The best way that I can describe what sleeping/bedtime is like for me right now, at 23 weeks pregnant:
Go to the store and buy a 30 pound watermelon.
Take that 30 pound watermelon and put it right over your lower abs and hips, right on top of your bladder.
Tape that sucker down with duct tape.
Find two one-pound oranges. Stick them in your bra. Without padding.
Do EVERYTHING you normally do with that watermelon and those oranges on you.
Make sure your breasts end up really sore by the end of the day.
Go to sleep. On your side, because if you lay on your back, the watermelon will cut off your circulation.
Try and sleep - uncomfortably.
Put a pillow between your legs, because that watermelon over your hips is wider than how your legs comfortably fall.
Put a second pillow between your legs, because it wasn't quite helping.
Now it's too high.
Try and flip over, because you've given up on your right side for the time being, and now your hip hurts.
Flipping over is a two minute ordeal, as your belly, hips, and back are prone in a laying position and struggle under the weight.
Lay on your left side, and try the pillow again.
Say fuck it, and take three fucking pillows, and throw them down in front of your legs, and cross your leg over it.
Much better. Finally.
Close your eyes for five minutes, until you realize your entire back is aching from carrying around the watermelon all day.
Reach for a fourth pillow, and cram it as tightly behind you as you can, without disturbing your legs.
Close your eyes again. For a minute.
Realize that your arms are crushing those oranges against your chest as you try to find a comfortable way to let your arms fall.
Reach for a fifth pillow, and hug it to your chest to comfortably separate your arms and keep your shoulders level.
Close your eyes.
Oh my God.
Sleep.
Wake up twenty minutes later because all of a sudden the watermelon is kicking you.
Huh? Wtf?
That's not right!?!
Go back to sleep.
Wake up 45 minutes later because the watermelon, right over your bladder, is making you have to pee like never before. RIGHT NOW.
Kick away all the pillows!
Slide to the side of your bed by some weird ass and hips slithering motion because the watermelon has you pinned down.
Sneeze. You're basically peeing now.
Throw your legs over the side of the bed, while you use that momentum to help you sit up.
Run to the bathroom.
Do your duty.
Change your pajama pants, somehow. Generally by holding on to the corner of the bed while you try and maneuver your legs into them and pull them up without bending over.
Lay back down on your left side.
Get the pillows back in place.
Realize you are now wide awake.
Do a crossword puzzle, without moving the bulk of your somewhat comfortable body.
Think about how irritated you are with the dude that sold you the watermelon, that is at home peacefully sleeping right now, with no consideration for what your night has come to.
Concentrate on not moving.
Read an article in a magazine, still without moving.
Close your eyes and will yourself to sleep.
Your hips hurt because now you've been on your left side too long, and the weight of the watermelon has taken it's toll.
FUCK!
Start the two minute process of flipping to your right side.
Move all of the pillows into place.
Put a sixth pillow somewhat under the watermelon.
Sleep. Yes. Sleep.
The watermelon is kicking you again, but oh well.
Wake up two hours later, when your alarm goes off.
Slither off the bed
again.
Make cereal. Go to the couch to eat it.
Set it on the table.
Pass out on the couch.
Wake up four hours later with the soggy, melted, untouched cereal on the table in front of you, your house a mess, and realize you have 15 minutes to get ready for work, and all that time that you allotted for today to clean and get your life together is gone.
Side note: If you don't have a magazine article nearby, you can always just send your friend some long ass weird email about watermelons and sleep at 4:15 in the morning instead... complete with autocorrect errors and the rantings of a crazy woman getting kicked from the inside.
Sunday, June 8, 2014
Friday, June 6, 2014
When Dreams Come True, And The Nightmares That Go With Them.
When I started this blog, I promised myself that I would write once a week. The last one I wrote was in January. It's June now. I haven't been able to face this blog for some time, because then I have to face myself, and I'm not quite sure how to do that right now.
I got into a relationship in January. A fast and furious one. I don't think I know how to do any other kind. I relented, and, against my better judgment, started dating a coworker that I was attracted to. I'll just refer to him as Dick. I fell really hard. We both did. Within a couple of weeks, we were in a monogamous relationship, yet we had to keep it secret, as we were not allowed to date within the company, especially as I was in the midst of a promotion.
