing” that had been lost at work. This was the sort of thing that you just should not loose ever and if you do, it means your ass. Of course it was not a thing that I lost but it was lost none-the-less and my name was on it so I am ultimately responsible for it. This is a situation I had no control over and I had to simply sit back and wait to see if the wayward “thing” found its way back to where it belonged. Have I mentioned that I don’t do well when I have no control? Well, I had decided the sky was falling. I fully expected to walk into work the next day and find that I had also lost my job. Let the downward spiral of my thinking begin.

So, long story short, the wayward “thing” magically appeared back where it belonged and the person who lost it kissed just the right amount of my ass cheek. All is well that ends well. Meanwhile I worked myself up into a bit of a tizzy and I have not been able to convince my endorphins or my stomach that the crisis has been averted. Do not try to confuse me with rational perspective.

Let us just say that my inner asshole has been working overtime and I have come to a few conclusions.

1. I need to take my medication on a regular basis and stop playing psychiatrist
2. I have to get over being pissed off that I need to take medication every day
3. Therapy is no longer optional (some would argue it never was)
4. My inner asshole has been laid off. She has not been fired for poor work performance. I simply can’t afford her services any longer.
5. I have to figure out a way to react to life without jumping into crisis mode
6. Catering does not = Crisis / Argument with significant other does not = Divorce
7. Some day I will learn that I no longer need a Plan B for everything
8. The amount of coffee I have been drinking probably does not help me with the whole anxiety issue
9. I cannot afford the nervous breakdown that I feel I deserve
10. I better start saving for Mogo’s therapy fund

10 Things I could really use right now… November 2, 2007

1. A “Do-Over” on Friday, November 2, 2007.
2. A nose that works like Samantha’s on Be-Witched but I am just not that kind of witch.
3. A 10lb. box of money that does not rattle.
4. Some anti-anxiety medication to go with my Prozac.
5. A massage. Not one of those “Deep Tissue” ones that hurt but the kind where someone just gently rubs my back for an eternity with some lavender oil to the sounds of soft New-Agey music. The kind that will give me that feeling that all will really be ok.
6. Comfort food – Mom’s Tuna Surprise or Fried Chicken with homemade biscuits with and jam and lotsa-lotsa butter.
7. A stiff drink (or 5) – no umbrella, no mixers, no messing around – Just me, a high ball and a bottle of Jack. (as if)
8. A college degree.
9. Someone else’s job.
10. A little self-confidence to call my very own.

Lest you all jump to any conclusions, I did not loose my job (yet), no one died, and I am ok I just have had a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day. It was the Monday-ist sort of Friday and I am done and ready to go to bed… for a week.

Is Mercury out of retrograde yet?

Who the hell am I anyways? October 19, 2007

I will apologize in advance for this angsty rambling post. Mostly, I am confused. I am not confused about any one thing. I am trying to figure out where I fit in the world and I have a few things stuck in my brain that just keep pestering me. The only way I know to get them to back off is to type them out. This sort of mind masturbation is exactly what journaling is about for me. It may seem narcissistic but hey, it is my mind to masturbate.