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Times are Changing
sane
pineapple5966

My beloved journal. I'm still here. You're still here. But I'm not the person I used to be. I'd love to elaborate, but I never have time. It's 8:17pm and I have a three-year-old. That means the bedtime routine is happening, and I'm avoiding. So I can't write for more than 30 seconds, it seems. But I am here, and I want, and need, to write more.

And I'm not the only one who's changed. I'm using a LiveJournal app on my smart phone. No more laptop, no more typing the way I did for years and years... times are changing, like hell.


For Better or For Worse
sane
pineapple5966
Some good news- I have not forgotten my password!
Oh, how I miss writing! How I miss having time to write, and a mind full of ideas, thoughts, feelings, plans... Lately, I feel a little robotic, though just typing out a few sentences here seems to be dusting off my brain a bit. I guess I am still full of most of those things, but in a very different way. God, I'm a mother! I have a mother's brain now, for better or for worse. I spend most of my energy (and brain cells?) worrying about my daughter, and everyone likes to tell me that it is all for no reason, but my experience thus far has shown me that there is, in fact, much to be worried about. Like swallowing "brads," or spilling hot tea all down one's front... Or any of the more common things, like proper carseat installation, a tragedy called "pullover," food allergies, weather-apprpriate clothes, getting enough of the right nutrients, and not too many of the wrong, sleep training, diaper rash, organic foods versus non-organic (shit), diarrhea, fever, delayed speech, sun exposure, and most importantly, Ramona's emotional well-being.
I never knew what anxiety was until I became a mom.
Well, that's not entirely true either, but it's all just so different!
And, I promise, one of these days I will finish my birthing story.
Oh. And...
I'm married now.
(For better or for worse!)

Labor: Part Two!
sane
pineapple5966
Well, it looks like another three months have indeed passed between now and my last post after all. Interestingly enough, I am once again writing after finishing a long second shift of working again. No wine this time, though. I just got online to pay some bills and send an email to out wedding invitation graphic designer- we have finally selected our offcial save-the-date! But I had a late cup of coffee this evening at work, so I am not quite sleepy enough to head to bed. Ramona is not feeling well either, so she is in bed with Kyle right now, which means that when I go to bed I won't be able to play games on my phone as I usually do before bed because the light from my phone is likely to keep Mona awake. So, I guess it is about time I finish up my labor story, right? I think I left off right after checking in at Women and Babies' Hospital. Oh, and I never mentioned in the last post that, through the entire beginning stages of labor and up until leaving for the hospital, I had been texting Sam frequently to tell her my status and hear what her thoughts were regarding what was going on and what was to come. She was hugely helpful to me, and I don't want to ever forget that she was very much involved with the first phase of labor. I will always be very grateful that she stepped up in such a motherly way. Anyway...

