And name it Tilted Uterus.
Who’s with me?
And name it Tilted Uterus.
Who’s with me?
Until I can make a real decision on what to do with this space, the show goes on. The Barren Librarian isn’t going to just disappear. I don’t want that to happen. It’s been my safe space for a long time and it has a happy ‘ending’ as far as family building goes, so I want that to be here for the woman who is just starting this journey, or who has been at it for a while and just doesn’t know how much more she can take. I want to be a lighthouse to those that need it.
But the fact of the matter is that now I’ve got this kiddo so that’s going to be the focus, and I feel funky about that since this is an infertility community.
At any rate, let’s talk about what it’s like to be one year old.
It’s really fun and really hard but also easier…..because that makes sense.
At her 1 year appointment she was 30 inches long and 17 lbs, so she’s a teeny tot. The doctor was not terribly concerned, but a little. She did drop a percentile line, but she said as long as she doesn’t drop another one by 15 months she won’t think another thing of it. At 15 months if she has she said there might need to be some intervention and testing done. I’d like to avoid that, so basically I’m feeding this baby all the time.
The doctor did also suggest trying to get her on whole milk. She did not tell me to stop breastfeeding, but she said even offering one cup of whole milk a day will be beneficial to calorie gain. What we did decide together though was that it was time to lay the groundwork for weaning. I would like to be done by 18 months. I feel selfish saying that but that’s dumb, because I’m allowed to feel how I want about my breastfeeding journey. That being said, Charlie has been fed on demand her whole life, which meant she was still nursing probably 15 times a day if I’m speaking my truth, even if it was just a minute or two at a time. She also was nursing anytime she was even a little bit upset, and while I know that breastfeeding is powerful for bonding and comforting, I think it’s also important for her to begin to learn how to soothe herself, or at least be soothed in other ways than just breastfeeding. So we’re still going, but she’s on a schedule. She nurses when she wakes up in the morning, before she goes to sleep at night, and before and after her two naps. Six times a day.
There has been some serious resistance to this, but it’s getting better. She’s thrown some toddler worthy fits. I try to be a comforting but firm presence and redirect her attention when this happens and so far we’re surviving. It’s also encouraging her to drink more from a cup so her water intake has been stellar. Milk is a bit of a challenge. She drank five ounces the first day she had some and then had a massive spit up when she woke up early the next morning, so now we’re starting with a much smaller portion a day and working our way up. This is going ok so far. I know by 18 months she needs to be ok with milk if we’re going to be done breast feeding.
My goal is to cut out one nursing session a month for the next six months. We’ll see how that goes. I want to do this really gradually so it’s less traumatic for the both of us. I don’t want our nursing relationship to end with tears and a hell week of her fighting me for the boob.
Nutritionally she does so well. She loves food. Breakfast is usually a fruit cup where I drain the juice out. Once she finishes that she gets a handful of cheerios. That tides her over until her nap when she gets to nurse. Then she nurses when she wakes up around 10-10:30, and then around 11:00 I make her lunch which could be anything from crackers and peanut butter, to broccoli bites, to leftover rotisserie chicken (her absolute favorite). Then she snacks probably every 1.5-2 hours on various things, fruit, cheerios, cheese. There’s not much she doesn’t like which is a blessing.
At her appointment she was slightly iron deficient, she was at 11.1 and the low normal is 11.5. It’s not enough that they want to put her on supplements yet but we are working on getting it up with diet by 15 months. This means more cheerios, oatmeal, red meat (which she struggles with because no molars yet), and leafy greens (not her favorite, but she’ll eat a bit).
With the fit throwing has also come a really sweet side of my baby girl. She likes to be cuddled and actually cuddles me back. Today after a nursing related fit I was playing on the ground with her when she came up and hugged me three times in a row. She also headbutts me when she wants kisses. This makes me feel like bubbles are filling up my insides it makes me so damn happy. I guess 12 months is when a lot of emotional development happens.
