Tag Archives: Anxiety

On Progress

This morning I had my second (and hopefully final) phone interview for my second (and hopefully final) application for Medicaid. I have to say, it went so much better than the first one. My first experience with a live person at the Medicaid office left a very sour taste in my mouth. I spoke with a seemingly very bitter, very impatient woman who clearly had no compassion or people skills. This time, the lady was calm, helpful and wished me a good pregnancy (what’s left of it) and a good day. This may not seem like much to you, internet, but then, you may not have to deal with the Medicaid office. Trust me. Being wished a good day is almost as good as her handing me a wad of cash at this point.

I feel good. I feel like she explained to me EXACTLY (and not in a roundabout way) what I need to submit to them. (And I plan to submit it daily for the next ten days and then phone stalk and/or in-person stalk them for that same length of time.) I have all the information they need and I am pretty sure that there is little to no room for error at this point. (I am aware, however, of who I am dealing with and have not let out that sigh of relief just yet.)

I have an appointment with the county health department on Monday morning. This resulted when I spent over a week trying to get proof of my pregnancy correctly sent to the Medicaid office by the Health Department and was told by a gentleman from the department itself that his employees at the Health Center were incompetent and that I should not leave that office until the information has been sent directly to him and I have been given an appointment to see a doctor. This worked, but I had to wait two weeks and now really have no idea what kind of an appointment this even is. I know it will last two hours and that I’d better not be late. Or else, says the incompetent lady with the bad weave.

Either way, things APPEAR to be going in the right direction. And I am still optimistic. And I haven’t murdered or mamed anyone yet! Hooray! If you think about it, ladies and gents, send some good juju or prayers (or whatever good vibes you believe in) this way. I gotta get this thing going! My little bean is already a black belt in karate!

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A Hero

Well, it is official, the shower invitations have been sent out and some RSVPs have even been received. It is pretty crazy to think that, in less than three weeks (THREE WEEKS!) we will be having a baby shower (A BABY SHOWER!).  MB and I have been pretty good at pretending that we are not parents-to-be and that we are just highly boring individuals who can never, ever have any alcohol. It still doesn’t really feel real. But there it is, right around the corner. Imma have a baby, y’all.

Holy crap.

I have had a lot of fun picking out outfits and furniture (even though we are trying to keep things to a minimum until we make the big move which will most likely happen in August) and learning about how other moms’ experiences have been.  I never really thought that I would be reading articles (or blogs) about parenthood or posting about diapers but here we are. 27 weeks along and ready to start a whole new journey. I can’t help but feel a little bit lost about the whole thing though. I guess a lot of women can use this time to bond with their mothers over parenting and all that jazz (which, don’t get me wrong, I guess I am doing, but I have never been all that close with my mom and, well…it is all very new to me). This is exactly the kind of experience I would have wanted to share with my grandmother. She died on my 23rd birthday, so she has been gone a long time, but her absence takes away a lot of the excitememnt for me. I would have loved for her to be here to help me prepare for and to meet her first great-grandchild. I would have loved for my child to experience the same kind of love and…gosh, there are no words for the kind of beauty she brought to be…I won’t even try to explain all of that. I will just say that, holy crap, she would have been so excited. And my baby would have been so lucky to have met her. She just had a way of making me…better…and I try to remember her as often as I can to remind MYSELF to be a good person. And a good friend. And just…overall good. I really hope I can instill this in my child. I have a going list of things that I want to pass down. That I feel I need to pass down.

1. Lefse. My grandparents were both full Norwegian and when I was very young, my grandma taught me how to make lefse and it was my FAVORITE THING EVER. I learned, after my grandfather passed and the family was together for the first time in years, that, not only was I the only grandchild that she ever taught to make it, she never even taught her own kids. (Two of whom are actual chefs!) So, yeah, I was totally her favorite.

