To Be Called Mo

So you are probably wondering where the fuck I have been.

Ramona Kathrine was born January 28th at 1:41 am. I am still too exhausted (and using the hospital internet connection) to give you all the details. But she is here, she is just gorgeous, and I am a good deal mushier than anyone could have anticipated.

More info later.

Updated

I've edited a couple of entries because the privacy of others is more important than dumping this shit in my brain on the internet. It is fairly unlikely that my MIL would find this blog, but if she did it would have been easy for her to misunderstand and be hurt by what I said here. It's not her fault, my feelings of stress, so I do have to make an effort to not vilify her here. Tempting though it may be.

J and I got into a massive fight about it last night (the situation, not blogging). Things boiled over and some pretty ugly things got said. I feel better than I did but I do think that something has changed between us. And it's not going to change back. It's a bad situation that isn't going to get better and that is hard to accept.

Progress

TMI alert, just scroll on by if you don't feel like details.

But am 2 cm. dilating and 80% effaced. Doctor stripped my membranes (OUCH) just to see if it would bring anything on. Since then something is happening I just do not know what. I gather the window is small to get labor going with this technique so if something doesn't happen before Saturday than it didn't work. But still. At least there is progress.

In other news I think I need to stop writing about my MIL troubles. Because . . . well. They aren't going anywhere. For those who have asked (kindly), yes, J and I have talked about this. But we are in a difficult position. She doesn't really have anywhere else to go since she moved up here for this. Unfortunately, I think I misunderstood because I thought she was coming up to change her life and then to ultimately help us take care of the Girl after I go back to work. But mainly I thought it was about her taking charge of her life. Now I think I just didn't get it because she thinks she is up here to help me.

It's a big fucking mess.

ETA: I have gone back and edited entries. In the interest of goodwill and privacy. Thank you for your support.

What Kind Of Person Sneak Cleans?

I completed my Girl Scout badge of Hazardous Daughter-in-Law Service this week. I took her to look at a school (which strikes me as bizarre because I wouldn't need some one to go with me but WE ARE ALL DIFFERENT I GUESS) and for her bra fitting tonight. I made J go with me, and the deal was I would tell her what happens at a fitting and find the fitter for her but I wouldn't go in. I have boundaries people.

I also snuck in a floor scrubbing when she went to go get her social security card. I was skipping around I was so happy. No one griping at me about over-doing anything. A satisfying clean floor.

WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME?

Sorry. I Am Obsessed With This

For J and I, one of the hardest things about being married is just understanding where the other one is coming from.

If you tried you probably could not come up with two more disparate upbringings. My parents are pretty Ozzie and Harriet, very middle class, with mostly Midwestern values. It is tempting to call my childhood "normal" but as an adult I am well aware of how many kids are not lucky enough to live that way. I would say that I would be thrilled if I could give my daughter a childhood like I had. And I believe that J would be too--to him I grew up like kids on fiftie's sitcoms. Something he didn't believe was real.

This doesn't mean that my parents are/were perfect, just that I was never afraid or insecure. I never went hungry or worried about my family's financial position. I had opportunities to go to good schools and have extras like camp and sports. I went to college. This is how I want my daughter to feel and what I want her to have.

J's life was different. And I hesitate to get too detailed because he has his right to privacy (heh sort of) but it's the total eightie's package. With divorce and other family problems. The financial and emotional things that come with that, plus some other kind of scary things thrown in (vague enough?). I know he would do anything to prevent that from happening to our family.

But it means his sense of what is normal is just WEIRD to me. And with his mom here they get into these cycles of remembering things that freak me out. They try to one up each other remembering more violent or fucked up episodes from their past. They have a kind of pride in them. I don't think that they should be ashamed or anything but it is a strange situation for me.

You can see how we interact with our respective parents would be different. And what is polite, where our personal boundaries, even manners are different. And it is hard. When we were first together it made me crazy about how he is always late, and never apologizes for it. He thinks that because he doesn't care when others are late that no one minds. Even when some one clearly does. He thinks I am too formal with friends, waiting for invitations before showing up at their homes (and never inviting myself along). Eventually, we have reached a sort of truce point about most things--compromises so that we both feel as comfortable as possible.

