Put your left foot in , you put your left out

My life isn’t the Hokie Pokie but, there are days where it sure feels like it. And I just don’t mean my on and off again feelings about my pregnancy. Some days I feel like there is no one there with me and there are days I feel like everyone is there, also known as bad days and good days. Then there is my baby’s father – some times he’s ready to give it a go and then there are time spans that he can’t even respond to a simple text.

Last week I had a first meeting with my baby’s father in a few months. It had seemingly gone well, we got along as though nothing was well, wrong I suppose is the word. He was kind, non aggressive, and made it easier for me to his side of things. I knew heading into our previous relationship that he was big business guy, coming off a divorce that should have been over a while ago had the ex-wife not dragged it out guy, amongst other things guy. And that was fine then, dating him was fun, then the pregnancy reared its ugly head and I was no longer wanted baggage. Two months later though I was wanted again. It was hard not knowing where to go from there. But the meeting cleared things up and we started moving down the “maybe we should try this trail”.  But he travels a lot. And me being a naturally lonely soul who, let’s face it, I’m relatively sure my family doesn’t even want half the time, can sink into feeling unwanted quite quickly. Sometimes I’m not sure if he is honestly so busy that he just forgets to check in on me or he’s testing my loyalty after his ex-wives infidelity, or he just doesn’t care at all.  Last week he was full of suggestions and I really mulled some of them over, this week he’s out-of-town again and I haven’t heard a peep from him in 3 days…

Then there is me, myself, and I. Some days  I think I can be a good mom and I’ll be alright. Other days I can’t stop thinking about how horrible I’m going to be. What if I put the baby carrier on top of the new baby friendly vehicle I bought and drive off?  Or what if I look away and the poop eating dog licks the baby and gives it some sort of disease? There are days I am absolutely certain I am going to be HORRIBLE at the whole mom thing. I was walking along on my treadmill this morning (yes, I have been reduced to walking) and all I kept thinking was how thankful I am that babies nap so much that maybe I can double down on my runs which if I combine it with breastfeeding I can get myself back down to a size 6 pair of jeans in a decent amount of time. That way if he decides to stick around I’ll still be at least attractive enough that he would admit to being the father of my child and if he doesn’t maybe someone else might want me – right? It’s all utter neurosis and yet it’s still in my head. The one piece of me that can’t seem to Hokie Pokie itself out of me for even one minute is my insecurity which has increased almost 10 fold since becoming pregnant.  Then I start thinking of the baby, and how as it grows it will do the same thing. It will love me, then hate me, want me and then want nothing to do with me all in one big repetitive cycle from toddler to twenty something.

Everyone wants to know what I want. What do I want to do. And it’s so much more than a simple question for me. I want to raise my child with its father… but not if it’s father doesn’t want to be with me.  I can’t tell people what I want though because I can’t see all the pieces to the equation. I often feel like I am trying to build a puzzle without a picture. I’ve managed to get the outline together, as well as a few large chunks but I can’t figure out where I, I mean the pieces belong inside the border. I was offered the possibility to be a stay at home mom if we work things out but, what if we don’t? then where does that piece go? If it does work out do I sell my house and replace that piece with his house? So many choices and all I can do is lay on my floor and cry it out alone because, what else CAN I do? I can’t see the future, I can’t decide which pieces I need to keep and which I need to put out for the rubbish men in the morning…If I manage to get up in time that is.

Maybe my destiny is to live a life like the Hokie Pokie. Always being good enough to jump in for a while, shake it all about, spin around in circles, and that is what it’s all about.

Trying to Breathe,

DL

Picking up

As in where we left off? The broken pieces? And moving on? Any one of these questions could begin with the phrase picking up. And yet every single one leads to a different ending. A different outcome that could be good. Or bad. Or down right ugly.

Do you remember those books from the ’80 ‘s where you picked your own adventure? You would read a few pages and then come to several options. After reading the options you would chose one and turn to the corresponding page. I loved those books. I would read them over and over until I had exhausted all my options and explored all the possible outcomes. I feel like I’m living in one of those books now,  only I can’t go back and make a different choice.  Whatever I choose now will affect not only my life from here forward but the future of the small person currently residing in my abdominal cavity.