She can say dada, momomomom, kitty (comes out like keheee), yes (comes out like yesssshhh). She is doing a lot of independent standing and we feel like she’s just on the edge of walking. she can take one sort of falling over step from the coffee table to the couch and she is SO proud when she does that. Bathtime is still a huge favorite, and she likes crawling around playing with board books while I read her stories before bed. She sleeps ten hours straight at night and then nurses with me for about an hour before getting up for the day. She naps between 2-3 hours total a day, still with two naps a day. She definitely has a ton of molars coming in right now. her gums are all bulgy and swollen, but shocking this doesn’t seem to bother her any.
She is just a bundle of energy-constantly crawling around, chasing cats, snacking, snuggling, sometimes screaming. She’s the most amazing little human I’ve ever met.
With one year being down it makes me feel more and more ready to have another, but I’m trying to cool my emotions about that because really who knows.
Finally, and on a separate note, I’ve gotten some really encouraging career news both from my boss at the law firm and my old boss (the captain) at the library. While nothing is promised or guaranteed, it seems like when Charlie goes to school I’m going to have some great options and that is so good to hear. What’s not so good to hear is that no one has bought my house, and no one is really looking either So we’re just carrying on and doing the best we can at this point.
It always happens, doesn’t it? At some point it seems that we all start ruminating on what we’re doing with our blog space. I’ve been at that point for a while y’all, but I’ve kept telling myself that it’ll change or I’ll think of meaningful content.
Sometimes I do think of something that would be a really great post, but it’s normally at 5:00 am with that lone nursing session of the evening that we juuuuust can’t seem to shake. Or as I’m wrestling my screaming and flailing child who would rather remain in a diaper full of excrement than stop for 30 seconds to get a change. Then I have my quiet time in the evening to sit down and think about it and…I can’t remember what I wanted to say. Or I remember it three days later and it no longer seems relevant.
So what I end up typing is complaints about my house that won’t sell or my family issues. That’s not the kind of blogger I want to be. I don’t want to go back to the sad infertile days when I was at least darkly funnyish to try and break the awful silence that was my empty womb life. Of course I don’t want to go back there. But I do miss feeling like I had a voice with something to say.
So I’m not really sure what to do here anymore. Suggestions from those that are doing it better than me?
Well, it’s been a while. Almost two years since my last CD1, but I’ve had brown light flow all days that started with spotting yesterday, so I guess the time has come. Charlie is sleeping ten hours at night so I figured it was only a matter of time.
Overall this isn’t bad. I’ve had zero cramping. I do feel fat and bloaty, but that’s basically just my persona now.
Now to see how long this lasts, and how long it takes for the next CD1 to occur.
Words. So many words in my head but now I’m staring at this blank space and nothing I can think of to say sounds meaningful and real at the same time, so instead I’m just going to be real and hope that the meaning comes through.
I am having a hard time coping with what happened in Orlando. First of all, when I heard the news I was numb at first, because of how desensitized living in this country has made me. And I feel sick that that was my first reaction. Another shooting? Keep scrolling. That is not okay.
Then as the news, the images, the fact that it was an LGBTQ club that was targeting, and the death toll was just climbing-the numbness started to fade. It’s good to know that I am still human in here, but at the same time now that I’m feeling the weight of this, well, some numbness might be okay.
When Charlie was born the church in Charleston was attacked. That happened literally right after she was born. And now I’m a few days out from her birthday and this horrific, freakishly cruel and awful thing has happened. I feel like my child’s life is marred by death and violence against these groups of people that I am so desperately trying to raise her to understand are just people like us. Different colors, different lifestyles, but people that we love and respect and know. People we go to church and school and the grocery store with. Just people.
They are just. like. us. And they are dead. And that means that we could be dead. My child. This could happen to my child.
How do I ever go anywhere with her again? Is Target safe? Church? The park with the swings that make her giggle? Our favorite burrito restaurant? The library where I used to work and we attend storytime? The store where we buy our groceries? The fabric store where I get supplies to make her little dresses?
I feel such grief for this thing that hasn’t happened to us. I am working on one of her birthday dresses right now and working on the tiny bodice had me falling apart, because what if it was my child I never got to sew for again? What if I couldn’t hold her anymore? What if her life was just done-and for no good goddamn reason.
I am so angry. I am so sad. I want meaningful, real, legislative change. I want for my elected officials to stop their willing slavery to the NRA. I want to leave the country. I literally want to flee the country with my animals and my family and a suitcase full of clothes and figure out the rest later. Because Charleston is too close to home. Orlando is too close to home. Newtown is too close to home. Middleton is too close to home. Las Vegas, Columbine, Virginia Tech-the list goes on and on and on and on.