But we haven't had much interaction with his family in all of this time (and we are talking nine years). So they are strangers to me, even though I know some people would consider them "family". He has expectations about how I should behave and feel about his family that I just cannot live up to. He thinks that intimacies that feel so creepy to me are normal because "she wants to help." It's hard to explain, but to me it is as if he met some one on the street and brought her home. And expects me to treat her the same (or actually in some cases more familiarly) than my own mother.

And the two of them are stressing me out so much I can barely breathe. I try, I really do. I try to make small talk (which no one in their family seems capable of--they just share anything which I suppose is fine except it really does make me uncomfortable). I try to help her find jobs and housing. I stick to impersonal topics and just hope that over time we become friends. But they don't want me to do anything. I am not allowed to do ANYTHING in my house. In her eagerness to help (which is sincere I know) I am now imprisoned in my damn bedroom all day. Because if I even try to make myself a snack she tries to stop me to help.

I would like to clarify to everyone that I am having a baby. I am not actually a baby.

I do appreciate that no one wants me to overdo. I really do. And I appreciate the sentiment of wanting to help. But honestly, if I want to clean my bathroom (which was necessary because J wasn't going to do it and I cannot ask her to do it maybe that is dumb but I can't, especially in light of how spoiled and rich she thinks I am), then I can clean my damn bathroom. What is the worst that could happen? I could go into labor? ISN'T THAT WHAT EVERYONE WANTS? I mean y'all only talk to me about contractions and people just stare at me if I leave my room (another reason I don't leave it) so wouldn't it make everyone happier if I just had the baby?

I just want some privacy and some space. I have a lot of shit going on right now and being pushed into a close relationship with some one who doesn't like me (but sure is now changing her tune since I am having her grandchild) and makes me so uncomfortable is making this worse. I will not keep her from the baby (though if that cough doesn't go away she'll have to wear a mask because DAMN) but please just let me figure this stuff out without complicating it. And having to sort out an in-law relationship that most people would have figured out many years ago is complicating things.

I don't really get his perspective here. Maybe he is trying to force me to accept his mother? But I really resent that somehow, once again, any rejection I have of his point of view means that I am an unfair classist asshole but no one has to try to see things from my side.

Wow. Biggest, and yet vague, brain dump on the internet EVER. At least for me. Sorry y'all.

If I See the 31st I Will Be Less Patient

J has this expectation that I am going to take his mother bra shopping tomorrow.

How much do I love this man? I am truly not sure I love him this much. I don't really feel like I should have to think about my MIL's breasts this much, or AT ALL.

Also. Please please please some one hire this woman. And find her an apartment. And move her belongings. Quickly. Because I want to grow to enjoy her and believe I will one day but that day is not today, because I am a mega bitch who cannot cope with so much togetherness. Also she puts garlic salt on everything. Probably even toast. HELP ME.

This child, she is not moving. Well she is moving but not out of her uterine abode. This is upsetting almost everyone else more than me. Now that I am not DYING from a cold and contractions I feel a little more patient. Not that I wouldn't welcome the little screamer but there is nothing to be done. I think J jinxed me by telling everyone that he would be STUNNED if I made it to the 20th. Welcome to the 21st Darling.

Thankfully She Will Not Be In The Delivery Room

After a couple of days of anti-biotics I am admittedly perkier. And still contracting at about 5 minutes apart. While walking at the mall today I had a couple that made me shake and stop breathing (I realize that you don't want to stop breathing when in pain). I suppose this means that progress is being made. I told J that I didn't want to go back to Triage unless my water broke or the contractions stayed at the crazy intense can't move level at less than 3 minutes apart for at least three hours.

I have a feeling we will be here a while.

I was pitiful enough at the OB's yesterday that she immediately put me on disability. THANK YOU GOD. I currently feel like the child is gutting the marrow out of my pelvis with a melon baller. This is making my cough a particular delight.

I am finishing the night watching a marathon of Pro's vs. Joes (new episodes Thursday!) with Darla. I think she now knows when the contractions come because she rushes over when they happen.

I could sort of deal without her licking me during them though.

