Stop tearing your hair out.

My friend told me, earlier this evening, that "maybe I should blog" tonight.

Today has been rough...
The last few days haven't been much better.

Don't get me started on the weeks and months.

I don't really know where to start, but I look at the past few lines I've written and realise I started just fine; it's been done without even noticing.

Sometimes I guess life is a bit like that - it just 'happens while we're busy making plans', right?

Days don't stop. The Earth doesn't really care whether we've had a good/bad/wonderful/awful day. It keeps on spinning.- Which I used to think was a bad thing, but today, it feels like the best thing. Something has to stay the same, please, anything, just some small drop of normality...

I seem to be in a better mood when the Sun is out; but in an even better mood once the stars prick the night sky with light. There's something about the stars, they make me feel hopeful and safe, they bring a bit of magic to the darkness. Just imagine how I feel about the moon! haha..

I know that for the past couple of months, I've lost what small control I had of my emotions. They're "all over the place like a mad woman's shit" as my mum would say. For a good week (well, not sure, read my last post "Green Bird") I lost myself. I continued parenting, because I had to, no one was going to 'take over'. And then in the times I was alone (if my girl wasn't there, or was asleep), I would lose track of time. I would cry so hard I couldn't breathe- all air was gone. I thought I was going to die and I will be honest, I wasn't scared.

I opened up, I was trampled on and then I saw the back of him.

There are a lot of painful memories from the past 4 years but what is most painful, I think, is when I finally give him what he wants; and it's not enough. This has not been the first time.

It's like tearing your hair out because the person wants a bald girlfriend. You tear it out, to prove a point- to prove how much pain you're going through for them; you pull out each hair one by one.

You feel ugly, you feel disgusting when you're bald. You liked your hair, you had body issues but you were OKAY with your hair. And now it's gone.

And now he's cheating on you with a girl who's hair is down to her ass.*

I think that's me done for the night.

Just listened to this song and bawled my eyes out (first time in a few hours, I'm proud!), it even talks about stars haha... (I thought of it when I wrote "tearing your hair out") 

This.


* perhaps not actually cheating this time, but it doesn't make any difference any more.

Green Bird

My head is aching, badly, and the sneaky glass of wine isn't helping.

My mind is wavering between "It's okay, I can't make him happy any more, I have to accept it and move on with my life"  and "I finally let him break the walls down again for the first time in years, and he says he's ready and loves me, then rejects me. Why?! How can I be willing to forgive him for his mistakes, and love him again, yet he can't do the same for me...".

My heart? It's hiding under the bed, I think.


In short (which won't be short at all); I've been stuck to this man since the day we met- 19th September 2008. He has set up shop in the back of my mind, heart- the back of everything. Sometimes he ventures out and clogs my vision- sometimes he is all there is. Someone may as well have handcuffed us together that first night. Although we have never lived together, we have been very close.

We have a beautiful daughter together who arrived almost 2 years to the day we met. She has brought me back to life and I will never forget that; the day she was born, I was re-born.

At the beginning of the year, after what- 3 years on and off-, I began to really fall out of love with him. I realised my needs (as a mother, a partner and a woman) weren't being met. I needed wholehearted commitment and I needed support (financial but mostly emotional). We weren't right for each other even though we considered ourselves to be each others 'soulmate'. For months on end he has begged me to go back to him; but I've felt nothing. I turned myself off from him because I knew we wouldn't work and he wasn't ready to settle down with his family.

To me, a soulmate is a best friend on a level previously untouched. A soulmate is someone who doesn't necessarily make your stomach jump with excitement, but they comfort your whole body with a smile. They are that puzzle piece you could never find; you know the one I mean- you put together a 1000 piece puzzle and you go to click that last piece in but low and behold it has grown legs and buggered off. Let's say I started this puzzle in 2003 and in 2008 I found the missing piece. After 5 years I was beginning to lose hope- I thought maybe it'd been vacuumed up or the cat had eaten it. But no, this puzzle piece stepped out (I guess it did grow legs) of a white Caldina in a fur-rimmed hooded jacket, jeans and skate shoes at 8pm on a cold Friday evening.

It was about August this year when things went really 'belly up' for us. For all those months that had passed, while he was begging to have me back (on his terms, not mine), he was skiving around with other women. I don't really want to go into the whole story but it was nothing new. What hurt the most was that he had not only been lying to me, but himself too. He told me that he had changed and there was no one else; that it was only me he wanted, I was enough, etc etc blah blah blah. It was very painful but the anger took over my hurt and tears. I was running on adrenalin for weeks.

