Things that are making me anxious (part I):

1. Baby E, just like her brother, spontaneously stopped nursing.  He did it in one day; she did it in two.  I love nursing her and this breaks my heart.  I am hoping that we can still have an early morning feed, or that she will have a change of heart, so I am going to still pump.  She is 11 months now, so we have had a pretty good go.  Still, it makes me sad.  I was hoping it would last longer.  We spent 4 days on a work/vacation trip to the SW and she did not nurse a single time.  I thought perhaps it was a change in her routine, but she still, after 2 days at home, has no interest.  She had virtually lost interest before we left, so this is not a surprise, really.

2. Baby E is not a baby anymore.  She is little girl E.  I do not have a baby anymore.  I am SO VERY HAPPY to be past the pregnancy phase of parenthood, but it is a chapter closing, and it makes me a bit sad.

3. I am gaining weight.  Oh, and I didn’t lose a single pound while breastfeeding.  And my thyroid is working just fine.  I need to get to the gym, but I am just too pooped at the end of the day to motivate myself to go.

4. S is super-gifted and, in a nutshell, his school doesn’t know what to do with him.  He is developmentally all over the place (gross-motor delay but he can read at 2) so they gave him what I think is a bogus diagnosis so he can get early intervention services.  This is good for him, but very hard for my maternal pride.  Through all the testing, all they did was tell me where S was behind.  I kept wanting to add “but you know he can read, right?  You know he can write words, right?  You know HE’S ONLY 2 YEARS OLD, RIGHT?”  He doesn’t fit the mold.  He’s different.  The system can’t deal with different.  So, yes, on one level, I get it.  On another level, though, can’t they at least acknowledge that in some areas, he so beyond their norms that their tests don’t even register this?  His skills do not show up on the tests for his age group, so instead we just ignore them?

5. Money.  We owe a lot.  We are owed a lot.  What we are owed is not here yet.

6. My neighbor is bat-shit crazy.  She’s a hoarder and owns two houses on our block that are totally full of shit.  We are now in a property line-dispute over inches.  Also, we own a third of her backyard and I am just annoyed enough to redo the fence so we get our land back.  This is mostly amusing, but I had living next to someone who doesn’t like me, even if it is mutual.

7. Work.  Tenure.  Publishing.  Lather.  Rinse.  Repeat.

8. My brother and his wife are going through IVF.  I feel like I should reach out to them, but I don’t like them.  They are honestly two of the most selfish people I have ever met and last year, the metaphorical straw broke, and I decided it was best for me to just stop trying to have a relationship with them.  I know how suck-tastic infertility is, but I just can’t reach out to them.  And this makes me feel like a terrible person.  But I just can’t.

I am sure there are more, but these are the big ones right now.  I would really like my new anti-anxiety medicine (actually, same medicine, higher dose) to kick in soon, please.

Of course I could leave her alone.  I could unfriend her and go about my merry way.  But I can’t.  Really, I can’t.  I am just so repulscinated (repulsed + fascinated) by the whole thing.  I can’t look away.

Of course it is her choice to announce whatever she wants whenever she wants to.  What gets me is that she is not even 5 weeks pregnant and she just told hundreds of people that there will be a baby at the end of May.  Not that she is pregnant.  Not that she is hopeful that there will be a baby at the May.  No, she announced that there will be a baby at the end of May because she got a positive pregnancy test.*  And then 25 people told her how freakin’ wonderful that was and that they couldn’t wait to meet her beautiful new baby.  And then her husband announced it to hundreds of more people.**  And then more people told him how they couldn’t wait to meet the baby.

Again, she is not even 5 weeks pregnant.

Is it unfair of me to judge her?  Probably.  But I am filled with disgust because I know, as do many, many people, that a positive pregnancy test does not mean baby.  I am annoyed that this couple and many of their friends are jumping up and down with joy instead of at least entertaining the thought that something could happen.  There is not a hint of caution.   And at 5 weeks, nothing is guaranteed.

Mr. MC thinks I am jealous.  I don’t know that I am jealous; perhaps I am bitter.  Mostly,  I am just annoyed at how stupid she is.  Not stupid because she told people she was pregnant ( for example, I had to tell my officemate when I was only a few weeks along because I was puking by that point) but that she and her husband had no hesitation to broadcast it via Facebook.

