I guess that’s just part of loving people: You have to give things up. Sometimes you even have to give them up.

The last few months have been a real struggle for me. The sheer weight of my emotions has become too much for me to contain. I have spent each morning of the last week in tears, while the rest of the time I am so completely drained that I’m walking around emotionless. My energy is non-existent. I have to push myself to show any sort of interest in anything. I see it. My kids see it.

I know it’s gotten bad because Owen has gotten into the habit of grabbing me by the face and asking, “are you sad?” And then there’s Ellia. She is very receptive. Every day she makes me all kinds of pieces of art and, in her words, it’s “to make me happy” or “to see me smile”.

Before I became a mother, I was ignorant to the emotional responsibility that I would be taking on for everyone in this family. I have to be everything to everyone at all times. It is easy to get lost in that and in turn lose yourself. I might get an evening or two away per month, to be with friends, and get a glimpse of the personality that is still lurking inside me somewhere. The guilt crushes that back down quickly though.

I’ve been on the receiving end of the silent treatment for a few days now. I’m not sure that Corey understands the effect that has had on me, but it too is crushing. It’s lonely. It’s suffocating. I’m sure it’s an angry culmination of many things, but generally he’s upset by my lack of affection or emotion towards him. He fails to realize, however, that every second I am awake (and with lingering insomnia on my part and small children that do not sleep through the night), I am giving all that I have. I am constantly needed. Constantly touched. Constantly drained. I have nothing left. My tank is empty.

I’m not the best communicator; I’ve always struggled with that. It’s been particularly difficult with Corey all of the years we’ve been together because I clam up around anger. And his anger is quick and hot. And immobilizing for me. I am, and always have been, terrified to talk to him about my feelings. When I bring up anything that I’m upset about, he immediately becomes the raging victim, accusing me of being too much of something–sensitive, distant, unfeeling. The problem is that I feel too much. I take on too much. But, I genuinely feel unable to ask for help from someone unwilling to provide it.

Every month or two it comes up. I suffer in silence until I finally build up enough courage to ask for help. I’m exhausted, I need more from you. Please spend more quality time with the kids so I can have more than just a ten minute shower to myself. Sacrifice some of the video games, TV, garage time, going to the range or shopping. Be present. Get to know the kids. Learn what they like and dislike. Give them a bath. Change a diaper without asking.

Sacrifice. Is that accurate though? Is asking him to be an active and more equal parent a sacrifice? Why do I feel guilty asking? I’m the stay at home mom, and we homeschool. Isn’t it my role to do everything for the kids because he goes to work? Aren’t the kids, and the house, my work? Is that how he sees it? I don’t know, and I’m afraid to ask. I’m tired of asking. I’m tired of having to ask. I’m tired.

Whenever something bad happens, keep calm, take a few deep breaths and shift the focus to something positive.

Yesterday was a bit of a rude awakening. It was the first time I had been out of the house by myself, or had any time alone, in over a month. I don’t practice a lot of healthy self-care habits, or have any at all most of the time. I live and breathe for my children, but I’m pretty sure that’s typical when you have small kids.

I went to a used bookstore for four hours. I’m not going explain why that was necessary, except to say that we are a homeschool family. And I went with a friend. It was a break from the norm, but it did leave me feeling a bit anxious and drained. I’m not used to that kind of activity.

Even worse than my leaving was my return home. Ellia was heartbroken when I left and I had to promise her some stickers and a book, which I did deliver on. My arrival home though? Both of my kids were thrilled, but I was not. I walked in and saw that my husband was sitting in front of the TV playing video games with his head phones on while the iPad was propped up playing movies for my kids. That’s how my husband parents when I’m not around.

Ellia, who cannot keep a secret, told me that she wished she had asked to go with me. She said she played games on the tablet and watched movies all day. I’m assuming Owen just watched movies. He was so fussy after he greeted me that I changed his diaper and put him down for a nap. He was exhausted.

I read books and played with Ellia for a little bit and then Corey started pushing me to watch a movie with him. I did not want to because I had not interacted much with Ellia that day and I knew she did not need anymore screen time. But, Corey wanted to relax. He had a hard day watching the kids, after all.

