Monday, October 12, 2009

So how was your weekend?

My weekend was hard. I got told I'm getting fat, and for some reason it really cut to the bone. I got told I'm cranky... and yes, I was cranky. I was tired and not wanting to be on the service desk dealing with stupid returns all day. A serious dose of cbf .

Plus from about 2pm I had serious Braxton Hicks and they were not fun. I need a stool and possibly shorter shifts.

Plus I'm not sleeping well (with recurring, nasty, wake up in a sweat dreams) because of anxieties:
- having a csection
- having a less than physically perfect bub but being blamed for the choices we've made re scans
- having something go wrong that is My Fault because of what I eat or the exercise I do/don't do
- having to formula feed

And then there's the grief I got from my aunt because I have nothing to do with my mother, who lives locally, and she (mother) doesn't as yet know about bubba. And my aunt is distressed to know the situation but not want to be involved when the shit hits the fan and my mother finds out. Why yes, family dynamics are teh fucked around here.

And I don't care. I have made it clear to my mother that unless she has nothing to do with my older brother, I want nothing to do with her. As he has a daughter whom my mother (really creepily) dotes on, she is not about to cut off that contact, ergo I have nothing to do with them.

It's not that hard to work out, is it?

And I don't HAVE to tell ANYONE about my pregnancy and the last thing I want to do is to sell out my child to have a relationship with my mother.

And then there's the drama of wtf am I going to do next year with uni and a newborn, but not wanting to defer for another year until I finish.
And money.
And settling an insurance claim from an accident 2.5 years ago.
And dealing with uni.

PHEW that felt good to get out. I'm going to visit Medicare today, and bank a big cheque, and look at memento books, and have a meal with a friend, and get out of the house.


Anonymous said...

"told I'm getting fat" - what an arsehole! You're pregnant, not fat. And even if you are putting on a little more weight than ├Żour midwife would like, that's for her to put tactfully and nobody else's business.

Commiserations re your relations. No doubt you've already thought of informing your mother that you're pregnant but that it doesn't change anything.

Hugs re the anxieties, it'd be slightly worrying if you hadn't thought of any of these. You don't want the things to happen, of course, but maybe these thoughts can be channeled into making Plan B (or C or Z) plans?

daharja said...

My Dad used to call me fat names. I won't repeat them here; they're too nasty. I don't know why he did that - I look back on my teen photos, and I was a rake. But I thought I was fat. Maybe he was trying to give me an eating disorder.

Whatever the case, it was nasty, the person who called you fat was nasty, and even if you WERE fat and not PREGNANT it is none of their fecking business.

'Nuff said on that.

Now the bub stuff.

You're setting yourself up with a lot of pressure. What will happen, will happen.

In the end, even if you HAD a section, you'd know it was a necessary one, because you're educated, did your homework, and aren't a woman to be pushed around by dickhead doctors.

And sometimes - in about 2% of cases I think - they are actually necessary. And I know you enough to know that if you had a section, you'd be in the 2% and it would be a life-saving procedure.

OK. 'Nuff said on that too.

I'm getting through these, aren't I? ;-)

Next one. Perfect bub. Well, as someone who has a son with autism, I think I can talk about this from the position of experience.

What will happen, will happen, and there's not a lot you can do about it.

I never planned on having a kid with autism. I did everything "right" and it still happened, and no-one knows why. Maybe they will one day, but for now they don't.

Yes, I cry really hard tears a lot about what might have been. I worry an awful lot, too, about what will be. And at time I absolutely HATE the bitches who think that having a kid who behaves badly at kindy one day - or has a fight, or picks his/her nose in public - mean their life is difficult. They have NO idea. Spoiled brats. They should shut the fuck up and be grateful.

I would choose to be a quadruplegic or to die tomorrow if it could take away my son's autism. But I can't and it won't.

But I know that I am doing everything I can to give my son a loving home.

And he is doing incredibly well - far better than I thought he would when the "experts" first used the "A WORD" and told me that I could expect my life to be a little different from the norm.

What you have to remember is your baby will be their own person. They will have strengths, and weaknesses, and any disability they have is just a part of that person - not the sum of him or her.

My son has autism, but that is just a part of what he is.

Because, you see, he's also awesome at music, and learning to do pretty tricky maths problems (division, addition, subtraction, and he's 4!), and is doing well at reading, and he is the fastest runner I have ever seen in his age.

He is also the kindest, sweetest kid I could have ever hoped to have. Yes, I would change and remove the disability if I could, but there's no way I would ever change my son for another.

I've rambled a bit, but what I'm trying to say, from beyond the experience of birth and disability, is that our children are unique. They're not what we expect, and that makes them even more wonderful.

Your baby will be just fine. And if there's a problem, which is unlikely, you'll deal with it. Just like I am.

Take care, get plenty of sleep, and hug that little bump of yours.



Sarah said...


You aren't fat, you're pregnant, and those are two very different things.

And those are difficulties you may face, and you may not, but you aren't a failure if you need to formula feed your child, and you will be fine with whatever happens because you are a fabulous woman who wears her big girl panties with ease.

*more hugs*

now go read and be happy.