Its been a while...

Have we all been *that* sick for *that* long?

Yes.. we have. At least I have. Been sick almost constantly since January. It's been tough.

At least the docs think they have found the problem - allergies! I guess everything gets all sticky and gummy.. and traps all kinds of viruses and bacteria.

Hopefully that can explain the 4 ear infections, the 2 cases of strep throat, the 'flu, the 3 colds and the eye infection that I've been sporting since January!

I don't have time to get into how much I'm mourning the last few months, precious months, time on mat leave with my son that I can't get back. I have 5 weeks to go and I'm going to make every last minute count.

life in the trenches

OK.. so being a second time mom I thought I'd seen it all, but my LO has been sick for 2 weeks now and on Sunday he started wheezing and working a bit harder to breathe. He's been in relatively good spirits, no fever and still eating so I wasn't too worried, but because of the wheeze I brought him into the doctors. I've been battling some kind of respiratory virus the entire month of January that landed me in the doc's a few times for pneumonia (a round of azithromycin for that one) and a big fat double ear infection (a round of amoxycillin for that one). I still can't hear out of my right ear...

Anyhoo I took him to the doc on Sunday and there's no sounds of pneumonia (lung crackles and pops) thank GOD (I am petrified of my kids getting pneumonia because I've had it, once as a kid and it was very very serious). but he does have bronchiolitis - inflammation in the smallest tubes in the lungs.

Yesterday he was wheezing worse and struggling to breathe a bit more so I brought him to the kid's hospital (CHEO - Children's Hospital of Eastern Ontario) and it was an absolute zoo. There was a line up at the triage desk - there's been a massive outbreak of respiratory and gastro. viruses.. it was awful. I got there at 2:00 and didn't leave until 8pm. It was horrendous.

Xavier's oxygen saturation was a bit low (96%) so they did all kinds of treatments, epinephrine masks (twice) ventolin, and prednisone to try and get rid of the inflammation. They also suctioned his nose with this tube thing that made him scream.. I had to look away and try to be in my happy place when he was being held to the bed and screaming his little baby scream...

Man.. that ER sounds like a house of horrors all the screaming kids in there. I must have cried five times myself listening to all the misery around me.

Anyhow the wheezing seemed to be gone by 8pm so they let us go home. Today it seems to be back despite following the doctor's orders for continued puffers (ventolin and steroid) and prednisone.. tonight he coughed so hard he puked and he even had a big fat diarrhea attack in the tub (while he was in the tub with my 3 year old - great time to have their first shared bath eh?) we took him out of the tub and he proceeds to power-diarrhea all over my husband..

PLEASE GOD do not let him have a gastro. virus on top of whatever is making him cough and wheeze... I dont think I could stand having that rip through my house when my hubby is away for the weekend.

Anyhow its been a real slice of he** in the motherhood trenches. My back is killing me from lifting my 23 lb son around the ER for 8 hours. I'm totally stressed and I"m so glad my mom is coming up for a few days to help me out (my hubby is going away for the weekend and there's no way in he** i can manage 2 kids, one sick, one recovering, BOTH kids on puffers, and me with one ear still clogged and exhausted from whatever respiratory virus is making its rounds this year).

I'm not impressed mostly because an attack of bronchiolitis in infancy often means that the child will develop asthma later in life, great, my daughter has it and now my son. I've even had to label their puffers/aerochambers.. but then again ALL of us in this house have puffers now.. we all seem to get asthma after we get sick :(

I CANT WAIT FOR SPRING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! virus season sucks...

Dear Lord...

Can I talk to my Dad? Please? I miss him so much. I don't understand why he has to come and live with you now and not with us. We're not done with him. He never got to meet Xavier and he barely met Abby. He has two grandchildren who would so much love to see him and play with him and that's not going to happen.

I still don't understand why my dad had to go. I mean, you probably know, but that does little for me who has to walk around every day with a broken heart. It's been over three years but some days it feels like it was just yesterday. Like this afternoon. I'm terribly worried about Xavier's cough and wheezing and I just wish I could call my dad and ask him to tell me everything's going to be OK. I never was really good at soothing myself when serious things happened, and even if my dad had NO idea if things were going to be OK he'd tell me anyhow, and I felt better. Even if it didnt make any sense, hearing him say that made me feel better.

But I can't call him. I will never hear his voice again as long as I live. I am not ready to die yet, so I don't think I want to exercise that option in order to hear him.

I have heard that through You all things are possible. And since You decided it was my dad's time to go, and I had no choice in the matter, that I deserve a little help here.

Could You tell me things will be OK? How will I know when you're sending me that message?

I miss my dad so much Lord, I could use a little help here.

Please.

You know who I am

So..

The insomnia got out of control in December. The depression and anxiety came back with a vengeance. I knew I had a problem when I went to my office Christmas party and spent more time in the bathroom crying than upstairs with my colleagues.