He ended up binge watching a show until he went to bed after 10pm. Me? Well, I had to attempt to appease everyone. I made the kids and I dinner, but after that, the evening was so stressful. The kids were so cranky, argumentative, and wound up. Corey was spiteful to say that he didn’t see any of that behavior while I was gone. He spent most of the evening, however, yelling at them to shut up, threatening to spank them, or actually spanking. It was soul crushing for me, and the kids.

Ellia took it upon herself to tell him not to spank because it made things worse. His response? If they behaved, did what they were told, and were good, it wouldn’t happen. I’m anti-spanking, have always been, and in the past, I’ve been screamed at for defending the kids when Corey wanted to raise his hand. And I’m always telling the kids that they can cry if they need to, or express their emotions, even if their dad threatens otherwise. I feel like a terrible mother, not protecting my kids from the negativity that is their dad. I resent him more every day.

Ellia had a meltdown when it was time for bed. It took quite a lot of time for her to wind down from that. But, I stayed with her, patiently letting her scream, kick, run, and rage it out in the privacy of her room. She eventually laid down next to me, all cried out. She was smiling again though, happy, before she went to sleep.

I know as well as any mother that screen time was to blame. There is a fine line with that. I know what else, or who, was also to blame, but I can’t do much about that. Except to not go out again without the kids. Tonight I’m supposed to go out for a birthday dinner with friends. I feel sick about it.

We cannot change the cards we are dealt, just how we play the game.

When Corey got home from work, he handed me a folded up piece of paper. The only explanation I was given was, “this is for you.” When I opened it, I was really confused. It was a special request chit, which is something typically used in the military to ask for time off. This specific one just had a place and a time period filled in for this afternoon. I didn’t understand.

I asked what it was for. Corey explained that the guys from work wrote it up for him, so he could go to the shooting range with them. It was to get permission from me. I was even more confused. I am probably one of the least demanding spouses; I ask for nothing.

So, I asked if that was supposed to imply that I’m some kind of controlling wife..? I have no idea how Corey describes me to his friends. As usual, Corey got mad, called me defensive and said I can’t take a joke. He said he knew he didn’t need permission from me to do anything and he does what he wants.

The thing that probably bothered me the most, besides the unnecessary passive aggressiveness, was that we were supposed to go shopping that afternoon. For Corey. Because he wanted me there to help him pick out clothes for a job interview. That I wrote his resume for. That he delayed doing the day before even though he got home from work early.

He also went to the range after work earlier in the week with one of his work friends. And then came home and played video games for a few hours. I did not complain, not once. But, I’m the bad guy, or implied bad guy? Not sure how that works.

I stopped complaining a long time ago. I guess in some way, I’ve resolved myself into believing that this is just my life, the cards I’ve been dealt. Spoiler alert: it’s not a winning hand.

Expectation feeds frustration. It is an unhealthy attachment to people, things, and outcomes we wish we could control; but don’t.

Being a highly sensitive person myself, I take things personally, whether they are meant that way or not. I will dwell on bad news, attitudes, and words. They will consume my thoughts and sour my mood and feelings.

Yesterday was not a good day. I was sick, feeling weak, light headed, and nauseous. I had been up most of the night previously with chills, despite putting on a sweat shirt, sweatpants, and socks. I did not get much sleep, especially with both kids coming to wake me up at some point during the night.

It was not easy to get rest during the day with a two and four year old requiring attention, but I managed. I felt a bit better as evening approached, but the nausea remained. I was hoping to be able to sleep through the night, knowing full well that wasn’t likely. Owen woke up in the middle of the night and I struggled to fall back asleep. I had to get up and take magnesium to calm my restless legs. I decided to go back to Owen’s room because he was tossing and turning, which unfortunately meant a restless end of the night for me as well.

Also unfortunately, Corey came barging into Owen’s room this morning, half dressed. He said his alarm clock didn’t go off and he only woke up because his boss called. Just as I was about to commiserate with him, he tells me that I can’t be sleeping with the kids anymore because he needs help with this, obviously. This isn’t the first time he’s over slept but usually, my internal alarm clock wakes me up before it’s too late and I can get Corey out of bed.