Someday

I know I have been bitching about having a cold for approximately 870 years. This week, while still fucking contracting every five minutes, it developed into something that is still trying to kill me. Sore throat, cough, headache, and a nose that alternates between being plugged like cement and running like a faucet. . . I have been just thrilled with this. Poor J has been beside himself trying to figure out what to do with me. If I lie down, my contractions slow to one every fifteen minutes. But the second I do much of anything they start up again. If I wasn't dying of some sort of bubonic plague than we would be beginning eviction procedures right now. I am likely to feel better right after delivery. Problem is that I am so tired I can barely move so walking around is difficult--labor just seems impossible.

I have been giving a pep talk to my girl parts--something alone the lines of "I GET IT. I AM TERRIBLE AT THIS. SHE'LL BE AN ONLY CHILD PLEASE STOP KILLING ME!" Something light and not hysterical at all.

I went to my regular doctor (not that I have ever seen her before since J and I seem to be the kiss of death for family doctors at our practice) and she prescribed anti-biotics. Not before trying to guilt me about being allergic to penicillin which apparently makes finding something else like analyzing an actuarial table in difficulty level. I didn't like her.

She offered to be the baby's doctor and while I am sure she is plenty confident since she didn't notice I was pregnant (despite the notes all over my chart and the GIANT belly) I don't have a ton of confidence in her.

Meanwhile I'll just be lying here in my bed, drinking water and watching too much shitty tv. Someday I'll have a baby. MAYBE.

I Wouldn't Either, I'd Like To Be In A Hotel For the Duration

Well shit. Constant contractions since Saturday. Three trips to the hospital (they made me!) and no baby. I've been joking since Thanksgiving that this kid could come any time after my hair appointment Saturday since I would be full term then. Then Saturday my salon had done some voodoo and booked some one in my spot (!) and though the contractions started I didn't get anywhere. So I finally got cut and groomed so come on out sweetheart, I am pretty sure your grandpa will buy you a damn pony.

All of this means that I am incredibly crabby and tired and weepy. If you want to understand hell, put some one in constant pain that is not eased by anything and have them make no progress at all. I am still in early labor and barely dilated at all. I haven't slept normally since Friday and I think technically I should be going to work tomorrow (I am still trying to arrange disability).

Everything sucks. The nurses are borderline mean (I love this, they tell you to come or you are ordered by your doctor to come in and then they get all snotty with you "WHY DO YOU THINK YOU NEED TO BE HERE") and change their story a lot. The rules are come in when your contractions hurt and are 3-5 minutes apart for at least an hour. But when you do that they will bitch about how you are not dilated and your contractions should be closer together (I guess when they don't stop or you actually have the baby you can come in). All of this makes me want to cry when talking about it because I never want to go back again. One nurse said each of the following three things, "You are only 37 weeks, you shouldn't be walking around to make labor progress," "You can either go home or walk for an hour to see if your cervix changes," AND "Don't walk, it doesn't do anything anyway"

I pretty much hated her.

ETA: I've edited this entry, my apologies.

Actually, no wonder the baby doesn't want to come out.

Believe Me She Wants Out

I am still here. Unfortunately. Early labor started Saturday at 4pm and has steadily, if very FUCKING SLOWLY, progressed. They had me come in last night and while I gamely packed a bag we were ultimately sent home as I expected. Contractions every 4-8 minutes get you nowhere in labor and delivery no matter what you see on TV.

It is depressing. Because this is uncomfortable. But there isn't anything to be done about it. I considered going to work today because staying home seems like a guarantee that everything would grind to a halt but . . . I was overruled.

J is coming home at noon to take me to walk for an hour and get a root beer float. Twenty minutes at Target made me screech last night so maybe things will move along. My mother had her water break with my sister but never dilated so I am desperately afraid that the same thing will happen to me. No way to know. But it's desperate times here. I even had sex with my husband--that should tell y'all how much this hurts.

Think baby escape thoughts y'all.

Trying to Accept Help

My mother-in-law is here. It's actually going pretty well and any issues that are being had are because of me not her. We all know I am a social moron, don't do well with houseguests of any stripe and have anxiety about oh so many things. The situation is just pushing a lot of my buttons.

She wants to help. She wants me to leave her a list of things to do when I go to work each day. I cannot do that y'all. Even tonight, she made dinner (while I sat on my hands rocking and trying not to help) and got pissed when I tried to do dishes. We are talking just loading the dishwasher but she wants me to relax.

