Angry, Tired, Cranky, and IN PAIN!

WARNING: If you’re not in a good place to hear a preggo vent. Skip this post.

Really, I’m thrilled to be pregnant. Feeling my daughter move is the most amazing thing. BUT … it’s physically and emotionally harder than I expected. I’m 46 years old, my feet are KILLING me (and I’m having trouble getting the drs to talk to each other in order to get the surgery scheduled), I’m working full time (which entails public transportation, again, hard on my feet), not sleeping well, and overwhelmed by what I need to do to get my apartment ready (which I have no energy to deal with once I get home from work and put my feet up and ice them). And as I look around, overwhelmed, there’s no one but me to deal with it. There’s also no one next to me to share the joy of my daughter’s kicks. Mostly I’m fine with it, but sometimes it sucks.

But what I really need to vent about is empathy. Or rather, the lack of it from my family. My sister has been bitching and making digs about the fact that she was not informed of my pregnancy within a timeframe that SHE deems appropriate. And has been putting my 11 year old niece in the middle. My sister and I do not have a close relationship. We never have. As an example, nearly 5 and a half years ago, when I ended a destructive relationship, my sister got on the phone with the creep and said terrible things about me to him. He then left me nasty, ranting voice mails saying, “Your sister says xxxx about you.” I was livid! Rather that completely lose my cool with my sister, I called my mother and asked her to speak to my sister. My sister denied that she was in contact with him. Yet, that very day I received another vile voice mail from him, saying (among other things), “Now you’re getting your mother involved!” Despite this PROOF, my sister continued to deny she was speaking with him and never apologized. I DO NOT FORGIVE HER. There is no way it should be any mystery to her why she was kept out of the TTC/pregnancy loop.

Back to the present situation. Several weeks ago she told me that my niece had asked if she could take her out of school if she wanted to. My sister replied that, yes, she was her mother, and if she had a drs appt or something, my sister could take her out of school. My niece then said, “When Auntie Dora has the baby, I want you to come get me to bring me to the hospital.” My sister’s response to her was unbelievable. Unbelievable that she would say this to her 11 year old, and even more unbelievable that she would repeat this to me as if it were okay. She said, “Well, Auntie Dora didn’t tell me right away that she was pregnant, so she might not tell me right away when she has the baby.” Then, shortly after that, I was visiting my mother, when my mother was out of the room, my sister must have signaled to my niece, because she asked me, “Mommy wants to know why you didn’t invite her to your ultrasound.” WTF???? I said something about the room being too small and there already being too many people there. Later, when alone with my niece, I told her that what her mommy did wasn’t right. That if she had something to ask me, she should ask me herself, not have her ask me.

BTW, there have been other little digs about this here and there.

In the moment with this crap, I have kept my mouth shut in an effort to maintain my equilibrium. And also, to not ream my sister in front of her child. Instead, I have called my mother later and asked her to speak to my sister. My mother has said she would, but has also consistently told me that I am overreacting. (Gee, a pregnant woman having an emotional reaction! Heaven forbid!) She also keeps telling me that I should try to put a positive spin on my sister’s behavior, and look at it as her being excited about having a niece. I might as well go bang my head against a wall.

So … Monday we’re all in the car together after looking at baby stuff (FREAKY!!!). My niece pipes up, “You know, I don’t think mommy’s ever going to get over you not telling her …” I jammed my hand over her mouth before she could finish the sentence. Middle of the night I get up to pee, then can’t get back to sleep. The rage grows. I called my mother Tuesday morning and told her I’d had it. She needs to STOP IT NOW and she needs to stop talking to her child about it. Because if it happens again, I’m going to really let her have it. Again, my mother tells me I’m overreacting. She says she doesn’t think my sister is still talking to my niece about it, that my niece is just talking, wanting to feel grown up. Again, she tells me to try to put a positive spin on it, and also says something about me contributing to the problem. I stopped her cold. I reminded her that I have NOT SAID A WORD when this happens. I have made a major effort not to call her on this shit in front of her child. My mother can’t disagree with this fact, but continues to tell me I’m overreacting.

