I DON'T WANT TO TALK ABOUT IT!
I use the f-bomb a lot today. Am hoping it'll help take some the edge off my mood.
This post probably belongs in the pregnancy journal, but fuck it. I am in no mood to deal with writing two seperate entries. We had birthing class last night which kickstarted my anxiety, which put me in a foul mood before we left, which made it hard to sleep, which gave me fitful dreams in which Aaron left me, the cats got out, or Aaron left me while the cats got out.
*sigh* My shirts are slowly becoming too short again (I think I've had a tummy growth spurt, and if I outgrow these jeans then I'm fucked. FUCKED I SAY.) Last night when we walked in to class and sat down, the teacher gave me a sympathetic look and said "oh honey," and shook her head and then followed that up with "when are you due?" UM IN TWO MOTHERFUCKING MONTHS... "july 6th" I said. She didn't respond, so I assume she was either shocked, or didn't want to say something that might offend.
offend away, I hope the guys I work with are ok w/ me coming in dressed in bedsheets, because I fear that's what it may come down to. I am attending a wedding tomorrow, and fuck all, I have nothing to wear. I have 5 tee shirts, two pairs of stretchy pants, two pairs of jeans, and 1 pair of khakis. Khaki pants and a black tee shirt and flip flops? There we go.
I think the whole anxiety thing, is just my normal... ignorance is bliss kind of take on medicine being blown to bits. I've mentioned in the pregnancy journal that it's like when I go to the dentist... don't fucking tell me what you're gonna do, just do it, be gentle, and let's be done with it.
I don't mind reading the pregnancy books that describe labor, as it's not as scary. Hell, I've witnessed an actual birth, and while yes, it was scary; it didn't affect me the way these fucking classes are. For example,
Hearing about the phases/stages of birth, ok... I can deal. Watching videos of people who are going through them? Not so fucking much. Also, I don't really need a step by step description of what scraping the membranes is. I don't want to see the fucking hook thing they break your water with, nor do I want to imagine that it will be inserted ANY-FUCKING-WHERE on my body. I also don't particularly care to see what the tube that feeds the epidural looks like, nor do I want to hold and look at an internal fetal monitor; and try to imagine that being stuck up in there with a gigantor baby at the same time.
I don't particularly want to talk about the EXACT steps of a c-section, I don't want to hear that some people don't take to epidurals and the pain relief is spotty at best for them. Nor do I even want to fucking contemplate the idea that if my epidural slows down labor, then I will have to go through it au naturel. I don't want to see an animation of an episiotomy, and quite frankly, if anyone even comes near me with forceps, they can kiss my fat ass as I waddle out the door; because there IS NO WAY IN HELL, THEY ARE STICKING THOSE UP THERE EITHER.
All in all, I don't care... I dont' want to know the specifics of what is going to happen, or even what could happen. I don't particularly want to see an enactment of a c-section wherein pieces of felt are used to depict layers of muscle/fat/skin etc, nor do I want to know that after the baby is delivered, they will take my uterus out of my body and massage it... seriously? MOTHERFUCKING DETAILS THAT COULD BE KEPT FROM ME AND I WOULDN'T CARE IN THE LEAST.
Also, to hear the words "it isn't painful, feels similar to a pelvic exam!" in an optimistic tone makes me want to punch someone. Since when do pelvic's not hurt? Good God, I'm getting worked up just thinking about last night's class all over again. Then add to it the fact that she kept saying "epidurals are a bonus, the goal is to have a baby not keep mom 100% comfortable." and you can see why my ass was sweating. The video of the c-section wasn't bad, I have seen a video before, and this one was a little kinder on the eyes.
I know people have done this before, but I haven't. To say it scares the everloving shit out of me is probably the biggest understatement of my LIFE. Medical stuff scares me to my core, and to know that I voluntarily put myself in this position makes me want to kick my own ass. I know it'll all be worth it in the end, but it's the getting to the end that scares me. As long as we're not having discussions about it, I'm ok... I can deal... does that make sense?
In other news, today is Aaron's and my 6 month anniversary of being married! No big thing of course, but if you think 6 months doesn't make a difference... then uh, you're wrong:
6 months has made quite a difference!
We are going to commemmorate the day by packing the rest of the shit in the living room into boxes, and I am determined... DETERMINED to get the bedroom closet packed. Oh, and I am going to try to not nag *HINT HINT* about the big ass broken television sitting in our living room that someone said he would call on. Seriously. Going to try. To not nag.
I'm so tired of the clutter and the shit and the boxes everywhere. I'm almost to the point where I'm ready to just start throwing shit out, for the sake of throwing shit out. I like this phase of moving, because really; even in 6 months when I get pissy because I threw something out, usually it's because I haven't needed it in even longer.
Here's the view of our living room from the kitchen doorway as of this morning.
Here's the view from the opposite side as of this morning.
And the ever handy dining/storage/office room.
I'll try to take updated pictures after we attempt to get more organized this weekend.
Also, a big shoutout to Jen and Ryan, Happy 1/2 way to the first anniversary guys! We are wedding date twins, they are in the midst of home remodeling, and I suspect will be having just as much fun spackling things and arguing over fixtures as Aaron and I will be arguing over what to keep and what to throw away, and who's going to actually call and get an estimate on fixing that godforsaken television.