The Time Draws Nigh (In Which I Agonize About Going Back To Work And Am Both Successful And In Deep Trouble Simultaneously)

Tags

anxiety, depression, dog training, maternity leave, parenthood, Perfect Husband, work, working mother

How has it been nearly a year since Fritter was born? Where did the time go?

  
I have spent the last month or two slowly gearing back up to work mode, because in a month I am going to have to go back into the world of unmet expectations and absolutely no down time which is the life of the working mother.

I don’t wanna.

I don’t want my cuddly baby to get bigger.

I don’t want to leave her at daycare because she has some stranger issues (which I will discuss at some point).

I don’t want the stress of having to meet people’s expectations, avoid judgement, etc.

I don’t want to lose the hour and a half of down time I get every day during Fritter’s morning nap while Owl is at school.

I don’t want any of it. I LIKE maternity leave.

 
But, since it isn’t a choice, what I really want is to get my dog training business going, and going HARD. Because training dogs pays between 40 and 70 dollars an hour and working at the vet clinic… doesn’t. Also because it’s one of my life dreams, along with being an author.

Perfect Husband Re-Earns His Name

Tags

amazing gifts, hotels, motherhood, Perfect Husband, relaxation, time alone

Poor Perfect Husband hasn’t been feeling very perfect lately. Sitting around doped up on percocet watching me take care of Owl, cook, clean, and work was hard on him, especially when I began to get sick.

Of course, he was ill, so while being a temporarily single mom was challenging, I didn’t blame him in the least.

But he still felt bad.

So what did he go and do?

He booked me a hotel room. 

 

A hotel room with a four poster king sized bed and a whirlpool tub, and a lot of Roman-style decor.

I said, “I have ALWAYS wanted to sleep in a bed with curtains.”

He said, “I know.”

He dropped me off at 4 pm, gave me a kiss, and said, “see you tomorrow around 10:30 or 11ish.” Then he took Owl’s hand and they went home.

That’s right.

I get 18 hours TO MYSELF.

In a deluxe hotel room.

With a jacuzzi tub.

When I arrived, I didn’t know what to do first. Blog? Read in the bath? Eat a pomegranate?

First I figured out the WiFi. I mean, priorities, right?

Then I dealt with figuring out and ordering room service, thus getting my daily anxiety exposure and any need for human contact out of the way as soon as possible.

Then I downloaded a new game onto my iPod. A 16 bit style Oregon Trail remix for the zombie apocalypse.

Then I wondered, “why am I still wearing pants?”

It’s going to be a good night.

And I brought supplies.

Now I just need to eradicate the guilt and I’ll be set.

Reason 1,999,998 why I love my husband

Tags

breastfeeding, Perfect Husband, pregnancy, Shhh, I'm Reading

PH (coming out of the bathroom): “Oh my gawd. I was just reading The Pregnancy Bible and in the section on father bonding after birth, it recommends asking to bottle feed your breastfed newborn so you can bond with it better.”

Me: “Well, you are supposed to introduce the bottle at around 4-6 weeks, or they won’t take it at all ever, and since I’ll want to pump occasionally so we can go out now and then, I’ll probably get you to be the one who does it… With me he’d just be looking for the boobas, but with you he might be like “Hey, you come with food, too??”

PH: “No, no. That sounds fine. This is stuff for bonding with a newborn. They aren’t specifying “after a month or more, once breast feeding has been well established.” THAT would make sense.  It just says “If she’s breastfed, ask your partner to express some milk so you can give her an occasional bottle”. Like, ‘hey, what does it matter if you give your baby nipple confusion and mess up the mother’s attempt to breastfeed? At least you feel involved in the process!'”

They say that a woman’s breastfeeding success is largely influenced by partner support.

I think I’m okay on that front.

General Updatey Thing

Tags

acupressure, anxiety, counselling, GAD, generalized anxiety disorder, Perfect Girlfriend, Perfect Husband, pools, swimming

Yesterday was my third session with a new counsellor lady. The shrink at the women’s reproductive mental health unit set me up with her. It sucks to drive an hour into town for a counselling session once a week, and I don’t really enjoy them (how can you, attending something that invariably makes you cry??) but I go because I know it’s good for me. The counsellor is okay. She’s a young graduate student originally from Shanghai, and I’m clearly one of her “practice” patients. She spends a lot of time getting me to rub various parts of my body, supposedly acupressure points, to try and release my tensions and open up my energies or something. I’m willing to try it – with labour approaching, any kind of relaxation technique could be valuable. She spends a lot of time on breathing exercises, too.

I always feel kind of shaky and vulnerable after counselling – being forced to talk about all the stuff you try not to even THINK about kind of messes you up for the day. But she had talked to me about how we can’t change feelings but we can change behaviours, and thus change thoughts, and thus eventually change feelings, so I decided to do what my CBT group leaders would have called an “anxiety exposure” and go to the pool on my own.

It was awesome.

In the recent heat wave that has hit Vancouver, I’ve thought of the pool several times. But I had never gone alone before, and besides, some part of me feels that if I start swimming by myself, Perfect Husband won’t take me any more (he tolerates swimming but doesn’t really enjoy it) and I love swimming with him. But the pool was deserted and swimming and thinking, swimming and thinking, then pulling out The World According to Garp and reading on the steps in the cool water was definitely a good way to recover from the counselling session.

I’ll go again today. Perfect Husband is very proud of me.

My friends are planning a baby shower for me on July 25th, which I’m looking forward to, but here’s a shot of me, many months ago, receiving a massive care package from Perfect Girlfriend:

Me at 3 months pregnant. We didn't know it was going to be a boy yet, but Perfect Girlfriend had a hunch

"What's THAT, Mom?"

