Monday, August 3, 2015
I'm starting to wonder, in all this planning, am I forgetting about today? I keep thinking about plans for the weekend, what to cook for dinner tomorrow, when to go grocery shopping. Shouldn't I just stop and sit and enjoy what I'm doing now? I'm always thinking about what I should do next before I've even finished something.
Maybe I'll make a promise to myself, as I do pretty much every time the new month rolls around. I promise to take at least a moment, activity, meal, whatever, once a day and really just be present. Just enjoy (or not enjoy) what I'm doing, and focus solely on that and nothing else. Ideally, I would do this during some sort of family time with Ducky and Hubbs, but the day may not always work out that way. Spend the time, be present, do the thing. Maybe "do the thing" should just be my new motto.
Thursday, July 30, 2015
Hopefully August's posts will be a little less depressing. Hubbs and I have our 5th anniversary next week, Ducky turns 1.5 next week, Hubbs and I have both applied for new jobs, I officially start my second job as a Notary Public, and I just might finally win employee of the month for once.
Thank you for sticking with me in July. I look forward to attempting to post every weekday in August, and I hope you'll come along for the ride.
Sunday, July 26, 2015
Sometimes I'm glad I had to have an emergency C-section with Lumpy. I can look at my scar and remember that he was here, that he was real, and the last few months haven't been just a horrible dream.
I have pictures and little mementos here and there, but a scar is a permanent mark that shows the world that you were once in pain. Sure I have to lift up my little fat roll to see it so I'm the only person who ever will on a regular basis, but it is etched in my skin forever, just as my son will forever be in my heart.
Wednesday, July 22, 2015
I did indeed stop by Lumpy's grave on Saturday. It made me sad but not in an overwhelmingly opressive way. I stood there thinking about him and how much time had been taken from us. Even though I know he's in a better place and not actually there, not really, it felt weird leaving him. I kept thinking I should stay one more minute and them one minute more and so on.
I feel a bit guilty now when Ducky does something adorable and new. It's a bittersweet moment. I'm so glad that she's growing and learning and testing new sounds and abilities. At the same time, I get a little pang of sadness knowing that it very well may be the last time I see a baby become a toddler and grow in to her own as a miniature, very opinionated, person.
I sometimes dream that I'm nursing a baby. When I wake up, I'm so sad that it wasn't real. Ducky never got the hang of nursing and she was losing so much weight we had to give her high calorie formula every 2 hours for several months. I had hoped that I'd be able to nurse Lumpy. My boobs definitely wanted to as well, it took almost 2 months to completely dry up.
I feel like I'm trapped in a weird place of mourning for the past, longing for the future, and just trying to make it through the present.
Friday, July 17, 2015
Perhaps I just dislike the concept of graves in general. Even as Lumpy was dying and we were just talking to him, I told him we weren't going to be slaves to his grave. I just feel sorry for all of the people I see constantly visiting when I go to pick Hubbs up. Every holiday, every week, you see the same graves with new flowers or decorations. Believing what I do about the afterlife, I just can't see the point in it. My son is waiting for me in the great beyond and he wouldn't want me to dwell and linger on his body, when there is so much more to him than that.
Thursday, July 16, 2015
Monday, July 13, 2015
It's an interesting thing that when I'm out in the world I put on a brave face and for the most part am able to forget my sadness. I distract myself at work and keep myself busy. When I'm home, I play and cuddle with Ducky and forget about the world.
When I lay in bed though and try to fall asleep, all of my walls crumble and the sadness finds its way back to me. I fully feel the loss of my adorable little baby boy. Tears start to well in my eyes. I try to stop them but there's something about the comfort and safety of being in bed. I curl up with my four pillows and know that here I can let my emotions flow. No one will know, it is a fluffy and comfy fortress of freedom where I don't have to be brave.
Sometimes being brave is so very tiring. Part of me wants to stay here forever, but the majority of me knows that he wouldn't want me to wallow. The world keeps on turning and so too must I.
Saturday, July 11, 2015
Friday, July 10, 2015
I realized today that your first real post-partum period is quite similar to a disaster movie's scenes involving mass looting, riots, and lawlessness surrounding a confirmed apocalypse.
Your uterus is like "fuck it, we're all gonna die, let's destroy everything, it's the end of the world aaaaahhhhhh"
Not to get all TMI up in here, but holy hell, I have double protection right now and fear every small movement and potential sneeze checking everything every 2 hours to make sure I'm not ruining my outfit.
Which did happen once, it was awful. Ahh, the joys of being a woman.
Thursday, July 9, 2015
I bring this up because yesterday Hubbs caught a fish, his very first fish, and he was incredibly proud. His friend taught him how to gut and clean it (and for my sake, remove the head). His friend even kindly threw the head in the dumpster down the block instead of leaving it in our garbage can, where in the night, it could obviously make its way upstairs and into the bedroom to attack and try to eat me.
We baked it in the oven stuffed with slices of lime, butter, and just a dash of salt and pepper. Let me tell you, that brown trout was absolutely scrumptious. Next time, he's going to go catch some rainbow trout. I certainly welcome many more fresh caught headless fish into our home for delicious dinners.
I know the fish fear stems from my traumatic snorkeling expedition as a child, eventually it morphed into a fear of a majority of things that live in the ocean. Some part of me is even convinced that there's a secret trapdoor shark tank in every pool and one day someone will press the release button while I'm swimming. To this day I get freaked out and refuse to swim in a pool alone, no matter how shallow it is. It really seems quite pathetic now that I say that out loud. I'm weird I guess, and that's ok.