2. Humility. My grandparents were poor. They worked as missionaries in New Guinnea when their first three children were small. They were Christians and they were damn good at being Christians. (I’m not gonna lie, internet, the mere mention of Christianity makes me cringe because I…well…am not a fan of religion at all…)  They were the kind of people who were respectful of everyone. And genuinely LOVING to everyone. EVERYONE. My grandmother would have given the shirt off her back. She helped whomever should could, whenever and with whatever resources she had. I definitely was raised, (mostly by my grandparents) in an environment RICH with love. They showed me the true meaning of agape.

3. Sense of worth. My parents weren’t really all that accessible when I was a kid. My dad wasn’t around and my mom worked full-time to support herself, my sister and I. And when she wasn’t working, she was partying. Luckily for us kids, our grandparents moved all the way across the country when our parents decided to move to Florida and became our caretakers when our parents weren’t.  I can’t speak for my sister, but I can say that I never really got any positive reinforcements from my mom. That I was smart. That I was pretty. That I was a worthwhile person. (I was informed, much of the time, that I was getting fat or things of that nature, but…you know…) My grandma, on the other hand, made me feel like a rock star. And not because she was a liar, but because she saw those things in me. She believed in me, like, for real.  I need to make sure, more importantly than all else, that my daughter knows she is SO. FUCKING. SPECIAL. And so loved. And that she can do whatever she wants to do. And it doesn’t matter if her nose is pointy or she has freckles. Or if her ass is a little big (which she would have inherited from her mother), she is amazing. And she is worthwhile. And the world is hers.  I want to make sure she knows I am her biggest fan.

Yesterday was my grandma’s birthday. I’m a little sappy about it. I miss her. She was my hero. I just hope I can make her proud.

On a Serious Tip

If you follow this blog at all, then you know that I lost my job of nearly FOUR YEARS just DAYS after announcing my pregnancy on Facebook. I have spoken with a LOT of people regarding pregnancy discrimination over the course of the last few months and today, found this article and thought it was VERY informative. I tried to reblog it for you, fellow preggos but was unsuccessful, but please check it out. Pregnancy discrimination is a real thing. A real, terrible, thing. 

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Share your story or input on pregnancy with the EEOC here: commissionmeetingcomments@eeoc.gov

Registry Smegistry…

So, even though there is still a fair amount of frustration surrounding this Medicaid issue and the time it takes those morons to process anything or return a phone call or…you know…ANYTHING, I have been trying to focus on the positive aspects of “the home stretch” as it has been called. I wouldn’t necessarily say that I am nesting just yet, but I am definitely daydreaming about the day to come when I accidently drop a napkin on the floor at a restaurant and can effortlessly bend to retrieve it. Its the simple things, internet, that keep me truckin’ along. The main thing that I am trying to manage is my baby registry. With my shower being exactly a month from tomorrow, I am starting to feel ill-prepared and a little panicky about what I will need that I may not have thought of. (Some of this panic has also stemmed from a text message from my lovely, fellow preggo, Jess which read, “You don’t have enough stuff on your registry!!!”

My question to you, internet mommies and mommies-to-be?

What one item could you not live without? What is the best invention ever?

HELP! PLEASE!

Insomnia and Putting a Ring On It

One of the things about pregnancy that I hate the most but also find the most useful is the insomnia. I am able to wake up at 4 am and accomplish things around the house before the Today show that I normally wouldn’t accomplish before noon. And while this annoys the bejesus out of me, I look forward to the afternoon naps. Oh, the naps.

I have been waking up at around 4 for about the entirety of my pregnancy. I find that the only way that I can sleep later is if we have a REALLY exhausting day and then I MIGHT make it until 7. And then I do a little jig. I wake up with a million thoughts running through my head. About cribs. And plans for moving. And car seats (because holy JESUS there are so many to choose from!). And my overwhelming desire to learn to knit. And, of course, how and where I am going to end up having this baby and whether or not I will ever get to see a doctor again. (This last one is still, obviously, making me a crazy person, but I am, with the help of the best man in the world, My Beloved, staying positive and angry. I find that anger helps me stay motivated to stick it to the man.) Over the weekend, MB and I went to a nearby outlet mall to spend his income tax return money on things that he has been putting off buying in the wake of all the crazy that has been going on at home like a new pair of glasses and new jeans (he has gained more weight throughout my pregnancy than I have. Anyone else’s significant other eating for him, you and the baby??). While we were there, I had a mini-meltdown about not knowing how we are going to swing this whole thing. And for the 67 millionth time, he reassured me that he will take care of me and the baby, no matter what. And that that’s what he is there for. And that he doesn’t feel obligated, but that he LOVES us. And that’s what you do when you love someone. You look out for them. And, of course, I am a spaz and everything will work out because “it always has”.

