Grossesse

Grossesse. Indeed. That is rather a good translation of Pregnancy, at least in my case.

This blog is to remind myself why I shouldn't ever be gross, er.. I mean.. pregnant, again, to explain to others why I haven't wanted to go through it again (until now, I suppose), and because I got the idea from a fellow blogger.

FIRST TRIMESTER

I had been dating my boyfriend, Ex-Douche, for less than two months, when I started to feel off. Nothing major, just enough to give me an inkling. One night I decided to go to the hospital (yes, the hospital, because I lived in a town too small for night time doctors) and get tested. My visitor wasn't late yet, in fact it was due the next day, but I needed the peace of mind. The doctor thought I was crazy, and rightly so since the test was negative. The next day, like clockwork, I got my period, which had become annoyingly regular in the previous six months after years of randomness. I was upset, as I am now, because I suddenly wanted a baby more than anything in the world, to the point where I became obsessed, couldn't concentrate at work, etc.

The next month rolled around, and I felt nauseous. I prayed to my Atheist space that I would miss my period. I did. After just a few days of nausea and my period being MIA, I knew. I told my mother that night that I was going for a test the next day, and she was less than impressed since I was only 18 and we were in the same financial boat we are now (less a kid). She scoffed at the fact that I was paranoid so soon after missing a period. Ex-Douche offered hopes (his own, not mine) of a phantom pregnancy. Thanks love of my life.

The next day I got my wish; I was 5-6 weeks pregnant. I could not have been happier. Mere days after finding out, my nausea turned into vicious morning sickness, which liked to strike while I was at work. Luckily I worked in a photo lab, and we had a large sink for pouring chemicals into, which doubled as a handy dandy Mommy-to-be bucket. In my seventh week I had some bleeding, which had me panicked. A quick check at the hospital told me it was perfectly fine, and not to worry. Ex-Douche wasn't concerned at all, and I'm certain he'd hoped the baby was not to be.

I was wiped out for the first months of bun baking, and had to quit one of my two jobs to accommodate.

All the hormones coursing through my barely grown body caused problems in my relationship. I won't go into the nitty gritty, but I broke up with Ex-Douche, and decided to relocate. I was homesick, and wanted family and friends around me during this important time. That decision didn't go over well with the Douches, but it was the best one I've made in my entire life.

The next month was very stressful. I was juggling work, pregnancy, packing and cleaning, and a stalker bunch of goons. I decided this was the perfect time to weaken my immune system and get sick. Not only was I sick, I was VERY sick. I had strep throat and an ear infection, and due to allergies, I could not take any antibiotic or over the counter medications. So in between packing stuff, scrubbing floors, and babysitting one-year-old Tristan, I was dry heaving in the bathroom, which burned my already scorching throat, and made my infected ear pop over and over. I really, truly, wanted to die. That was the worst two weeks of my pregnancy, no contest.

SECOND TRIMESTER

Once I was into the middle trimester, although my nausea didn't subside, my sickness decreased, which was an amazing feeling. I had my one and only ultrasound done, which brought my mom to tears, and caused fights between Ex-Douche and me. It was definitely a high light despite the stress. I wanted to know the sex, but I was told Baby Kee didn't cooperate. A week after that I moved back here, my home. I started to feel little quakes in my belly, which I soon realized were wee hiccups, and the sensation was incredible. It made it all that much more real. A favorite pastime of hers was tickling my side when I was trying to sleep, which is rather frustrating when you can't make it stop! All in all, the second trimester was good.

THIRD TRIMESTER

With the end of summer came the end of my pregnancy. The beginning of the trimester wasn't too bad, although there was a bit of cramping which, again, made me nervous, but I found out it is also normal, and so I relaxed. The last month was completely unbearable. Being just five feet tall, I didn't have much room in my belly for an ever growing baby, and she reminded me of it every waking moment. I was bedridden for the most part, except for a few walks to the mall here and there. Carrying the enormous weight was too much for my small frame, and I had a hard time sitting upright.

After nine months of nausea, illness, pain, and fatigue, I was finally at the end, and couldn't be happier. I knew labor would be scary, and likely the worst pain ever experienced, but I wanted the whole thing over.