I’ve been accused of being vague and indecisive but I find it so hard to make large decisions in a short time or under pressure.  Often I make myself lists of pros and cons when I get stuck but this, this is just to big of a choice.  I had been so ready to go this alone.  Why did he decide he wanted back in?  I find myself unable to sleep at night  wondering how I can possibly make the right choice now.  I am the type of personality that will let a wound fester and build until one day I just rip it open and drain the pus. All the things he said to me in anger, in frustration, they will sit in the back of my head bubbling and stewing until the day I flip my lid.

And now that he is offering me an olive branch my convictions are faltering. Just last week I was absolutely sure we would be fine. Mom and baby, a new family model, independent of social convention we would be a-o-k.  I had discussed a care share with a friend whose daughter is due three months before my baby. I had finally committed a room to a nursery and cleaned it out. My friends were deciding who would attend birthing classes with me and ultimately who would be my coach. I was so sure I had chosen the right path.

But now I am wondering is this  a man I can trust after all?  While he is asking for nothing more than the smallest amount of faith and the chance to “pick up where we left off” I am terrified.  Can I handle another bout of rejection if this time around doesn’t work? I do understand that people make mistakes, after all, we are people. When I listen I think I hear sincerity, that he truthfully does want to try again. My mind though, it reminds me of cancelled plans, stood up dates, and upsetting statements. The good times, the fun, that all seems to be lost and buried in the recesses of my mind.

How can I willingly set myself up for what almost promises to be an epic failure? I know that I should give him a chance, I should meet him at least once. The real question I suppose is how do I convince myself to open up to the possibility.  I  think a father figure is a good idea, although the statement that ” fathers are a biologic necessity but a social disaster” still resides in my thoughts. I know for a fact that he could offer the child things I alone never could. And the opportunity to be a stay at home mom definitely has its appeal. What I wouldn’t give to be allowed a peek at a few of the possibilities before I make my final decision.

Remembering to breathe,

DL

Damaged goods

I’ve spent most of my single life always feeling I wasn’t worth anyone’s affection. Growing up I wasn’t pretty. I was always a bit chubby and I had brown hair when all the other girls in my middle school were blondes. In high school dating wasn’t really on the top of my list, I would much rather have fun with my friends. I remember watching what I ate though and trying various at home exercise videos and diets. Body image wasn’t the issue then that it is for girls now, it was just in the beginning stages. Super models and actresses still weighed over 100 pounds and female athletes were emerging. Of course there was no Facebook, twitter, or Instagram for people to continually post selfies for others to comment on and criticize.

I nice chunk of my twenties was spent with a platinum blonde mohawk and more girls asked me out than guys. Moving through those years I developed an awful self-image, I always thought I was too fat and even working out 5 or 6 days a week couldn’t get me below a size 6. I dated guys who would say things like “if you would just drop 10 pounds you would be so hot.” I even dated one who planned my meals and my workouts for me. When my weight didn’t go down he would accuse me of cheating on my diet. Finally I couldn’t take it anymore and I walked away. I lost all interest in dating and stopped until I hit my late 20’s and when that didn’t work I stopped again. I figured I was just bad at dating.

I spent a few years pulling myself together. I finished college, took my daily runs out onto the fun run and race circuit, bought a house and settled into a life of my own. Eventually I felt good enough about myself to think maybe now, maybe with my life together I was worth someone’s love. I still wasn’t attractive enough though to catch anyone’s attention out in the real world though. The more people I talked to the more I thought maybe I would try the internet thing. I did my research and chose the popular site Match.com. It wasn’t long before I began receiving emails and started “interacting” with guys. I met a few, only one that I found appealing and got along with.