A few days after our blow up; after I found out about what had been going on, and I confronted him, I decided to see a lawyer. I needed a parenting order (set hours and times, written in a signed contract) because I knew our communication was going to break down many times in the future- not just now. I knew what our wee girls routine was, and what she was/wasn't ready for. He fought it, because he thought I was trying to take her away from him- which I'd never do unless her safety was being compromised. Eventually things got really out of hand and I made contact with him to try and talk him down from wherever the hell he was going with all of this, as he was threatening 'court'.

For the first time in our 4 year 'relationship', we connected. I apologised to him for letting our relationship fall apart although I knew/know it was nowhere near my fault- we were both to blame. I apologised for not being there for him, but it was his lack of being able to communicate with me, that caused the lying and sneaking around etc. If only he had told me that he loved me but was going to move on; the lies would never have happened, the hurt could have been saved.

We decided, after a few days and a meeting with both our lawyers, that we would try and make it work properly. I bought the shower gel, the stupid shampoo and the toothbrush. He bought himself a coffee machine. We were going to finally commit;  with truths being said every day to each other and honesty at every corner- even FORCING ourselves (maybe just myself) to admit to how we were feeling instead of just saying "F U" over text. I cooked him dinners again. We woke up with our wee girl running into the bedroom, she squeezed herself between us and said "MUM! DAD!" over and over with a huge smile. I was over the moon; not just to feel loved/love him again but to see her so happy from something so simple. I grew up with my parents divorced so never really felt that 'love', I suppose. I always missed my mum when I was at dads, and my dad when I was at mums. It was horrible.

Then, he stopped staying. He owns his own business (works from home) and over-commits to that. Always has, always will probably. I know why he has to but what frustrates me is that he doesn't work set hours, so can't be here to get our girl into bed/have dinner with us etc.. It's just barbaric to me as I grew up having dinner with my dad every night I was there, he was and IS a workaholic but always made sure he was there for me until I went to bed (then he'd work some more!). From my perspective, he takes on too much work and can't make the deadlines anyway. He likes to hide behind his desk- not even working all the time. Not ONCE in the 4 years I've known him, have we ever spent a weekend together without him working/going home to work. We went to Akaroa in April for my 21st and the second we got home he went back to his house to work. Again, I grew up like that, always waiting for my dad to say "Right, better go work"- I always felt I had to try and compete for his attention and it did destroy a bit of me I don't think I'll ever get back.

Anyway so he stopped staying. I felt I was losing him. I told him he was either going to have to step up, commit, support, work certain hours/be here certain times for our daughter- or to simply stay away, if he couldn't do those things for us to work. He said he didn't know what to do. As soon as I start 'pressuring' him (this is why I switched off from him earlier in the year and decided to give up) he backs up- but tells me it's my fault for pushing him away. As soon as I need him (I don't ever want to relive my 31 hour labour again) he's gone, or here, but completely distant and uncomfortable. It was July 2010 when he first stayed with me for a night- after nearly 2 yrs.

It's been a week or two since I gave him that ultimatum. I don't know the exact quantity of tears I have cried- it must be a lot because the skin around my eyes has literally burnt away (see attached picture below, it hurts a lot!). I don't know how many prayers I've said- I'm not religious. I don't know how many times my mum has told me to walk away. I don't know how much weight I've lost or gained- I've not eaten much but have drunk a lot of wine (not too much, I'm a responsible parent!!!). I don't really know how many headaches, how many stomach aches, how many 'WHY ME''s have been asked to no one in particular... I don't know much any more. But I do know this is worse than 31 hours of labour. I would rather birth 20 babies than this (no it's not an invitation!). I broke my toe a few weekends ago and I would rather do that one hundred times more than deal with this pain. For a long time I have known that if I were to 'try again' with him, if it went wrong, no one would care- they all think I'm stupid for letting him back in, they think that I bring on my own problems... So I haven't really told anyone about what I've been going through, in fear of being stomped on even more than he has done to me.

