This week is all about survival. In a few different ways.
Yesterday, I strutted off to the hospital yet again (well, it was more dragging my arse but we'll pretend I was strutting). I got the good park out the front, a nurse offered to watch the kids while I wee'd in a cup (instead of juggling them in the bathroom while carrying my file which is the size of a volume of the encyclopedia Britannica like I normally do) and I got called in to see the doctor just moments after sitting in the waiting room. After 11 weeks of hospital visits and taking tons of medication, it was finally decided that I was OK enough to stop meds and stop visiting the hospital. This whole preeclampsia thing can be put behind me! Hoorah.
I was super happy as the meds were starting to have some odd and annoying side effects - swollen ankles, hot, burning knees. Also, visiting the hospital was a drag, especially when everyone else there is pregnant and there I was with an almost 3 month old! It was a bit of a surprise as things were taking so long to calm down I was worried that they wouldn't, the doctor speculated that I could be on medication long-term too, so to be rid of it is fab. Though, it's only a trial at the moment, so my BP better behave itself. In any case, I'm declaring that I've survived preeclampsia and I'm closing that whole chapter!
Goose is still sick. Nights have been fairly hellish as she's been moaning and crying through the night, feeling rotten. Sleep is being got in small snatches. I'm just surviving at the moment. Between looking after her and a newborn all night, I'm tired. At the moment, I'm just managing the basics like keeping us fed and clothed and clean (sort of), there is nothing else being achieved. Skip is being a good help and doing what he can, which I'm very thankful for.
There was a time though where nights like these were standard. The girls being awful sleepers meant that waking all night was my reality. It sucked. I must have been an awful person during those times. Just a shell of a person, really.
D is a fairly good sleeper at night, waking twice to feed and going straight back to sleep. Even so, I'm still at that newborn stage where you just survive. Tied to feeds, less available, baby-focused. Feeling isolated. Feeling like the world is moving on without you. Lucky he's a gorgeous boy! I don't resent it, he's only a baby for a short time.
The part I hate is just surviving. It frustrates the hell out of me. I want to be more. I want to be a better mother to the girls - more engaged, more available, less snappy. I want to be a better wife - more available, less tired, more present. I want to be a better friend. I want to be better to myself. I have all these things in my head that I want to do that never get done.
At the moment, I keep doing stupid things. Including:
A few weeks ago, I crashed our car. So stupid and expensive and time consuming - it puts pressure on our family, at a time of year with Christmas and holidays approaching, that you just don't need it. I'm so, so annoyed and angry at myself for that.
Losing shoes. I've had three pairs of shoes mysteriously disappear in the last couple of months. I'm no Imelda Marcos either. I really, really wish I could find them.
Being surrounding by chaos. No matter how hard I try, I'm losing the war with chaos. Each day, there is crap all around me. I tidy, I organise. Then the next day it's back.
Losing patience. I'm usually a very patient person and at the moment, it's gone. My patience is nowhere to be found.
Got all that out now, so it's time to get back to the crying baby and moaning kids, all while dreaming about a long cool drink somewhere nice.