Thursday, June 23, 2016

Bees? BEES!!!!!

This morning was lots of fun.  My routine goes like this: wake up, make tea, vitamins, cereal. Consume said products. Do a little stretching (because exercise isn't possible. I'm simply too large) and then get everyone moving for the day.

Except, when I tried to get up, I found that I was having sciatic pain, the likes of which was making so that I could not move.  Not at all. 

I can't even describe this pain.  It was enough to make me burst into near-hysterical tears. I couldn't get up. I couldn't straighten my leg, stand on my leg, drag my leg behind me in a hobble. Nothing. It was awful. 

20 minutes of this later, I'm trying to push myself to start walking, thinking it will "de-kink" the nerve or something: No. I try to push my leg back, or straighten my back to improve my posture: No.   At this point, I was lucky enough to be near my phone, and my husband called.  Well, he called as I was bawling from the pain. I can only imagine the horror scene he thought was happening. 

He was able to come home and find me, hunkered over, tears dripping down my face, and unable to get anywhere but where I was at.  I felt so awful. 

To top it off; we had contractors scheduled to show up at 745 this morning to start installing a basement egress window for us, and make our downstairs bedroom a legal room.  This way when our little lady arrives, we're able to escape the house easily in an emergency. 

My darling husband massaged my back, and got me a bag of corn to sit on.  Somewhere in there, The Bear woke up, and though terrified that I was in so much pain, and crying my eyes out like a big wussy, he helped by hugging me, and petting my face, and telling me everything was going to be ok.

A call to our ask-a-nurse informed us that, as long as baby isn't coming, this isn't life threatening. No injury occurred to provoke this ridiculous, shitty pain.  This is just one of those joys of pregnancy.  It's the way she's sitting in my body, or how I've expanded as she's grown that's causing this awful, terrible, I-can't-move-it's-so-bad pain.

This kicker is that I felt so awful for needing my husband to come home to take care of me.  What a hot, awful, and absurd mess I am.  

Tuesday, June 7, 2016


In my first trimester, I was stunned by the onslaught of highly vivid dreams I ended up having. Very detailed and memorable, and very much like I wasn't sleeping. Rather living an entirely separate life when I should have been asleep.  The amount of information to take in was rather exhausting, and I'd awake tired, rather than rested.

My second and third trimester have proved much less active in this same regard, overall.  But in more recent nights, I've been having the same dream repeatedly.  Different participants, but the same concept.  My husband cheats on me. When I find out and confront him, he doesn't even care to hide it. He doesn't care at all.  I rant and rave, and threaten....  And yet he doesn't care.  He's un-phased.

I feel so sad and lonely in these dreams. Like I've been cast aside, and am no longer loved.  It's crushing.  So far, I've woken up from all three of these dreams to tears in the twilight hours of the morning.  Most have lasted a far reach into the regular day.  They've left me with a dark feeling around my shoulders that has lingered more than I felt it was welcomed to.

A normal human being would turn to their husband and ask for comfort and physical contact as reassurance.  I only bury my head and mention nothing.  An introspect into my psyche tells me that, on some level, I feel that these dreams are a reflection of the lack of involvement my husband has with me at this point in our marriage.  The eternal struggle of spouses who are raising small children; the dissipation of the connection of love and companionship. 

I am unsure if this is because somewhere buried deep, we don't want to work on the relationship we have, or that he's genuinely oblivious to the fact that we haven't worked on our relationship in a very, very long time.

In tumultuous times of our previous married years, we came up with ways to better communicate with each other. Suggestions for ourselves to be better at what we were doing badly.  We'd write lists. Notes. Charts. Letters.  And, thinking we had the problem licked just by talking about it, we simply never used any of the tools we came up with.  At one point we even saw a couples therapist, and spent time doing worksheets at home to discuss with each other and come up with ways to work on the overcoming these problems.  Needless to say, I filled out my portions, and he did not.  He just never went back to the therapist.  Out of shame and defeat, I didn't go back after that either.

Once it was evident that any work I was ever going to try to do in my marriage would not be met halfway, I think I gave up permanently. I've never tried that hard again, I've just let things that are wrong remain wrong and practice unhealthy tactics to deal with them. Like nagging, bullying, name-calling.  All the things I never thought I'd use against someone I "loved". 

I used to be very sure that I loved my husband, too.  But because I know that I am the only one who wanted to put in the work, that I am ultimately alone with a person who would never work as hard as I would to build a stronger relationship, I don't think I'll ever do it again.

I wish these were feelings that didn't bother me as much as they did. I guess in a way it's better that they do, because it means I care enough for them too.  How do I differentiate between feeling terrible that my spouse doesn't love me enough to move mountains for me, and just being on the shit end of the stick?  Does this mean we are only maintaining the farce that we love each other, and that all true vestiges of it are really gone? Are we just going through the motions?

Is this really what I'm thinking, or have I gone completely batshit insane, and I have no idea it's happened. Like in memento where the guy has no concept that it's just him running around insane in his own head.  That's another highly likely scenario for me at this point in life (and pregnancy). 

I'm such a mess.  I feel so lonely.