I had underestimated just what was ahead of me. My labor was quick and painful; I'd dilated 5 centimeters at home with menstrual-like cramps, so I was halfway there when I got to the hospital. My doctor broke the bag of waters to induce labor, and it was very successful, let me tell you! Within one hour I went from 5 centimeters and cramps to almost fully dilated and unbearable contractions 2 minutes apart. The epidural I requested didn't come due to a stubborn nurse, and I spent over 2 hours pushing through excruciating burning. My baby came out head and hand first, which caused second degree tearing (yow!) and bruising on both the baby and myself. It took nearly half an hour to stitch me up, which hurt more than labor itself. I nearly died through the night from the pain, and the swelling and bruising were so bad my student nurse kept checking on it, and showing other people. Baby Montana was eight and a half pounds, two pounds more than I expected. She was a chubby little muffin, my darling daughter.

It took almost two months to heal, which consisted of a needle to fix a broken stitch. That hurt as much as the stitching, and brought all the pain and memories back. I was absolutely traumatized, I could not wipe or wash myself for three months. Too much information? Possibly, but this is the reason for being afraid of pregnancy.

TODAY

After everything I went through to have Montana, and years of dealing with the trauma, I wish to do it all over again. I never thought I would be at that place. I am still fearful of labor, but the obsession is taking me over once again.

Oh the joys of being a woman.

Cela a été Quatre Jours

...since my hormonal baby fever induced meltdown. My eyes are dry, and my uterus is empty. I feel calmer and more level in my head, but the desire hasn't waned. I have had irrational thoughts this week, thoughts that include future added responsibilities to my single parenthood, which is absolutely fine with me as this has always been my plan when it comes to subsequent children. Call me Crazy, but after the nightmare of my last pregnancy, I prefer doing it on my own. However, I am not so irresponsible as to purposely create a new life in my current financial situation. Also, I know there are things that can come with doing so with someone unfamiliar.

That being said, visions of morning sickness, doctor visits, and even labor, are occupying my every thought. This confuses me, as my previous experience with such was less than fun.

Not only that, but I also found out a couple years ago that due to my wonderfully bipolar-like hormones, I may not be able to have more children. It was because of this information, and recent body changes, that I saw symptoms where apparently there were none.

And, as my dear friend reminded me, I have a healthy, awesome child. I always told myself that would be enough, and I could channel all my sadness into making her life wonderful. Sometimes it works, because it has to. But I can't be strong all the time, I'm still a woman.

I'm hoping life will go back to business as usual, and I can once again be okay with having no more babies (or pretend to). You would think after so long it would be part of me, but life is full of little surprises. Thanks again, Life.

Horloge biologique

Just when I started to enjoy my day to day life (by that I mean the living, not the icky finances) I fall into another ditch.

Over the weekend, which was fantastic by the way! I played with a wee chubber of a baby, one of the happiest tots in the history of ever. Unfortunately I got too close to him, and he sneezed his little germs on me, and I caught baby fever. I am usually immune to this particular illness, but I suppose I may have weak spots.

Add to that the fact that Mother Nature is giving me the runaround on my friendly visitor, and sprinkling various symptoms on me, my brain shifted into overdrive. I decided to put the poor thing at ease, and sought out the answer, which as you may have guessed, is not the answer I was seeking.

Overall, in the real world, this is a good thing. I know this. The responsible (read: poor) adult in me has already made the decision to be a one-offspring woman, what with the offspring being almost my height, and trying to make a success of my life by going to school, not to mention the fact that I have a hard enough time providing for myself and the child I already have.

However, the selfish child in me is wanting to run out and grab the first fertile man I can get my needy little hands on.

I feel like my heart is breaking, and it is spilling into other aspects of my life, making me feel like an overall failure.

What is wrong with me? Why is it that a week ago I had a handle on my future, and today I'm a sad, empty uterus of a woman? Is it just my biological clock kicking into panic mode now that I am one year closer to thirty? I've had it under control for so, since I made the decision that I should not plan another child. All of a sudden, it is what I want more than anything, and I'm even convincing myself I can work school and work around pregnancy and maternity leave.

I think I need a lobotomy.