With this new turn I find my self wondering if now I am permanently damaged goods. It is an awful sentiment to have towards myself and pregnancy but, it is there none the less. I find myself wondering, if I wasn’t pretty enough for any man to want before I was pregnant how or why would anyone want me after I have a child? For as tired as am some days I still find myself chugging along on my treadmill, sometimes walking hills with weights, fueled by the terror of being obese and ugly after the baby is born. My mother keeps reminding me to watch every morsel of food that goes in my mouth but, some days I just really want a cheeseburger and fries. I remember Mike asking me if I had a friend I could set up with one of his friends. The one I suggested wasn’t  acceptable because she has a child from her first marriage and no guy wants to clean up another mans mess. It was a thought that stuck with me until I thought about some of my other girlfriends. More than one of them are divorced and some are just single moms. The catch is though, they all found someone else. And even if the hadn’t they all still had happiness with their child/children. Just because society still idealizes the nuclear family with its 1 mom, 1 dad, and 2 children,  it is a reality that has been left by the wayside for a good portion of families.  As I discussed the idea of being damaged goods with a friend one after noon he could do nothing but laugh. He pointed out that we don’t live in that era anymore, the same way my fear of asking out a guy is outdated.  The statement that “… we are too old to consider a parent damaged goods. The right guy will likely be more attracted to you when they see your mom skills.” I think he is right. And while I still have to meet with Mike I feel that I should stand my ground and know that my plan to be a single mom is better than being in a miserable relationship of sorts for the next 18 years.

Remembering to breathe,

DL

Are you Ok?

Everyday I hear the same question over and over again.  I imagine it seems like an innocuous question. Three simple little words, what harm could they really do. I              D-R-E-A-D them. I absolutely, 100% abhor them, they are the last thing I ever want to hear as they send my brain off to the races.

Of course the simplest and quickest answers are yes, I’m fine, and of course. Are anyone of them truthful? not in the least and at the same time completely so. Physically I feel pretty good most of the time. Other than a bit of cramping and some moderate to severe sciatic pain which, at its worst causes the lower half of my left leg to go tingly -numb I feel like a slightly fatter version of myself. For a while there I was having some sinus issues which were unresolved due to my pharmacist claiming my doctor was an idiot to tell me I could take my antihistamine and my doctor replying that the pharmacist was stupid. Luckily I have a wonderful aunt who is a pharmacist who not only took the time to answer the question but, also explain why a half a zyrtec when I need it is perfectly ok. Now, if I could just find someone to explain the yes/no debate on blue cheese and salmon sushi…

Mentally is a completely different story. I become easily stressed out which manifests itself as pure unadulterated aggression.  I have a history of being a passive aggressive personality which, despite my best efforts, I can’t always keep under control.  Lately I can’t go more than 2 hours asleep without nightmares or hysterical crying. I had been getting better for a while there and then out of the blue Mike (made up, fictional name) contacted me. I’d gone almost a whole month with a single word. Then I woke up the morning of my last doctor’s appointment, impeccable timing if I do say so myself, to a missed call and a friend request. W.T.F??? Really, really, I thought you had chosen to walk away. And the weekend before christmas no less. Because the holidays and work this time of year aren’t stressful enough.  All the anger, abandonment, sadness, and all the associated bad emotions that had subsided over those three weeks came rushing back causing esophageal spasms that left me gasping for air on and off all weekend.  That day I swore at no less than a dozen people while I was on my way to the doctor. By the time I got there my blood pressure had almost doubled, which, ironically gave me a “normal” blood pressure reading. My doctor, bless him,  quietly suggested I take some time off and consider giving up driving for a bit just until I could manage my stress levels. I thanked him for his suggestion while secretly laughing at the idea of asking my boss for time off during our busiest time of year.

It wasn’t till several days later when I had to work at our other location that I realized why he suggested I quit driving. It is a drive I have anxiety about any way due to bad memories on the main road I travel to get there. I found myself pushing through traffic, weaving, and tail gating, all characteristics I possess only when I am emotional.  I normally drive a high-end European turbo which allows me to weave gracefully and out run most other cars on the road. This particular day though I was driving my truck, which, is in no way graceful but, fills me with a sense of invincibility because it can crush most other cars on the road monster truck style. By the time I left that night I was so full of negative emotion and I was so sick that my normal 50 minute return trip took closer to an hour fifteen because I had to pullover to get my hyperventilating under control.  The next morning a co-worker was kind enough to publicly humiliate me and my inability to do simple math proving to me that no, I am not OK emotionally.