So, after checking in at the front desk of the hospital, we were sent to triage. Sometimes people wait in a triage waiting room, but we checked in with the triage secretary, and then we were immediately escorted to a triage room with a bed and monitors of all sorts. I recall crouching on the floor though while I checked in with the secretary. Another contraction had come and by that point, I had decided that my labor/contraction position of choice was to be on the floor. Once in my private triage room I was able to change into the hospital gown, and then another contraction came at me. I remember sitting up on my knees on a lounge chair facing the back of the chair to labor through it, and this was when the triage doc decided to greet us (Kyle was in the room with me, of course). She basically had to wait til my contraction passed because I wasn't really able to speak to her through the pain. I think her name was Angie and she seemed annoyed that Kyle and I showed up at the hospital without calling first. I had figured that the same instructions from the night before would still apply, so I just waited at home until the pain was unbearable and then off we went. Apparently the protocol is basically to always call first. And we didn't do that, so the doctor was not happy with us. Then, after examining me, she asked me what I wanted to do to treat the pain, as she claimed I was "not coping well." This floored me. Wouldn't that be for me to decide? I had felt, at that point, like I was actually coping okay on my own. I was not enjoying the pain of course, but I would just get into a lower, balled up position of some sort and basically moan and yell throuh the contraction. Sure, this was likely annoying. But I was okay with that method, at least for the time being. So I told Angie this, that I didn't feel I'd need any pain meds and I wanted a natural, drug free labor and delivery. She didn't laugh at me, but she sort of snarled and informed me that I was only 4 centimeters dilated. This was devastating news to me! I wasn't even half way there! But I was stubborn and insisted that I would just wait it out in triage until I was progressed enough to be admitted. I decided to try a shower to ease the pain. This was an absolutely ridiculous idea though, because there is nothing other than drugs that will do a damn thing for labor pain. Kyle and I went off to the bathroom where the nurses left us alone so I could try to labor in the shower privately. I remember sitting on the toilet and feeling as though I might have to deal with diarrhea on top of the labor pain (this is common), and then a contraction came and I began to feel very, very scared because it was BAD. There was also some diarrhea which upset me because poor Kyle was stuck in there with me, but truthfully, I think it was much worse in my head than it was in reality. He may not have even known it was happening- I'll have to ask him sometime. But anyway, then I tried to labor in the shower stall and another contraction came and I went straight down onto the floor and felt so much pain and also nausea because it just hurt so fucking bad, and then I knew a natural birth was not for me. After the contraction passed and I was able to speak, I asked Kyle to first help me up off the floor, and then to go get a nurse and tell her I was ready for an epidural. He later told me how relieved he was that I "gave up," and decided to accept the help of the drugs. I barely made it back to my room without collapsing on the floor in pain. The doctors and nurses couldn't get to me fast enough. I wanted that epidural BAD. And I wanted to lie down, BAD. When they finally came to my rescue, they first had to start an IV line in my arm which normally would be a pain in the ass for everyone involved but I wanted that epidural like nothing else so I think the IV line was achieved relatively easily, given my history of fighting it. And they started a liter of fluids on me, and things get pretty blurry for me here. I know I yelled and screamed each time a contraction came, and I know they wheeled me out of triage and into a labor/delivery room while I continued to yell and scream. I do not know how long this went on for though. The next clear memory I have is of the anesthesiologist who came to administer my epidural. He was Asian and he was my knight in shining armor. He was also super patient given how insane I was getting to be. I had a great nurse too, but I don't recall her name. She, too, was impressively patient and tolderant of my behavior. And by "behavior" I mean yelling, screaming, literally kicking, begging for help, and bawling in between. I was a hot mess. Yes, I literally would scream "PUHHHHH-LEEEEAASSEEE, HEEEEEELLPP MEEEEEEEE, PUHHH-LEEEAAASSSSEEEEEEEE!" over and over and over. It was definitely intense. So and nurses and doctors told me I needed to get off of one bed and onto another and I was very much unhappy about this task. Ten minutes later, I was where they wanted me to be, on the correct bed. They even asked me to scoot either down or up on the bed, and I could barely do that much. Then they asked me to sit upright with my feet off the side of the bed and that was another next to impossible task for me. I remember a contraction coming and I was sitting there, just like they asked me to, with both hands placed on a nurses shoulders who was standing in front of me, and Kyle was just next to her with his hands on my thighs or my shoulders or something, trying to soothe me, and I was just kicking him, hard, in the shins as I labored through another contraction. I also unintentionally whacked the nurse in the face, but I don't remember how that happened exactly. After that contraction passed, it was time for the epidural. The anesthesiologist applied some sort of surgical scrub to my back, and he was about to stick me with the needle when I felt another contraction coming and I begged him to stop and wait til the contraction passed because I knew I wouldn't be able to hold totally still while he did his job. I do not remember if he obliged, or if he told me it was too late and to hold still. I just know I went back to kicking poor Kyle. The next thing  I remember, the anesthesiologist told me he was finished and relief was on the way. It'd only be a matter of minutes til I'd notice a decrease in the pain. And he was right! Within five minutes, the pain was much more tolerable, and within ten it was gone. It was a miracle if I have ever seen one.

