I always have so much to do. SO much to do. And no time, of course. Isn't that supposed to be every mother's mantra or something? I call bullshit. I quit my damned to do list today. I can't cope. I'm in way too much pain to deal with this right now. Also, apparently my "o" key on the keyboard is being decidedly sticky and, well, fuck that key.
I slipped and fell on my drive way Saturday and things have been doing the downward spiral into hopelessness ever since. I went to the ER and gave me a cervical collar, Naproxen, and an order to rest (because of course). The fall itself isn't what has caused this little pit I've dug around myself though. It's the fact that my body physically CAN NOT take any more pain and my child is not getting any smaller. She's a big girl and it's killing me every time I pick her up. I put on the happy face and play with her and whatnot - she will never be able to tell that I can't stand holding her - but then I go off by myself and cry just to get it out of my system. I'm scheduled for spinal injections (doesn't that sound sexy?) from my L1 - L4 on February 4th but I have a feeling I'm banking way too much of my hope on these injections, especially since it was made clear to me that there's a chance they won't be effective. I feel like I'm setting myself up to be let down. What the hell else am I supposed to do? It's not like I can hand my baby off to someone for a couple of days while I rest and try to get my shit together. Adam's there, of course, but he works five days a week so even then I would still have the bulk of baby care.
Speaking of my beautiful little back killer, she's due to be up any minute so I should probably cut this short.
xo
Kellye
1.28.2014
1.24.2014
Chaos & Loneliness
It's 4am. I'm awake, alone, as usual. I hear Anabel stirring through the baby monitor so I know it's only a matter of time before she's awake and I'm not alone anymore. Is that what I want, not being alone anymore? I don't know. Most of the time I crave some kind of social interaction, some connection to the time before I had the baby and then when I have it, I immediately start counting down the minutes until it's over.
This small child baffles me in so many ways. I've gained so much with her birth and having her in my life. There isn't a single person in this world that can light up my soul like she can. I'd rip myself limb from limb just waiting for her to put me back together. She's the only real love that I've ever known. But (and there's always a but) I have to ponder all that I've lost with all that I've gained. It's part of the checks and balances of life.
Am I a better person with her in my life? You bet.
Have I lost a huge part of myself, of who I thought I was and what I'd become in the process? Indeed I have.
My days revolve around this little girl whose only requirement is a loving touch and the occasional foot rub. I run around her like a chicken with my head cut off. It's utter and complete chaos and I wouldn't have it any other way. But all the while I'm doing my daily run around, there's a part of my mind that's in mourning. I feel as though it shouldn't be that way but then again when have I ever followed protocol?
Things have changed. I'm just trying to figure out where to go from here.
"Can't you see?
We're going to jump after three.
You mean that much to me.
Finally, someone who understands."
xo
Kellye
This small child baffles me in so many ways. I've gained so much with her birth and having her in my life. There isn't a single person in this world that can light up my soul like she can. I'd rip myself limb from limb just waiting for her to put me back together. She's the only real love that I've ever known. But (and there's always a but) I have to ponder all that I've lost with all that I've gained. It's part of the checks and balances of life.
Am I a better person with her in my life? You bet.
Have I lost a huge part of myself, of who I thought I was and what I'd become in the process? Indeed I have.
My days revolve around this little girl whose only requirement is a loving touch and the occasional foot rub. I run around her like a chicken with my head cut off. It's utter and complete chaos and I wouldn't have it any other way. But all the while I'm doing my daily run around, there's a part of my mind that's in mourning. I feel as though it shouldn't be that way but then again when have I ever followed protocol?
Things have changed. I'm just trying to figure out where to go from here.
"Can't you see?
We're going to jump after three.
You mean that much to me.
Finally, someone who understands."
xo
Kellye
12.29.2013
Every day is exactly the same...
When I first became pregnant I was the recipient of ALL OF THE BABY ADVICE. I imagine that all newly pregnant women have about the same reaction to it that I did - in one ear and out the other, knowing that no matter what happened we would all survive the best way we knew how. That being said, NO ONE warned me that the days ahead of me would be the most mundane, monotonous, hair-pulling days of my life. Maybe had someone said that, I would have actually listened.