Then I got pregnant.
After all of these years of crying myself to sleep, desperately wanting a child of my own, it happened. And it happened the very first time we messed around. We had only been in a relationship for three weeks when we found out. It threw a major wrench into everything for both of us. While I was elated to be having a baby, I knew that everything would change, for me, for him, and definitely for us. There was no way we could continue working together, in a secret relationship, while I was growing big with his baby.
Initially we dealt with things as best we could. Slowly things became a bit tense. He blamed a lot on me, as I was the one with the desire to have a baby, even though he knew exactly what he was doing when it happened. Then things went to hell. Fucking terrifying shit nightmare hell.
His ex girlfriend had been trying to get in touch with him for months, since the last time they had dealt with each other - right before he met me. Things had been so bad with her that he had cut all communication. About three weeks after we found out about my pregnancy, she finally got hold of him. It turns out that she is pregnant as well, and timing puts it when they last dealt with each other, three to four months further along than me.
They have known each other a lot longer than he and I, and they are also of the same religion. She had met his family when they were in a relationship, which he and I had only known each other a short time, are of conflicting religions, and his family is not interested in meeting me. Upon finding out about Dick's precarious situation, his parents decided to get involved. They immediately started pushing for him to marry the ex, so that they could have a grandbaby of the same faith. They have given no thought to me, or to this grandchild of theirs. They have threatened many things in order to get Dick to do what they deem is correct, including threatening to disown him, which would cause him to lose any and all inheritance that he would've received.
This was hard enough, but I guess that fate decided that I needed more trials. I found out that Dick was actually considering marrying the ex. It turns out that his ex had always been suicidal (a major factor in their original break up) and that she was still threatening suicide now, which would not only end her life, but the baby's as well. I'm sorry, and I do feel for those that are dealing with depression, but seriously?!? Who does that?!? If he marries her because of that, all she would ever have to do is throw a tantrum threatening to kill herself anytime she wants something. It's just sick and deranged. She had been trying to get him back for a long time. I truly believe that she planned to get pregnant from the get go (she booked the trip out here specifically to have sex with him, which is when it happened), as a ploy to get him back. She made a trip out to see his parents without him, while she was seven months pregnant, to get them to speak on her behalf. I don't demonize ex girlfriends as a rule, because I know there are two sides to every story, but in this situation, where this woman is using underhanded, slimy ways to screw over myself and my child, I don't feel that I am demonizing a woman. I feel that I am describing a snake.
Obviously, the fact that my boyfriend was considering marrying another woman while I was pregnant with his child didn't bode well for our relationship. Dick and I broke up. We still had to work with each other almost every day, though, and that was a living hell. I couldn't talk to anyone about it, and I would cry more at work than I could've thought imaginable. I was dealing with all of the ailments of pregnancy by myself, while the father looked on, completely unbothered, while he "dealt" with his own issues - by doing nothing. He hasn't married her, he hasn't tried to work anything out with me, he has only been doing what will suffice for his parents to not take away his inheritance. I guess not dealing with the Greek girl is enough.
He would have moments where I could see how confused he was, and that deep down he wanted to deal with me, even though things were different now. I had become a raving bitch. Hormones and righteousness overtook me. My temper is something else when someone I love and care about is being messed with, and this isn't just someone I love we are talking about - this is my child. It wasn't a temper he was dealing with. It was rage. It still is. We would try and talk at times, and I would be patient and understanding, because deep down, I do feel for the guy. Family is important to both of us, and his parents hold a lot of pull. I get it. But seriously, dude, grow some balls. I had to sit down and talk with my family about my predicament, and I was prepared for them to disown me, especially if I stayed with him, and I didn't shy away from that potential outcome. This is my child that deserves a good father. If I felt that he would be one, there's nothing I wouldn't give for my child to benefit from it. Fortunately, my family quickly came around, and have been incredibly supportive of the baby. The one thing that they have asked is that I leave Dick alone, unless he comes for me, with a ring. For this, I know that my family is incredibly wise. They aren't holding anything against him, they just don't want me stooping to keep someone that may not be worth keeping. I need a man and a father for my child, not some guy that shirks responsibility and only thinks of himself.