He’s right. And I need to learn to calm down and trust him. But I’m not really the trusting type. Even if I KNOW that he is serious and that I would do the same thing if the tables were turned, it is still hard to depend so much on someone else. You know, even if for nothing else than my sanity.

Pregnancy is hard.

But we are making it. And we will make it. And after we had this heart-to-heart over a breakfast for dinner meal at Denny’s (because nothing calms me the way that bacon does), we, totally on a whim and without discussing it at all, walked into a jewelry store and bought an engagement ring. We’ve known for a long time that we would be married some day, but we hadn’t really wanted to rush it. I want to elope somewhere beautiful and not be bothered with family and wedding planning and bridesmaids dresses, so naturally, the only thing really holding us back from “getting hitched” was the lack of funds. And then I got knocked up. And lost my job. So, seeing as we may never have money again, we figured he’d better at least put a ring on it.So, no, it wasn’t this romantic mome20120130-065632.jpg

 

nt where he got down on one knee and made a grand gesture. And it is nothing fancy, but simple and exactly what looks like it belongs on my finger. But I don’t need a grand gesture. Or a fancy-pants showy rock. I need a partner. And I have one. And he is the best thing that has ever happened to me. And every day is a grand gesture when you feel as loved and as cherished as I do.

So, there it is, he will make an honest woman out of me after all.

 

On the Edge

I have been a bad blogger. I know, I know. Don’t hate me.

The truth is, I have been a little stuck inside my head lately. I have, throughout everything that has been going on, held on to the hope that my situation will work itself out and that, at the end of the day, things will be fine. This has been easier said than done. I applied for Medicaid at the start of this whole ordeal, after having losing my job and health insurance and have been not-so-patiently waiting and submitting all sorts of ridiculous paperwork to the powers that be, trying to secure medical care so that I don’t have a baby with 3 arms. At first, I truly was optimistic. Because I have heard that Medicaid can be a life saver, and even though I am proud and a bit too stubborn to readily accept help from people or even admit that I need it, I pressed on. I held my head high knowing that I am doing what is best for me and the baby. The health of my baby is more important than feeling defeated (because sometimes, internet, I do feel defeated and more than that, betrayed by a company that I was loyal to for years for firing me just days after the announcement of my pregnancy. Because, really?! How do they sleep at night?) I let my guard down and admitted I needed help. And you know what? The Medicaid system sucks.

After everything I did and all the waiting for results. Still nothing. Not only nothing, but now I find out that they denied my claim because they “did not receive all necessary documentation”. Mind you, their online system shows that everything WAS received over three weeks ago. BOTH TIMES THAT I SENT IT (just to be on the safe side). And I’ll be damned if I can get anyone on the phone who isn’t a total BITCH or who speaks English or who knows how to work the computer. (Seriously. This is not a joke.) So, there are unreturned calls and 45 minute hold times that end in absolutely NOTHING. Meanwhile, our little bean is just kicking it inside my belly. (And by kicking it, I mean kicking the hell out of ME.)

And I am six months along today. And I am starting to panic. Because I have no idea what to do. I have never felt more helpless in my life.

My Beloved has been wonderful. He reassures me that we will do whatever we have to do. And if he has to work 3 jobs, he will. I can be comforted by this for about 3.5 seconds, until I feel a kick or a hiccup and then I want to hurl many glass things at many walls and stab people and all sorts of other violent things. (This could have something to do with hormones…)

I desperately wanted to write a post about the Zaxby’s commercials about the fried pickles that makes me salivate and be all charming and funny, but I can’t. The reality is, this situation is sucking all of the charm and wit out of me and making me a big, panicky psychopath and I really just want some effing fried pickles and a prenatal OB appointment.