Which brings us to last night. I called my sister to ask her about a folding bathing thingie she liked for bathing newborns in the sink. My sister was out walking the dog, so I was able to have a private conversation with my niece. I reminded her of what she said in the car and asked if her mom talked to her about that a lot. She said yes. I asked her when was the last time. “Yesterday.” I called my mother to relay this information. Again, she tells me I’m overreacting. I start to lose it. I tell her I’m getting very tired of the lack of understanding. I reminded her that I’m doing this on my own, I’m working full time, and in a lot of pain. That normally pregnant women have someone around to pamper them somewhat and cater to their heightened emotions and mood swings. She responded to this by saying, “I don’t think that’s really true that pregnant women have mood swings.”

HOLY FUCKING CRAP! WHY DO I BOTHER!?!?

Updated to add: Thanks for the support! I've had 2 teary phone calls with "sisters of choice." That helped. I admit, I'm probably haven't been handling this the best I could. I'm guilty of triangulating, too. Normally with stuff with my mother and my sister I simply retreat. Keep my distance. But my niece is over the moon about her new cousin, and I just hoped (despite evidence to the contrary) that for once, my feelings could be the priority while I grow a new member of the family.

Ya know, I'm growing a person here!!!

Oh, yeah, and my mother wonders why I don't want her anywhere near me when I'm in labor!

Miss Strawberry Shortcake

I admit it, I’m taking some perverse pleasure in driving my family a little crazy. I won’t tell them the name(s) I’ve chosen for baby girl. As I commented on Cassandra’s post about names, although I’ve told others, I just don’t want to hear my family’s opinions.

They know that I’m naming her for my father (among others, see this post), and that her first name will start with an “s.” Last week my sister was fishing for the name, and admonished me not to give her an unusual name like “Apple.” Well, I was visiting with my family over the weekend and told them that since my sister mentioned that, the idea is growing on me. So I told them I decided to name her “Strawberry Shortcake.”

Well, you know she’s going to be delicious! Nom, nom, nom, nom!

I’m Blaming Pregnancy Brain

I goofed. The doula open house I had planned to attend was 2 weeks ago. This group has 2 open houses per month. One at an uptown location and one downtown. When I spoke to the group’s director, she said the uptown one usually had more doulas attending. As I said, I’m blaming my hormone addled brain for not putting the date in my calendar. Also, the date 2 weeks ago was the week after I got back from my little vacation, the day after I attended a 2 day computer workshop, and in the midst of a heat wave. So, all in all, not thinking in top form. Thus, I was uptown and the doulas were downtown. The next one is September 16th. That should be fine, unless I’m scheduled for foot surgery that day.

Had a consult this past Monday with an obstetric anesthesiologist who thinks now is the right time to take care of my feet. He suggested no IV sedation, just a single spinal injection. Of course, to complicate matters, he preferred to convey this to my OB and have her convey it to the orthopedic surgeon, and the OB is on vacation this week. Her secretary said she would leave her a message and that she would be checking in, but I doubt that anything is getting done this week. Oh, and the surgeon only operates on Wednesdays. My feet REALLY hurt!!!

Thanks for all the comments. I appreciate it. I know that the doula should respect my wishes, but it’s hard not to feel they would be inclined towards no medication when you read this kind of thing in doula’s bios: “Xxxx gave birth once by Cesarean section and three subsequent times, un-medicated, with midwives.” I’m just anxious to find one who’s a good fit before she gets booked up. I have a couple of referrals from my OB’s office, but was waiting to call them until after the open house. I’m not sure what questions to ask, etc., and thought the open house would be helpful in this regard. Any suggestions would be most welcome

In other pregnancy related news, I saw my belly move the other night. Weird and wonderful!!

Just Not That “Crunchy”

I don’t like pain. I know that seems obvious, but I’m feeling like I may need to defend that point this evening. I’m going to an open house this evening to meet a group of doulas. I want a labor doula primarily because I’m single. A dear friend is planning to come to New York from Europe for the birth, but babies don’t have calendars in utero. What if my daughter decides to make her debut before my friend gets here? I have good friends locally, but they have busy lives and their own families. Can’t expect them to drop everything at any hour and be there for however long it takes. My mother would be there if I wanted, but that would cause more stress.

