So I’ve been taking the proton pump inhibitors to help with acid reflux. As I predicted, within a week their efficacy had dropped dramatically. At almost two weeks of use the ’12 hour formula’ lasts about 4 hours before I’m right back to burning acid. When I run out of this box of pills I’m just going to quit. Ice cream is just as fucking effective and will have fewer long-term consequences.
I’m exhausted and weary and I have nothing to give. My cousin is texting me about her dog dying and she thinks she had a miscarriage last week and she wants love and support. I told her I am too tired to have feelings. I am literally not capable of emoting for you.
I walked almost 4 miles yesterday and today I feel like death.
I’m getting to the point where I’m gasping for breath a lot of the day.
Sleeping is getting hard again. I had like a week or three that were great and now it’s sucking again.
I’m not responding to emails. I’m not caught up on mint and I don’t know when I will get caught up. I’m failing at a lot of chores. I feel so bad. I didn’t manage to get the stupid Christmas tree out for recycling on the day we could put it out whole. Now I’ll have to cut the bitch apart. That doesn’t sound like fun.
I am feeling pathetic and insecure about the curve of my life and the mistakes that I make.
I’m still scared of giving birth. A c-section that would be over in an hour is sounding…. so much less traumatic.
I told my cousin that for a while I’m going to need to be selfish and not focus on her at all because I’m 5-6 weeks away from repeating an experience that almost killed me last time. If I focus on her and use up the store of energy I have… that might mean I’m not here next year and I just can’t make that choice right now.
I’m feeling really scared.
For a while I felt like the baby shifted and was in a better position. Now the baby is digging into that same spot on my ribs again and I’m not sure. I go in for an ultrasound tomorrow and I’ll find out.
“Reach out and ask for help” uhhh… no. I’d rather slice myself to ribbons in the bathroom.
I want to hide in the closet until Valentine’s.
I feel like I’m scared and lonely and I want to talk to people and I absolutely do not want to talk to anyone because I’m self involved and terrible and I have nothing to give and if I have nothing to give then I’m a disgusting user and I should die.
I don’t know how this got so bad so quickly already again.
Soft hugs your direction if you want them.
Thanks
Since i popped in to catch up and see that in fact my intentions to email might not be the best contact method right now, I want to say I’m catching up on your blog, and my life has been more overwhelming than usual, and I, too, haven’t had space to emote on behalf of anyone else, and as a result have been more distant than I would like to have been. I’ve been thinking about you often, and wondering how you’re doing. in the spaces between the being overwhelmed and dealing with TOO. MANY. THINGS. So, Happy New Year, and thank you for the Xmas card, and well….I’m still out here.
Good to hear from you. We’ll talk again… some day…
So, I worked really really hard to avoid my c-sections, over and over again. I only had the first because I literally lied to. đ That said? They aren’t the worst thing in the world. My last two weren’t even that traumatic. Once I made it *MY* choice than started working with my doctors and the charge nurse at the hospital when I showed up for my scheduled c-sections, it wasa worlds better.
All that said, it’s major surgery, and recovery can be hard. My heart is still pretty broken that this is the way my kids came into the world, but it is what it is. I 100% support you with whatever you do. If you want more information about what helped make my c-sections better experiences (mostly practical stuff, like using LOTS of lip balm right before you go back) I’m open to chat with you.
*nod* I hear from c-section mamas that they have grief about the process. I really don’t think I would. Both of my vaginal births have been seriously traumatic. And they…never…fucking….ended…. Ok, obviously they did. But 49 hours followed by 9 days was horrifying. It’s not even the pain. It’s the sense of being trapped in this “forever” place where my whole existence is pain and then I almost died. I didn’t walk for two weeks after my second kid was born and my full recovery took *months*.
I’m not sure a c-section is rougher than that.
I’ll talk to my OB and maybe call you for a chat.