It might seem all very dramatic- but picture this:
A gorgeous little green bird has been locked in a cage for a very long time, eating the bits she's been given-sometimes really nice birdseed, sometimes a bloody good cracker... Then she decides she doesn't want to live like that; having great food every now and again, waiting for it, loving it, then not knowing when it's coming back- sometimes she doesn't get fed for days. So she gives up on the food. She just perches, with her eyes closed, hoping for some sort of 'great warrior bird' to rescue her. Days, months and what seem like the longest nights in her life, seem to drag on by. Suddenly, she is moved into a sunnier area of the house. She is fed by a new hand, some pretty good birdseed comes every day now. She is beginning to feel things might be good for longer than she thought. She is let out of her cage for the first time. She feels the wind under her emerald wings and hops from chair to chair. She lets the new man pick her up, even though she is wary because no one has ever been this nice to her; she lets him. The new man is gentle and caring, he strokes her head and feathers- she buries into his neck and feels safe for once. Then one morning she wakes up and it's dark again. Someone throws her a cracker. She's not fed for days and her water turns as green as her feathers. Her hope is gone. She closes her eyes and tries to forget that things were perfect for such a short time- maybe it wasn't real at all.

Now, tell me (or don't), do you get where I'm coming from...?

I'm closing my eyes now.

Questions

People are asking me every day, am I excited?

Is it rhetorical? I don't quite understand anymore why people ask me.

"You must be so excited!" Well yeah, but I can't quite jump up and down about it. I can barely walk now at 38+2.

The guilt for not feeling 'so excited I can't contain myself', is overwhelming. It's like, I've gotten so used to her, so used to loving her... So used to not seeing her but feeling her. So used to not hearing her, but knowing what she's doing.

If I was to have her in my arms right now... I don't know how I'd cope. If I was told I wouldn't have my 'body' back, I'd freak out and not know what to do. And by 'body' I don't mean toned legs and tummy. I mean no dead arms, no painful joints, no swollen legs, arms and face...

Getting up to go to the loo 3 times a night used to be funny and somewhat exciting because it was the only real 'annoying' thing that I was having to deal with. But now I can't get out of bed without screaming in pain, and getting back in is even worse. Falling back asleep; finding that perfect position where my arms WON'T go dead... where I can breathe, and not squash my baby... I don't know.

I'm fully adjusted to all the changes but it doesn't mean I enjoy them. I accept they're all normal. I just don't like them ;).

I can't wait to hold her, and see her eyes open... I can't wait to count her fingers and toes. I can't wait to feed her and hear her snore (newborns have the cutest little snuffley snore. It's not so cute when you can't sleep though), I can't wait to see her clothes on her. And to see her in her moses basket, cot, and activity ring.

There are so many things I'm excited for but I already love her... It's not like being excited for a first date, for example, even though I haven't met her. It's hard to explain but all mums will know what I mean. It's odd, and surreal, knowing that any day now she will actually be 'out'. She will breathe for the first time, and make her first noises. And YES I will fall in love, over and over, every day will be exciting for her and I, and her dad.

But not the type of excitement that keeps you up at night thinking you can hear sleigh bells... not scary movie peek-through-your-hands type excitement and not unwrapping a weirdly shaped present type excitement...

It's all new and fricking 'WOOHOO' but it's also unknown territory. We all know babies cry, but until you're a mum you don't know what your babies cry will do to you. You don't know how you'll react; whether you'll block your ears or cry with her. We all know new babies sleep a lot but then we also know when they're awake; they need something right then and there.

I'm a realist in the worst/best of situations. I'm not negative, I just know that some things don't always go perfectly. I'm as prepared as I can be; for the best and worst outcome. But you don't know till it happens, right?

I've had people throw advice at me from left, right, centre, above, below and bloody diagonally. If there's something to say, they'll say it. But what first time mums (or I) appreciate most is NO advice; and little confidence boosters. My mum is best at it especially when it comes to this wee bubby of mine. I'll bring up a concern with her, or I'll tell her what someone else has said to me that has upset me; and she will quietly say that it doesn't need to be worried about until the time comes, or AT ALL.

The last month, I have gone downhill so fast in regards to my 'health'. No, pregnancy is not a disability. It's a blessing. BUT, in reality, it also fucking hurts some of us.

I don't have a partner to rub my back/tummy/neck/shoulders/legs/feet every night, or to cook me tea, or clean up for me, or to just genuinely reassure me. And I hear other pregnant women going on and on about how much pain they're in (when we're all in it) but they're the ones with partners/husbands who they can lean on. They have it so much easier than us single mummas. I wish I could slap them sometimes; not because I'm jealous but because they don't realise how hard it would be (compared to their current 'awful' situation) if they were even in a slightly different situation.