A Delicious THANK YOU

Okay, so many of you who stop by here from time to time may have seen my post from a little while back about my insecurity about “the bump”. I wanted to take a moment to tell all of you who commented and were so awesome and reassuring and wonderful that I really appreciate all your words.

It really has been a hard journey for me, as I think it is for a LOT more women than can admit it. I absolutely know that this is all a very beautiful thing and that what is happening to my body is natural and beautiful and purposeful and knowing all that stuff definitely prevents me from hurling myself off of a building, but it is still a struggle when I am just glancing at myself in the mirror or a store window. But all of you readers and commenters who could identify? ROCKED MY FACE OFF.

Thank you!!!

I have really been trying, since writing that post to really FOCUS on all of those positve and miraculous things that my body is working on doing right now and less on how I physically LOOK while my body is doing them. Because even though my body image is improving with every passing day, my body is racing to look MORE DIFFERENT* every day. (Seriously, I am pretty sure my hips are three inches wider than yesterday…) But I am getting there, and I now know, more than ever, that I am not the only neurotic, crazy pregnant lady to ever feel this way. So…seriously…sincerely…Thank you all. If I could, I would buy you each a beautiful bouquet of flowers, all of your individual favorite variety/color and have them sitting at your doorstep, waiting for you the next time you have a kind of neurotic/sad/frustrating/irritating/panic-inducing moment. Or maybe just because you really like flowers. And for those of you who are pregnant, I would also send ornate baskets of bacon. Because…I mean…come ON…who doesn’t like bacon?

Thank you, fellow bloggers…you are my sunshine.

Okay, after further research, I have decided that you pregoos would get BACON ROSES. (Why hasn’t anyone sent me BACON ROSES, you guys?! And why didn’t I know this was a thing?!)

The Bump

Well, ladies and gents, it is official. I look like a giant, pregnant beast.

Over the weekend, MB and I decided that, on our way back from our lovely day of “playing tourist” in nearby St. Augustine, we would stop by the outlet mall on the way home. I had no idea how many baby stores there are in that place! I guess when you don’t have any reason to pay attention to baby stores, you don’t really notice that they even exist. And I definitely, before now, have never wanted anything to do with these places. Anyway, we bought about 300 little outfits for the wee one and one of them actually made me BURST INTO TEARS. Yes, I cried like a bitch at the mere SIGHT of an adorable little newborn outfit. And then I wanted to thrown myself into traffic. I did not. I, instead, put the item back on the rack and exited the store as fast as my gigantic body could do so.

Then we went into a maternity store.

I was super excited at the idea of possibly finding some semi-stylish clothing that might actually flatter my baby bump rather than making me look like…a house. I tried on 23 pairs of jeans, each one fitting stranger than the last, and ended up leaving with a bra the size of the entire Pacific Northwest, and a pair of those jeans that come up to your neck.

I was overly body-conscious many times in my life before becoming pregnant. And I am no stranger to being totally disgusted with my reflection, but generally, I can recognize that most of this insecurity is in my head. I do know, intellectually, that I am an attractive person. Big ass or not. (As it turns out, lots of people like a big ass!) I have naturally blonde hair and big, blue eyes. I have cute-ish freckles on my nose and cheeks and my eyelashes go for days. I am physically pretty. And on many levels, I know this. I KNOW IT, but I don’t always SEE it.

