The bleeding stops but the pain remains. Hello, and welcome to another episode of My Fucked Up Life.
Are. You. SERIOUS. It's like, the biggest, muthafucking bullshit down here. I cannot believe that things could get WORSE, but this week has really SUCKED ARSEHOLES. For starters, I'm sick. Which hasn't helped at all. I cried all weekend, all day Monday, and most of yesterday. I started to get really worried, looked up post-natal depression and apparently a 'serious event ... like a death or illness' can trigger it. Great. Long story short, I have stopped crying. I had to apologise to my poor little Tiger, I said "Sweetheart, mummy is finally back from Cryingland! I'm so sorry, are you ok?" He is ok - really. We have a great bond and he tells me everything, so I would know if he wasn't.
Mr TC and I went out for brunch to this secluded cafe ... because my eyes were so very puffilicious I didn't want to bump into anyone I knew. We were the only ones there, it's part of an art gallery, so we went there afterwards and bought 2 wooden fruit bowls and a cool chair with a bright red cushion on it. We debated buying some paintings, but didn't. It's amazing what strong coffee, a lovely husband, and some art can do to your soul. I felt like I had (in Ace Venturas words..) "Exooorrcccciiiisedddddd the deeemon. This house is clear now."
Ok so what else ..... ummmm ....... THE CRYING BABY!!!!!! HELP! Every night for about 3, sometimes 5 hours, Monkey is unsettled. Babies have different cries .... I'm realising how spoilt I was with Tiger. He was the best baby. Ever. I remember feeling really shocked when I heard him cry full steam - at a few months old, during a vaccination. I remember also, hearing some other babies cry, and thinking, sheesh, so glad my baby doesn't sound like THAT. Well, apparently .... Monkey is one of those babies. His cry - man, it's just full on, and hard for me to hear for great stretches of time. He kept drinking my boobs dry every night, so I would cave and give him a formula bottle. Which made him get heaps of air swilling around, so he'd be in pain. So we switched formula. Then my milk seemed to be not enough for him in the days, either. I really, really wanted to breastfeed, and have the pump and fancy maternity bras to prove it.
My doctor gave me a prescription for Maxolon, told me it would increase my milk supply. I walked out of there fuming, and crying. On the phone to Mr TC "Prick! He wouldn't give me a prescription for panedeine because he reckons I'm a DIRTY FUCKING JUNKIE." Mr TC laughed. It was funny - he said gently "Hon - you might end up hooking right in and taking heaps."
Ok what else - (this is such poor writing, by the way) - oh yeah, I took the Maxolon. Went to bed, got hot, and fidgety - and soon it felt like I was on acid. I swear I thought there were spiders in my hair. I had insomnia, couldn't sleep, got up and googled Maxolon, and read the side effects for ten percent of people were 'psychosis, insomnia, and depression.'At that moment, two things were crystal clear.
1. Pissed at that doctor - you don't give me painkillers, but give me THIS!
2. Bye bye boobie milk.
The milk lady has packed up her jugs and gone home. Actually, the milk lady has packed her bra with freezing cold lettuce, because her tits are red hot. And massive. Fuck they hurt. I'm propped up in bed right now, and my bazoongas are KILLING ME. FULL of milk - NOW you decide to engorge, you pricks. Too late.
I'm too stressed to feel sad about my breastfeeding failure. I was bottlefed - and I turned out fine. HAHAHAHAHAH.
Oh, Mr TC has decided he wants his mum here. Such a long story - but fuck, man. His mum is coming tomorrow.
This post was going to be filled with amazing pics of Monkey smiling .... until after dinner tonight, my camera wiped my memory card. All the photos I have taken for 2 weeks - gone. I just put my head in my hands at the kitchen table, and sobbed. Tiger didn't bat an eye, Mr TC (nicely) said "What is it now, hon?"
Wailing ... "The world .... the world HATES ME."
And I hate it right back. Loathe the muthafucker.
So, in conclusion, I sit here with sore massive tits, a crying baby, a scared husband who has started losing his hair in clumps, an MIL visit, deleted baby photos, a filthy house, sleep deprivation, and the sorest caesar scar in town.
Why is my scar so sore? Because I leant over the bin closely, peeling garlic to roast. And got the biggest whiff of the stinkiest shitty nappy you will ever smell. Recoiling quickly in horror, gasping for air, I slid on some newspaper and seemingly tore open my scar. It. Hurts. Like. A bastard.
But hey, it could be worse, right? Like, my husband could have canc .... oh,wait.
Never mind.
Are. You. SERIOUS. It's like, the biggest, muthafucking bullshit down here. I cannot believe that things could get WORSE, but this week has really SUCKED ARSEHOLES. For starters, I'm sick. Which hasn't helped at all. I cried all weekend, all day Monday, and most of yesterday. I started to get really worried, looked up post-natal depression and apparently a 'serious event ... like a death or illness' can trigger it. Great. Long story short, I have stopped crying. I had to apologise to my poor little Tiger, I said "Sweetheart, mummy is finally back from Cryingland! I'm so sorry, are you ok?" He is ok - really. We have a great bond and he tells me everything, so I would know if he wasn't.