It surprises me greatly that it's not the lack of sleep, or the screaming, or the whining, or my entire day being wrapped around this tiny little human that throws me into a pit of despair. It's the fact that every day is exactly the same. Wake up and feed at the same time, nap at the same time, wash the bottles, do the baby's laundry, dry the bottles, refill the humidifier, check the heater... It's endless and it's the same. My days run together in such a way that you can no longer ask me what week day it is anymore. I simply don't know. I feel like I'm living in a really fucked up version of baby Groundhog Day.
I'm exhausted, I'm lonely, I'm in immense amounts of pain and my days do nothing to take my mind off of that. Just doing the same things over and over again. The melancholy never stops. I love my pretty Anabel so much & she really lights up my life in a way that no one else can. I just don't know how much longer I can do the song & dance routine we've been doing every single day. It's slowly ripping me apart at the seems. I'm sure if I wasn't in so much pain from my back, a lot of things would be easier for me. I could hold and comfort Anabel more, I could sit in more than one position and actually get some sleep, I'd actually be able to get out of the house... The possibilities are endless. But until I switch insurance companies and get into a pain management program and a potential spinal fusion things are on a day to day basis. I guess this just turned into a bitch, whine, and moan post fairly quickly so I'll sign off.
Goodnight.
xoxo
Kellye
It surprises me greatly that it's not the lack of sleep, or the screaming, or the whining, or my entire day being wrapped around this tiny little human that throws me into a pit of despair. It's the fact that every day is exactly the same. Wake up and feed at the same time, nap at the same time, wash the bottles, do the baby's laundry, dry the bottles, refill the humidifier, check the heater... It's endless and it's the same. My days run together in such a way that you can no longer ask me what week day it is anymore. I simply don't know. I feel like I'm living in a really fucked up version of baby Groundhog Day.
I'm exhausted, I'm lonely, I'm in immense amounts of pain and my days do nothing to take my mind off of that. Just doing the same things over and over again. The melancholy never stops. I love my pretty Anabel so much & she really lights up my life in a way that no one else can. I just don't know how much longer I can do the song & dance routine we've been doing every single day. It's slowly ripping me apart at the seems. I'm sure if I wasn't in so much pain from my back, a lot of things would be easier for me. I could hold and comfort Anabel more, I could sit in more than one position and actually get some sleep, I'd actually be able to get out of the house... The possibilities are endless. But until I switch insurance companies and get into a pain management program and a potential spinal fusion things are on a day to day basis. I guess this just turned into a bitch, whine, and moan post fairly quickly so I'll sign off.
Goodnight.
xoxo
Kellye
12.28.2013
So, uh... hi?
I have no idea what has come over me to update this thing. I haven't even looked at it in almost a year. Where I left off, I hadn't even seen Bean on a sonogram and had no idea if there was a heartbeat. Well, surprise, I had a baby. A girl named Anabel Claire. She's 3 months old now and has turned out to be the light of my life in so many ways while in the same motion causing some of the darkest thoughts I've ever experienced. Welcome to the world of postpartum.
See? Cute as hell and just about worthy of the agony of pregnancy.
Since becoming a stay-at-home-mom (ugh, I never thought I'd say that) I have ZERO outlet for anything if it doesn't involve taking care of the small creature of my loins. I thought I'd fire up the old blog again just to have somewhere to write and rant and bitch. It takes far too much time (that I no longer have anyway) to actually pick up a pen and write this stuff down and I'm fairly sure my husband will appreciate not being blasted the moment he walks into the door because of my pent up aggression.
Then again... if the blogging doesn't work out, I can always drink more.
xo
Kellye
Since becoming a stay-at-home-mom (ugh, I never thought I'd say that) I have ZERO outlet for anything if it doesn't involve taking care of the small creature of my loins. I thought I'd fire up the old blog again just to have somewhere to write and rant and bitch. It takes far too much time (that I no longer have anyway) to actually pick up a pen and write this stuff down and I'm fairly sure my husband will appreciate not being blasted the moment he walks into the door because of my pent up aggression.
