Monday, March 14, 2011

Nickel for My Thoughts

So, back-to-therapy session #1 was helpful. No tears. Surprisingly. Just goal-setting. I got her all caught up with the fascinating story that is my life (the cliff notes version) since we last met: changed jobs to work from home, started IVF cycles, failed, failed again, wanted to curl up in a ball and weep, almost went donor-egg-IVF, did the Hail Mary cycle that ultimately worked, KB's dad died the day of retrieval, got pregnant, stayed pregnant, got sick, stayed sick, work sucked, got round and waddly, gave birth, fell in love, tortured by colic, still in love, got 800 lbs of unwanted assvice, returned to work, work sucked, quit job, no love lost to The Man, nothing but love for my Boys. Whew.

Here are my goals, in exact, particular order:
  1. Deal with constant level of anxiety that manifests as physical stress (unhealthy, headaches, unable to work out) and depression. Get under control, hopefully without need of drugs.
  2. Create constructive ways to fend off unwanted assvice and repeated requests by elderly family members, who've declared their intentions to do things however the hell they want (and contrary to how I want), to babysit because, eh, it ain't happening. Also, learn how to communicate this effectively with KB and keep us on the same page (it's his family we're talking about, and although he agrees they will likely not respect our parenting choices because they either disagree or simply believe they know better, and that this is unacceptable, he feels bad. I do not. You either respect mah authoritah where my kid is concerned, or you don't watch my son without me around. The end, fin, thankyouverymuch, remember to tip your waiter.)
  3. Sort out whether I want to A) return to work at all (because if not, I'll pull Jackson out of daycare completely -- he's only there now while I sort my shit out), B) work part-time (and keep Jackson in daycare 3 days/week), or C) find another full-time job that might simply be a better fit (and keep him in daycare full-time). I have to balance my grew-up-poor-always-worry-about-money self with my grew-up-without-loving-parents-around-and-won't-make-that-mistake self. It doesn't have to all be extremes, but the constant high level of anxiety I'm feeling makes clarity difficult. I feel like working part-time would be the best possible solution, but I want to think it through carefully to be sure that staying home isn't an overlooked option, since it is available to me. I need to figure out the balance between wanting to be the best parent to Jackson and also being good to myself. I would like to rid myself of career ambition, if I can, and not worry about money and just focus on being the best wife and mommy I can be. It's a work in progress.
In the meantime, I'm just now starting to feel recovered from the plague that has been killing me slowly for the past 2 months. I can breathe out of both nostrils again! Oh, it's the little things that thrill me.


Roccie said...


Dont go read my most current post as I am regretfully the poster child for Better Living Through Chemistry.

I think I got a slight hint from my acupuncturist that she thought she could have helped me before I went on the meds. You might consider checking in to this? I don't know - I was afraid to confirm my suspicion, you know what I mean? I didnt ask as I was already medicated and didnt want to embarrass us both.

Daycare is a brutal topic. First of all, I suggest you never call it daycare again. SCHOOL. It goes a mighty long way to make a momma feel better.

I think PT would be wonderful. I had zero luck finding any. There are some folks who argue you still work almost FT but dont get the credit for it. Hm. Not sure I agree, but that would really suck.

Hang tight my friend. You have a fan base here.

JB said...

Roccie -- where do you live? Because I want to come find you, sweep you off your feet, take you to a state where I can legally gay-marry you, and we'll live happily ever after. Obviously. (Or, let me just say that you give sound advice and leave it at that.)

I usually do think of it as "school" but not so much when I'm in self-loathing mode. Good thing for therapy, eh? The school is actually just one more source of unwanted assvice, as they seem to delight in telling me when Jackson seems hungrier than usual; they then alternately overserve him so he spits up his entire bottle, and THEN try to diagnose his supposed reflux for me. I'm glad they're observant rather than not, but GET OFF MY FUCKING BACK. Jaysus. He's in a growth spurt, man, so of course he's hungry. Just give him what I provide and shut the eff up. We don't have these problems when he's at home, I swear. (Everyone's experience, everywhere, seems to be based on what formula-fed babies eat and how often, which I am sick to death of.)

And I'm not afraid of being medicated if I need it. I sort of fear that this is post-partum depression (one of the things my therapist is evaluating). If so, I need something to get my headspace right so I can process things correctly. I would have to see a psychiatrist separately, I think, to get the Rx since my therapist doesn't have a license to prescribe. We'll see.

Trinity said...

I think these all sound like very achievable, kick-ass goals. And speaking of kicking of the ass variety, I suggest you and I both take our grew-up-poor-always-worry-about-money selves and our grew-up-without-loving-parents-around-and-won't-make-that-mistake selves and have a nice little tea party. 'Cause we both have some serious sorting out of the shit variety going on with those bitches. Le sigh.

Not to lump any obvious-no-shit-idiot assvice on you, but what about giving something like this to your childcare provider:

It's pretty common sense, so maybe not exactly helpful...and I wish it had information on it about how breastfed babies only take an average of 25-30 ounces daily, and that they (outside of growth spurts) can even stay at the same amount of ounces per feeding until 6mos and only decrease slightly then because of the introduction of solids.... Seriously, Jackson cannot be the first and only breastfeed baby there. Come on, people.

Our daycare threw out 3 whole ounces of my breast milk today. Assholes.

bunny said...

I'm impressed that there were no tears, not that there's anything wrong with them... And HOLY SHIT, you did that whole list of things without any therapeutic assistance? I'm amazed.

I like #1. Yeah, just DEAL with it. I'm sure there's a lot of concrete strategy behind that goal...
And oh, I sure sympathize with the mountain-sized #2. It would be hard enough if it were all under your control, but the fact that another person has to change his behavior...ack.

And hey, not to minimize in any way, but I am hoping that getting your health back will lead to a discover that it's not PPD,just fucking exhaustion!

(Also, DAMN your Detriot doll-of-color comment made me laugh. And it was surprisingly useful to be reminded that vaginal delivery gals don't get to float off on a rosy skin-to-skin cloud of bliss either.. You rule.)