And I am officially exhausted and ready to go upstairs and cuddle up to my baby girl and reminisce about the day she came into my world and my life. So this is going to be at least a three-part account of the day my Jelly Bean was born. This was "Labor: Part Two!" Until next time... Goodnight!

Labor: Part One
sane
pineapple5966
So it's been a while. I just returned from a Sunday evening at work. The last couple hours of my shift were a little stressful, due only to my harsh feelings toward the pharmacist I was working with. My anger just kept building as he did one thing after another that irritated me, until I felt like it might boil over. Then I realized I could simply pour myself a glass of wine or two upon arriving at home after work, and that would help me relax. So here I am, sipping on some super cheap wine, alone, in my dimly lit living room, and it occurred to me that I have some time to write, and I think I have the right mind for it tonight too. I am feeling nostalgic. And the wine is truly helping me to relax a bit, though I'm sure just the peace and quiet of a rare moment alone is helping as well. So I guess I will record my thoughts and memories of some rather important events from the past several months.

On Thursday, July 24th, 2014, I was 39 weeks and 3 days pregnant. I wanted nothing more than to meet the baby that was nestled in my belly, growing steadily over the prior nine months. I was annoyingly huge. I had awful back pain and fatigue, but still had to work full-time, so I was pretty miserable the majority of the time. I also couldn't sleep well. I couldn't eat and drink what I wanted to, and I suffered from heartburn fairly regularly. My feet were tired and swollen, and putting my shoes on was a tremendous chore. All I wanted to do what eat and rest, but there wasn't enough room in my belly for me to eat a full meal in one sitting anymore, so I spent a lot of time feeling over-stuffed and bloated, and sleeping was next to impossible, so I never felt fully rested. But all of this aside, I really just wanted to meet my little "Jelly Bean," as I called her. Several of the girls from my pregnancy group had already given birth. A coworker's wife (who was due over three weeks after me) had gone into labor the night before and had her baby that day. Wasn't it time for me to have mine already? I had a check-up that evening, and I asked to be thoroughly examined (meaning a cervical check) so that I might have some idea of when this baby would be making her exit. This was my first cervical exam. The doctor told me I was a little dilated, though I don't recall how far, and she also told me the baby hadn't dropped yet, meaning labor would likely still be at least a few days away. I left the doctor's office feeling disappointed and a little frustrated. On the way home, Kyle (who was obviously along for the appointment) stopped at a grocery store to grab something, and I decided to wait in the car, because even just walking across the parking lot on such a hot evening seemed too exhausting. I remember that I was texting my sister, but I can't quite recall about what exactly. I felt a strange new tightening feeling in my lower abdomen, and it took me a second to realize that I had just experienced my first true contraction ( though it really may have been a Braxton-Hicks contraction- either way, I hadn't experienced either up until that point). When Kyle returned to the car, I casually mentioned to him that while he was in the store, I felt a contraction. Truthfully, I don't remember how he reacted to this news. As we drove home, I felt a couple more, and I was extremely excited, as I thought I was in the very early stages of labor and that I'd be meeting my little girl soon. Sure, I was nervous. I felt more nervous as time went on and the contractions didn't let up. But the nervousness didn't last long at all. I felt ready. My hospital bag was packed and ready to go. I called the doctor that evening, and I was told to stay home until the contractions were unbearable. I knew I had a long way to go because really, they were hardly even uncomfortable at that point. As the evening began to fade into nighttime, the contractions became weaker and less frequent. I felt incredibly frustrated. Was the whole thing just an episode of Braxton-Hicks? Could labor still be days or even a week or two away? I didn't feel like I could make it that long. I just wanted to meet Jelly Bean (and not be pregnant another day)! Maybe once per hour though the night, I'd wake up with a mild contraction that would last a few seconds. It was nothing more than a nuisance that woke me up only to let me fall right back asleep again. I had so hoped I wouldn't be going back to work Friday morning, but it was apparent that labor had not started, so off to work I went. The contractions did continue at work, though the didn't really seem consistant. I remember talking with a coworker near the end of my shift though, and feeling pretty uncomfortable as the contractions came and went, and wondering if she could tell when I was having one because I felt like I was tensing up and maybe even wincing a little. I knew labor was near, at last. At home after work, Kyle and I both tried to nap. We knew we were in for a long weekend. Kyle napped just a little, but sleep was impossible for me as the contractions became increasingly uncomfortable. Kyle made dinner, but I could hardly eat. My appetitie was gone, and I was afraid that eating would make me sick, since lots of women get sick while in labor. I know he made pizza, and I think I ate one tiny slice. I tried watching TV to relax, but as the night neared, I knew things were only going to get worse. I was officially in pain, and even would moan a little with the contractions. I tried a warm shower, but standing was too difficult when a contraction came. I didn't feel like sitting in a bath would help though. Soon after my attempt to shower, I was at the point that each contraction sent me to the floor, curled up in a ball, nearly in tears with pain. The contractions were coming about every seven minutes. I told Kyle as soon as we hit the six-minute mark, we were going to need to get on our way to the hospital. We watched Pawn Stars in bed until the time came to leave. I gathered my things and soon we were on our way. The drive was pretty miserable. Every little bump in the road seemed to cause me more pain, and the contractions were only getting more frequent and more painful. I remember being particularly concerned about potential drunk drivers being on the road. It was midnight when we left our house, and it was a Friday night. Surely the sporatic cars I saw on the road were all drunks out partying, and they were going to collide with us. I was extremely paranoid and I continuously reminded Kyle to be extra careful because there had to be some drunks on the road. Finally, we made it to Women and Babies' Hospital. I remember Kyle parking and I didn't want to even try to walk into the building until I had a contraction, just so I wouldn't have to worry about having one in the middle of the parking lot or the hospital lobby. So we waited in the car until I felt a contraction. I moaned in pain and crouched down on the ground next to the car (I just wanted to not be in the car anymore so I got out to labor through the contraction). After it passed, Kyle and I made our way into the building and checked in at the front desk. I remember laughing at a joke the security guard made about us bringing touble in with us (there was at least one other woman who had followed us in and checked in right after we did- perhaps a busy night was in the works). And then I thought to myself that I was really in for a wild ride because I shouldn't be able to laugh at anyone's jokes while in labor. I knew things had only just begun and they'd be getting much, much worse.