Then again... if the blogging doesn't work out, I can always drink more.
xo
Kellye
2.24.2013
On Fear & Impatience
Dearest Bean,
I've been trying to find the right words for this entry for the last couple of days. I'm finding that's increasingly difficult to remain calm and clear-headed when I'm terrified. I'm also not entirely sure I will be able to put the crippling, mind-numbing fear into words. The reason I'm afraid is simple: tomorrow will be the first time I get to see you in a sonogram and hear your little heartbeat reassuring me that you're okay. Put plainly, I'm afraid you won't show up to the party and that there will be no heartbeat to listen to. I haven't been able to wrap my head around what I'm going to do if you aren't there, if this little person I've come to love so much has decided that maybe it's not the right time. This is certainly the first time I've experienced what I've come to consider a Mother's Fear. That phrase deserves so much more than capitalization. It needs to be bold, underlined, italicized in a font so enormous it defies logic and science. By the way, I am in no way melodramatic. There's a big difference between the average run-of-the-mill fear and a Mother's Fear. I never realized just how much of a difference there was until recently.
For instance I'm terrified of bees, vomit, and porcelain clowns; they all fall under the category of run-of-the-mill fear when put up against what I'm feeling now. A Mother's Fear is an all-encompassing paralysis with the fear for someone else - your child. I'm so scared for you Bean. I want you in my life so badly my very bones ache with the need to hold you in my arms and keep you safe from harm. While you're in my tummy there's not much I can do besides eating well, taking my vitamins, and staying hydrated. It drives me crazy that you're growing inside MY body and I have no control over making sure everything turns out okay. If it were up to me, I'd control every aspect of your upbringing from the moment of conception. I suppose this is just me learning what it means to be a parent, the constant need to make everything okay for you.
I'll end this particular diatribe now before I get myself too worked up and worried. All will be tomorrow, I'm sure of it. As always, you continue to be the light in my life.
Love,
Mama
I've been trying to find the right words for this entry for the last couple of days. I'm finding that's increasingly difficult to remain calm and clear-headed when I'm terrified. I'm also not entirely sure I will be able to put the crippling, mind-numbing fear into words. The reason I'm afraid is simple: tomorrow will be the first time I get to see you in a sonogram and hear your little heartbeat reassuring me that you're okay. Put plainly, I'm afraid you won't show up to the party and that there will be no heartbeat to listen to. I haven't been able to wrap my head around what I'm going to do if you aren't there, if this little person I've come to love so much has decided that maybe it's not the right time. This is certainly the first time I've experienced what I've come to consider a Mother's Fear. That phrase deserves so much more than capitalization. It needs to be bold, underlined, italicized in a font so enormous it defies logic and science. By the way, I am in no way melodramatic. There's a big difference between the average run-of-the-mill fear and a Mother's Fear. I never realized just how much of a difference there was until recently.
For instance I'm terrified of bees, vomit, and porcelain clowns; they all fall under the category of run-of-the-mill fear when put up against what I'm feeling now. A Mother's Fear is an all-encompassing paralysis with the fear for someone else - your child. I'm so scared for you Bean. I want you in my life so badly my very bones ache with the need to hold you in my arms and keep you safe from harm. While you're in my tummy there's not much I can do besides eating well, taking my vitamins, and staying hydrated. It drives me crazy that you're growing inside MY body and I have no control over making sure everything turns out okay. If it were up to me, I'd control every aspect of your upbringing from the moment of conception. I suppose this is just me learning what it means to be a parent, the constant need to make everything okay for you.
I'll end this particular diatribe now before I get myself too worked up and worried. All will be tomorrow, I'm sure of it. As always, you continue to be the light in my life.
Love,
Mama
2.16.2013
Beanie Baby
Dear Bean,
You're scaring me, kiddo. Stop with the cramps please. Also? If you could knock off the vomiting that would be fantastic. You know how Mommy feels about vomit. It's not pretty for either of us.
I have a feeling this is going to quickly turn into a Bean Blog. That's okay. You're a big part of my world now and writing letters to you eases a lot of my internal turmoil (they also let your grandmother know that I'm not jumping off the hypothetical bridge yet). If I'm completely honest here, I feel incredibly guilty. I haven't always had nice thoughts about you. In fact, I was pretty certain you were going to ruin my life for a while there. I was employing every defense mechanism I had in my armory, even stooping to calling you a parasite. Sorry. Mom isn't always rational. Who knew? The pregnancy hormones in addition to the mental illness I struggle with on a daily basis was just too much for me to handle. Things seem to have leveled out some, though, and I'm grateful. At the same time I have this little irrational voice in the back of my mind telling me that somehow you know that I wasn't always happy about your sudden arrival and you're opting out which is why I have cramps. If you only knew how terrified I am of losing you. I've had one miscarriage and I'm still not over it. It probably has a lot to do with why I was so harsh about being pregnant. I was convinced I was going to lose you before you ever had a chance to prove me wrong, and I didn't want to hurt again. Can't blame me for that. But now I love you and I need you to stick around. Your father and I already have names picked out. I can't wait to find out whether you're an Addison Claire or a Simon Brent. I think you're a Simon but your Dad thinks you're an Addison. We'll see.
