It's a funny thing how the human mind works. Or at least how my mind works. The last time I was feeling stressed the last thing I wanted to do was blog about it. But today was a rough day, and I almost could have begged Greg to go pick up the girls by himself so that I could be alone with the laptop. Why this time? For attention? I doubt it, I don't think that I am that kind of person. It's not to avoid crying, I have done that several times today, mostly randomly, when trying to finish a sentence, which is really annoying.
So, how stressed am I? Lately life has been pretty stressful. I would say that on a daily basis I am quite tempted to crack open a bottle of wine, and go to town, glass or no glass. Both Greg and I are technically unemployed; besides making huge strides with our financial security, it always seems like it is one step forward and two steps back; my brother is in Iraq, everytime I hear a news story about a soldier with local ties being wounded or killed my heart sinks, and then I feel guilty for being relieved it wasn't him; the girls' mom is in jail for 2 felony counts of Rape of a Child, we will find out what the sentencing is for her plea agreement in May, and I am still having a really hard time accepting that essentially I am going to be putting my career on the back burner to be a stay at home mom.
Well this morning ratcheted my stress level right over the top. I am no longer rational. If I was ready to polish off a bottle of wine before (pregnant or not) right now I am considering hopping on the next flight for a weekend away in Cancun, swine flu be damned. I don't care that Tessa's social worker is coming over tonight for a health and safety visit. I don't care that Greg has a job interview tomorrow, and I don't care that Bella has a T-ball game on Saturday morning. Game over. Who ever is pulling the strings, you win. I give up.
I spent most of last Friday morning being irritated with Greg for opening his big fat mouth and telling my ob-gyn that his mom is close to having to inject herself with insulin to treat diabetes. Especially after I had assured her (falsely) that there was absolutely no history of gestational diabetes on my side of the family. I have drank that nasty ass stuff twice before and "obese" or not, I was not signing up to do it again. The day of the test I woke up mad, and hungry, and went down stairs to drink the foul, but chilled, version of sprite necessary for the test. I made it to the doctor's in time, they were taking blood for the gestational diabetes test, and for an alpha fetoprotein test screen that they offer all moms. Apparently the CVS test I took doesn't screen for neural tube defects as this one does. Whatever, take the blood. My blood is not easy to draw. Most of the time I go straight to the lab @ the hospital, because as sweet as the nurses are at my obgyn's office, I often end up walking out with multiple poke sights, and bruised up to high heaven. This time only took two pokes, one in the arm that failed, and one on the top of my hand that worked. Wahoo!
Today started out like any normal day that both Greg and I are home on a weekday. He woke up, panicked that it was 7:30 and we hadn't delivered the girls to daycare yet. I told him to shut up, we had nothing pressing to do anyway, and rolled back over. He continued to cuss and thrash about and, in my opinion, hurry for no reason at all. While I was in the shower, he came up to tell me he was leaving to take Tessa, and would be back in a bit. Bella was set up downstairs with a tivo'd Imagination Movers, pop tart and milk. Whatever.
Greg came back and we both took Bella to daycare, then headed over to Carol's for breakfast. Probably a waste of $$ for me, as I haven't been feeling great lately, but I was hoping eating would make me feel better. I had skipped dinner the night before because my stomach hurt and I was busy researching all the different types of cloth diapers. Exciting times.
While at breakfast, Greg got a call about a job interview for tomorrow. Yay! He so needs to find something, if nothing else to boost his self confidence, and to get him the hell out of the house while I am home. Hopefully I will be able to get him to finish all the projects I have in mind before he has to start something.
I don't quite remember how the next couple of hours went, Greg researched the company he was interviewing with, probably spent some time bsing on the phone with his boyfriend Ken, and I laid on the couch catching up on episodes of The Real Housewives of New York, along with the sneak peak of The Real Housewives of New Jersey. That looks like it will be a good one!
A little after noon, I was toying with the idea of doing some housework, or even better, going shopping. The house phone rang, which is unusual, we really should cancel the land line, we never use it. Cascadia Women's Clinic. This time it was the Doctor calling, which is also unusual. Good news! Gestational Diabetes is negative. Damn you Greg Mongrain, I told you so. She kept talking, about how there was something that did come back alarming, and my ears started ringing. I was trying to get Greg's attention so that he could listen too. The alpha fetoprotein test came back positive. They are going to schedule an emergency ultrasound to see if they can see any birth defects in a Level II ultrasound, and then probably do an amnio right afterwards. The doctor asked about my schedule, and told me that she was going to have her assistant call maternal fetal medicine at Legacy and schedule everything and then call me back. I was not to worry, even though the test is postive, all it means is that there is a 1 in 100 chance that the baby has a birth defect.
Of course I was too stunned and mush mouthed to ask the millions of questions floating around my head, so I "uh-huh"ed and hung up. And then I did the most logical thing one can do. I googled neural tube defects. That was not a good idea. Even if you are in a competent state of mind, the pictures are not pretty. Even though I didn't think I felt like crying, I sobbed while scrolling thru all the WebMD and wikipedia pages. It's not good news. Spina Bifida, anencephaly, duodenal atresia, and so on. The pictures are graphic. I guess some moms believe ignorance is bliss, and decide to deliver their babies and let "nature take it's course". To me, that is selfish. But I am really starting to believe the ignorance is bliss part.
But most of all, I am really angry at myself. I have been feeling guilty for not enjoying this baby, and having my guard up. Over the last week, I began to let myself relax and finally started to plan the nursery, and argue with Greg about names. I should have known better. What was I thinking? Greg is mad at me for thinking the worst. Maybe he is right, maybe more positive thinking will make all of these issues and possible issues go away. I call bullshit. I feel stupid for getting excited about a baby I wasn't sure that I wanted. I feel like an awful mother for letting Bella get excited about a baby sister and letting her do cute things like talk to my tummy the week Babycenter.com said that my baby could hear us talking. I feel guilty for feeling sorry for myself, convinced that next week after finding out what I am already certain is the case, that I will have to pick what day to kill my baby. That's how they do it. You either go in and find out that your baby has no heartbeat and the doctor schedules the surgery to have it removed because the baby is too big to go away naturally, and I imagine that this time I will go there and see that my daughter has an awful birth defect, spina bifida, or anencephaly, and I will have to pick a day to have an abortion. I am trying to stay positive, my life is filled with blessings, right? At least since I only work 2 days a week, I won't have to worry about taking any time off of work. And the worst part? I am so fried, cooked, done, whatever, that I don't even feel like fighting with myself about thinking good things. I guess am lazy. But like I said, I am done. I give it up. I can't handle it. Maybe I am weak, but this is really too much for one person to have to deal with.