If I tell the world
You have to stay
Bc it would be silly
If we’re wrong
Or if you go away

Part if me wants in on the inanity
Of telling people before 12W
Bc none of the people who shared
Um I mean our friends
All at 7w or 8w
Mandy Tara Catherine Michelle Teresa … I swear there’s more.
Teresa, I don’t harbor
Bc they had a couple angels (or maybe just the one)
And it’s all in innocence and excitement
And this dark part of me
At the first
Was just so shocked
Bc we waited so, so long to share about your big sister
And then it was, “Tada! She’s on her way!”
And that didn’t happen with anyone else.
No one.
I was the safe one
And I still got burned
Not with a miscarriage, thank goodness
But at 26w, that is so, so early
Part of this
Is my darker side
HA, in your face, Fate!
I mean
<5%? Would be so unfair
But then
How many pregnancies end at 26w?
I tried looking that up
And too many other things
Got in my way
And egads, i overshare!
Working on that.

I’m sorry I’m not all joy and light
I certainly don’t want you dark and creepy
Maybe All my light is being channeled to you ;)
Yeah, totes

Part Deux

So, we meet again.

I overshared with a room mom. I just don’t even care anymore.

But Round 2.  And I’m afraid I’m miscarrying, esp bc I engaged in a 20-minute situation that was incredibly high-stress.  Ugh, why do I do that.

This is a new life. A new life, a new life, a new life.

I hope this peanut sticks, just like the last one did (I mean ultimately, though I sure hope this peanut sticks a lot longer than the last one :D)

ohhhhhh, right

sometimes i forget why i unfollow things.

i’m pretty sure i blocked out why i stopped following spearmintbaby, but i just know that it pops up. every. day. in my google reader, as one of the last things i marked as “unread.”  and i knew it was a contest.  and hey, sometimes i wonder why i unsubscribed in the first place when i revisit it.

so i popped over.  and oh, yes, i remember now.  this is the reason why i unsubscribed.  The first photo is of the mama at 29 weeks.  29 weeks!  that’s 3 past when Z was born.

I don’t know what my hangup is, and i hate reading when some moms are so clingy of the past.

but i can’t help it. i hurt when i see anything past 26 weeks.  and big bumps.

this makes me feel better.  feel better and smile.  i mean, this mom is crazy tiny, right?  but she’s so happy! and i feel so much better that i had only gained 10 lbs. at 26 weeks.  and i know know know that i should be happy that the 29-weeker/34-weeker (first) mom is so happy + huge.  but… i guess that’s just one more thing i didn’t do — on top of not going term or anywhere near it, gain weight that mighta helped z.

all of this is neuroses. i know this. i still can’t stop it.

of course i don’t want anyone else going through this early preterm business.  yikes-ola.  but it doesn’t stop me from hurting a bit, and recognizing + accepting me for who i am — that what i’m working on. ‘ray.

i’m still not subscribing to sb :D, that’s just a few steps ahead.

i still remember when my neighbor said she was 26 weeks.  the pang wasn’t as painful, and it wasn’t a jealousy stab — it was an “Oh!” feeling, with a tiny pang. And she’s so nice, i kicked myself and told me to get over it already :D

sigh.  still working on it.

i wore my aggie ring last week, for like 3 days straight.

i had quit wearing a ring on my right hand because it was just too difficult when I was pumping — it would keep getting in the way somehow.

and other than wearing my garnet ring once, a few days after I turned 30, i haven’t worn a right-hand ring (that I can recall) since February or March.

It’s crazy, these little steps back to normalcy.  Or I’m not even sure if that’s right — just what I knew before you came along.  Not that I mind, or am resentful, or wistful for things to return to the way they were.  Well, occasionally :D  But .. it’s just… I know I avoid some things, and finally confronting them, and the feelings accompanying those things…. It’s big.  It feels big, and it is big.


i wore these black soft leather ballet flats for nearly a month, if not longer, when we stayed in the hospital that first month.  Every day, I would put them on to go visit you, because … I don’t know, I didn’t go home, didn’t have shoes to change into, didn’t ask or perhaps now I don’t remember asking for a change of shoes.  Maybe I did. 

All I know is that whenever I see these shoes, I think of the hospital. And I can’t help but feel reluctance to wear them.

Tonight I went to a concert after work, which your tia bought me tix to, for us to go together — she didn’t know that I love this artist, and his CD is 1 of the 11 I own, or something.  She just discovered she likes acoustic shows, or when bands play in small venues. One of those.

I knew she was going to pick me up straight from work, and I was going to bring jeans, but I felt like wearing the cute grey sweater dress.  Then came shoes — what was comfy enough to withstand several hours of standing, potentially? Not my aggie flats that I usually wear — I just wore those the other day, and my feet were tired of those. And not my fave fuschia ruffled flats — they are done.

