I haven’t been writing much recently. I just haven’t had time, I’ll be honest. Little Mr. Darwin is a pretty high-needs baby, so I spend most of my time catering to him. It sucks, sometimes, I’ll be honest, but it’s the job I signed up for. I try to do it without complaining as much as possible (except to J, of course).
Life is pretty awesome here. I got a job working from home! Yay! I’m going to be helping my mom out with a website she’s putting up. Should be fabulous and it’s something I’m really excited about doing. I’ll let everyone know when it’s actually time to view it.
And I recently made a huge breakthrough for myself. I realized I want to be the best me I can be … nothing else. I need to put aside my pettiness, my envy, my fear of being judged by others, and just settle in to being the best me that I can be. Because truth be told, I can do it all if I just put my mind to it. I can rule the world (yeah, my little world, but that’s a pretty big deal for me).
So yeah. I gotta run, the little man is starting to wake up from his nap.
Much love, my world-wide-friends.
(And as to my last post, after 38 hours of labor, my dear friend Meag had her adorable daughter naturally. So welcome to the world, little Miss Llewellyn Pearl!)
One of my best friends went into labor yesterday and while talking to her, I found myself totally overcome with jealousy. See, I loved being in labor. I mean really, LOVED it. Sure, sure, it hurt, but not nearly as much as everyone told me it was going to. For the most part it felt like the worst menstrual cramps I’d ever had … but nothing more than that. Pushing the baby’s head out of my vagina … that’s a different story. That whole “ring of fire” thing hurts WAY more than they could ever actually tell you it’s going to.
But oh god, labor made me see myself in a totally new light. It made me realize how unbelievably powerful I am, how strong and brave and solid and funny and beautiful I am. It made me realize that I can actually do the things I set out to do. I wanted to have my child with as little medical intervention as possible, au naturale. And after 19 hours of labor, during which time the only actual medical thing that was done at all was measuring the baby’s heart-rate, I pushed that child out of me without having ever even thought of taking any drugs for the pain.
Honestly, I have never been more proud of myself in my entire life.
And now my dear friend Meag is about to go through the same thing. Regardless of whether or not she has the exact birth that she wants, at the end of it there’s a baby and she will be proud beyond belief of what she accomplished. I only hope that her labor is as satisfying as mine was.
So I guess it’s not really the fact that she’s in labor that I’m jealous of. It’s that I haven’t often in my life felt that good about myself. In my mind there’s always something that I could be doing better. I am a very self-critical person and it oftentimes leads to great unhappiness in me. But what I did while in labor was the best thing I’ve ever done. And I would do it again a million times.
So Meaggie-poo … I wish you the labor you’ve always hoped for. I wish that your daughter will come out strong and beautiful and filled with personality. I wish for you nothing but the absolute best. Come out, baby girl, and meet the world!
When I became pregnant I suddenly became a lot freakier about having my own personal space. It honestly was never much of an issue before then. Sometimes, but not often. And now that there’s a baby in the house I am more and more particular about having my house be MY space.
But it doesn’t always work.
So seriously, what do you do when the number one person that you don’t want around your baby is his grandmother? My mother-in-law is going to drive me insane, and for reasons that I can’t really even explain.
And, of course, because she’s the grandmother, I can’t even tell her to go away. Or ask that she never return. Or completely cut her out of my life.
God. Why is it that because of my love for J I am saddled with this woman?
I hate being poor.
I hate spending so much of my time thinking about money, which is just about my least favorite thing in the world.
I hate coming to the realization that I pretty much just can’t afford to be alive.
I hate that I’m questioning my decision to have a baby just because of my financial situation.
I hate not being able to have the things I want, no matter how small.
I hate that what seems like a grotesquely large amount of money to me seems like pocket change to other people in the world.
I hate that all I want right now is a new car. Not NEW, but one that’s slightly used and in better condition and safer for my son than the one I’ve got. I found the perfect car … $13,000. To me that number is so astronomically large that there’s no point in even thinking about it. And yet I do, about every 10 minutes, honestly.
I hate that I can’t see a way out of this.
I hate how helpless I feel.
I hate this.