Speaking of your father... Let me tell you something, kid. You are one lucky sucker. You are going to have the greatest Dad. It's been an honor to watch him grow into his new role as husband and father. It's a role he embraces and I am so glad for that. Whenever I'm having one of my moments and I'm terrified he's always there to make me smile and remind me that you're worth it. Every time we talk about you, he gets a little twinkle in his eye. I couldn't have hand picked a better person to be your Dad. And we are so, so lucky. I hope I never forget that. Your father and I have a lot of love between us and we can't wait to share it with you. I hesitate to call you a blessing because that word has its roots in a religion I'm not fond of, but that's exactly what you are. You came at a time when I needed you most and I didn't even realize it. I can't wait to meet you. Hang in there.
Love,
Mama
You're scaring me, kiddo. Stop with the cramps please. Also? If you could knock off the vomiting that would be fantastic. You know how Mommy feels about vomit. It's not pretty for either of us.
I have a feeling this is going to quickly turn into a Bean Blog. That's okay. You're a big part of my world now and writing letters to you eases a lot of my internal turmoil (they also let your grandmother know that I'm not jumping off the hypothetical bridge yet). If I'm completely honest here, I feel incredibly guilty. I haven't always had nice thoughts about you. In fact, I was pretty certain you were going to ruin my life for a while there. I was employing every defense mechanism I had in my armory, even stooping to calling you a parasite. Sorry. Mom isn't always rational. Who knew? The pregnancy hormones in addition to the mental illness I struggle with on a daily basis was just too much for me to handle. Things seem to have leveled out some, though, and I'm grateful. At the same time I have this little irrational voice in the back of my mind telling me that somehow you know that I wasn't always happy about your sudden arrival and you're opting out which is why I have cramps. If you only knew how terrified I am of losing you. I've had one miscarriage and I'm still not over it. It probably has a lot to do with why I was so harsh about being pregnant. I was convinced I was going to lose you before you ever had a chance to prove me wrong, and I didn't want to hurt again. Can't blame me for that. But now I love you and I need you to stick around. Your father and I already have names picked out. I can't wait to find out whether you're an Addison Claire or a Simon Brent. I think you're a Simon but your Dad thinks you're an Addison. We'll see.
Speaking of your father... Let me tell you something, kid. You are one lucky sucker. You are going to have the greatest Dad. It's been an honor to watch him grow into his new role as husband and father. It's a role he embraces and I am so glad for that. Whenever I'm having one of my moments and I'm terrified he's always there to make me smile and remind me that you're worth it. Every time we talk about you, he gets a little twinkle in his eye. I couldn't have hand picked a better person to be your Dad. And we are so, so lucky. I hope I never forget that. Your father and I have a lot of love between us and we can't wait to share it with you. I hesitate to call you a blessing because that word has its roots in a religion I'm not fond of, but that's exactly what you are. You came at a time when I needed you most and I didn't even realize it. I can't wait to meet you. Hang in there.
Love,
Mama
2.03.2013
Untitled
To my darling Bean -
I'm so sorry. Your mom is having a really hard time right now. It's not your fault but some days I want to blame everything on you. I know you're going to light up my life in ways I never thought possible; in some ways you already have. Your grandmother thinks I've lost my mind. Maybe she's right. Scratch that - she is absolutely right. I've been thrown face first into a depression the likes of which I have never felt before. It physically aches to get out of bed in the morning because I know I'll see your grandmother glowing and smiling at the baby bump and your grandfather making damn sure I've taken my prenatal vitamins. Life lesson number one, Bean, TAKE YOUR PRENATAL VITAMINS OR YOU ARE A FAILURE. Just throwing that out there. With every step I take during the day I'm reminded that you're in there waiting, hoping I make it out the other side. I hope I make it too.