I feel like there are bullets out there with our names on them . And while love wins, and I am trying to be strong, I would be a damn liar if I did not also tell you that I am afraid.
Thanks 100% to your urgings, I got brave today and emailed our realtor letting her know that I wasn’t happy. I was nice, but pretty firm. i said that after 23 days on the market I would have expected at least one person to look at the listing organically (i.e., not from my sister showing it to someone and talking about it) and scheduling a viewing. I said that I was interested in having professional photos done and lowering the price.
I am so happy to report that she was 100% on board with everything we wanted and is sending a photographer as soon as she can get her out here-either this weekend or Monday hopefully. We’re dropping the price the 5K I wanted-in fact I didn’t even say how much I wanted to drop it and she gave me the exact number that was in my head. So I feel like we’re now on the same wave length.
I consulted a friend of mine who is a local realtor and he said three weeks is usually when he reassesses a listing to see where we need to go and so my instincts were right on that now is the time to do something different.
Cross you fingers that this gets things moving!
Well, maybe a little.
I have meant to sit down and type a post probably about 10 times in the last few weeks, but everything is sort of on the heavy right now and I’m just sort of trying to maybe not deal with it. But here goes:
1. My Weight: I don’t know what it is, but it can’t be good. It just can’t. I am literally afraid to step on a scale. I feel so heavy. It’s not that everything doesn’t fit, but some things don’t and that’s bad enough to make me go into serious hating myself mode (I know that’s not healthy, but that’s my brain). I had resolved a while back to workout and diet but then my breastmilk supply seriously tanked and I got freaked out. What I should have done was just stop counting calories so closely, eat healthy and go to the gym and probably I’d be pretty happy with myself.
Instead I did what is pretty typical for me, which is get depressed, eat my feelings (a lot) and not exercise. So I’m back to square one. Last week I went to the gym once. Not really an accomplishment, but I guess it’s better than nothing. I’m going to go tomorrow. I’M GOING TO GO TOMORROW. And my goal this week is to go three times before Sunday is over with. So I could go Wednesday, Friday, and Sunday, or Wednesday, Thursday and Saturday or something like that. There are options. I’m not counting calories. I’m just trying to be better and keep the bad stuff out of the house.
I eat when I’m stressed, sad, happy, bored, etc. It’s not healthy. I know it’s not healthy. I need to get it under control.
2. My Dad: Ugh. I’m going to try to make this short because it’s kind of long in reality. Basically my dad broke up with his long time girlfriend, B, last year in the fall. He then very quickly got back together with his post high-school-before-my-mom girlfriend, who we’ll call Cali (because she’s from California). She lives across the country but this was no obstacle to him. He’s spent a fortune traveling to see her, and she’s done her fair share. The difference is she has a dead husband who left her a lot of money so that she can afford it-my dad cannot. I’m sure he’s dug himself deep into debt because he’s seriously gone all the time. Within a month or two they were engaged and now she’s moving here this summer and they’re getting married in the fall.
I’ve met her maybe twice…and it’s not love. I don’t hate her. She’s fine. But I don’t know her. And my dad keeps going on and on about how excited she is to be a grandmother because she doesn’t have any kids and how they’re going to set up a room in their new house just for Charlie and on and on and on and I’m nodding and smiling and in my head I’m going “But I don’t KNOW her!” How can he marry someone I don’t know? She is NOT Charlie’s grandmother.
I’m trying to not be the bratty daughter who doesn’t want daddy getting married. That’s not what this is at all. I just feel like she is priority number one and he is not at all concerned what our feelings about it are. My sister has latched on like the leech that she is and now Cali is giving her her truck and all sorts of other stuff and I just won’t do that. I’m not going to pretend to like her so that I can get stuff. Maybe once she gets here it will be better but as of right now I’m feeling ominous at best about how quickly this as gone and how deep my dad is.