Mr TC and I went out for brunch to this secluded cafe ... because my eyes were so very puffilicious I didn't want to bump into anyone I knew. We were the only ones there, it's part of an art gallery, so we went there afterwards and bought 2 wooden fruit bowls and a cool chair with a bright red cushion on it. We debated buying some paintings, but didn't. It's amazing what strong coffee, a lovely husband, and some art can do to your soul. I felt like I had (in Ace Venturas words..) "Exooorrcccciiiisedddddd the deeemon. This house is clear now."
Ok so what else ..... ummmm ....... THE CRYING BABY!!!!!! HELP! Every night for about 3, sometimes 5 hours, Monkey is unsettled. Babies have different cries .... I'm realising how spoilt I was with Tiger. He was the best baby. Ever. I remember feeling really shocked when I heard him cry full steam - at a few months old, during a vaccination. I remember also, hearing some other babies cry, and thinking, sheesh, so glad my baby doesn't sound like THAT. Well, apparently .... Monkey is one of those babies. His cry - man, it's just full on, and hard for me to hear for great stretches of time. He kept drinking my boobs dry every night, so I would cave and give him a formula bottle. Which made him get heaps of air swilling around, so he'd be in pain. So we switched formula. Then my milk seemed to be not enough for him in the days, either. I really, really wanted to breastfeed, and have the pump and fancy maternity bras to prove it.
My doctor gave me a prescription for Maxolon, told me it would increase my milk supply. I walked out of there fuming, and crying. On the phone to Mr TC "Prick! He wouldn't give me a prescription for panedeine because he reckons I'm a DIRTY FUCKING JUNKIE." Mr TC laughed. It was funny - he said gently "Hon - you might end up hooking right in and taking heaps."
Ok what else - (this is such poor writing, by the way) - oh yeah, I took the Maxolon. Went to bed, got hot, and fidgety - and soon it felt like I was on acid. I swear I thought there were spiders in my hair. I had insomnia, couldn't sleep, got up and googled Maxolon, and read the side effects for ten percent of people were 'psychosis, insomnia, and depression.'At that moment, two things were crystal clear.
1. Pissed at that doctor - you don't give me painkillers, but give me THIS!
2. Bye bye boobie milk.
The milk lady has packed up her jugs and gone home. Actually, the milk lady has packed her bra with freezing cold lettuce, because her tits are red hot. And massive. Fuck they hurt. I'm propped up in bed right now, and my bazoongas are KILLING ME. FULL of milk - NOW you decide to engorge, you pricks. Too late.
I'm too stressed to feel sad about my breastfeeding failure. I was bottlefed - and I turned out fine. HAHAHAHAHAH.
Oh, Mr TC has decided he wants his mum here. Such a long story - but fuck, man. His mum is coming tomorrow.
This post was going to be filled with amazing pics of Monkey smiling .... until after dinner tonight, my camera wiped my memory card. All the photos I have taken for 2 weeks - gone. I just put my head in my hands at the kitchen table, and sobbed. Tiger didn't bat an eye, Mr TC (nicely) said "What is it now, hon?"
Wailing ... "The world .... the world HATES ME."
And I hate it right back. Loathe the muthafucker.
So, in conclusion, I sit here with sore massive tits, a crying baby, a scared husband who has started losing his hair in clumps, an MIL visit, deleted baby photos, a filthy house, sleep deprivation, and the sorest caesar scar in town.
Why is my scar so sore? Because I leant over the bin closely, peeling garlic to roast. And got the biggest whiff of the stinkiest shitty nappy you will ever smell. Recoiling quickly in horror, gasping for air, I slid on some newspaper and seemingly tore open my scar. It. Hurts. Like. A bastard.
But hey, it could be worse, right? Like, my husband could have canc .... oh,wait.
Never mind.
20 comments:
I was going to make a crack about my having been bottlefed too -- I wouldn't have put it past my parents to have slipped a little Jameson's in there to make sure I 'slept soundly.'
I have these moments where I feel that stirring -- some distant rumble.
It's nearly 11 at night where you are -- just morning here -- I hope this night is a better one for you.
The person I am I want to find the right words, find the right poem, tell you about some soothing book -- but sometimes words just fail when what you wish you could do was just sit -- I'd probably make some herbal tea and sit cross-legged somewhere and we could share stories when the house was quiet or I could just rattle on and you could just be as quiet as you wanted to and hopefully you would fall dead asleep until Monkey cried --
I might panic a bit then -- babies and crying and all -- but it my daydream I figure it out -- and you toddle off to sweet dreams with Mr TC and the morning is brighter.
May the morning be brighter,
XO
Pam
I'd say that in light of everything you guys are going through right now, breastfeeding, or lack thereof, should be the last thing you're worrying yourself with. While I did enjoy breastfeeding Lila, I was bottlefed myself, and really...I think I'm pretty normal...maybe even better than normal :).
Good luck over the next few days with the next round of chemo and the visit from the mil!!