Juillet

I have been avoiding writing like the plague. So much has happened since my last entry, and I have been in self-induced denial for so long, I didn't want to come here and write out the truth. I will try to keep everything short to avoid boredom.

My last entry was written when I was in a very dark place. I was confused, and my heart was as broken as it could be. Or so I thought. A couple days after I blogged, John came online and took what was left of my heart, and put it in a garbage disposal. I don't believe I have ever been hurt that badly at the hands of a man, and for it to be this man, it made my life a living Hell. He took my insecurities and threw them in my face. He made me hate myself so much I had to remove pictures of myself from MSN and Facebook so I wouldn't see my face.

The weekend that followed I went to my favorite cheer-me-up place: DM's house. She was such a sweetheart, and ironically took me to Hell--a tourist attraction not far from her. It was wonderful. We took the kids on a tram ride down a mountain, had lunch, and bought fudge. It didn't bring me all the way out of my funk, but it was a nice escape.

A couple weeks later, I went to a house party, in the best party house ever. My friends have completely set up their basement for parties; they have a home theater, with a detachable stripper pole, and an adjacent bar complete with keg taps and televisions. I love going to their parties, and the last one I went to was in February--I may have blogged about that one, I will need to check later. I met someone at the February party, we will call him BoyToy, and we flirted all night, but nothing happened. BoyToy was at this party, and, well, let's just say I felt lightyears better than I had been!

After the party, I gradually clawed my way out of the hole I'd been kicked into. We had our big birthday blowout in June, which was a success despite some minor setbacks. DM came for the night, and mom's best friend Blanche flew out here for that week. I had a fantastic time.

Sadly, amidst all the fun and heartbreak was more drama. Montana's school put on a talent show this year, and in my naive mind I had pictured a fun performance which would include any and all children who signed up. Unfortunately, the school treated it like American Idol, and only put through the best of the best. Montana came home in tears on two separate occasions, telling me she was told that she was "not good enough." Mama bear did not like this too much, and so I made an appointment with the principal, and also bitched about it on Facebook. I spoke with both the principal and the "judges" -- the librarian and a teacher, and worked it out. A few days later I received a call while at work from the police--it seems someone I am friends with decided that I was threatening the school and certain teachers, and took it upon herself (I am assuming it was a woman) to report me to the authorities, the school, and the school board (who, by the way, wanted me banned from school grounds.)

I cannot relate just how awful I felt; awful that someone went behind my back and reported me, and awful that someone thinks I would actually cause physical harm to someone at my child's school. I still have not found out who reported me, but I have a couple ideas.

This has also caused problems with my friends. Two of my closest friends were also reported for commenting and uttering "threats." It is breaking my group apart, which I am sure was the intent. Luckily it is now summer, so we all get a break from it, and hopefully things will resemble normalcy come fall.

Aside from all the gunk, we are enjoying summer!

• I got what I wanted for my birthday: MasterPiece Theater, the newest CD from Marianas Trench.
• I went camping for the first time in over a decade, which was the first time for both Montana and Pompom. It was amazing!
• Canada Day was as great as always; we went to the park to see fireworks and bands, and to go on rides.
• The kids got to go with their daycamp and see the Stanley Cup! We have a couple great pictures of each one standing beside the Cup and an NHL player.
  

We have been suffering financially, which is really stressful but not a new feeling for us. Due to this I have been thinking a lot, and I have decided that I would like to go back to school! I went when Montana was just two years old, and although I enjoyed it, I didn't do too well. I don't think I was quite ready emotionally, and having a toddler to take care of alone takes away from study time. It has been six years since then, Montana and I have both grown, and I am ready to try again. I am at the brainstorming stage still, I have much to consider and figure out. I went to an information session last week to help me, and I have ordered my high school transcript. The next steps will be to find out which classes I need to take, and find out if I qualify for financial aid. If all goes well, I could be in school part time by September, or January at the latest. The long term goal is to become a nurse in labor and delivery! It will take years, and excessive studying, but in the end, it will be worth it. Montana is very excited, and is my biggest supporter.

I believe that is the gist of my life the past 2 months, but you could expect more blogs in the near future, now that I have gotten everything off my chest!

Thanks for reading <3