Two

Tags

anniversary, Perfect Husband

We celebrated the end of our second year as husband and wife, and our last year as a twosome, by doing what everyone keeps assuring us we will never be able to do again – staying in bed.

We had to get dressed and leave the house for an OB appointment, but we hastily returned, closed all the curtains, and returned to bed. We lounged. We relaxed. We talked. We read old love letters to each other. We ate strawberries covered in chocolate, and french bread (sometimes also covered in chocolate). We watched a couple episodes of Glee on my little Netbook. We read. We cuddled.

It was perfect.

The Luckiest

Tags

anniversary, love, marriage, Perfect Husband

Two years. Is it really two years? Not two hundred years? Not two minutes? Because it feels like both.

We met nine years ago. We were best friends eight years ago. I finally gave you a chance four years ago.

We’ve only been married two?

You’re the man of my dreams. You have the chivalry of Fitzwilliam Darcy, without the stiff politeness. You have the passion of Edward Rochester, without the arrogance. You have the devotion of Noah Calhoun, and the perseverance of Orpheus. You are all the lovers in all the books, and none of them, because you are better than any of them.

I am, truly, the luckiest.

What does this say about our relationship?

Tags

appreciation, love, Perfect Husband, relationships

Me (coming downstairs): “I love you.”

PH: “What? I’m sorry. What did I do? I’m sorry. I’ll do better.”

In actuality, I was just appreciating him after having read this.

Bless you, Pavlov

Tags

Ducky's, Fridays, indian food, Perfect Husband, tgif, toonie movie

TGIF.

I love Fridays. I have loved Fridays since first year university, when Friday was the day to go to Ducky’s, drink Mike’s Hard Lemonade and then finish the evening with a midnight toonie movie at the Vogue Cinema.

I loved it because it was fun and because I’m the kind of person who loves routine. It makes the fun comforting. Comforting fun is the best kind of fun.

Fridays were easily the best day of the week. Not only was it the day to have fun with your friends, you had the whole weekend stretching ahead of you. Granted, that might involve writing 20 page papers or all-day play rehearsals, but none of that mattered because it was Friday night and you do not think about papers on Friday. I’m pretty sure that’s in the Bible, somewhere, near the place where he tells people to rest on the seventh day. THOU SHALT PARTY ON THE FIFTH DAY AND FEAST ON POPCORN AND BEER.

The association remains. I haven’t seen a toonie movie in years. We don’t drink much nowadays, and when we do, I can’t hold my liquor. But the association remains.

Fridays = fun.

Sure, todays isn’t really Friday for me OR Perfect Husband, because we both work Saturday and I work Sunday, too. We’re exhausted, and hungry, and both of us spent a portion of our day cleaning up my beloved dog’s diarrhea. But I’m still loving the fact that it’s Friday so I am pestering Perfect Husband to order us some Indian food to celebrate.

Because it’s Friday, you know?

NOW they listen

Tags

antidepressant, depression, hospital, Perfect Husband, suicidal, work

Well, I just got back from the hospital…

Okay, that’s not really true. It’s just a nod at Hannah from Me And My Shadows and her foresightful comment on my last post. I actually got discharged around noon.

I went home Tuesday night completely crackers and was all liek “NO ONE LIKES ME AND I’M A TERRIBLE PERSON AND WHY SHOULD I LIVE WHEN YOU’RE THE ONLY PERSON WHO LIKES ME…

YOU HATE ME TOO, DON’T YOU? DON’T YOU?”

Perfect Husband’s response was to calmly stroke my hair while I went on for a while, and then just as calmly to tell me to stay put while he put the dogs away, and then usher me into the car and take me to the emergency room.

“My wife is expressing suicidal thoughts and some mild paranoid delusions,” he said to the triage nurse man. A barrage of questions followed, which I would ultimately repeat the answers to when asked the same things by the admittance nurse, the ER doctor, the admittance nurse at the other hospital the next day, and finally to two psychiatrists.

The first hospital didn’t have a psychiatric unit, you see, so the ER doctor referred me to the next hospital over. I spoke to two psychiatrists there the next day, and they concluded the following things:

a) I have depression (I tried  to nod and look solemn and concerned about this information, rather than to say “no shit, Sherlock.”)

b) I need a new GP (this, I also knew)

c) I need antidepressants (okay)

d) Wellbutrin is my best bet, since they aren’t likely to increase my anxieties the way SSRIs might (I pretended that I had never heard of this drug and asked several questions about its safety. I was worried that if I said “That’s what I was hoping for!” they would lock me up for drug seeking or some nonsense)

e) I should have follow up with psychiatrists, and they are referring me to the mental health clinic that originally said that they couldn’t help me

So, while the doctor thing is far from solved, at least people know about my doctor problem. They told me that worst case scenario, I can keep going to the same walk-in clinic, so that at least my chart is being kept in one place. They gave me two weeks worth of the antidepressants, warned me that I should have close follow up, and promised the mental health centre would call.

Perfect Husband has vetoed my returning to work (my major stressor) for the rest of the week, and my coworker friend agrees that I need this time to recuperate.

My eyes are deep set and black, and feel puffy when I press on them. I feel tired and weak, as though I had been through physical distress.

But I think this is going to be the turning point.

I’ll say something deep tomorrow, maybe

Tags

date night, Perfect Husband, tgif, work

Today was one of those days where I felt overcome with loneliness and despair all day, with headaches and unstoppable tears for no good reason.I’m the heaviest I’ve ever been, way behind on my paperwork, the house still isn’t done being unpacked, and I don’t feel like anyone from West of Ontario thinks I’m worth anything, and I can’t blame them one bit.

…But that doesn’t matter now because it’s Friday and Perfect Husband is taking me on a date night! He made reservations at a fancy restaurant and everything.

DATE NIGHT!

Look at that, happiness is still within my grasp.