To be fair, I am generally annoyed by stupid people and I find naivete irritating instead of charming.  I consider myself a generally happy person, but I do not live in a happy bubble.  These people live in a happy bubble and, frankly, it’s just a little too “rainbows and unicorns” for me.

I know how lucky I am.  Really, I do.  I have two healthy, happy children.  I have also had the inside of my uterus scraped out twice.  I have seen an empty sac on an ultrasound.  I have watched a dying embryonic heart.  The miscarriages made me a better mother and — dare I say it? — a better person.

This probably makes no sense and perhaps I should just stop trying to explain why I am so horribly judgmental and upset by this.  Actually, I know I should.  But I can’t.  Really, I can’t.

*Exact quote: “Baby _______ , The Sequel, due to a hospital near you on or around May 26th, 2011.  Previews to follow.”

**Exact quote: “Oh, by the way…baby #2 is in the oven and cooking away!”

She just announced her second pregnancy.

She is 4 weeks / 4 days pregnant.  (I did a “reverse” look up calculation based on the due date she gave.)

She is clearly a MORON.  I hate her for being so stupidly optimistic.  I don’t wish miscarriage on her, but doesn’t she even THINK about it?  That it MIGHT happen to her?  Who has this kind of hubris?

Bitch, please.

The war with the wee yeasties is over, but there are still skirmishes at the front.  Two 14-day courses of Diflucan for Baby E and three 14-day courses for me were required to get rid of the initial infection.  Just to avoid this whole mess again, I am going on a maintenance dose of Diflucan (after a liver test) for the next few months.  I can finally nurse without being in excruciating pain, which is a huge relief.

I managed — through “clenching and grinding” — to crack one of my back molars.  I did the same thing after S was born, only I cracked a filling and not a tooth, although I still ended up with a root canal.  This time my dentist applied a temporary crown and I am waiting a week to see if the pain goes away.  If so, I avoid a root canal; if the pain persists, off to the endodontist I go.   I also bought a new night guard, one that doesn’t make me gag.

I am slowly emerging from the sleep-deprivation haze, which means I can finally start to formulate complete sentences and return to blogland.

If I have not mentioned it before HOLYFUCKITYFUCKARETHESELITTLEFUCKERSPAINFUL.

We have now moved onto gentian violet.  My sweet baby’s mouth and my nipples are bright purple.  We took pictures of Baby E — it looks like she has been eating blueberries and will someday, I am sure, be quite comical.

My OB treated me with IV antibiotics both for the group B strep, which came back positive, and as a matter of protocol for a surgical procedure.

Last week, the yeast infection in my breasts started raging, most likely due to the antibiotics.  I was put on an antifungal, Diflucan, and Baby E was put on Nystatin.  My colitis, also most likely due to the antibiotics, started to flare last week as well.  I was already taking probiotics (the “good” bacteria) but I doubled the dose to try and avoid c-diff (the “bad” bacteria that grows when the “good” bacteria is killed off).  I took my anti-inflammatory medicine.  Nothing was working.  I did what I usually do — I started a course of steroids (Prednisone) on Saturday and planned to call my GI doctor on Monday to determine a medium-term course of treatment.

Prednisone, as luck would have it, encourages the growth of candida yeast.

My breasts were starting to feel better but I woke up this morning and all the burning was back.  I can’t believe I forgot about Prednisone and candida.  I called my doctor.  He prescribed a new type of steroid for me (it dissolves in the GI system so only 10% gets into the blood stream), a 6-day course of antibiotics (irony!), and upped the dose of all my anti-inflammatory medicines.  I am probably going to have to stay on the Diflucan for 6 weeks, the duration of the steroid treatment.  Baby E will probably have to stay on medicine, too.

All this from one dose of an IV antibiotic: necessary, yes, but evil.

If you have never had one, imagine someone pouring battery acid into your nipples and then shoving shards of glass into the rest of your breast.  It is worse during let down and then continues to burn for hours after the feeding.  I have to rewash all my nursing bras in hot water and hang them in the sun to dry so I don’t reinfect myself.

I am on oral Diflucan and I have to wash my nipples with vinegar and rub Monistat on them after every feeding.  Baby E has to take Nystatin after every feeding and she really doesn’t like the taste.  Poor girl.

Let it never be said I am not committed to breastfeeding.

5lbs. 8 ozs. / 18.5″ long