It seems a lot of people in my life have very little faith or confidence in me. It just proves they don't know me at all and it's kind of funny but also very upsetting.

Anyway, babies room is now ready for her. Her clothes are washed and put away (the drawers honestly barely close and it's a slight worry but never mind), her hospital bag is packed, her bottles are clean and sterile just in case I can't breastfeed. Her linen is all clean and folded, hidden away in the spare room with all the other things we can't use straight away like her car seat for when she's older.

My hospital bag is 60% packed. I just need to put clean clothes in it (I'm still wearing some so I just wash them every day and put them back in in case I go into labour that night) and charge my iPod, update my labour/birth playlist... And pack speakers for the bag because headphones will not go well in the birthing pool ; )

Today I bought myself my first new pair of shoes throughout the whole pregnancy. I'm amazed. Usually I'm a size 5 or at most a 6. Today I had to buy a pair of size 7 moccasins. That's how swollen my feet are. It's not the prettiest but I'm EXCITED to have my feet back to normal and to be able to feel the bones in my ankles. My ankles are non existent and look horrid so it's a good thing it's Winter and I can wear long pants.

The hospital tour went well. It's funny thinking I was born there and my Peach will be born there too (fingers crossed, people!!!). It's a really lovely atmosphere but far out, it's boiling there. I got all itchy and broke out in a rash under my clothes. I used to always get rashes from heat and stress so I knew it was coming but jeez louise. I suppose it has to be hot for babies sake but I can tell you now, my sliding door in the room in the ward will be open 24/7 while I'm there (shh).

It's 1.30am and I really could do with some sleep but I don't see it happening. I've got a foot jammed into my bra wire at present. Not very comfy and I think it's her way of telling me to go get into bed. So I will.

Heartache

I sit here, alone (apart from my baby girl Peach who makes me everything but alone), every night and I watch birthing videos.

I wait in suspense, I listen, I smile but most of all I cry. I cry until my lungs are flat-packs, empty of oxygen. I cry when the babies come out, and when they take their first breath; cry. I cry when there is silence just for a split second and everyone is moving and still at the same time, but the silence is suspense in disguise and we're all just waiting to see that baby and check all it's fingers and toes.

But mostly I cry because she's not alone, mentally, physically, emotionally... She's half; or even a third. She is half of the team, before the baby. And she's one third of the team when baby is born.
There's two of her, and him. They are mixed up and in love and in awe of this baby boy or girl that they created. It's all because they fell in love.

He can hear her on a different level, he can speak to her with his eyes; open or shut.

He holds her from across the room, and keeps her warm with his fingertips.

He is there for her 100 percent and it's not conditional or 'just because he feels like it today'. He is there, all the time, and it's not ruining him. It's changing him, and making him.

Things hurt but when we can lean on someone it makes the pain that much more bearable.

Who can I lean on, who I can trust? Who won't hurt me. Who will accept me during these last few weeks and when the time comes; who will hold me up when I can no longer stand...

I'm ruling out people from my life one by one; sieving them out, seeing who really cares and who genuinely wants to be here for me and my baby girl.

It's down to 0, sadly.

It's not true; we don't get what we give. Because I've given everything to everyone and I'm getting nothing back.

People can be horrible.

Life

The end is near. It's so close I can almost touch it.

I have 5 weeks and 3 days to go until the beginning of my baby girls 'life', until she breathes, and opens her eyes, sees daylight and my crying eyes looking back.

It's like life and death; or the beginning and end of everything. Every beginning has an end and every end has a beginning. The end of pregnancy and the beginning of a life, which will too have an end one day (which just hit me and made me feel sick).

I had my two baby rats put to sleep not long ago, and I knew it was for the best. They were my favourite little things in the world. They bit sometimes but they didn't mean to, they didn't know. The pure innocence in those little beady eyes, and their little baby rat feet and paws... The tiny claws made for gripping and climbing which would scratch me and make me itch but my god those little scratches were worth it.

Finch had a tumour for a month, maybe, before it really started effecting her. She was a little on the large side therefore sometimes rolled around on accident when she was trying to get to an itch, and at first it was cute but then it became unfair. She was tired all the time and although she loved her cuddles from day one, she was beginning to love them even more and it was worrying. She was slower than usual, ate more (infact ate all the time, and sat in her food bowl) and slept a lot.