So I caved and started taking medication. Unfortunately I was self-medicating for awhile this fall with a few painkillers I had left over from an unfortunate burn accident. When those ran out I realized I had a serious problem.

I started medication under the supervision of a psychiatrist in mid December. Ciprolax in the morning, Seroquel and Imovane at night to sleep.

The anxiety seems to be in check now, which is good, but I still can't sleep without additional medication. But I can sleep with the night time medication and it's good.

I hate to admit that I have a mood disorder, but I do. Yep, I'm officially in the category of "mentally ill". I have had classic symptoms of Generalized Anxiety Disorder since I was about 3. These symptoms have gradually gotten worse over my lifetime until they hit a crisis point after Abby's birth. I have been working awfully hard to keep these symptoms in check since I stopped taking medication before having Xavier.

Some of the things I can't do when I'm on this medication: Drink alcohol, stay up late, eat excessive amounts of junk food, and fly airplanes (yes I used to have a pilot's license).

I don't know how I will explain this to people the next time I'm out for dinner or at a party (not like that happens frequently, but it does on occasion). I just have to level with my friends I guess, and tell them the truth. That I have a health problem, I take medication, and I can't drink or stay up late. I rarely drank anyhow because of this problem so I might as well bite the bullet and tell them the truth.

I'm thankful for having my life back, though. It feels good to be normal. I've spent so much of my life wracked with phobias, insomnia, excessive worry, and an inability to relax. It feels good to finally unwind.

I just hate to admit I have an illness like this.

Things I hate...

The third anniversary of my dad's death has come and gone. And my anxiety is worse than ever. I don't know if its related, but its possible. For most of last week, just as I tried to drift off to sleep, I awoke with a jolt and a big fat panic attack that took hours to resolve. And on those nights that I didn't have a scary attack, I was just too keyed up, my heart was racing too fast, my thoughts racing, and I just couldn't settle down. The fact that one or both of my kids get up at 5:00 am most mornings doesn't help when you can't get to sleep until well after midnight, or later. There's no such thing as sleeping in anymore.

Having a baby and a 3 year old is tough enough, however, without much sleep its impossible. I'd hoped that this year I'd be able to have Abby home with me some days, but I just don't know how I can do it, safely without sleep. I hate that my anxiety and depression has robbed me of my mat leave with her, and now it's robbing me of some time that I thought I'd be able to have with her, to get some of that "mommy time" back that I couldn't give her back then because I was too sick.

I hate that I have to rely on C so much just to cope these days. Lord knows he's got enough on his plate lately, training for a new job and an improved income so we don't go into debt with 2 kids in daycare next year. Lord also knows he's already had to go the extra mile a million times already since we've been married, due to my anxiety and depression. I hate that this is so hard on him.

I hate taking drugs to sleep, but that's what I've had to do for weeks now. I hate that my dad also had this issue, and he's now dead, and that leaves me to wonder if his fate (dead of a heart attack at 62) will also be mine. He had depression and anxiety, so do I. We both struggled to get enough restful sleep in order to function. I have been struggling for years on this, and I don't know what to do. I've taken every antidepressant known to mankind and found either they made me so dehydrated I couldn't get comfortable in bed (dry mouth, had to pee all night) or they gave me insomnia, which is the stupid problem I'm trying to fix in the first place.

At least now I realize I don't really have an insomnia problem, but really an anxiety problem. When the anxiety is not tearing me apart, I sleep quite well. But for most of my life, most days, have been a battle against the monster anxiety.

I hate that.

Building a Mystery

This road I've chosen - marriage, home ownership, motherhood (of two!) is a struggle. I never realized how much harder it would be to go from one to two, but its really hard. Of course this reminds me of the fact that I never realized how hard it was to even have one.. but now I've got two. But I digress...

Last week was a hard one. Abby had a doctors and a dentist appointment in the same week. This meant that her little routine was messed up. She had to go late to preschool on Tuesday and miss it completley on Thursday. As a result, she acted out a LOT that week. On Thursday, I was so distracted by Abby's inappropriate behaviour (she was on a time out) and a crying baby that during dinner preparation, I grabbed a hot pan handle and wound up with excruciating 2nd degree burns all over my right hand. It hurt so bad and I yelled so loud I traumatized Abby. She started bawling. I wound up in the E.R. with an outrageously high blood pressure, and had to be shot up with morphine and a tetanus shot, as well as taking percocet/acetominophen, ibuprofen and of course, gravol to keep my guts intact after all the narcotics. Didnt stop me from wharfing out the car door on the way home though. It was good high though!

So.. you might ask.. what's with the title for this blog post? Tonight I'm forced to take a break from housework on account of my bummed hand. Instead I'm going through old CDs and transferring my favourite songs to my MP3 player. I'm on Sarah McLachlan's "Surfacing" - an old favourite.