But back to my point about not liking pain. It is my impression that many women use doulas to help them avoid pain meds and epidurals. I want a doula AND an anesthesiologist. The hospital where I am delivering is rated #1 here for L&D, and is known for their top notch anesthesiologists. Barring serious complications, I believe every woman should have the kind of delivery she wants. I am also built narrow “there.” I cannot count the number of times during my fertility journey that REs apologized to me when they met resistance with the dildocam. It was odd having to reassure them that they weren’t hurting me, and to just get in there and see what my lining and ovaries were doing. One RE, when I warned him in advance, offered to let me insert it myself. (Psychologically easier, but getting the angle right when on the table and in the stirrups, not so easy.) So, I’m thinking it’s not likely that a head and shoulders are just going to slide out easily.

It’s not contradictory to want labor support and pain relief. So why am I feeling that I will have to defend my choices this evening?

Ink Me — The Great ALI Ink Tour 2009

(WARNING: The photo in this post may not be office or child appropriate. It contains a tush. And not a cute little baby tush, a grown up, late 30 something, woman’s tush.)

Let me start by saying I probably wouldn’t have any tats if it weren’t for a boyfriend I had when I was 19. Q and I only dated briefly, but we remained friends. I was 19 and he was 16. Doomed! An enormous age difference at that age (particularly when the girl is the older one). Not helped by the fact that, although he was (and still probably is) one of the very smartest guys I’ve known, at 16, he looked about 13. At 19, I wanted to date someone who looked like a MAN. Ah, but when Q hit his mid 20s … yowza! Too late for us, as one of us was always partnered when the other was available.

But back to the ink. Q’s father is a tattoo artist. Back then tattooing was illegal in New York City. But underground tattoo shops were tolerated by the police. There were no shops with bright signs. You made an appointment and went somewhere private. Q’s family lived in a loft on the Bowery. A block away from the famous punk club, CBGBs. His father’s tattoo shop in the front, and the family’s living space in the back. The area is now gentrified to the extent that there is now a Whole Foods there. It was still pretty rough back then. I take some pride in the fact that I got my first tat illegally on the Bowery in the mid 80s.

I don’t know if I would have ever considered getting tattooed back then if I hadn’t known Q and his family. I knew his father was a good artist and that everything would be clean and safe. Still, it took me a few years to work up the courage. My first, which I got when I was 22, is a small rose on the inside of my right ankle. No one warned me what a painful spot that is. (Not much flesh, right on bone.) I have 4 now, and that one was the most painful. I get it touched up now and then, and it hurts like hell!

Took quite a while before I was ready for the next one. By this time, Q’s baby brother had joined his father in the tattoo biz. Tattooing was legal in NYC by then, and they opened a shop in the East Village. I’d heard great things about the brother’s skill from Q, so let him ink me. Now no one else may touch a tattoo needle to my skin. It’s funny, because I have these memories of M (the tattoo artist) as a cute 10 year old who would be underfoot when I would hang out with Q. Whether going for a tat or just stopping by the shop to say hi, I am greeted with a big hug and kiss. Once, while he was tattooing me, I teased M about what kind of kid he was. He stopped for a moment, gave me a wry smile, and said, “Are you forgetting who’s holding the electric needle?” Gulp … mea culpa!!

My second, which I think was for my 38th birthday, is a small silhouette of a black cat on my left shoulder. It’s an image I found and played with a bit. I like that’s it’s small, but striking and not girly at all. Got my next just about a year later. This is my largest one. It’s a branch of cherry blossoms on my right hip. He did an exquisite job.

Shortly after I got this one I dated a professional photographer. One night, while hanging out drinking wine, I mentioned that I wanted a good photo of this one. Next thing I know he’s pulling out a soft box and some gauzy fabric. My butt has never (and will never again) looked so good. (You know my pregnant ass looks nothing like this now!) The lighting is awesome. And although I told him not to tell me if he did, I’m sure there was some photoshopping involved.

