It's been a while since I posted, huh? I'd like to say there's one really good reason, but it's actually just been a combination of little reasons that have been wearing on me for the last couple weeks, making things hard to deal with.
The first reason is currently crying painful-sounding sobs in the next room while I type this. Seriously, I don't know how much longer I can handle this phase he seems to be in. A week ago he woke up with a low-grade fever and extreme grouchiness, and I figured he was teething, finally about to cut that last eye-tooth. We gave him Tempra, he seemed to do better, but was still unhappy and extra-snuggly, so yes, we let him have his soother more often than normal (normal being just during naps and bedtime.)
The problem is, now he thinks he should have his soother all the time, and he knows where we keep them. It's impossible to take the soother away from him now, and the littlest thing that bothers him sends him running for his soother, resulting in a full-out temper tantrum when he doesn't get it. I don't know if I'd even call it a temper tantrum, though, because he is really and truly crying, like for 25 minutes he's been crying for it. There have been times over the last few days where we've just given it to him because he is so sad, but today I put my foot down. NO soother. I don't care how extreme it gets, it's just not right for him to scream and scream for it.
I feel so torn, though. On the one hand, I know it comforts him, and when he's sad, then he just needs some security. On the other hand, he is at least 7 months behind in speech and social development. That is scary to me. He has been babbling and conversing SO much more lately, or at least he was, until the soother-episodes began. I just can't give him his soother all the time, and not have that develop. I feel guilty enough that he hasn't had his first word, I just can't give in and give him his soother, and be responsible for delaying his speech even further. It hurts just to think about it.
But he is so truly sad. He keeps coming to me for snuggles, and then walks back to the dresser crying. It is breaking my heart, while also driving me up the wall, hearing him crying or fussing constantly.
What doesn't help is the frustrated phase he's in. He gets mad at the littlest things, like not being able to reach something he wants, not being able to re-button my wallet, not being able to get the card back in the slot (in my wallet) or not being able to put a string in a hole too small for it. He gets mad, tosses the object, and starts fussing. At which point, he goes for his soother, and guess what happens? Yup, a 1/2-hour meltdown of epic proportions. That began over something as little and trivial as a string. And I can't even redirect him when he's like that, unless it's with something amazing.
So what do I do when he's freaking out multiple times a day, and crying almost constantly? I go into survival mode, and sometimes just outright ignore him. I can't sit beside him the whole time and give him attention, because in a way that's rewarding the behaviour. I do give him attention and try to help him through it, but yeah, after a little while, I just do my own thing for a time, because I'm going to go insane if I think about it a minute longer.
So this week I feel like I've been in survival mode with him. I can read, but I don't feel connected enough to put a complete sentence together, even on the phone. I can't concentrate very well at all, and I feel so so so tired.
So that's reason number one that I haven't written a post lately. I've started a couple, but they both never got published, because they were terrible-written, disjointed, and depressing (except for my 35-week update, which never got a belly photo. I'll put that up, bare bones and all, once I'm done this one.)
Reason number two is that I have been SO uncomfortable and frustrated with my body the last week. I feel like things should not be this physically hard until I'm way further along than 35 weeks. Like, come on body, have the decency to wait until 40 weeks, at least!
I feel like my stomach has been hard all the time. I have given up trying to tell if they are BH contractions, or real contractions that aren't spaced very well. All I know is that everything goes hard, pushes upwards on my organs, causes horrible indigestion (yeah, MORE sulphur burps!) and makes it so I can't breathe properly because my lungs are being compressed. I get an achy feeling in the lower part of my uterus, but then it all goes away. Sometime it happens when I move or change positions (so those, at least, are likely just BH) and sometimes it happens when I'm just sitting here and haven't moved at all.
Also, and forgive me if I already wrote this, but apparently a baby's head can engage and disengage repeatedly before labour, and this is exactly what Baby Girl has been doing. I've been getting these really sharp flashes of pain across the bottom of my uterus/where my bladder is/where my cervix is. I feel like she burrows her head down there, twists it around a few times, and then stops. This cycle is repeated at random intervals throughout the day, and it's enough to make me gasp because of the pain of it. I just wish she's pick up or down, like, either be engaged and causing pain that way, or not engaged, and causing the indigestion stuff, but not both!
So I've been uncomfortable lately. It doesn't sound like much, but it's another thing wearing on my fragile psyche.
There was also some random frustration and sadness last week when I felt like moving downstairs was getting pushed back again and again. Things worked out, and it's currently being painted, but I feel like it's taken so long to not even BE down there. Mid-July we wanted to move down, and it's now September 5th. I don't even have the bassinet for our baby yet, because we have nowhere to put it. No crib set up, nothing. I don't have homebirth supplies gathered, purchased, etc, I don't have a potential hospital bag packed, because I have no room for those things until we move. So that was all upsetting.
Then, the day after all these emotions came to a head I decided I was sick of not being able to do anything. I was sick of waiting for Matt to be home to help me, and for the downstairs to be finished, and I was feeling so helpless. So what did I do? I completely emptied out our walk-in closet full of things that needed to be put into storage, sorted through it all, and repacked what needed to be in there, at least for the moment. This might have involved moving 10-15 boxes. I thought, while I was doing it, that it's really not that big a deal for a 35-week pregnant women to move some boxes, but once I was done 3 hours later my back had started aching, so I laid down to take a nap. 20-minutes later I could barely move. My back was stiff and sore, my legs were throbbing, and I could have cried because of the painful. It went on like that, completely unbearable, until I took a couple ibuprofen at 8pm, and that did the trick.
So yes, in one day I lifted a ton of boxes, and took ibuprofen. I am a terrible pregnant woman. Really, I'm a desperate one, but who's counting?
So yeah, that was kindof what my week consisted of, with a bunch of misunderstandings, meltdowns, and the like on the side. The funny thing is, each morning I've been taking the time to put on make-up, that I might look better than I feel inside. And then I remember in the late morning/afternoon, through racking sobs, why I had resolved not to put on make-up again until this baby is born. And by the next morning, I've forgotten again!
Anyway, this post has been so depressing, but I had to get it off my chest. Like I said, it's a bunch of little things that feel like they are adding up right now, and I needed to get them down before I tried turning things around and being all puppies and rainbows about everything again.
On a positive note, today is exactly one month until my due date. Tomorrow marks the start of my every-week appointments, and on Saturday Aaron and Rachelle moved back into town, which is exciting in spite of the fact that Terrah likes to grab Elijah's shirt, arm, soother and hair, sending him into meltdown-mode again. But enough about Elijah melting down. He's now happily playing with Daddy, and it's only 30 minutes until naptime. Meaning, MY naptime. ;)
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