Ranty

Not the reflective New Year’s post you were expecting?  Click away then, because I’m on a roll.

If it isn’t one thing it’s another, it seems.  In the time since  the failed match, two of my friends had babies (making the total 3 babies born to my friends this year).  Sure I knew they were pregnant and had to endure that news last year, but it totally sucks to watch them chatter away about post-partum bodies, pumping, breastfeeding, and newborn stuff.  They don’t even look to me for advice half the time, just increasing their tight knit bond of sameness while I hang on the outside.  I’ve been through all the newborn to toddler stages and I’m still on the fucking outside.

I have to go through a physical for life insurance.  It will essentially be my third physical of the year (one for the homestudy update and a whole lot of poking and prodding at CCRM).  I can practically  quote my levels by heart.  In addition, I didn’t even register until I was on the phone answering questions that I was going to have to take a walk down infertility-memory-lane and try to detail treatments, drugs taken, and procedures done.  Not to mention what treatments and drugs I took trying to get rid of vulvodynia from 2002 to 2005.  That dredged up some feelings.

 Work is kicking my ass up-down-sideways.  That little stunt that Cong.ress pulled way back in October has made this holiday season way more stressful than I needed it to be.  I was in technical meetings 8-hours a day for 8 days straight right before Christmas that left me exhausted and barely able to function.  As a result, everything at home fell apart.  Being the so-called cruise-director  in the relationship sets me up for failure when I get stretched thin.  S either doesn’t pay attention or doesn’t listen, or more likely isn’t paying attention.  Wires keep getting crossed, I’m stressed, I’m angry, he gets angry, shuts down and the cycle perpetuates.   Meanwhile, I feel like I have two kids.

Did I mention that my cousin, who had the gall to call me out as childless on her FB page is pregnant?  I don’t know what her deal is, but I knew weeks ago when I reposted an article that talked about the fraudulent study that lead to the vaccine/autism connection.  Instead of keeping it to herself, she left the only comment “Thanks for posting this”.  My spidey-sense started to tingle.  I told my mom I was pretty sure she was pregnant, and then a few weeks later got a text from said cousin that said “I hear you might be psychic”.  The only good thing she did was text instead of call so that I didn’t feel obligated to actually talk to her and could fake happiness.  Then I cried in the locker room at Jaz.zercise.

My mother is excited about my cousin’s pregnancy and asked me to help plan a shower for her.  Yet another example of insensitivity from dear mom.  (she knows about the “childless incident” not to mention how I feel about said cousin in general, oh and my now 6 year battle  journey to become a parent of 2)

Baby X is in full-on-toddler-nightmare mode.  I knew it was coming, but I was not prepared.  I don’t know who Love and Logic works for, but right now, it’s not working at all in our house.  When we sing the “uh-oh” song and put him in his room, he comes screaming out.  More than once I’ve wanted to lock his door (haven’t, but damn it’s tempting),  and he can climb a baby gate in 2 seconds flat.  More than once I’ve lost my shit while trying to get him dressed in the morning.  He doesn’t want to wear the pants I choose, and he won’t choose pants, which results in a battle of wills.  I get kicked a lot trying to dress him.  Lately, he’s been having a sleep regression due to his blossoming imagination (scared of the dark, and there are 2 monsters residing in our house).  He’s all cuddles and cuteness at bedtime, brushing his teeth, picking out his pjs, reading books, until we try to leave the room.  An hour of screaming, taking turns putting him back in his room, rocking him, trying to calm him down, putting him back in his room, and he’s finally exhausted enough that he passes out.  Meanwhile, it’s after 8pm, my night has been ruined and I’m cranky.

As I write this I’m realizing that it may be Baby X’s developmental leaps that are the biggest contributor to the stress.  S and I are probably reaching a limit in dealing with these latest behaviors.  There’s nothing like feeling like the worst parent in the world because you can’t get your kid dressed in the morning without yelling at him (after several rounds of “choices”).  Not to mention wondering what the hell happened to the cute little boy who snuggled down for two books then calmly let you tuck him in for the night. 

Right now, the thought of adding another baby is terrifying.