I know that most of my posts lately have been about moving and Charlie, but frankly, I need to talk about me for a minute.
The truth of the matter is that mentally, I’m not doing well. The night before we moved I had a panic attack. Chief and I talked about it before bed and we’ve made a 360 on our decision to try for another. This was my idea-it’s what I wanted. I do not feel ready anymore. Emotionally or financially, and those are two big and important factors. Frankly I don’t know that I’ll ever feel ready. We may be one and done, and that would be okay. But at the very least. I don’t really want to try again for quite a while. Maybe not until Charlie’s in school. Maybe not ever.
But making the decision to go back on birth control sort of sent me into a tailspin. It feels like giving up, which is of course what we’re doing because it’s what I want, but for some reason it made me panic anyway. Maybe because the last time I came off birth control it took me three years to get pregnant, and if we don’t try again until I’m around 32 that puts me having another kid at 35, which is not idea for me for a large amount of reasons. So while Chief slept next to me I paced the floor with what felt like a tightening band around my chest, barely able to take a breath. In all, I got about three hours of sleep before the move the next day.
This has not become unusual. I’m not reacting well to any form of stress. Logistically I know that we’re going to be okay financially because the GI Bill money is coming and I have THREE part time jobs now, but having the other house is weighing on me big time. I worry about it constantly and wonder why we made this decision. It’s almost ready to be put back on the market and I know we can always rent it and we probably will, but no amount of logic and reason helps me. I have a spreadsheet that I adjust daily, sometimes twice daily, that shows we have a sizable excess each month. But this does not soothe me.
So what do I do? I panic, and I worry, and I eat. And I take things out on my husband. Like today, my friend owns a vintage furniture store that we were supposed to go to to look for a new sewing desk for me. She was going to trade it for some pieces that we no longer wanted so there would be no money lost on either side. But the cable guy had to come and fix the cable they just installed last week. He was here for almost four hours. Then it was Charlie’s nap time. About an hour into Charlie’s nap, Chief had to go to the doctor because his foot is still bothering him from the unfortunate auger incident a few weeks ago, and I swear to god, that man cannot walk without stomping and he woke her up. He claims he didn’t, but he did. Charlie is down to one nap a day so one hour is not enough. I flew off the handle a bit and threw the baby monitor down and said “Awesome, you fucking woke her up and now you’re leaving. Thanks a lot.” Not my finest moment. But guys, all I wanted out of today was to leave my house with my husband and my child. He said “you guys can still go after I go to work” but that’s not the point. If I go with Charlie then I have to worry about containing her all by myself. I just wanted one day where that’s not the case.
Anyway, after the stomping incident I tried to nurse her back to sleep but right now she’s just sitting in her crib playing with her blanket and her lovey. I’m taking a minute and am grateful that she’s not crying, because then I would feel the need to get her out of there, and right now I just need a minute. I just need a minute.
I need a fucking break is what I need. As I was nursing her I thought that what I wanted was a three day trip by train, somewhere, anywhere, by myself. I want the magical ability to go somewhere and not worry about what’s happening at home. I want to order room service on someone else’s dime and lay in a bed with pay per view and not be woken until i wake myself. I want to be able to just check out for a little bit. Realistically, I know that I don’t get this luxury anymore. That being a mom means you’re never checked out, you’re always thinking and worrying about your child, even when you’re on vacation, which makes me feel even worse that all I WANT is to not have to worry about another human for a few days, much less the one I created and love.
And the other thing is, I don’t think that being a mom means that you have to be constantly panicked and at people’s throats because you’re so freaked out 90% of the time.
So today, I did the bravest thing I’ve done in a long time and made an appointment with my OB to talk about getting back on the pill and to talk about my anxiety problems. Unfortunately they can’t get me in until October 10th. I sat there on the phone thinking “When I was pregnant I could always get in, what gives?” and then the mean voice in my head said “The readily available appointments are for the healthy women who can get pregnant and need to have their babies checked on-not for the crazy moms like you who can’t get it together.”
I shit you not. I’m a piece of work.
I just want to be back on the pill and probably something to help me cope. I never thought I would want to be back on the pill this badly, but the last thing that I need right now is another kid. I cannot handle another kid. I am not ready for one. I may not be the kind of person who will ever be ready for one. And I feel bad that all i wanted so desperately was another hour with the kid that I have asleep. Just an hour of peace. The kid that I adore more than life-who I would do anything for. I love her so much, but I need a break from her and everyone. I just need to be by myself, and not in a house full of boxes to unpack with a mountain of computer work staring me in the face and a head full of worries about how I’m going to pay for everything and whether or not I’ll ever have another child, and if the answer is no then is my husband going to hate me because he always wanted two kids?
I need October 10th to get here, and damnit my dad is getting married two days before that and if I ever needed anxiety meds, I need them for that wedding.