And on that note, I've got to say, "To be continued," because I'm exhausted and my little wine buzz is only making me more anxious to crawl into bed. Hopefully I can finish my account with a couple days. I certainly hope it's not a nother three months before I get a chance to write again! We shall call this "Labor: Part One!"

These Days and Weeks
sane
pineapple5966

All I have wanted to do for the past six weeks is write. I simply have not had enough time in general, or time alone for that matter. Even now, my daughter is "sleeping" in her Snugga-Puppy swing, but every couple minutes she theatens me with a quick protesting groan, just so I know she is not going to stay content in there much longer, so I'd better hurry up with whatever I am doing.

I wanted to record everything I can remember about the day I met her as well as the roughly 48 hours prior to that first moment I saw her sweet little face. I wanted to write about the tremendous fear and anxiety I felt when I realized I truly did not have much time left before she'd be making her arrival. I wanted to record what I could recall about the physical pain, and how I felt when it began, and how I felt as it got better with the epidural, and speaking of the epidural, I wanted to express my feelings about the moment I gave in and requested one. I have so much to say about that morning that she was born, from 7am when I was told I was fully dilated and soon could begin to push, to 10:04 am, when my baby girl took her first breaths and I felt her warm and sticky little body on my chest for the first time. The thing is, I just don't have the time right now.

And then, how after maybe 12 hours or so of new mom bliss, everything changed and I suddenly felt so afraid and so hopeless, as if I had ruined my life. How the first two weeks at home with her were absolutely brutal, and I could barely go a moment without despairing thoughts and floods of tears. The good that came of that is one simple thing: I felt the bond between Kyle and I was immensely strengthened, because he showed me how much he truly cared about me. I will never forget the way he looked at me, and the words he said to me, as if he were trying to save me, and that was precisely what I needed at that moment. And after that, things only seemed to get better.