3. My Damn House: We’ve been on the market for 23 days and had one showing, and that was to my sister’s friends. One damn showing. I’m beginning to regret my choice in realtor and I’m damn tired of people telling me to be patient, it takes time, etc. I get that. i didn’t expect it to sell overnight, but damn, I hoped some people would at least want to come see it and give me some feedback. It’s hard to try and keep it super clean all the time and I’m failing. I keep it picked up, but it’s not immaculate like it was. If someone wants to come see it they’ll just have to give us a bit of notice.
I emailed our realtor last week asking her if we should be concerned or doing anything different. She didn’t get back to me, so a few days later I forwarded my first email and just said “Did you get this email?” and signed my name. She emailed me back within an hour saying not to be worried, she wasn’t yet, it takes time. The end.
Am I seriously going to pay her 6.5% to just list my house on Realtor.com and hope for the best? Because that fucking sucks.
We’re talking about dropping the price if we don’t have any interest in another month, but I am afraid of seeming desperate.
4. Money: This one I’m probably stressing over more than is necessary. It’s just a bit tight over the summer. I know this is a common issue for lots of families. We won’t get a GI Bill supplement until August and throwing Charlie’s birthday party next weekend is expensive. It’s funny what being tight meant to me before the baby came and after. Now I can have a lot more money in the bank than I used to and still feel panicky. I know we’ll be okay, but it’s just one more thing that’s piling on.
5. Chief: This is okay now, and it was probably maybe a little created in my head to a certain extent, but Chief and I had a big fight week before last. It started with me being bothered by no one wanting to come see the house and him acting like it was no big. From there I spiraled into “DON’T YOU KNOW HOW HARD I’M WORKING TO KEEP IT CLEAN FOR THE PEOPLE WHO AREN’T COMING TO SEE IT?!” and when I spiral Chief tends to hermit crab himself away until it’s safe, which is ALWAYS a bad choice. The correct choices are a) fight back you coward! or b) grovel, grovel like hell.
No, he just stopped talking hoping it would be better. Then for the rest of the night he acted like nothing was wrong when it SO CLEARLY WAS DAMNIT. Then he came to bed and I finally said “DON’T YOU WANT TO KNOW WHAT’S WRONG?!” and he sort of halfheartedly responded, and then fell asleep, at which point I RAGE QUIT myself out on the couch where I slept because I was so mad at him, sort of over nothing.
Here is the real truth though-I have issues with Chief’s love language (I think that’s what it is). Is it possible to not have one? I thank him constantly. Every chore he does, every task he completes-every damn time he takes the trash out I think him. He does not do that. He never thanks me. It does not mean he is not grateful, and I realize that, but I am a verbal show-er of love and he is 110% firmly not.
And the thing is, I sort of do a lot around here. I should-I’m the SAHM, but I’m also the WAHM who works 20 hours a week from home, plus another 5-10 outside of the home, PLUS the whole raising our child, but on top of that I still cook all of our meals and do the majority of the cleaning, which I don’t begrudge, but damnit I need to be thanked and appreciated just oh so very occasionally. And it would be nice to be told that he still finds me attractive every once in a while. And this stupid fight that started from one small thing turned into I CAN’T LIVE LIKE THIS ANYMORE.
The next day I basically had an emotional breakdown. He had a half day at work (it was the Friday before Memorial Day) and he came home and said he was going to take Charlie out for a while so I could have some “space” and I said that I did not want that and started to cry, so then he said he would just take her out to grab us some lunch which I didn’t want either. He picked me up something anyway and after staring at it for ten minutes in silence I started to SOB full tilt at the table in front of my child who didn’t seem to understand enough to get upset herself luckily.
After that I guess things got sort of resolved, except I don’t know that I see much of a difference. And I know it’s just the way it is and I need to just learn to deal but it’s so. damn. hard. to not feel appreciated. At least when I worked full time I got the yearly evaluation where the Captain told me how much she loved me but in more professional terms. I don’t get that now. I get lots of baby smiles and giggles and those are goddamn wonderful for the soul, but otherwise it’s sort of a thankless job, and I just need some thanks every once in a while for my thankless job. Is that too much to ask?
This is so damn long, and I’m sorry it’s so damn long AND so damn depressing. Despite all of this we really are doing ok. Charlie turns one in eight days and I’m dying a little but luckily the party prep is a distraction from all the feels I’m having about it.
Till we meet again.