If I'm perfectly honest here, you are simultaneously the best and worst thing that has ever happened to me. I was told I couldn't have children. It took months of grieving for me to accept that I was going to die childless. And I came to the conclusion that it was okay. Yet against all odds, here you are, right now at what could be considered the worst possible time. You at least inherited that from me. Your father knew I was pregnant before I did. He started having fits about it and I actually laughed at him. I thought he was being ridiculous. Boy do I feel like an idiot. Evidently there is such a thing as a father's intuition and it whipped my ass. When I saw the pregnancy test come up positive, I walked downstairs, threw it at your dad and collapsed on the floor crying. To say that I was not pleased is an understatement. I hate having to say that, that I wasn't overcome with maternal joy and oozing happiness but it's the truth. Right now I'm clinging to life on a day to day basis and all I have left is the truth. I wish I could say I will never lie to you. I was lied to in my childhood about things that still fuck with me today. The sad truth is that I will absolutely lie to you if it will protect you from harm. I can't say I would do the same things that were done to me but I can certainly say I understand why those things happened a little bit better.
For the first two weeks or so I tried to chalk up these feelings to the changing hormones. I'm sure the hormonal changes aren't helping but it goes much deeper than I like to admit. Your grandmother thinks I should just "get rid of it" if I'm going to resent it. But that's the thing, Bean - I don't resent you. I actually love you. I would jump in front of a bus for you and you aren't even out of the womb yet. I want you to hang in there with me and know somewhere inside that your mother loves you more than anything in this world. You truly are a part of me. I'm just sick. I have a disease that I can't just shake off and the more I try to fake it the worse it gets. I'm absolutely terrified which is probably the only normal emotion that I'm feeling right now. I guess I'm rambling at this point but there's just so much I want to say. I just want you to know, above all else (and no matter what I may think on any given day), that you are MY Bean and no matter what happens, I will love you until the end of time.
Love,
Mama
I'm so sorry. Your mom is having a really hard time right now. It's not your fault but some days I want to blame everything on you. I know you're going to light up my life in ways I never thought possible; in some ways you already have. Your grandmother thinks I've lost my mind. Maybe she's right. Scratch that - she is absolutely right. I've been thrown face first into a depression the likes of which I have never felt before. It physically aches to get out of bed in the morning because I know I'll see your grandmother glowing and smiling at the baby bump and your grandfather making damn sure I've taken my prenatal vitamins. Life lesson number one, Bean, TAKE YOUR PRENATAL VITAMINS OR YOU ARE A FAILURE. Just throwing that out there. With every step I take during the day I'm reminded that you're in there waiting, hoping I make it out the other side. I hope I make it too.
If I'm perfectly honest here, you are simultaneously the best and worst thing that has ever happened to me. I was told I couldn't have children. It took months of grieving for me to accept that I was going to die childless. And I came to the conclusion that it was okay. Yet against all odds, here you are, right now at what could be considered the worst possible time. You at least inherited that from me. Your father knew I was pregnant before I did. He started having fits about it and I actually laughed at him. I thought he was being ridiculous. Boy do I feel like an idiot. Evidently there is such a thing as a father's intuition and it whipped my ass. When I saw the pregnancy test come up positive, I walked downstairs, threw it at your dad and collapsed on the floor crying. To say that I was not pleased is an understatement. I hate having to say that, that I wasn't overcome with maternal joy and oozing happiness but it's the truth. Right now I'm clinging to life on a day to day basis and all I have left is the truth. I wish I could say I will never lie to you. I was lied to in my childhood about things that still fuck with me today. The sad truth is that I will absolutely lie to you if it will protect you from harm. I can't say I would do the same things that were done to me but I can certainly say I understand why those things happened a little bit better.
For the first two weeks or so I tried to chalk up these feelings to the changing hormones. I'm sure the hormonal changes aren't helping but it goes much deeper than I like to admit. Your grandmother thinks I should just "get rid of it" if I'm going to resent it. But that's the thing, Bean - I don't resent you. I actually love you. I would jump in front of a bus for you and you aren't even out of the womb yet. I want you to hang in there with me and know somewhere inside that your mother loves you more than anything in this world. You truly are a part of me. I'm just sick. I have a disease that I can't just shake off and the more I try to fake it the worse it gets. I'm absolutely terrified which is probably the only normal emotion that I'm feeling right now. I guess I'm rambling at this point but there's just so much I want to say. I just want you to know, above all else (and no matter what I may think on any given day), that you are MY Bean and no matter what happens, I will love you until the end of time.
Love,
Mama
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