Right now, I am very happy. I might want more time to write, or to be able to make a cup of coffee and enjoy it slowly, not forget about it til it's cold, then chug it down in one of the few minutes I have to refuel, as is the case nearly every morning. I'd love to get a full night's sleep without having to get up to nurse in the middle of the night. I'd also really appreciate some alone time with Kyle (and I don't just mean a dinner date at a restaurant: I want some real us time). But I know that some day I will remember these days and weeks and feel as though I'd do anything to get them back, and I want to really cherish this time while it is here. This too shall pass. For better or for worse, these days will come and go quickly.

And one last note for the record: I am seeing my old therapist Katie again, which has been very helpful, and I am also back to taking the Zoloft, which I believe has also helped. Just for the record.


Third Trimester Woes
sane
pineapple5966

Midway through another week of second shift. I think it's safe to say I've had a rough month. I have certainly had good days, great days even. But overall, I have been pretty miserable, to be honest. I do think it's mostly just third trimester woes. I have heartburn 24/7, my back hurts all the time, whether I'm sitting, standing, walking, or even sleeping, and speaking of sleeping, I don't do much of that anymore, which only adds to my cranky attitude. I do have some anxiety about becoming a mother in less than two months, but for the most part, I feel very much ready to not be pregnant anymore. I'm terrified of labor, obviously. But I have reached a point where I'm less afraid of that than I am fed up with being a miserable, achy moose all the time. My biggest issue is patience. Actually, I'd say I've lost it. I have a short fuse lately, and I'm quick to snap at people, especially poor Kyle. God love him... I have been a total bitch to him. I do feel bad, but it's not like I can go to work and treat my coworkers and superiors like shit. And aside from people at work, Kyle is the only person I see on a day-to-day basis. So he definitely takes the brunt of it. Lauren and I got into it right before my baby shower last month (more on that later...). I was a little on the rude side to my dad recently, via text, which never happens. We always get along very well, and his excessive patience always made up for any lack I've had. I do feel guilty, for treating people that I love so horribly. But I also feel like, not only am I alone and totally not understood at all, but I feel like no one even tries to understand or be empathetic. Most women are pregnant for a period in their lives, and all the other women to well, and don't complain, so why shouldn't I be able to do the same? I tend to believe that all the other women did what I am doing- they pretended, or acted. You know, when you're at work or with family or whatever, you don't want to just be complaining and whining. I tell everyone how easy my pregnancy has been, no complaints, etc. But at home, it's another story entirely, and I think Kyle is the only one who has that full picture of what my life has been like, though I don't think he truly can grasp it, because he is, you know, a guy. He has been sweet lately. He surprised me earlier this week with a Snoogle, which is basically a huge, spiral pillow thing that essentially spoons me while I'm in bed. The unfortunate thing is, I think my back pain is actually worse when I use it. Last night when I got home around 11pm, he had ordered Chinese for himself, and even though he was eating alone, he had ordered some veggie lo mein for me. Last week he came home with a little container of mint chocolate chip gelato, my favorite. He has definitely been trying, and the rational side of me is so grateful. But then I get so angry about other stupid things, like his car search that is forever being postponed, or his smelly cat that makes messes all over the place. I even got mad at him for taking a day off work last week, because I literally cannot take a day off work (because if I slip under 40 hours of PTO, my FMLA will be ineffective and I could lose my job). I would kill for a day off, especially this week- second shift has been incredibly hard on me. I am in so much pain when I finally get home from work around 11. Not to mention the fact that I'm starving, and just about too tired to eat, and in too much pain to sit up. I just want to lie down in bed. It's been rough. But anyway. I guess my Jelly Bean will be here before I know it, right? And there is still quite a bit on my to-do list. I want all the carpet in the house shampooed. I want the whole nursery scrubbed, walls and all. We still have some items we need to complete the nursery, actually, and we haven't finished decorating yet either. I need to officially find a pediatrician. I need to pack my bag for when hospital time comes. I need to make sure Buddy's skin problem is 100% resolved, and if it isn't we need to get him into a new home because he sure as hell can't be here making messes with an infant in the house. There's just a seemingly never-ending list of things to do, loose ends to tie up. So in that sense, I suppose it's good that I still have nearly seven weeks til my due date. I just wish I didn't have to be pregnant anymore, haha.