In order to get some separation, and hopefully into a less stressful environment, I ended up quitting my job and started working for my cousin. He and I have talked a few times since I left, and the conversations seemed to go well, but it's hopeless. Truly. Deep down I know it, and this is why I haven't been able to write in this blog. At my core, I want him to love me. I want him to want to be with us - me, and our son. I want him to be the man that he promised to be when we first made love, and this little boy was conceived. Biologically, I can't stop this desire to be with him. I have our baby in me, and all I want is him. I want him to hold me at night, and to have his hand protectively on my big belly, feeling this baby kick.
I've slept alone every night for the last few months. I've dealt with this nightmare by myself. He should be flying out to his ex any day now, to be there for the birth of his first child, also a boy. He will experience it all just a few months before my baby is born. His parents will most likely go and celebrate the birth of their grandchild. I will be sitting here, with no communication from him, as he doesn't view my heart and feelings as being involved with any of this. He hasn't attended a single doctor's appointment. I heard the baby's heartbeat for the first time by myself, with tears in my eyes. I found out my son's gender by myself. He has not been a daddy or a father. Dick has been a donor.
The only recompense I have in any of this is the name of my child. My son will be named after my father, and will carry my last name. Dick does not get to waltz in after the baby is born, and try and claim the baby's name. We've had a few conversations about his frustrations with this, but frankly, I don't care. My son will not be living with a name for the rest of his life because of a father that is not around. He will know exactly who he is named after, and he will know why. He will know about how loving, strong, and amazing my father is. He will know what a true male role model is.
When I told my sister that I am having a boy, she said "I thought so, it makes sense. You've been looking for a man to love you unconditionally your entire life. Now you will finally have one."
I don't think I've cried so hard in my life.
I got into a relationship in January. A fast and furious one. I don't think I know how to do any other kind. I relented, and, against my better judgment, started dating a coworker that I was attracted to. I'll just refer to him as Dick. I fell really hard. We both did. Within a couple of weeks, we were in a monogamous relationship, yet we had to keep it secret, as we were not allowed to date within the company, especially as I was in the midst of a promotion.
Then I got pregnant.
After all of these years of crying myself to sleep, desperately wanting a child of my own, it happened. And it happened the very first time we messed around. We had only been in a relationship for three weeks when we found out. It threw a major wrench into everything for both of us. While I was elated to be having a baby, I knew that everything would change, for me, for him, and definitely for us. There was no way we could continue working together, in a secret relationship, while I was growing big with his baby.
Initially we dealt with things as best we could. Slowly things became a bit tense. He blamed a lot on me, as I was the one with the desire to have a baby, even though he knew exactly what he was doing when it happened. Then things went to hell. Fucking terrifying shit nightmare hell.
His ex girlfriend had been trying to get in touch with him for months, since the last time they had dealt with each other - right before he met me. Things had been so bad with her that he had cut all communication. About three weeks after we found out about my pregnancy, she finally got hold of him. It turns out that she is pregnant as well, and timing puts it when they last dealt with each other, three to four months further along than me.
They have known each other a lot longer than he and I, and they are also of the same religion. She had met his family when they were in a relationship, which he and I had only known each other a short time, are of conflicting religions, and his family is not interested in meeting me. Upon finding out about Dick's precarious situation, his parents decided to get involved. They immediately started pushing for him to marry the ex, so that they could have a grandbaby of the same faith. They have given no thought to me, or to this grandchild of theirs. They have threatened many things in order to get Dick to do what they deem is correct, including threatening to disown him, which would cause him to lose any and all inheritance that he would've received.