And though, I did have a wonderful, calm, joyful christmas day I have to admit that most days are not ok. Maybe the doctor is right, I do need some time off, maybe Mike is right I do need a “real” job, and maybe, just maybe I do need to stop driving for a while if not for my own safety but, the safety of those around me.  No matter how I look at it the nightmares about monsters, crocodiles, and other horrors in the night need to be gotten under control, even if it means putting something else a side. The good news is New Years is only 5 days away and happen to be a master of setting and achieving resolution goals.

Remembering to breathe,

DL

Congratulations?

As I move forward people are constantly congratulating me. As much as I wish I had an excited thank you to give them the best I can muster seems to be a half-smile, a shrug and a mumbled thank you. I keep waiting for some stronger emotion to kick in but, it just hasn’t shown up yet. Is this normal? Would it be different if he were still in the picture?

It’s hard to describe to people why I am not excited. People call to encourage me. Text me little bits of encouragement. People tell you what an awesome adventure this will be. How you are now joining the ranks of womanhood. That leads me to wonder, what was I before? I’m well into my thirties, but, was I still a girl, or was I a lady? Is having a child the difference between woman and lady -inquiring minds want to know. My friends with children all tell me how my life is going to change, things will never be the same you know. Some flat-out scare me, like the one who keeps telling me about how my adorable little feet will swell, that my skin will break out, how much cellulite I’m going to develop. I’ve never considered myself to be a vain personality but, like any other female I do worry about my appearance. Does this mean I’m going to be a fat, ugly cow for the rest of my life? Like, all of a sudden I will just stop caring about my own health – give up running, washing my face and brushing my teeth because,well, I really don’t see that happening.

How about when one tells me that my idea of using cloth diapers is ridiculous. Is my life of caring about nature and the environment over as well. Am I going to turn into one of those women that carelessly stuffs landfills with slow degrading diapers, non degradable plastic shell cases, and *gasp* stops recycling all together? As if my acknowledgement that this one planet is all we have and we need to protect and care for it and its other inhabitants will no longer matter to me because I have added one more human life to an already ballooning population will change my morals and ethics. Is it ridiculous to think of this so early on,  are congratulations really in order if I can’t pass on my own beliefs and morals to my own child? A child that will be part of a generation cleaning up after its elders, searching for replacements for exhausted resources, and learning to live with a planet in flux.  I mean why do we really congratulate people on reproducing anyway, it’s not like they’ve cured a disease or found a source of non-polluting renewable energy or that humans are an endangered species, in all reality we’ve just made the world a more crowded place.

Luckily I had one friend who had similar feelings during her pregnancy. In fact, she admitted that she had suffered severe depression while she was pregnant. For some of us the reality of having a baby doesn’t mean our lives are now complete. There are in fact days that I think about how “ruined” my life is now. But then I remember that it really isn’t, it’s not like I go out partying anymore, in fact I haven’t done that in years. It’s not as if I’m a teenager or a college student still trying to set up a life. I have a home, I have a job, I have a college diploma( a useless one but, still), and I have a family who is somewhat supportive and friends who make up a great support system. And a lot of people tell me that being a single pregnant lady/ single mom isn’t the same as having the plague, other people will in fact still associate with you.

While I know that my lack luster enthusiasm is disturbing for some, like the P.A. who nearly dropped the doppler when I told her I’d rather go grab a meatball sammie from the italian deli down the street than listen to the heartbeat again. I mean it sounds pretty much the same every time we listen right? It’s good to know that I am not the only one who just isn’t ready to be congratulated yet. In the mean time I’m going to knit some baby clothes and stitch some wall hangings and hope that the “AHA!” moment hits me sooner or later.

Remembering to breath,

DL