The problem isn’t me, I know that. The problem is I am relied upon by everyone too much. My husband doesn’t need my help, he needs to help himself. Instead of hitting his snooze button repeatedly, which usually jolts me awake and forces me to lay there in anger, he needs to get up the first time it goes off. He also needs to own the fact that he actually did hit the snooze button because he showed me his set alarm last night before we went to bed.

It sucks that he was late to work, for the second time this week. The last time, which I also got the brunt of anger with, was because he forgot his wallet at home. That was the second time in a week he had done that, but the first time, he left it on his dresser. The second time, I noticed it laying on his dresser again the night before, so I put it in the kitchen key rack right by the door where we’re supposed to place our belongings. Bad call though because I failed to inform him that I put it there. So, even though he didn’t even realize his wallet was missing until he needed it at the gas station, and then had to come home for it, I was angrily lectured about moving his things.

I’m so tired. In so many ways. The fact that any blame was placed on me when I did absolutely nothing wrong, is infuriating. I really needed extra sleep this morning. I’m the only thing that keeps this family functioning and yet I’m the first one to be attacked when anything goes wrong.

Every day may not be good, but there is something good in every day.

This has been a busy summer. Honestly, it’s been a busy year in general, but that’s what happens in life.

Corey is home from his month/month-and-a-half training session, which consisted of an extended stay out of state and then another week back in California, but a few hours from home. It was a good experience for him, I think, and he did find out some great news while he was gone. He’s being promoted! We were both very excited about this, especially since we considered it long overdue, but the timing isn’t exactly the best. This promotion isn’t a quick here’s-your-new-rank type of thing. It’s intensive and time consuming, and requires about six weeks of what is categorically considered “reindeer games”. With me being prior service, I understood the gist of things ahead of time and knew not to expect him around much. That really doesn’t make it any easier, especially when a) he’s already been gone for several weeks, and b) I’m just shy of eight months pregnant. I’m doing the best I can to help him out here and there, but he literally wakes up at 3am, maybe gets home by 8pm, works on projects until about midnight, and then crashes into bed shortly after that only to do it all over again. Needless to say, we’re probably going to be pretty prepared for that whole lack of sleep thing with a newborn.

I’ve done a pretty good job fending for myself over the last couple of months–whether I wanted to or not. I’m still doing most of the same things, and in the same way that I did them, as pre-pregnancy. I do get tired more quickly than before and can’t push myself as far, but that’s to be expected. Physically, my ankles have begun to swell, contractions have started, and sleep became rather elusive several weeks ago. It’s only been in the last few days, however, that I’ve actually had those moments of “ack, let’s slow this pregnancy down! I’m not ready yet!” That’s a moot point because this baby is coming whenever she pleases. I’m really crossing my fingers that she arrives closer to the due date of October 1st because Corey’s promotion ceremony is in mid-September. I’d kind of like to tackle that hurdle before we move onto the whole parenthood thing. You know, just to have a bit less stress.

As of right now, by the way, we still don’t have a name picked out for the baby. That’s one of the downsides of not being able to spend a whole lot of time with your spouse, and assuming that you’re going to have all the time in the world to decide back in that first trimester. How silly we were to think that.

Those who fly solo have the strongest wings.

I’m nearing the end of the second trimester, and only slightly dreading the fact the my third trimester will mostly be spent 1) in the midst of summer and 2) by myself. Neither of those things are all that appealing, but I know time will pass and I’ll get by just fine–albeit grumpily and bored.

I really can’t complain too much because I’ve honestly had a really easy pregnancy so far–knock on wood. I’ve only had minor annoyances, like occasional round ligament pain, nightly calf cramping and potty breaks, and all of that nausea back in the first trimester. For the most part, I’ve just been normal old me except for the expanded tummy. Even that really isn’t too remarkable as my small stature has made for a smaller than average bump. Normal, but small (I’ve gained 15 pounds so far, but I only weigh 125 pounds right now and I think half of that is from my boobs).

With all of this “average” and “normal” wordage being thrown around, I don’t feel too panicked over the fact that my husband will be sent away for about a month and a half beginning in about a week. It could be worse, especially considering we’re a military family. I am a bit saddened that I still don’t know anyone in our new town and therefore will be flying solo on every aspect of my daily life until hubby returns, but it is what it is. I’ll find something to occupy my time, hopefully besides work.

