thoughts at 36 weeks pregnant
Last night was the first night in this pregnancy that I was too uncomfortable to sleep. Even though it has been 35 degrees in this godforsaken province for the last week, I was still able to sleep. But last night, Avery decided that she preferred to be wedged on the right side of my uterus, with her head firmly planted on my bladder. I think I got up at least 11 times to “pee”, and by “pee” I mean haul my massive belly out of bed, waddle to the bathroom, step on the cat and sit on the toilet while a tiny little trickle of urine comes out of me. I begged her to stop wiggling around and go to sleep. She refused. I tried every different position I could but to no avail. Eventually I fell asleep, only to wake up for my usual 4:30am “pee” followed by my usual 4:30am anxiety attack where I worry incessantly about the baby, about everyone around me dying in a horrible accident, leaving me alone in this horrible world with no support or love, and about my family.
I can honestly say that the worst thing about this pregnancy has been its impact on my anxiety. I have had problems in the past with some minor obsessive/compulsive shit, which basically caused me to create “rules” in my chemically imbalanced head in order to ensure that nothing bad would happen. Most of this involved cleaning, a need to always be the one driving the car, and making sure that every single electrical appliance was off in my house before I went to bed. The fact that the fridge and furnace had to run seriously caused me some stress. Sounds ridiculous right? It was bad, but manageable, and eventually, it tapered off enough that I could forget about it most of the time. Then I got pregnant and had a miscarriage at 14 weeks. This shook me a bit. Then I got pregnant again and the anxiety started up like some engine of a horrible, destructive monster machine.
At first, I assumed it was a direct result of the miscarriage and the dark shadow it was casting over my new pregnancy. I had many dreams where I would be wading in murky, knee-deep water, a sense of panic welling up inside of me because I knew that I was about to encounter something in the water. And each time my feet would find it, and it would bubble up from the bottom: pieces of flesh, hair and bone and I could never get away from it. I was trapped in the water with it. Eventually these dreams stopped, and I stopped worrying about the baby so much, but the anxiety continued. In the last month, I was able to get a handle on it, and I was doing fine. But now the family issues have started up again, and without going into detail because a)I am sick and tired of it and b)I would be typing forever to tell the story, I can honestly say that I am fed up with people shitting on me, especially when I am 8.5 months pregnant. I do not need the extra stress. And after getting off the phone with my mother yesterday afternoon, after listening to her go on and on about her own depression (which I do not take lightly), and how I need to get involved in the divorce again and sort my father out, I sort of broke down. And when I broke down I felt my uterus tighten and it made me angry.
My daughter isn’t even fucking born yet and already she is feeling the effects of this family bullshit. This is not acceptable to me.
I am tired of my family and I am tired of my husband’s family. The lack of support, the dramatics, the alcoholism, the inconsistencies, the mental instability, the inability of certain people to get their shit together has all got to stop. If it does not, then I am cutting people off. The fact that my family has burdened me with their shit for the last 15 years is bad enough, but when I am having a baby the last thing I need is someone calling me up and telling me how horrible everything is, that they are so depressed that they can’t even feel happiness about the impending birth of the first grandchild and then blaming me for things I have no control over. I am tired of family telling us that our dog is too hyper and he is going to hurt Avery and we’d better blah, blah blah…and then doing nothing, offering no help, support or constructive advice. In the sweltering heat of the last few days, while my husband was working double shifts to make up for the time he is going to take off once the baby is born because we can’t count on anyone else, not a single family member from either side offered to come over to see if I needed help with anything, to take the dog for a walk, to help me with food shopping, nothing.
I am so thankful that I have my husband, my best friend in the world, but we are alone and it is so disappointing. I expected more from a group of adults. I expected more from people that supposedly love us. Most of all it makes me sad for my daughter because I foolishly thought that she would have a better and bigger and more supportive family than I ever did. I must be so naïve.
I will say this though: she will be loved, and ferociously protected from all of this bullshit. But at what expense, I worry. Now I know why people move away from their families.
I can honestly say that the worst thing about this pregnancy has been its impact on my anxiety. I have had problems in the past with some minor obsessive/compulsive shit, which basically caused me to create “rules” in my chemically imbalanced head in order to ensure that nothing bad would happen. Most of this involved cleaning, a need to always be the one driving the car, and making sure that every single electrical appliance was off in my house before I went to bed. The fact that the fridge and furnace had to run seriously caused me some stress. Sounds ridiculous right? It was bad, but manageable, and eventually, it tapered off enough that I could forget about it most of the time. Then I got pregnant and had a miscarriage at 14 weeks. This shook me a bit. Then I got pregnant again and the anxiety started up like some engine of a horrible, destructive monster machine.
At first, I assumed it was a direct result of the miscarriage and the dark shadow it was casting over my new pregnancy. I had many dreams where I would be wading in murky, knee-deep water, a sense of panic welling up inside of me because I knew that I was about to encounter something in the water. And each time my feet would find it, and it would bubble up from the bottom: pieces of flesh, hair and bone and I could never get away from it. I was trapped in the water with it. Eventually these dreams stopped, and I stopped worrying about the baby so much, but the anxiety continued. In the last month, I was able to get a handle on it, and I was doing fine. But now the family issues have started up again, and without going into detail because a)I am sick and tired of it and b)I would be typing forever to tell the story, I can honestly say that I am fed up with people shitting on me, especially when I am 8.5 months pregnant. I do not need the extra stress. And after getting off the phone with my mother yesterday afternoon, after listening to her go on and on about her own depression (which I do not take lightly), and how I need to get involved in the divorce again and sort my father out, I sort of broke down. And when I broke down I felt my uterus tighten and it made me angry.
My daughter isn’t even fucking born yet and already she is feeling the effects of this family bullshit. This is not acceptable to me.
I am tired of my family and I am tired of my husband’s family. The lack of support, the dramatics, the alcoholism, the inconsistencies, the mental instability, the inability of certain people to get their shit together has all got to stop. If it does not, then I am cutting people off. The fact that my family has burdened me with their shit for the last 15 years is bad enough, but when I am having a baby the last thing I need is someone calling me up and telling me how horrible everything is, that they are so depressed that they can’t even feel happiness about the impending birth of the first grandchild and then blaming me for things I have no control over. I am tired of family telling us that our dog is too hyper and he is going to hurt Avery and we’d better blah, blah blah…and then doing nothing, offering no help, support or constructive advice. In the sweltering heat of the last few days, while my husband was working double shifts to make up for the time he is going to take off once the baby is born because we can’t count on anyone else, not a single family member from either side offered to come over to see if I needed help with anything, to take the dog for a walk, to help me with food shopping, nothing.
I am so thankful that I have my husband, my best friend in the world, but we are alone and it is so disappointing. I expected more from a group of adults. I expected more from people that supposedly love us. Most of all it makes me sad for my daughter because I foolishly thought that she would have a better and bigger and more supportive family than I ever did. I must be so naïve.
I will say this though: she will be loved, and ferociously protected from all of this bullshit. But at what expense, I worry. Now I know why people move away from their families.
Labels: Pregnancy
posted by vegan mum at 9:52 AM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home