I knew the time had come, and it was unfortunate I had to get them both put to sleep but they came into the world together and they deserved to be together, wherever they were going next.

I hope they're happy and tumour free where they are now, in rat heaven I suspect. Where there's hundreds of hammocks to sleep in and bowls of nutri-grain to snack on, and lots and lots of yoghurt on tap....

I love you my babies xxx

6 weeks 4 days to go

Sometimes things fall out of our hands, and the control is no longer ours. The ball of string is rolling away and we can't run fast enough or lean down to get the end of the ball of string.

We can push ourselves to run, we can squish our babies and organs trying to bend down and pick up the end of the ball of string..

Or we can watch it roll away and dance on the ground; perhaps fool ourselves into thinking that it's magical and wonderful when underneath we're really thinking...

SHIT.

Pregnancy is a strange thing, feeling, time.... "place".

It's extremely lonely even when you're around someone else. Even when there's laughter and talking and crying going on... You still feel like you're in a wee bubble of love, or tiredness or hatred, or hunger... or pain... It's freakin' lovely, do not get me wrong. But crikey dick it's lonely.

I feel so strange... like I'm back in the first trimester. Everything is taking it's time; which is fine, I need time. But at the *same* time, I also really want to meet my baby girl.

The birthing/breastfeeding videos that my antenatal class tutor has lent me, make me cry until it hurts. I cannot wait to experience it all.... A year ago, it was all a dream; the whole pregnancy/birthing shindig. But now it's real.

Truth be told, I hadn't dreamt of it all working out this way... But it's all right, I've got my peach and she's got her mumma.

Funny things have been happening though. In specific; a lot of people in my life have been trying to 'prepare' me for things.

Well if only I knew I'd be doing '3 loads of washing a day', I wouldn't have decided to go forth with my pregnancy.

- Sarcasm..

In all seriousness though; I feel as though I can't be truthful and just *moan* about how crap I'm feeling. I hold it all in until the last minute and usually end up crying. The killer back ache, the heartburn, the swollen feet and carpal tunnel in my arms.... the baby stuck in my ribs...

People growl at me for being truthful or tell me to suck it up and it's funny because generally they're men, or women who were pregnant at least 20+ years ago.

I love this baby girl and nothing scares me about her birth... or the late nights (it's 1.35am and I'm falling asleep), or the sore boobs (according to breastfeeding videos, they shouldn't hurt at all!!) or the lack of social life (that I don't already have anyway)....

I'm not afraid, I'm prepared. And it's taken me months, and I've done it all on my own. I'm ready for her but she's just not quite there yet ;)

It's been a while

& a lot has happened.

I'm still here, very much so. Maybe even more than before.

I've sorted out everything for Peach :). I've ordered her mattress, I skimped on getting the frieze in her room laminated as it looks fine as it is, her quilt's been drycleaned (although it smells worse than it did in the first place, so they told me to bring it back in), maternity clothing is all sorted (as it should be! I'm now 33 weeks... ahhh), her clothing is sorted (-washed, folded, put away, sorted into her hospital bag)...

Things are ticking along and she's moving all day everyday. Her hiccups are perhaps once every 2 hours, and they're felt mostly in my guts, seeing as her head is 'way down' according to doctors, and my bladder.

I'm now a victim of stretch marks, and other nasties such as carpal tunnel (numb fingers, dead arm, etc.) and extremely horrible heartburn. I can't roll over, at all. It's more of an OUCH OUCH OUCH *boom* movement.

I have turned into Miss Nester; I clean every day. Whether it's my house or someone elses.. I can't just 'put that magazine over there', I have to clean the entire table from which I am moving it from... And then the one it's going to....

I vacuum and do dishes every day, clean her and my clothes, put them away, dust, polish, scrub....

Did I mention I'm addicted to the smell of chemicals? Pine-o-clean is a big favourite of mine, especially Eucalyptus Blossom scent... YUM. Also the fabric cleaner I have (lemon), Ajax (window cleaner), nail polish and nail polish remover, shoe polish..... Petrol...

It's quite bad but it's like as soon as I get a 'hit', my mouth waters, and my eyes sort of glaze over. It's my drug and I like it right now! Won't last for ever.

Nothing lasts forever.