I was boob fed until i started getting teeth and I dont htink I'm such a winner :)
My girls were not boob fed and they are awesome and very smart ladies. Dont beat yoursel fup- you tried.
There is nothing I can say to you but this too shall pass. One day you will read your posts and remeber this time.
sending you much love from ny- by the way, my ipod shuffled to a few u2 songs yesterday, so know it will be ok!
Topcat, I hope you don't mind me saying this and please tell me off big time if you do mind. This post was so incredibly painful but they way you told it made me laugh out loud. I laughed in the way I've only laughed at an Alanon meetings when I know after the meeting I'll cry later about the pain.
I can so relate to some of things that you are angry at the world at. I hate the world for being so cruel to our lovely Topcat.
No words- just thinking of you and your family.
OK, that tops my worst day by miles. I'm thinking of you and hoping that the next one is better. How is Mr. TC's mom when it comes to empathy? I hope she's able to help you both.
Wow. When you have shit happen, it really happens! I am sorry you have to go through all this. I hope things get better...
I agree with almamay...I feel guilty for chuckling because of all the shit you are going through, but the way you write is wonderful.
(I tore open my C-section too and it DID hurt like a sonofabitch!)
I hurt for you. I don't even know you, but I ache for everything you are going through. I have no words of wisdom other than to beg you to make sure you are really good to yourself. Hard with a sick husband, sore tits, a torn C scar, a crying baby and a wee man, but please. Maybe TC's mum will be able to help you. Oh. And your doctor DOES know you. And be glad of that. You don't want to go back there.
I am thinking nothing but good things for you. And I am glad you can cry - when I lost my first love to the big C it took me a long time to let it all go. Not saying you are going to lose Mr TC but don't bottle up all that sadness. Bottling up just leads to more pain (and trying to cope with that pain chemically).
Hang in there. You're a special lady and I just am hoping for you.
Oh and being one of the infertiles I have no idea about breastfeeding, but I figure you should do whatever works for you. Don't bring on more stress. Heaps of babies are bottle fed. No guilt, no shame. Do what works for you to get through this.
Oh my gosh, this post had me in tears and laughing at the same time... can it get any worse?! It can't! So you're bound to be on the upslope of all this badness now... I'm sending you good karma but it may take a couple days since it's overseas delivery!
Hello there,
medium term lurker here.I second the doing what works for you re breast feeding. It's no one's business but your own! The only wisdom that I can offer you is that I had a crummy time after my last baby... post natal depression which had nothing to do with not loving my baby to bits, just the rest of my life was going down the proverbial. And I relate to the rage that you have. I hated everyone, thought everyone was so stupid, didn't eat properly, didn't sleep, kinda ranty. It's not your fault. It just is. anti-d's really helped me, I wish i hadn't suffered for so long. I hope that helps. I was throwing stuff out of windows. Quite funny now.
discard freely,
Prue
My boobs quit their job exactly 28 days after the boys were born (got my stupid period that day too). I do have to admit that I was getting a few warning signs that something was amiss, but I wanted to stick it out and all of that crap. Let's just say, when I gave up the bane of my existance, pumping, I was much less stressed. Others could help feed the babies! Imagine that?!?
I hope that you find that the bottle will take some pressure off of you. As for the screaming, it sounds like Mylacon is in order. Do you have that there? I'll send you some if you don't. You could also talk to your pedi and see what he/she suggests. Different formula? Soy? I dunno. I wish I could offer more.
Oh, I left out the best part...
Sending hugs and much love your way!
That sounds like a really tough week and I hope things get easier for you. Thinking of you!
For crying out loud, when does it end? The universe really needs to go dump on someone else for a while. I think you have had QUITE enough for now, thankyouverymuch.
Thinking of you and the fam, especially for Friday.
Love to you.
Thinking of you, TC
J
Thinking of you and sending hugs to you guys today.
This is why my docs don't know my past history. I know I'll never use again, so no reason to tell them about it. Maybe get a new doctor who doesn't have to have his nose in your past when it's most definitely your past?
All I can say is everything you are feeling/doing seems like a normal reaction to me. And I'm sure it sucks even with knowing that. God, that would be how I'd be reacting if I was just dealing with the husband situation. But add a newborn to the mix? And post partum hormones? And being exhausted?
Fuck. I'd probably try to find a group of lemmings.
Hey TC,
A tiny suggestion here, and if it's not something y'all care to do - no harm, no foul. I'm only offering this tidbit with the best of intentions, 'cause I care. Of course, in the words of Tom Skerritt in that classic movie, "Top Gun", "I'm not gonna blow sunshine up your ass, Maverick!" This is hardly what I'd consider a great solution to anything, but at least it's something.
Howza 'bout suggesting to Mr. TC that he change his hairstyle to one that is much (much) shorter? I know it's getting cooler there, but it might be a bit less stressful than watching his hair fall out in clumps. Sure, the bastard cancer may win a few follicles...for now. But, it won't get the entire hair! Plus, it's a bit less dramatic if it does decide to fall out.
As ever, sending positive vibes your way. Be well, TC.
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