Listening to songs I long forgot about is one of the very few ways I can hang onto a grasp of my "adult self" - the person that I used to be prior to having kids - throughout the day, especially when I"m here alone, or when I'm going for a walk with Xavier. It helps to drown out his screaming when he's settling down for a nap (he's one of those babies that disdains soothers, and cries himself to sleep almost EVERY time).

Around 1996 or so I saw Sarah in concert. It was an AMAZING night. During that time I was dating a guy in Montreal - a guy I eventually moved in with for 1998-2000. A relationship that I thought was going places, but it ended extremely badly. But during that time I got to do a LOT of stuff and got to know Montreal REALLY well. Its a fun city to live in thats for sure, but I felt it was never the kind of place to settle down in and raise kids, which was my ultimate goal.

During that time in my life I was so carefree, I had it sooo easy but I didnt realize it. I guess the fact that I didnt have a job or any kind of income might have clouded the fact that it was pretty easy living. Easy mostly, except for dealing with the guy that I was dating. I thought we were good friends and our relationship would stand the test of time, but it didn't. I dont know where or when it all went sour, or what exactly happened, but I went from an angel on a pedestal to the spawn of Satan in four short years. I was the same person, same values, same hopes and dreams. How it all came unravelled so quickly I dont know.

Why am I romanticizing the past - especially a ROTTEN time in my past - when now I finally have everything I've always wanted - a home, a husband who loves me, two great kids who also love me, and a good job that pays well? Does this mean I dont love my husband or my kids? Does this mean I made a mistake with my life? Sometimes I am so tired and so wrung out by this motherhood gig that I think I have made a BIG mistake. Its SOO much work to raise two kids and keep a house in semi-order. After putting the kids to bed, tidying up a bit and taking some "me" time there's little time for each other. And I"m not even a neatnik - I"m just after a house that's not overrun with dust and mould and dirt and rotting food. Some serious disarray and crayon marks on the walls are acceptable.

Why did I do this? I could be jetting off to Europe any time I like.. doing whatever I please. I could spend lazy Saturdays and Sundays in bed. But I can't. And I have no idea when I will be able to do that again, if ever. Why did I do this to myself?

I thought that I"d be less lonely with a family. But lately it feels like I'm MORE lonely. The evenings are filled with my husband and I each taking a child for the evening (its hard when the kids are at two very different stages). Yes there's company when I take my 3 year old to the park at night, but its not an adult conversation. There's no understanding, no comraderie (how do you spell that) and it's still being "on duty".

I hope there's more love and company in this life that I've chosen. I hope that the best is yet to come. Everyone tells me that this gets better, gets easier. I hope so. Right now its very very hard. It just feels like drudgery and I dont get a lot of fun.

Maybe there IS love here and I can't see it? I guess I've spent so many years chasing love, wanting love, hoping to find love that I have a hard time recognizing it. Even my husband tells me that I only listen to the bad stuff, and I have a hard time listening to the good stuff, the compliments, the kudos, the kisses.

I should listen to him more about stuff like that. Maybe its my clouded ears and my jaded attitude that's the problem, and not my life.

So every day, I guess I *am* building a mystery. Every day I get up at 5:30 am (give or take an hour) and get the baby, feed the baby, dress the baby, get breakfast on the table, help get Abby and Clancy out the door. All day long I dress the baby, feed the baby, burp the baby, take the baby for a walk, try to get the baby to nap, cook food, do a bit of housecleaning, pick up Abby, prepare dinner, pick a child, complete evening routine, prepare formula, arrange dishes, run a load of laundry, spend a bit of time on the computer and crash at 10pm (lather.. rinse.. repeat...).

I have no idea what our life will be like in 1 year, 2 years, 3 years, 5 years, 10 years. I dont know who my kids will become, what they will want to do, what their likes and dislikes will be. I don't even really have much of an insight into my baby son's personality yet.

I dont know when I'll be able to return to having some of my interests returned into my life. I dont know when I'll feel less guilty taking time for myself, I have NO idea when I'll be confident enough to stay home with 2 kids alone for any length of time...

But right now, every day I work.. HARD. I guess I'm building.. but I don't know what I am building. I'm building my own mystery, a day at a time.

I hope this mystery has a good ending.

"Wishing You Were Here"

Is the name of the song I've been listening to for the past few hours. My hubby left me with his MP3 player today to help mask the sounds of the baby crying when he hits "critical mass". It really helped. I've been a Chicago addict all day. Poor babe though choked on his spit and blew snot out of his nose he was crying so hard at one point today.. I had to put him down for 5 minutes and he got so upset.. but I swear I was going to freak out so I had to put him down. Sorry Xavier. I"m sure you wont be scarred by this when you're 16. I might be, however.

