This Is Me Maria

I almost can’t remember this so I had better write it down.

I took five pregnancy tests the day we found out I was pregnant which was September 17th 2000. The first people to find out we were pregnant was a co worker of Chris’s and his wife. We went to their house for a BBQ that day.

Once we figured out all of the dates, we think that Cody was conceived on Labor Day weekend the day that Chris quit smoking. August 27th I believe.

I had all day sickness in the first few months but was otherwise healthy. Later in the pregnancy I was put on bed rest for 3 months. I went into preterm labor a few times and was hospitalized for a few days at one point. I got those steroid shots in my thigh to develop his lungs. I took some kind of medication to prevent labor as well.

I was taken off of bed rest on a Thursday or Friday (can’t remember anymore). It was the date they thought I was at 37 weeks. His due date was May 23rd 2001.

On Saturday Chris and I went to the mall. That afternoon I started contracting regularly so I called the hospital and they let us come in. At the time I was still dead set on having a natural birth with no epidural. My labor nurse asked me about it and she said she’d help with that goal.

Hours and hours went by. They did let me walk a little but I was made to labor on my back so they could keep me strapped to the baby monitor. Having never done this before, Chris called his family to let them know we were at the hospital. Some of them showed up (even though they were directed not to) only to be told I did not want visitors.

As the evening progressed I sent Chris out to get movies and food. Just as he arrived at some parking lot (don’t remember which anymore) my water broke. I quickly moved into transition phase. I begged my nurse to call him, and she finally did, and he hurried back.

It was all down hill from there. I was in heavy labor flat on my back for about 45 minutes. I begged for an epidural but by the time the anesthesiologist arrived my nurse told him it was too late.

At some point I recall my nurse trying to get me to breath because I wasn’t doing very well, and I think she put an oxygen mask on me. I was in so much pain I couldn’t follow any directions. She did put a little bit of minor pain medication in my IV but it helped for like 10 seconds.

Before that I didn’t want anyone but the vital few in the delivery room but really when you are in that much pain you don’t notice there is a whole crowd of people down there. Nor do you care or remember that you didn’t get to shave your legs.

I couldn’t follow directions to hold my own legs back so Chris held one while I squeezed his hand (thumb apparently turned purple) and my nurse held the other. She told me to push past the pain and that is exactly what I did. I pushed and stopped as directed while a doctor pulled and stretched me as his head was crowning. I wanted to kill her for that. He had the cord wrapped around his neck.

It was traumatic and painful all at once and then it was over. Earlier we had told them to take him away as soon as he was born and clean him off. I had waited nearly 9 months and could wait another minute or two more for him to be cleaned off before he was handed to me.

I had watched too many Lifetime movies and made Chris promise not to leave him unattended so that he didn’t get mixed up with any other babies. For a few hours he had to be under a heat lamp so Chris stayed with him during that time. I was shaking from the adrenaline for the next hour or so.

When I finally held him his cry sounded like a scared cry. He had bright blue eyes and was only 17 inches long. He weighed 5lbs 10oz on April 28th 2001 at 11:56pm.

I rely on other people to validate my emotions, especially my husband. This is destructive to my soul, to say the least. Trying to figure out how to rely on myself and feed myself is so hard. I spend more time trying to get up then I do actually walking. I fear that I may never learn how to take care of myself emotionally.

Nonetheless this weekend while I spent a lot of time resting due to this cold; I was able to decide that I won’t quit. I worry that I may not be able to figure out how to do this while I am here with my husband in such close proximity. It is simply too easy to fall back on him. I don’t seem to learn when he isn’t there to catch me and I come crashing down to the ground and shattering in a million little pieces. I worry that I need to be away and alone to figure out how to do this.

However like I said, I have decided not to quit. I won’t give up. If this fails, it won’t be because I didn’t die trying. Although I am not yet staying for myself, who really ever does?

1) Make time to listen to your friend talk about nothing and something.

2) Tell your friend you still love them - medicated or not.