So Lauren threw my baby shower on May 18th, and frankly, it was less than a pleasant experience for Kyle and I. In fact, we both were extremely stressed prior to the shower, because so much of the responsibility ended up on our shoulders. I handled all the decorating, I ordered my own cake, and I served as a constant go-between for my family and Kyle's because his mother and my sister did not seem to want to just talk to each other, which made planning difficult. And thanks to Kyle's mom, the shower was held at literally the most disgusting little restaurant I think I have ever seen. No one wanted to put out a little more cash to have the shower outdoors in a park pavilion or something. And it was a sort of awkward group of people as well- conversation seemed forced, or else non-existent and it was hard for me to make everyone feel included and entertained. It wasn't the baby shower I had dreamed about, that's for sure. But then, I feel like a total brat for complaining, like I always do. Is it that I feel as though I am entitled or something? Do I actually deserve the things that I want? Sometimes I'm not so sure.

My heartburn in killing me right now, I'm getting a headache (most likely from not drinking enough), plus I have dishes to wash and laundry to put away before I have to get ready for work in forty minutes. Time to go be productive! Ugh.


Miserable Doesn't Scare Me
sane
pineapple5966
I have some extra time on my hands, alone in my house today, so I figured I'd get caught up on some updates here. It's been another busy week, which I truthfully love. I worked second shift most of the week, so that automatically makes the week seem crazy busy, because I probably sleep in too late, and then it feels like I am at work all day long, and I come home at night and pretty much crash, only to do the same thing the next day. I do not love second shift, that is for sure. But feeling busy as opposed to having too much time on my hands, or a lack of motivation... I'll take the second shift, I think. Sometimes I have so much to do, and plenty of time to accomplish it in, but no motivation whatsoever to get up and do anything. For whatever reason though, this week that has not been as big of an issue. Perhaps it's the mother in me, preparing to be just that, a mom, and basically taking care of business for a change. I will have to leave for work in about an hour, spend literally the entire rest of my day there (most likely running my ass off and feeling exceptionally exhausted), then I will come home and inhale some sort of food (often the fast sort), and then finally go to bed. Tomorrow should be interesting... I am going to Shippensburg to spend the day with Alyssa, and I'm a little nervous about the drive to begin with. Here are my two dilemmas adding to my anxiety: I am totally broke and can barely afford to get my butt to Shipp, forget about eating or doing anything fun at all; also, Kyle informed me this morning his car wouldn't start, so he took my car to work, no big deal, but tomorrow he is scheduled to work at the restaurant, which is in Lebanon, and he has to be there at 11am, and God only knows what time he will need to be picked up... essentially, I will be driving all over the state of Pennsylvania tomorrow, a good chunk of which will be spent alone. I despise road trips lately, but I particularly despise driving long distances alone. What if I go into labor? What if I get stuck in traffic and I have to pee, or I am hungry and I need to eat (Jelly Bean can be rather demanding about food)?! Anyway. Tomorrow will be a busy one, that's for sure. And it seems I have gotten wildly distracted here. I need to focus!