Today has been a big ball of emotions. I had a serious panic attack last night at 1opm and couldn't fall asleep until 1:30 am. I even had the "Night off" and yet I couldn't sleep. I hate this, I feel like such a useless tool, but I had to admit last night that I have an anxiety problem and I need help. The weight of my new responsibilities as a parent of 2 is weighing me down.

My anxiety is causing me to avoid doing things that I know I should, like even trying to sleep. Here it is 10:20, I should have been in bed hours ago, but I'm avoiding it. Just sitting here at the computer, typing away, listening to old Chicago tunes.

"And I'd like to change my life and you know I would, just to be with you tonight baby if I could, but I've got my job to do, and I do it well.. so I guess that's how it is"...

This line from Wishing You Were Here really hits home - how I'd love to spend a night in my husband's arms, relaxing, doing the things that we used to do before we got married, or just taking a drive by myself for a few hours, playing soccer with my friends, going on a trip, ANYTHING but another day of drudgery with a baby. Don't get me wrong, I love my son. I love my daughter. I love my house. I did want a family. But I'm feeling so isolated, so housebound, so tied down, so FUCKING TIRED.... so bored of the monotony.. another breastfeed/supplement, another burp session, another diaper, another load of laundry... "lather, rinse, repeat" (thanks Ange for that line!) . The grief from the loss of one's freedom is so devastating, for those of you who don't have kids, its the equivalent to a death it hits you that hard. Yes, as parents we DO love our kids and we DO love our families but this is so hard to deal with. Also the massive changes in lifestyle for the mat leave year are also hard do cope with. Good thing I've been through this before and I know how hard it is. This time at least I"m not seriously incapacitated by depression. Some moderate to strong anxiety, yes. Extreme fatigue due to insomnia and other disturbances, yes. Depressed, not so much.

One thing that's tough is that I'm an extrovert and get all charged up and energized being with people, and I'm home all day with someone who doesn't even know how hold his head up yet, let alone speak a word. The isolation on Mat Leave gives me too much time to think. What is running through my mind is that its just so complicated and so intense to have a new baby, AND a three year old to deal with. I didn't realize we had it so good with only one child. I am so scared that we have completely lost all our "alone" time forever and ever.. Dammit its so easy to lose perspective when you're this tired and this scared and this overwhelmed. I dont konw what I've lost and what I've gained. I dont know if I'm coming or going.

One song on this collection that brings tears to my eyes is the song Hard Habit to Break. A kind of wistful song to begin with, but it really brings me back to 1985, I was 15 years old, I was so happy with my friends and my soccer playing and everything that year. It really was the perfect year.

I never thought that my life would get more complicated when I left home. God back then I never thought I'd LEAVE home. I thought that I'd probably live with my mom and dad and brother in Brockville forever. I never thought that things would change so much. I never thought these changes would be so difficult.

One thing that is also on my mind is the similarity between my last postpartum year experience and this one. The same time of year, the same hospital, the same recovery room, even my kids look similar at birth/early months. The same sick, excruciating feelings in your bones, joints and organs as you struggle to recover from pregnancy and childbirth, the same groin and bladder and back pains to suck up and cope with, the same shooting pains from my nipples as I try to breastfeed (with problems) yet again, the same back and neck strain from lifting a 13 lb baby a zillion times per day.

I'm also starting to think about losing my Dad a lot. So many triggers, no wonder all of this is coming back to me so strongly. Frankly I"m surprised at the intensity of the pain.

Wishing You Were Here indeed.

I definitely will need a LOT of support come November.

Dad, I miss you like crazy today. I came to accept you not being here for awhile, and to even accept that you not being here actually freed us from the craziness that you put us through. That we were actually free from your depression, from your addiction, your crazy and over-the-top dramatic/abusive behaviour. I was ok with that for the past year or so. I was even getting a bit calloused agains the pain the past few months of my pregnancy. But now that you have another grandchild on this planet that you will never see grow up, that you won't ever be around to give me a few words of encouragement (when you could that is), I am starting to miss you again. I miss those "good times" - when times were good for us, they were REALLY good. And I miss that, to the very core of my being. I feel so lost without you some days, its not funny. I wish you could send me a sign that you're still around, that you see me sitting here crying over you, that you could be right beside me and LET ME KNOW from the next dimension that everything will be ok. But you can't.

I miss you Daddy. I need a hug and for you to tell me everything's going ot be ok. For some reason, whenever you said that, whether you meant it or not, I felt better about everything. And you'll never be here again to tell me that.

What am I going to do now? PLEASE COME BACK DADDY I LOVE YOU AND I MISS YOU.

How do I ever get over you? How do I ever get used to this? Its been 3 years and I'm still levelled to my knees every so often when I realize that you're gone.

Forever.

You're a Hard Habit to Break.