Life in Random

A year and a half of dead air! Wow.

I suppose now that I don’t have Facebook to sit and see every mundane detail of other people’s lives, I’ll start blogging mine again. Doubt it’ll last long, but you never know. I tend to move from one thing to the next faster than a person with A.D.D….oh, wait.

Honestly, Facebook is really the root of all evil, or drama. I have a hard time not saying what I want when someone posts something that I disagree with, think is a bad idea, or just shows how many brain cells a certain person lacks. That inability to just walk away is exactly why I decided that it was time to move away from being connected to every check-in, every stomachache, every bad day in every person I have ever known’s lives.

I’m not the most social or happiest of people, anymore. That fact makes me sad. It actually really sucks. I am so far away from the person I used to be that I can’t even read this blog without hating the way I am now even more. I’m not miserable, I’m not depressed, I’m not even sad….all the time, anyway. I just am.

I blame a large part of this new, emotionally blunted, reclusive, hermit crabiness on my hysterectomy. I never read anything about how much my personality would change after the surgery. I may have thought harder on the decision to do it if there were more information about emotional well-being after a hysterectomy and far less information on loss of sex drive. Google changes after a hysterectomy. Tell me how many returns you get for emotional well-being.

I also didn’t put much thought into the emotional side effects of it because just a few years before, my mom had a total hysterectomy with the removal of her ovaries and the changes in her general attitude were AMAZING. So I figured, like mother, like daughter, right?

Wrong.

Maybe she fared better because she was older, I was only 30. Maybe because she had both ovaries removed and went through surgical menopause right away and I still have one left, that may be failing, throwing me into surgical menopause, made a difference? Maybe I’m just going into some weird midlife crisis thing because I have a teenage boy, and another soon to be, with a 8 year old boy and almost 5 year old demanding as hell daughter? Who knows? I just know that I don’t like new me and I don’t think many other people do, either.

Definitely not considering going on any medication at this point, however. While I’m blah, I’m not depressed, I’m not homicidal, I’m just. Besides, I just got rid of all my leftovers from the last round of anti-depressants because of my postpartum depression after Audrey.

Time to make dinner. Let’s see if I make it back tomorrow.

Actually taking the time to post and update this poor space more often. I let over a year go by with not really a single post. I’m sorta sad about it.

woot

Audrey at the ballpark–June 29, 2010

I was the most miserable person on the face of the planet. 38 weeks pregnant with no end in sight. Everything from my toes to my eyelashes hurt. Not to mention, I was anxious to meet the girl who would turn our world’s upside down and inside out. April 30th couldn’t get here fast enough.

The morning of the 16th, I woke up for another miserable day of pregnancy. To be fair, I don’t think pregnancy itself is miserable and I know that some people cherish all the things that pregnancy brings. Not I. I hated being pregnant and I have never been happy about it. I would have liked to have just slept for 9 months and taken the surprise at the end. Anyway.

I woke up that morning getting ready for my appointment. Yay! Another appointment where I was going to get to be poked and prodded like a science experiment. Dylan had to go to his own appointment, so I was left alone. At my appointment, my NP saw how miserable I was and in addition to that, my blood  pressure was slightly higher than it should have been and considering that had never been an issue for me, she told me that she would strip my membranes and I should go walk for a bit but I had to check in at the hospital for a NST before the day was up.

So, Dylan’s appointment gets done, my appointment is done. We walk! We walked through Wal-Mart so I could get our last minute essentials. We walked through the mall. We walked into Starbucks (what, I wanted a muffin). At 1:30, I was having what seemed to be contractions, so off to the hospital we go.

We go to the ER and I get carted up to the 4th floor because evidently I can’t walk by myself up there because a few contractions mean the baby is just going to plop right out. I get hooked up to all the gadgets and gizmos and prods and squeezy things all to be told my contractions were nothing but a direct result of an insane UTI. I was given breathene to stop my contractions and started a VERY long course of IV antibiotics.

At 8 that evening, the on call OB came in to give me the lowdown. Apparently in all the testing they did, one showed that I had a slightly elevated risk for placental abruption. He gave me my choices. I could go home, and come back the next morning to have the test run again. I could stay overnight as an outpatient, and have the test run the next morning, or he could induce.

Right away the firm answer on induction was no. Not at 38 weeks. Dylan asked him what he would do and he said that he thought I should stay. So, that’s what we did. I sent Dylan to get me some Burger King and to gather up stuff for the boys to stay overnight at my moms. Right as he was leaving, the first contraction registered on the monitor. I saw and remember the very first contraction that started it all.

At 11 that night, after sitting through 3 hours of steady, amazingly painful contractions that were going and going, the OB came back in and told us we made the right decision. My labor was official and I was being admitted and could have my epidural. I got a shot of demoral (that’s amazing stuff when you are being given pitocin).  I get my epidural and everything is going swell…..it figures my contractions pretty much stopped, right?

After that, the OB came in and broke my water and started some Pit to get it going again. (Have I previously mentioned how much I hate Pit?) All things are go again. I am contracting and sleeping and things are swell. We didn’t call anyone or anything to tell them what was going on.

At 5 on the morning of April 17th, something popped or something and I started freaking out. I had never been in so much pain ever and it was my fail since I wasn’t pressing the button to keep my epidural going. In those moments though, I pressed the button at least 50 times. This was it….she was on her way!

About 10 minutes of pushing, I heard the ob say “it’s a girl” and I don’t think there was ever a moment in my life where I was more emotional. I was over the moon at the thought of having a daughter and at the same time….what the hell am I supposed to do with a girl?

She had SUA, which is Single Umbilical Artery. Go look it up if you are interested. I don’t want to type it all out. We had no idea about it until she was born. But, lucky for us, this 7.5 lb baby girl was super healthy.

We called the brothers to let them know their sister was here and that our lives were going to forever insane.

Tomorrow, my Princess turns 3. I can’t believe how fast it’s gone.