So, the Hospital Shoes were searched for, and found.

And I stared at those shoes tonight, at the concert, and thought — Wow, this experience is *amazing.* I have new happiness attached to these shoes. Well, that last bit wasn’t my exact thought, but definitely something along those lines.

I should have been excited when you were born, that was how your poppa & i envisioned it — we were just beginning to catch the fever of excitement a few weeks before you came along, before my bedrest, even.

But I was scared. And holding it together the best I knew how, but holding onto myself so tight, and to your poppa too.

Oh, shoes.  So crazy.

I think to myself, “I don’t want to be here.” But I know I don’t want to be home, either. Well, do and don’t for both places. I think if I had quick deadlines coming up, I could ease in quicker. Although my boss and coworkers are amazing, and don’t want to overwhelm me, and tell me to take it slow.

I think I want it to go back to before. Maybe I abhor change this much. Before another set of demands are placed on me. Before I feel obligation again. Although when I see Z, it doesn’t feel like obligation—-but only up until then. And sometimes, when she’s fussy, I hate it more. And then I realize 30 seconds later that Z has no control over this, whatsoever.

I don’t know what I want. I want to keep our nanny. Not that we have one yet. But I want Z to have someone who will love her and dote on her like I can’t. I don’t know if I’m holding myself back, or Im not letting myself, or it’s just fact, that I feel I can’t take good care of her. Can I fix that part, and take good care of her? Good enough, but I want her to have the best. I don’t think it’s me. Me + someone else + Poppa, but …. Not sure how to finish that.

Today made it official—-since I was prescribed medication, the hubs and I are pretty sure I’ve been diagnosed with postpartum depression. 7 months after birth, although 4 of those were in the NICU. My doctor said she was surprised it presented so late. Us too, although I’d heard it can take up to a year to present. Now I take a little blue pill every morning. Hopefully when I give z her medicine too. Who knew this inability to sleep/racing mind business really was anxiety-related to a clinical degree? I feel way better than last week but will definitely keep up with the meds — checking back in two weeks, and again one month later to check effectiveness of drug, plus therapist situation. Here we go, on the road to recovery.

cloth diapers

this should so be easier.

Washed, then 20 mins on high (then pulled out the liner), then energy-preferred high heat (auto), then 25 mins again on high.  Crap. Most of them were dry (enough) but 5 of them were still damp on the back part, so another 30 mins on low heat.  Boooo.

i can’t sleep.  or it seems i just can’t want to sleep enough. like trying to plan & ensure z gets enough sleep by putting her to bed earlier rather than later (sounds counterintuitive, right? but all the books say so, or at least the ones i trust), I know I should get into bed early.  Like probably 10. And maybe that would fix my sleepiness during the day, and reluctance to start the day before 11a. Yikes.

So much to do, so much to delay. Like getting hurt after the hubs asked me why do moms exclusively breastfeed — other than by choice. Oh, I don’t know, maybe their daughter’s in the NICU for months on end. Sound familiar? Or physiological reasons, either their own or their baby’s. And I know its the guilt that makes me snappy, like all these months later I still haven’t shaken it.

And he + his mom say I shouldn’t be so hard on myself. I have no idea how I’m going to make it through motherhood if I continue at the rate I always have, berating myself as much as my own mom would. Bah, I wish I could shake her and the downer inside me.

I’m afraid my sleeping issues indicate I’ve got issues that I can’t handle on my own. And I’m feeling more okay about seeking help, but… not really ready just yet.

I’m not sure why I keep asking so much from M, I know he has a lot on his plate for work, and really, not going to bed now isn’t punishing him at all, he’s dead asleep. I do wish he understood, perhaps aka could make disappear, my guilt and feelings about not pumping any more, this feeling of being a failure in this aspect.  If I could just wish away these feelings, of not having tried hard enough, of not wanting to try hard enough, even though I truly know that I’ve done more than others, wanted it more than others, absolutely worked harder than others.  I just don’t understand why my labor didn’t yield the results that I’ve heard around me. I want to know that it’s okay to have stopped, that it wasn’t giving up or quitting, that it absolutely wasn’t normal that I produced so little, and that it wasn’t just a matter of me needing to want it more or work harder.  Because maybe that *was* possible, but I would have suffered more, unnecessarily, for it. I just want to know that, to feel that, for someone to tell me that and for me to believe it.  But who would that be? I have no idea.

I get it. You work a full day. You’re social. You were pretty much up all night. You deserve a night out.

But I can’t help it. I feel… Hurt and angry you stayed out so late instead of coming home. There. I said it.

What did I di today? I burped and fed the baby. Washed bottle after bottle. made three appointments. Filled out 14 pgs of paperwork for one of those. Entertained your mom. Didn’t get to vacuuming or mopping but we will.

You just came home and made it a little better. Good job.