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Digitally edited or not, not bad for pushing 40.

My latest one I got last year after my first cancelled IVF cycle. I posted about it here. I often forget about it, since I can’t see it without TWO mirrors.

Check out the rest of the ink on the tour!

I’ve Been a Bad Blogger — ICLW and Miscellaneous Update

I feel like such a bad blogger! I’ve been reading. I try to leave some comments, but mostly I’ve just been soooooooo tired. The weather’s been HOT, HOT, HOT and HUMID. My a/c (which I plan to replace for next Summer) has not been cutting it. So between being too hot at night and my growing belly, I haven’t been sleeping well. Oh, yeah, add in a full time job and commuting on the NYC subway, which entails waiting on horrendously HOT subway platforms. Although, yesterday I was thinking about last Summer. The Summer of cancelled cycles, thanks to my uncooperative ovaries. I was soooooo low. And this was just mocking me all Summer long. I may be hot, cranky and tired this Summer, but my daughter is moving within me, and that seriously ROCKS!

Ah, well. Welcome ICLWers. Here’s an intro I wrote for ICLW in June. Gives you a good wrap up of my story. I think it’s pretty miraculous.

Let’s see, I got back from my vacation nearly 2 weeks ago. It was just 4 nights, but was very relaxing. Cruising is not my ideal vacation (I really prefer to go somewhere and explore), but it suited my needs at the time. If I were to do another, I would not go on the same cruise line. (Starts with a “C” and known for towel animals. (Will post pics at some point.)) The food was terrible. I didn’t expect great, but I thought it would at least be good. And the desserts! They would have been better off with supermarket cake! The annoying part of this is that my OB had just given me a nexium rx, and I was finally getting relief from the horrible acid reflux I’ve been having. The service was excellent. My cabin steward was great. My budget cabin was plenty big enough for me. I relaxed on deck and read. An SMC reader without her own blog sent me this book about labor options. I’m ready to discuss the combined spinal epidural (walking epidural) with my OB at my next appt. I want relief, but I want to be able to move around and change positions when I need/want to.

Last weekend I had a lovely brunch with another blogger who was visiting NYC. The delightful Io from Who Shot My Stork. We had a great time discussing hormones and ovaries and such. She was so sweet to bring me a baby gift. 2 adorable onesies. Baby girl won’t be naked. :-) (Io, I need your address to send you a thank you note.)

That’s basically what’s going on for me. One hour glucose test tomorrow. Baby girl’s kicks get stronger every day. LOVE IT! Went to my first local SMC meeting a few weeks ago. Interesting, but that’s a separate post. Can’t wait to feel some crispness to the air.

Oh! 24 weeks tomorrow, and 1 year blogiversary on Tuesday.

Simple joys have a simple voice. It says, "Time is living's prize"

Some wise words sung by one of my favorite actors, Raúl Esparza. If you don't already know who he is, trust me, you will.

Sometimes as we slog our way through the infertility trenches we forget to take time to nurture ourselves. In a few months I'll (hopefully) be in the overwhelming land of sleeplessness, dirty diapers, and sore nipples. I needed some time for some "simple joys." So I turned to my trusty computer to figure out a getaway where I could relax, be pampered a bit, and not have to walk much (damned feet!). So tomorrow I will be leaving out of NYC (where I live, YAY for no airports) for a 4 night cruise to St. John, Canada. The ship leaves tomorrow afternoon, day at sea on Friday, St. John Saturday (where I will do as little or as much as I please), another day at sea Sunday, and back home Monday morning. My plan is to have room service deliver my coffee in the morning, and mostly relax on deck in a lounge chair with a book. A little bit of heaven for a preggo at the height of Summer.

Internet access from the ship is INSANELY expensive. So I'm leaving my beloved macbook at home. See you next week!

"And wouldn't you rather be a left-handed flea
Or a crab on a slab at the bottom of the sea
Or a newt on the root of a banyan tree
Than a man who never learns how to be free
Not 'til he's underground"