So Alyssa and I seem to have defied the odds and, although we both swore it was going to be impossible, we seem to be friends, pretty much just like before. I have seen her twice in two or three weeks, and obviously tomorrow we have plans, making it three times in a month, which is more than I used to see her. She called me the other week, just like old times, and left a rambling message on my voicemail. That felt good to hear! She texts me sometimes too, like she used to. It's crazy, but it's so, so nice. It feels great to have her back in my life and to be back in hers. Part of my is scared, sure. She actually has a lot on her plate at the moment... Anthony is apparently having major health issues and it sounds like it's really taking a huge emotional toll on both of them. Sometimes a thought creeps into my mind, that, you know, maybe she is only calling/texting/spending time with me because she is stressed and/or lonely. Like, as soon as Anthony starts to feel better again, she might disappear from the face of the earth all over again. But I really feel like it would be different if that happened again, though I can't quite explain why. Probably because I'm literally starting a family and I have that to focus on. I don't know. Truthfully, I don't care. I feel like a naive, teenage girl sometimes, falling hard for a crush, knowing she is being stupid, yet unwilling to do anything about it but continue the plunge. I'm happy right now. It has been a long time since I have felt happy. Complete, almost. There are still small problems with my relationship with Kyle, but at the end of the day, he's really a godsend to me and we love each other a lot. I still have fleeting anxiety and depression. But I have been through, just a shit ton of, well, shit. I am a survivor, and I know that no matter what curve balls get thrown at me, or how life tries to knock me down, I'm someone who ultimately will just keep going, miserable or not. And miserable doesn't scare me the way it used to. 

Little Movements
sane
pineapple5966
Today marks six months (24 weeks) of pregnancy, and only sixteen more weeks to go. Every day, I love feeling her little movements inside me. I wonder what she thinks about and what she feels, and what makes her decide to do somersaults or kick at me. Sometimes, if I focus, I can lie on my back and watch my belly and actually see her tiny flickers of movement, some movements definitely qualifying as more than just flickers though. I daydream about what she looks like, which of my features she will in inherit and which of Kyle's. I imagine the first moment I get to hold her in my arms, presumably after several hours of labor, the most intense moments of my life, for sure. I do feel so bonded already, and I worried that I wouldn't. My eyes are full, tears ready to fall, just thinking about these things as I type. I logged in with the intention to complain, actually. I have been feeling an incredible amount of fear and frustration with Kyle and our relationship, and how things have changed so much already, and how things will continue to change as we adapt to our roles as parents. I also felt I should write some about this reconciliation of sorts with Alyssa, as I failed to do so last time. But I sat down and looked at the blank screen, wondering how to begin my post, when I suddenly felt that familiar flurry of movement right behind my bellybutton, like she just wanted to remind me that she is in there, and everything is good, and even though she still has so much growing to do before we meet, she is mine, and I am her mother, and everything is, well, it's alright. I have her. I have her. And just like that, nothing else mattered, and I was so overcome by this deep feeling of love, and anticipation, and even joy. So, unfortunately, I have to postpone, yet again. How can I sit here and dwell on my fears and frustrations when she is in there, in me, happy as a lark, flipping and kicking and nudging?! As for Alyssa, yes, mostly all good things to write about... but also, a substantial amount. I have to go tend to dinner, which I started before I opened Livejournal. I don't have the time right now, but everything really is quite all right. 