Being pregnant has made it harder to recognize the things about myself that I have always appreciated. Sure, my blonde hair is thicker and feels fantastic. And my cheeks do sort of glow with that tell-tale pregnant lady rosiness. And even though they make me FEEL a bit bovine, my boobs look pretty damn fantastic. But I can’t help but just feel huge. Huge and unattractive and anxious. I think that, having had body issues my whole life, adjusting to this weight gain and shape-changing has been more painful for me than anything else. My anxiety about being in public grows with my belly. I tend to feel that, without MB, who constantly tells me that I am the most beautiful thing in the world, I cannot brave the world outside. I don’t want strangers to stare at my midsection or try to touch me (because, unpreggos, it is NEVER appropriate to touch strangers’ bellies, I cannot stress this enough!) Up until now, I could convince myself to be confident all on my own. Now I sort of just want to shrink away until this baby is out. OUT!

Yesterday, I cried while I got dressed. And I may have just been having one of those over-emotional pregnant lady days, but it definitely felt like my chest was about to cave in. I am hoping that I start to make progress on accepting my body the way it is. Because I really do INTELLECTUALLY know that the worst is yet to come. The belly is going to continue to grow and the pants will continue to stretch and then, in what seems like years from now, I will finally get this thing out of my abdomen and hopefully start my journey back to my, slightly overweight but pretty damn adorable pre-pregnancy self.

All of this crazy is the main reason that, up until last week, I wouldn’t even take a picture of myself because I couldn’t bear for there to be photographic evidence that this is what I look like. In attempt to get over myself, here I am Internet. Baby bump and all. (exhale……)

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A Comparison of Symptoms…

In my first trimester, I kept reading about how the second one is soooo much better and that I would have energy and an appetite and would feel like a million bucks in comparison to the first few months of pregnancy. I believed this hype, thinking that there is no way that the second trimester could rival the first in terms of general discomfort. I was sort of wrong, you guys. With the second trimester came a bunch more fun symptoms, and I am not sure which ones are worse.

First Trimester:

1.Okay, so there was the “morning sickness”. All of us preggos know that the term “morning sickness” is a term used to describe the extreme nausea and vomiting that come along with the first trimester changes to your body. I believe that whomever decided it was a good idea to term it “morning sickness” was an asshole (and probably a man) who wanted to trick women into thinking that this discomfort would only last for a short period of the day. Like, from the hours of 8am to 11:59am.  This is a total lie. “Morning sickness” occurs all day long. And sometimes continuously for the entire day. And sometimes, if you are really, really lucky, it lasts beyond the first trimester.

2. Effing heartburn. Holy Jeebus. I used to get heartburn once or twice a year. When it happened, it was unbearably painful and, of course, because I got it so infrequently, I was always unprepared for it and it made me want to kill myself and/or eat an entire bottle of antacids. During my first trimester, the heartburn became daily. Several times, each day. And it was excrutiating and made me not only want to kill myself, but also those around me.

3. FATNESS accompanied by insatiable hunger for really disgusting food that you would never in your life ingest in these quantities. You get fat. Period.

4. Mood swings. Okay, okay. I know. I am insane. Leave it alone.

There are a whole host of other ridiculous and horrible things that happen to your body during this time but I think we all know what we are talking about here. These were the worst for me.

SECOND TRIMESTER:

1. Morning Sickness. You are told this will end, so you begin to feel hopeful and  less suicidal. You still carry saltines in your purse. You will pretend not to need them and will sometimes have to open your car door at traffic lights and vomit outside. But you will not be discouraged. This is the second trimester! This is supposed to be UTOPIA.

2. Heartburn. WILL IT EVER END?! You have been swallowing fire for months and are starting to believe that you could be an ACTUAL fire eater! After all, you should be paid for this sort of agony.

3. FATNESS.  You will get bigger and bigger until you feel you might explode. You will see other pregnant women who seem to enjoy their “baby bumps” but in studying your own, have noticed that, not only is it not as cute on you, but that appears to have doubled in size over the last two hours.

4. THE PAIN! This is a new one. You will never, EVER be comfortable again. You cannot sleep on your back because it restricts bloodflow to the baby, you cannot sleep on your stomach because it will feel like a) you are sleeping on a grapefruit and b) you are smashing your child, you cannot sleep on your right side because your right hip cannot support the weight of your GIGANTIC belly and you cannot sleep on your left side because…well…YOU CANNOT SLEEP ON YOUR LEFT SIDE! Your back will burn from the pain of carrying another PERSON around with you all day, every day for many months. Your head will pound from the lack of sleep you have had over the last several days (weeks?) and you cannot take drugs. Did you hear me?! YOU CANNOT TAKE DRUGS!