3) Look at all of your friend’s photos of their kids/dogs/hobbies

4) Remember you friend’s special dates

5) Spend time with your friend

I haven’t much to say these days.

I am feeling OK. I go to therapy every week. I am adjusting nicely to my fluoxetine (Prozac). I even went out with my co-workers friends the other night.

Just trying to get through each day because I still have so much stress going on in my life right now. I am just working on dealing with all of it.

Thank you friends who have still been there for me even though I’ve been distant. Thank you friends who have listened intently while I throw up my emotions all over the floor.

I drive a red Prius instead of a van now, but it looks and smells like a soccer mom in here. Practice Tuesdays, clinic on Thursdays, game on Saturday mornings, micro soccer also some how on Saturday mornings. Emails that all 20 people “Reply All” to - going back and forth just about every day.

When I’m not in the office I’m glued to my iphone trying to answer emails and cross things off of my ever growing to do list. Trying to find to time to do anything else but play catch up is just about impossible and school hasn’t even started due to the teacher strike. So of course PTA and Health Committee stuff are just waiting to pounce.

I’m taking the fall off from school so as not to overwhelm myself and so we can pay for a new bed again. (We are going to get a real king bed with no grand canyon in the middle and let the kids have these.)

Every Wednesday I rush off to the other side of downtown Bellevue to see my therapist after work. I always feel more distorted when I leave than when I got there. I feel like a crazy, spoiled person every time I go there. I feel like I’m going to get help for petty problems as I pull into the lovely office park. I’m not starving, dying, diseased, or ill! I think to myself as I sit down on her white couch to tell her about how busy and stressed out I am from being a working, sometimes in college, house is forever being remodeled, soccer mom.

Oddly though, I find myself more content rushing around like a some what crazy lady. It is kind of like a video game where you have to get all the points as you overcome various obstacles like shin guard chewing dogs, missing shoes, and those stupid weeds that keep coming back. I throw my head back and laugh as my husband says he’ll be working all weekend.

It is so hard for me to find a happy medium, ever. After stating my goals, I did get into a slightly better cleaning mode than I had been in. Cross your fingers for me that I will continue to improve. The next day I also rode my bike to work. Go me.

More of my awesome bike gear arrived at the Issaquah REI for me to pick up and now my bike is all decked out and ready for some serious riding. Except for my water bottle holder, I can’t freaking find it. Oh well though because I have a step over frame and there is no where to put it.

Getting out of bed more seems to be helping my mood. I’ve also been avoiding bad news and conflict as much as possible while I am in such a fragile state. I am not watching the news. Talus (my former golden retriever) is going to a new home again. I can barely type that. I so cannot deal with that right now. I don’t even have the energy to state what I really think about the situation.

I’ve been thinking a lot about how stressful our lives are. I’ve been thinking a lot about how I want to move far away to a sleepy town and drive my kids to school in my pj’s in my van and then eat crackers and color with the other children I’d like to have.

That so is not ever going to happen.  So of course I can’t just exist in the mediocre state that I am. It isn’t good enough. I have to strive to attain something bigger and better. Telling me to settle down is like telling the world to stop spinning. It isn’t going to happen.

I read somewhere that we should share our dreams even though we fear public failure because it helps us be accountable and because we can often find support this way. I didn’t find this to be true when we moved from Kent to Bellevue but whatever. Maybe my new Bellevue friends will be more supportive.

My dream is to buy a small piece of land on the island and build a smallish (1200 sq. ft) modern, really environmentally friendly house tucked behind some tall old trees. I don’t care about a view of the lake, I would consider myself fortunate to live on that island at all.

My last dream was to move to this city (which of course may be my demise) but after all of the talking and planning, we made it here. Pretty good for two kids from White Center neither of which has finished college (so far). Despite the unbearable stress this house has caused, the downstairs is just a little bit of paint around the edges, away from being done.

I find the chaos of all of the toys, in a perfectly imperfect new playroom quite peaceful.