Back Burner
sane
pineapple5966
Another rather rough night. Sometimes I feel like I have too many of these, because I'm pregnant and I am supposed to be happy. I did actually have a pretty good day, and most days recently have been good. I had off today, Kyle came home from work, I made dinner, we ate... and then we decided to fool around. That was tonight's mistake. Sex almost always depresses me. I am extremely unsatisfied, and thus, pretty lonely. He used to make an effort to make love to me sometimes, though definitely not as often as we would fuck the way he likes. But it's been months since he's made any effort, not just to make things more romantic and sensual, but to even have normal, vanilla sex. All we do anymore is the kinky shit he's into, which literally is a turn-off for me. I start out bored, and only become agitated with his weird requests and the way his personality morphs into this annoying, boyish, sub-like thing... I don't know. I'm just so overwhelmingly sick of it. I can't get into it, which makes for rather painful sex. After it's over, I feel even more bored and agitated, disappointed, and extremely lonely. Today I was especially upset because I kept thinking about how this is my life now, and though I never would have dreamed of leaving him, at least it was an option before. I'm stuck now. I'm carrying his child. I will never have a satisfying sexual experience again. And then I started thinking about how I have had one-night-stands that left me feeling more satisfied, physically and emotionally, than the "lovemaking" with my goddamn fiance ever does. It just sort of snowballs. Next thing I know, I'm refusing to go to bed with him, fully intending to sleep on the couch. I fire up the laptop to keep from dwelling on how shitty I feel. My desktop is full of icons from notes I created while planning a wedding, and this made me sad too. There is no wedding planning right now. All we can do is plan for the baby. The fact that I am engaged and have been for only three months is practically irrelevant. My love and my relationship are on the back burner. All we ever talk about is baby-related. I watch my belly regularly for movements. We did that together this afternoon. We went to Babies R Us' website to update the registry. I read What to Expect When You're Expecting and updated Kyle on all the exciting six-month changes. But never was a single detail of the wedding brought up, or the honeymoon, or even just plans for us as a couple, because we are still a couple, and only for another four months or so will we be just us... but "we" don't matter anymore. We're already we, a family, not we, a couple. I don't care much for the way things are going. I'm sure it's only a rut though. Whatever.

It seems silly that I didn't mention this first, and actually, it's silly that I'm too tired to elaborate on this, but things with Alyssa took a major turn on Friday. I haven't mentioned that we have been emailing and chatting online. We have been, for a while actually, though much of the while was just me waiting on responses from her. But we have been in contact, in a good way. And out of the blue, we met for dinner on Friday. I saw Alyssa for the first time in about a year and a half. Everything went great and I will update better next time. It's hard to say how things will be going forward. I have a good feeling though. About that one thing, anyway. For the first time in ages, Alyssa has become a positive topic, something good in my life. Even if we aren't as close as we once were, it feels to good to have her back, though in a different sort of way. Trust me, I know this is too important in issue not to discuss further. But I am exhausted. My back hurts. I need a drink, and I have to get up for work in like 7 hours... time for me to go to bed. Even if sleep is a million miles away...

Daughters
sane
pineapple5966
I must have shitty maternal instincts because we are expecting a baby girl! I was absolutely stunned to learn this, because I was certain we'd be welcoming a baby boy this summer, but in fact, it shall be a baby girl. I'm only mildly disappointed, though I hate to say that. It's not like I don't want a girl. My reasons are silly: I wanted to have the first boy in the family, since Lauren had the first two grandchildren, and also, I fear that the poor thing will never get to wear anything new due to an abundance of free hand-me-downs I have been offered by everyone I know it seems, from Lauren, to my co-workers. But I think every woman has something of a desire to have a baby girl, right? I have always imagined myself with two boys for some reason. But that is not to say that I never wanted girls, I just had this gut feeling I wouldn't ever have one. I am elated to be having a girl! I do, of course, also have some fears about raising a girl, because I truthfully do believe boys are just easier. I keep thinking of the way I was, mostly as a teen. I don't know how I feel about raising a miniature me, and what are daughters but miniatures of their mothers? I often feel like I inherited only the bad things about my mother, but sure enough, I'm still so much like her. I know we developed similar "coping skills." Actually, I guess that is really the biggest thing I think I got from her, but what a horrible trait to replicate! I try to think of the good things too. I know I have her laugh, her smile, and her eyes. But those aren't personality things. She was always a social butterfly, and that's never been me. She worked hard too, which is another thing I think I lack. Ah, her love of animals, and compassion! I got those from her, I think. There. Some good things. And anyway, I have inherited plenty from my father as well, like his sense of humor and his cynicism. Ironic, huh? Perhaps you do take just as much from each parent. That'd be fine by me; Kyle is nearly perfect in my eyes. I hope she doesn't get his addictive personality or his lack of creativity, but other than that, she can take it all from him for all I care! And me...? I don't know... maybe she will love the way I love. Maybe that will be the one good thing she will get from her mother- an ability to love.