Baby steps...
Ever see the movie "what about bob?" ? Cheesy movie but Mike and I love it. I think that is part of what makes us work. Our love of cheesy things. We have a lot of arguments, that much is a fact. I can rationalize these arguments with all the stress we have. That and 2 children in 2 years. We absolutely adore the babies. Just not each other sometimes. With everything that needs to get done in a day, I forget to take the time to tell him how much I care and need him. I just expect him to know. I expect him to know a lot of things. Expecting without asking or telling has lead to many of our fights.
Tonight we had a blowout at 3 in the morning because of a misunderstanding. I didn't threaten to leave and take the kids this time so that is a step forward, right? Baby steps.... I am sitting here writing, calmly, which is something I would not normally do. Normally I would be writing about how much he pisses me off and how bad of a husband he is. Negativity has been eating me alive for the last few months and I think I am finally tired of it. It does not make me feel good, nor does it do anything for my family. Post partum depression is something I think I have been battling for a while now. My body has not been my own for so long that I do not know what to do with it now. 2 kids in 2 years wrecks your body and your mental state. I would not do it any differently if I had a chance though. Time is making me stronger and I am trying to understand my thoughts and how I can change them. The PPD I am talking about does not involve any harm towards my children in any way, I know that is typically the idea that pops in people's heads when they hear post partum depression. Dealing with so many changes in such a short amount of time is really a lot to swallow. I just have not gotten it all the way down yet. I have been choking. I know I am a good mother and I have 2 of the most wonderful kids anyone could ask for, learning how to juggle life is something I have not been good at.
My lack of monetary income to this family has been a big issue for me. I was pretty independent and like to think that I was fairly stable with my income. I had a job. Granted, it was for my parents company, but if anyone knows my dad, they know that I had to work. Not all the time, but a large part of the time. My last year of working I pretty much ran the company. My parents were having their midlife crisis and my dad moved his internet whore down here, so that left no one at the office but me. I did the payroll, I went to the meetings, I checked out the job sites. At one time, the company was fairly big. Not big by most peoples standards but we had about 30 employees. I had worked with my dad on and off since I was a kid. Most women do not aspire to work in construction, but I wanted to take over the company. I know more about paint and wallpaper and blueprints than most men. There actually is a lot to learn about those things. If you want to do it properly anyway. What I am getting at, is that I had to quit work and be hospitalized for a month before Ansley was born. I had planned on going back to work after a couple months break. We decided that I should stay home with her. A decision I do not regret by any stretch of the imagination. It was very hard to go from working full time and talking with adults all throughout the day to being home all the time and not really having anyone to talk to. Sure I talked to Ansley but she could not exactly talk back. Then by the time she could understand and talk back, I was pregnant again. Definitely not a bad thing, just a little unexpected.
So here I am, a few days after my daughter's 1st birthday and I am pregnant. Just when things start to get a little on the smooth side, we get thrown a curve. That's how it works though. You can't ever let yourself get too comfortable. This pregnancy was not nearly as hard as the first one, but I was so much bigger. Well, I guess I should say Joey was soooo much bigger than Ansley. It's true that you do carry boys differently. My belly was soooo huge. I am talking houselike. I could not fit between cars in the parking lot thats how big I got. I was showing a few weeks after I found out I was pregnant. Joey was almost 9 pounds. Ansley was not even 6 pounds. While all of this is going on, Mike is still working full time and going to school.
I thought I had it hard, meaning a lot to do, with Ansley. Add baby #2 and it is double the work and Ansley is hitting the terrible twos. My mema also died a few days before I had Joey. She was the only grandparent I ever had and I had a special bond with her. You aren't supposed to pick favorites among kids or grandkids, but I was her favorite. Add this to the mix and I am an emotional wreck. I do not believe I have even really grieved yet. A few months later, my uncle dies. This was the Uncle I was closest to, again I think I was a favorite. I still have not grieved for him yet either. I keep expecting to go to mom's and see him sitting in her sunroom smoking. I drive by the nursing home and think I need to go see mema, but then I remember. This makes me feel as though I have not accepted their deaths. This brings us to present day and I am still not myself. I have not been myself in so long I have almost forgotton who I am. I look in the mirror and the body I see is not mine. Coming to terms with who I am now and what I look like now is very hard. People change, that is to be expected. You just don't know what to do anymore when you don't know yourself. Lack of sleep and a worn out body make it a little hard to function and deal with all the stress. This is no excuse though. I am starting to take responsibility for my actions or lack thereof.