Oh, before I forget, I had that lovely glucose test this morning. It really wasn’t that bad, or not as bad as every over-exaggerated pregnancy blog had me believing. I made an appointment with Quest Diagnostics last week, showed up early, and was seen early thanks to having to fast. My blood was drawn and then I drank the exceptionally sweet, flat Sprite-tasting drink. I had five minutes to get it down, but I chugged that thing as fast as possible as I’m not a huge fan of sugary things. I sat in the waiting room for the designated hour, draining my cell phone battery in boredom, and then had my blood re-drawn. That was it, so not too bad. If my results come back normal, which I hope that they will considering I maintain a healthier diet, I should be good to go with blood tests for this pregnancy. I think. I really don’t know for sure–this is my first go-around, after all. Either way, I’m comfortably living obliviously for now until my next appointment later this month.

And though she be but little, she is fierce.

The fact that I’m going to become a mother became much more of a reality this week. On Wednesday, we were finally able to get an ultrasound of our baby and find out the gender. Corey got his wish and we’re having a girl!

Grabbing her toes!

Seeing a 3D version of your child-to-be is very cool, albeit a little life altering. I think that brief experience finally allowed me to grasp the concept of motherhood. I’ve been kind of detached so far, mostly because I have no relatable experience in that role. I’ve never been around babies–plenty of people who act like children, but never babies themselves. I’m only slightly terrified, but that’s normal, right?

I’m 22 weeks pregnant right now and I’m just now getting used to that experience. I’ve got a few more months left to go, so hopefully I’m able to prepare well enough. The baby is also extremely active and has been kicking for almost two weeks now, giving me a pretty good reminder that things are different even if I feel the same (mostly). On Tuesday, she was kicking during our doctor’s visit when the OB was monitoring her heartbeat. During the ultrasound the following day, the technician was having a ball, along with us, watching her move all over the place (flipping, turning, and throwing any and all limbs). She’s definitely an acrobat, or a future gymnast as the technician commented. The most important part though is that she’s healthy and, if the activity is any indication, happy. That’s all that I can ask for, really.

I never see what has been done; I only see what remains to be done.

My follow-up ultrasound for the infertility medications was today. I spent the last week or so taking Clomid and/or Gonal-F for the first time, and therefore, experiencing hot flashes like nobody’s business. Overall, I was nervous about the outcome because it wasn’t clear whether or not I actually needed the medication to stimulate my side of things. That said, I was worried that they may have overstimulated me.

The ultrasound itself was probably the worst one I’ve ever had. Typically, I don’t find them to be painful, just awkward. This one, however, was painful and I was cramping almost the whole time. That may have been because it was an intern doing the ultrasound and she didn’t seem to be all that confident in finding and measuring my follicles. I don’t think the doctor was all that confident either because he repeated the ultrasound. The corpsman/nurse who was “observing” also felt that it was appropriate to clean up the whole room afterwards, with the door open while I was still sitting on the exam table half dressed. Talk about awkward, and rude.

Anyway, the results weren’t quite what I was hoping for and I may have been slightly overstimulated. The doctor said that typically follicles in the range of 14-18mm are considered borderline mature and I’ve got one follicle that’s just about ready to stake its claim for this cycle, at 17.7mm. Either fortunately or unfortunately, depending upon how you look at it, I’ve got another six or so follicles in the 13.1-13.7mm range. With those follicles closing in on maturity size, and us definitely not wanting to risk having a brood of kids at once, the doctor had me inject the Ovidrel then and there to stimulate ovulation for the 17.7mm follicle. Also, the doctor told me that my uterus was also borderline for this cycle because its thickness was only 6mm. I was told that was a side effect of the Clomid, and therefore, if we have to do this again, I’m only doing injectionables.

I really didn’t get an all-around great feeling from the doctor, so it was a surprise when he said that we could try for timed intercourse tonight. That would have been fine, I guess, except that the other doctor that I saw for my last ultrasound recommended an IUI. When I brought that up, this doctor glanced through my file and decided that was okay too. Not quite sure why this doctor never seems to want to read my record before actually talking to me, but at least we’re still on course.