5. Mood swings. Check! (But don’t you dare bring it up. I will cry.)

Keep in mind, I was in a fairly severe car accident six years ago wherein I tore some disks in my back, so back pain is not new.

BUT YOU CANNOT TAKE DRUGS!

Please tell me it gets better! AHHHH!

On a sidenote: EAT THESE COOKIES! Holy crap!

It’s All Downhill From Here…

But totally in a good way!

Yesterday, the wee one hit the 20 week mark! This is amazing news because it means (gasp!) that this whole pregnancy thing is HALF OVER! I know that this doesn’t necessarily mean that I am out of the woods and that it is going to be a piece of cake from here, but it definitely means that I only have to be pregnant for as long as I have been pregnant so far and this, my friends, is awesome news. I know that there are many trials and MUCH growth to go, but it will be over SOON(ish) and then we will have a real, live, honest-to-goodness baby. And then I will freak out for a whole new set of reasons. Hooray!

Since the sonogram and the announcement to the family of the sex of our little bean, I have actually (slowly but surely) been taking on a new attitude. The excitement of the whole thing is starting to outweigh the longing for a girls’ night out complete with a giant, dirty martini. I am not saying that I spend every minute of every day super excited and nesting and running around like a momzilla or anything, but I definitely feel more moments of intense joy than I did, well, probably ever before in my life. The more the wee one moves, (which let me tell you, she is definitely fond of doing) the more I feel connected to her. Sometimes she doesn’t move all day and I have a mini coronary, thinking that something might be wrong. But then I lie down in bed with My Beloved and he puts his giant hand across my belly and there she is, flipping around like a little dolphin. I think she is showing off for her daddy. Already a daddy’s girl, I see. (As it should be, I guess. I am totally prepared to take on the role of the evil mother and disciplinarian since, like most daddies I’ve seen, MB is already melting at the idea of having a little girl and will likely be useless as far as discipline goes…)

I don’t really know when this change happened but I feel a mixture of things. I feel calmer than before. It sounds weird, but I haven’t really been nervous about actually having a child. I feel completely confident and confident that I will figure it out. Yes, I have moments of crazy panic and irrational spaz attacks, but for the most part I am sure I will be a good mother. I know what kind of little person I would like my little person to be and I will do my best to make sure that she knows that she is loved and special and wanted, every, single day. Because I never really had that. And I think that is the most important thing  a child needs to know. “You are a miracle and we love you very much.” I know that this pregnancy, expected or not, is something that was meant to happen, and despite my cynicism and sarcasm, I don’t take it lightly, and I won’t take being a parent lightly either. I may not know the specifics of HOW to do it yet, but I have a pretty good idea of how NOT to do it, so, that’s a start.

I also feel, sometimes, that I am completely unprepared and ill-equipped. Again, parenting, though I know it won’t be easy, is not what scares me. What scares me is the uncertainty of our situation right now. Obviously, it is not ideal. My unemployment, while we are working it out quite well, has been a blow that has caused a lot of extra stress. And I have had to keep reminding myself of how much I hated that hell hole I was working in. And how much happier I am now that I don’t have to be there with those people. Plans have just changed because of it. Things will have to be re-planned and reconsidered. The move that we have planned will have to be delayed until we can figure out how to make it happen with a newborn. Things that will ultimately be beneficial for all of us, as a family, will still happen, but the plans will need tweaking.

Overall though, internet, I am optimistic. I feel fresh and clean. Like I have a new lease on life. Even though I am fat and cranky and my body will never be the same. And even though, my neurosis will be amplified infinitely after this kid pops out. I know we will make it work. And dammit, I am so glad that this is half over. Because I am ready to hold this little girl already…