Tonight we had a blowout at 3 in the morning because of a misunderstanding. I didn't threaten to leave and take the kids this time so that is a step forward, right? Baby steps.... I am sitting here writing, calmly, which is something I would not normally do. Normally I would be writing about how much he pisses me off and how bad of a husband he is. Negativity has been eating me alive for the last few months and I think I am finally tired of it. It does not make me feel good, nor does it do anything for my family. Post partum depression is something I think I have been battling for a while now. My body has not been my own for so long that I do not know what to do with it now. 2 kids in 2 years wrecks your body and your mental state. I would not do it any differently if I had a chance though. Time is making me stronger and I am trying to understand my thoughts and how I can change them. The PPD I am talking about does not involve any harm towards my children in any way, I know that is typically the idea that pops in people's heads when they hear post partum depression. Dealing with so many changes in such a short amount of time is really a lot to swallow. I just have not gotten it all the way down yet. I have been choking. I know I am a good mother and I have 2 of the most wonderful kids anyone could ask for, learning how to juggle life is something I have not been good at.
My lack of monetary income to this family has been a big issue for me. I was pretty independent and like to think that I was fairly stable with my income. I had a job. Granted, it was for my parents company, but if anyone knows my dad, they know that I had to work. Not all the time, but a large part of the time. My last year of working I pretty much ran the company. My parents were having their midlife crisis and my dad moved his internet whore down here, so that left no one at the office but me. I did the payroll, I went to the meetings, I checked out the job sites. At one time, the company was fairly big. Not big by most peoples standards but we had about 30 employees. I had worked with my dad on and off since I was a kid. Most women do not aspire to work in construction, but I wanted to take over the company. I know more about paint and wallpaper and blueprints than most men. There actually is a lot to learn about those things. If you want to do it properly anyway. What I am getting at, is that I had to quit work and be hospitalized for a month before Ansley was born. I had planned on going back to work after a couple months break. We decided that I should stay home with her. A decision I do not regret by any stretch of the imagination. It was very hard to go from working full time and talking with adults all throughout the day to being home all the time and not really having anyone to talk to. Sure I talked to Ansley but she could not exactly talk back. Then by the time she could understand and talk back, I was pregnant again. Definitely not a bad thing, just a little unexpected.
So here I am, a few days after my daughter's 1st birthday and I am pregnant. Just when things start to get a little on the smooth side, we get thrown a curve. That's how it works though. You can't ever let yourself get too comfortable. This pregnancy was not nearly as hard as the first one, but I was so much bigger. Well, I guess I should say Joey was soooo much bigger than Ansley. It's true that you do carry boys differently. My belly was soooo huge. I am talking houselike. I could not fit between cars in the parking lot thats how big I got. I was showing a few weeks after I found out I was pregnant. Joey was almost 9 pounds. Ansley was not even 6 pounds. While all of this is going on, Mike is still working full time and going to school.
I thought I had it hard, meaning a lot to do, with Ansley. Add baby #2 and it is double the work and Ansley is hitting the terrible twos. My mema also died a few days before I had Joey. She was the only grandparent I ever had and I had a special bond with her. You aren't supposed to pick favorites among kids or grandkids, but I was her favorite. Add this to the mix and I am an emotional wreck. I do not believe I have even really grieved yet. A few months later, my uncle dies. This was the Uncle I was closest to, again I think I was a favorite. I still have not grieved for him yet either. I keep expecting to go to mom's and see him sitting in her sunroom smoking. I drive by the nursing home and think I need to go see mema, but then I remember. This makes me feel as though I have not accepted their deaths. This brings us to present day and I am still not myself. I have not been myself in so long I have almost forgotton who I am. I look in the mirror and the body I see is not mine. Coming to terms with who I am now and what I look like now is very hard. People change, that is to be expected. You just don't know what to do anymore when you don't know yourself. Lack of sleep and a worn out body make it a little hard to function and deal with all the stress. This is no excuse though. I am starting to take responsibility for my actions or lack thereof.
posted by Lori at 6:10 AM
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