Oh y'all. I am trying. We'll see how it goes. I am sure as I get closer to delivery the hormones will make me even more tolerant. And that post-baby crazy period? SNAP

Anyway. GRATEFUL

1. The generous people who have made sure that my baby has all kinds of gorgeous clothes and accouterments.
2. I'm working part-time now. It makes me feel a little stupid because I am fine but GOD it is nice.
3. My haircut is Saturday. THANK GOD I look like a yeti.

Wild Partying Ways

Yesterday was my baby shower. I've never had a shower of any kind before, because I find large groupings of women terrifying. But my friends L and C did such a great job. No stupid games, nummy fattening food and not so many people STARING at me.

Little Miss has cleaned up because people are so nice. Pregnancy makes me just generally weepy so the generosity of my friends and family makes me sniff a bit. And she has gotten so many lovely things. Girl has more close than I do at this point I think. I went through it all today, straightened out the bedding (J put it on her crib and somehow he thought the crib skirt went on top of the sheets?) and got things organized. Other than the WTF feeling I get when I see all that stuff it looks great in there. I get that same feeling from the stroller in my entryway (which I put together my ownself last night). It's like, WHY IS THERE ALL THIS BABY STUFF EVERYWHERE?

Today my parents showed up with a glider. They knew I wanted one but that I was being cheap and not buying one because damn everything for a baby costs so much. And while people have been amazingly generous it still seems that everything for a baby costs a hundred dollars. Unless it costs more than a hundred dollars. So since I knew the glider was a non-essential I was just going to skip it. But Grandma and Grandpa felt that Baby will need rocking and rocking she shall get and went to Costco. The thing is nice too, with a gliding ottoman and microfiber cushions.

J is somewhere in Oregon right now, driving his mother back. Apparently it is snowing like a motherfucker so they will get here in the middle of the night I guess. Poor thing. He is hungover. I knew he was in trouble when the emails he sent me from his blackberry were barely English last night. I suggested that maybe he wouldn't want to get drunk and then have to drive home today but he claimed he wasn't drunk.

Maybe not but the emails that you sent me at 11:30--which weren't really for me--say otherwise.

I am continuing my wild weekend ways watching DVRed episodes of CSI and finishing my Thank You notes. Party ANIMAL.

Happy Weekend

It's eight on a Friday night and I am buried under dogs in my bed eating macaroni and cheese and wiping my nose with a roll of toilet paper. My co-workers hosted a shower for me today and Internets, are you ready to be impressed? I have already written the Thank You notes. Which is pretty good since there were more than twenty just for the group gift.

J did not get blown off the road in his trek down to California last night. I, at least, am very relieved. We'll see when he gets back though.

After the shower today I am overwhelmed with how kind people are, so my gratitude is for this:

1. How generous my co-workers are. Amazing. Also amazing is that I now know what kind of people buy that fancy baby lotion you see in high end boutiques and department stores. Heh.

2. I took the train home this afternoon. Apparently, buildings in Seattle caught fire and there were wrecks and it was some sort of endless clusterfuck.

3. I do not have to go back to work until Monday. Thank GOD.

4. Velveeta shells and cheese. Nuff said.

It Is Weird That Some One Has Touched My Baby's Head I Am Sorry

At the doctor today she found that I have a "very soft" cervix and that crazy feeling that I told J I thought was the baby dropping was indeed her dropping. Like a rock. She was like OOPS there's her head during the exam. I am aware that this means nothing and women walk around dilated for weeks (when I am not dilated at all) but still I am taking this as progress. I am so tired and uncomfortable I am grasping at straws here.

Thankfully I won't be having her this weekend since J is on his way to California to pick up his mother.

I would have to hurt him if I am alone during labor.

So today's gratitude:

1. I lost a pound this week (it is the cake and hot pretzel with cheese diet!). This means that I have thirtyish pounds to lose after this baby is born. That is a lot but for a while there I was pretty sure it was going to be fifty.

2. I have signs of impending labor. It may be all bullshit but at this point it is a reassuring bullshit.

3. I am unlikely to have this kid this weekend. Not only is J gone but my friend L is throwing me a shower Saturday and she would just KILL me.

4. Obama won Iowa. He isn't my first choice (though I like him) but I love what it says about what is happening in this country that a young black man could be winning in a Midwest state. I really love that.

5. Benedryl. Anything to help me sleep at this point. I am so goddamn tired.