Tomorrow is IUI day, with the procedure scheduled for the afternoon. I’m hoping all goes well, but considering the state of my uterus and the uncertainty of my follicles, I’m not really getting my hopes up. At least after this, we’ll know what to expect for next time, if there is a next time.

Sometimes the things we can’t change end up changing us.

Today was the day I’d been waiting for, in more ways than one. My first go-around on the cycle list for IUI arrived, and the appointment went better than I was expecting.

My expectations were rather low, I must admit, but that’s because I had another failed pregnancy test this morning and my positivity meter was broken from then on. Aunt Flow was five days late this month, which isn’t normal for me, but in hindsight, I’m blaming it on that week of birth control pills I had to take in late-September. I’m sure my body is still trying to figure itself out as far as regularity goes. Anyway, we were kind of hoping the lateness was due to having a bun in the oven, but that wasn’t the case. I have the terrible luck of starting my period on the same day, every single time, that I take a pregnancy test. Go figure.

I was a little worried that the appointment this afternoon was going to be a complete bust because I was on my period, and it had started much later than it was supposed to. I was supposed to have started BCP on day two of my period, which would have been a few days ago. When I called the infertility clinic on Friday to ask what I should do about the BCP if I were any later with my cycle start, the nurse told me to just forget the pills and that the doctor would have to figure out what to do at the appointment.

It turns out it really wasn’t that big of a deal. I still had an ultrasound, and though my uterus was rather thick from the timing, everything else looked good to go. My left ovary was sporting sixteen follicles and my right had a load of twenty-one. The doctor seemed happy about that, since there are obviously more options to choose from when it comes time to picking the right egg(s). I also learned that my uterus is tipped, which is not new information for me, and it’s shaped a bit like a heart, which the doctor said was normal, but not super common. The doctor I saw, by the way, was the one I was hoping that I would see. He was the one who called me after the HSG and gave me all of that great information.

After going through all of the what-ifs of fertility treatment, the doctor said that with my hubby’s low-end-of-normal sperm count, he’s recommending IUI. That’s what we figured, but I was worried I was going to be put on just fertility meds for a while. I’m still going on some meds, but the dosage is going to be low because a) I’ve been ovulating fine, b) I’m producing plenty of follicles on my own and they don’t want to overstimulate me, and c) I’m likely to react a bit poorly to high dosages of medications because of my small size (ie: I may get sick and the procedure will have to be cancelled).

So, this is the plan as it stands now:
1) Take birth control pills tomorrow and Wednesday and then stop. This is in order to “delay” ovulation by a couple of days since it would have fallen on a weekend and the clinic does not operate on weekends.

2) On November 30th through December 4th, I am supposed to take one tablet of Clomid (50mg/tab). I should probably expect heat flashes and mood swings; yay.

3) On December 6th, I have to inject myself with a vial of Gonal-F in the abdomen. Can’t wait.

4) On December 9th, I go to the infertility clinic, and if all looks well (ie: we’re not looking at possible sextuplets), I will be injected with a vial of Ovidrel (0.5mL) and then have the IUI on the 10th.

All-in-all it was a good and informative appointment. I am glad to be officially starting the IUI process and I hope it results in success for us!

Let life surprise you.

I was rather caught off guard when I received a phone call from the infertility clinic this morning. To be honest, I’m always a bit flustered when my phone rings because it’s not something I typically anticipate. Add that to the fact that I was in the middle of the frozen foods section of the grocery store and you could say that I was slightly taken aback. Personally, I don’t think any woman would want to have a conversation about her lady parts while being stuck in a public and slightly noisy place.

It was a good thing that I answered my phone because I was told that even though I was on the cycle list for December, there was a cancellation this month and they wanted to know if I was available to take it. It really wouldn’t matter if I was busy because, at this point, I would reschedule just about anything. Needless to say, I jumped at the chance!

The only downside is that I have to go on birth control pills as my cycle isn’t going to coincide with this random appointment opening. I have a bit of time to pick up those at the pharmacy, and we still have the opportunity to “hope for the best” for this month’s cycle of trying naturally. If that doesn’t work out, then I have the appointment with the infertility clinic in just under three weeks.

At the end of the day, I’m just happy that we’re starting the IUI process, especially with our moving date quickly approaching in three months. The sooner we get the ball rolling, the better our chances of success!