This was hard enough, but I guess that fate decided that I needed more trials. I found out that Dick was actually considering marrying the ex. It turns out that his ex had always been suicidal (a major factor in their original break up) and that she was still threatening suicide now, which would not only end her life, but the baby's as well. I'm sorry, and I do feel for those that are dealing with depression, but seriously?!? Who does that?!? If he marries her because of that, all she would ever have to do is throw a tantrum threatening to kill herself anytime she wants something. It's just sick and deranged. She had been trying to get him back for a long time. I truly believe that she planned to get pregnant from the get go (she booked the trip out here specifically to have sex with him, which is when it happened), as a ploy to get him back. She made a trip out to see his parents without him, while she was seven months pregnant, to get them to speak on her behalf. I don't demonize ex girlfriends as a rule, because I know there are two sides to every story, but in this situation, where this woman is using underhanded, slimy ways to screw over myself and my child, I don't feel that I am demonizing a woman. I feel that I am describing a snake.
Obviously, the fact that my boyfriend was considering marrying another woman while I was pregnant with his child didn't bode well for our relationship. Dick and I broke up. We still had to work with each other almost every day, though, and that was a living hell. I couldn't talk to anyone about it, and I would cry more at work than I could've thought imaginable. I was dealing with all of the ailments of pregnancy by myself, while the father looked on, completely unbothered, while he "dealt" with his own issues - by doing nothing. He hasn't married her, he hasn't tried to work anything out with me, he has only been doing what will suffice for his parents to not take away his inheritance. I guess not dealing with the Greek girl is enough.
He would have moments where I could see how confused he was, and that deep down he wanted to deal with me, even though things were different now. I had become a raving bitch. Hormones and righteousness overtook me. My temper is something else when someone I love and care about is being messed with, and this isn't just someone I love we are talking about - this is my child. It wasn't a temper he was dealing with. It was rage. It still is. We would try and talk at times, and I would be patient and understanding, because deep down, I do feel for the guy. Family is important to both of us, and his parents hold a lot of pull. I get it. But seriously, dude, grow some balls. I had to sit down and talk with my family about my predicament, and I was prepared for them to disown me, especially if I stayed with him, and I didn't shy away from that potential outcome. This is my child that deserves a good father. If I felt that he would be one, there's nothing I wouldn't give for my child to benefit from it. Fortunately, my family quickly came around, and have been incredibly supportive of the baby. The one thing that they have asked is that I leave Dick alone, unless he comes for me, with a ring. For this, I know that my family is incredibly wise. They aren't holding anything against him, they just don't want me stooping to keep someone that may not be worth keeping. I need a man and a father for my child, not some guy that shirks responsibility and only thinks of himself.
In order to get some separation, and hopefully into a less stressful environment, I ended up quitting my job and started working for my cousin. He and I have talked a few times since I left, and the conversations seemed to go well, but it's hopeless. Truly. Deep down I know it, and this is why I haven't been able to write in this blog. At my core, I want him to love me. I want him to want to be with us - me, and our son. I want him to be the man that he promised to be when we first made love, and this little boy was conceived. Biologically, I can't stop this desire to be with him. I have our baby in me, and all I want is him. I want him to hold me at night, and to have his hand protectively on my big belly, feeling this baby kick.
I've slept alone every night for the last few months. I've dealt with this nightmare by myself. He should be flying out to his ex any day now, to be there for the birth of his first child, also a boy. He will experience it all just a few months before my baby is born. His parents will most likely go and celebrate the birth of their grandchild. I will be sitting here, with no communication from him, as he doesn't view my heart and feelings as being involved with any of this. He hasn't attended a single doctor's appointment. I heard the baby's heartbeat for the first time by myself, with tears in my eyes. I found out my son's gender by myself. He has not been a daddy or a father. Dick has been a donor.
The only recompense I have in any of this is the name of my child. My son will be named after my father, and will carry my last name. Dick does not get to waltz in after the baby is born, and try and claim the baby's name. We've had a few conversations about his frustrations with this, but frankly, I don't care. My son will not be living with a name for the rest of his life because of a father that is not around. He will know exactly who he is named after, and he will know why. He will know about how loving, strong, and amazing my father is. He will know what a true male role model is.
When I told my sister that I am having a boy, she said "I thought so, it makes sense. You've been looking for a man to love you unconditionally your entire life. Now you will finally have one."
I don't think I've cried so hard in my life.
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