“Settling in, again. Not really settling but a bit of starting over again. Startling in sounds better. We are startling in just fine, thank you.”
That is all that I have written in regards to Dummie Diaries since my last post. I thought that moving ‘back home’ would provide me with more time to write. I also thought that my husband would be able to continue his career trajectory. I thought about a lot of things preparing for the move over.
Just not my health.
In the year running up to the move I was hit hard numerous times with illnesses - I chalked it up to living inside a school, stress, whatever it took to rationalise my continued momentum ‘forward’. Just kept going. Moving to the end line of our move date.
Because once we made it there - all our current problems would vanish. Right?
Oh, how naive. I know. But I had to tell myself something. Once we were here - we hit the ground running hard. With every day, our savings dwindled and our desperation to replenish it grew.
I now had more time, but it was all to set us in motion for the starting over section in our life.
I wanted my husband to transition well to his surroundings. I wanted my daughter to embrace her family. I wanted desperately to make up for lost time. In all of this newness I did not take the time to notice how I was still getting ill. May be not virus, or cyst or infection… possibly not. But the dementors in my life, migraines, began creeping over me more and more. Draining me. Stilling moments.
It wasn't until taking on a full time position working with children that I was able to take notice.
In one month of employment I have missed a minimum of 1 day each week. This week is the game changer. It is making me take a step backwards and take a look at my health. I cannot continue on as is. I have to make drastic changes. I have to admit to myself that I am not ready for full time employment.
I cannot be the best employee I can be when stricken with these debilitating pains.
So. One month into employment - and one month away from receiving health insurance - I must take leave. I need to get my health back.
**THIS IS AN ALERT, A LADY IS ABOUT TO TALK ABOUT HER LADY BODY THINGS.**
Hello, and welcome to my (first) period piece - a little write up I have had sitting on the backburner of the blog-pile, editing and adding to only while menstruating. My red tent ramblings, if you will.
Fun imagery, right?
Let’s wade right into the crimson tide. Before Child (B.C.) my menstruation was an unruly backpacker who would show up at random times of the year, usually the most inopportune times, and ruin all laid out plans. Sometimes I would have warning signs beforehand - my hair feeling and looking like someone switched it out with a bad toupee, acne, or thoughts that world/people around me were going insane. Other times it would be a complete surprise (usually during travel).
During this time of the month my symptoms would also vary. Sometimes there were cramps so strong that I would physically double over in pain or I would get so emotional that I would hide myself away watching youtube videos of pets reuniting with their owners and weep until dehydration. Other times I would be bleeding so heavily that tampons and overnight pads could not contain things for more than a few hours. Occasionally there were times where things felt “normal” and I could go about life as normal without too much worry.
But nothing really was ever usual or regular about my periods except for the Migraines. Every month I would be stricken with a debilitating pain that lasted at a minimum of 12 hours in length. (They are a blog post in themselves, the damned time thieves!)
Now Post Child (P.C.) my menstruation, my body and my feelings about both have changed. First off, my periods did not return until Peaches was 9 months old (hallelujah!) to which the only explanation I can give is that I had been (still am) breastfeeding. These days they are lighter, harsh cramps have ceased and they are a lot more regular.
My body has altered since giving birth (vaginally) and I can no longer use tampons. Let me rephrase that for clarification - I no longer feel comfortable using tampons. They feel like I am shoving surgical gauze up my hoo-ha and I just do not like that feeling. I have ordered a cup and will write a separate blog post all about how I get on with that. (Are you on the edge of your seat?)
The feelings I now have about both, Aunt Flow and this form, are very different. I used to get so tangled up in myself worrying about how both were perceived to the outside world. Now, ain’t nobody got time for that! I am fascinated by what this body can do, giving me a little more freedom to experiment in dressing and treating it. I have to worry about a whole little other body (I made, super cool) and do not have time to worry about what others think (as much, still do a little, enough to keep me from leaving the house without trousers/leggings on).
So here we are. (Of course this could all change tomorrow, but today I am feeling saucey).
A while back Peaches coming home from church saying ''doo doo'' and ''blood” and that sums up my feelings about periods.
I can wait until it is her turn, poor mite.
Happy Birthday, Mom!!!!
I am a little late this month...
NO! Hahaha, no! Not that kind of late, thankfully. I am late getting a post out - and I could sit here and list all of the reasons why. But instead I am going to tell you a little story. Gather round children and hear the tale of my first world problems.
Birthdays. Peaches has a big one coming up, well her first one actually. Last month it was my husband's birthday and yesterday it was mine.
Some much hype to birthdays. Every year your birthday seems to be some magical day - your day. That everyone must give you things and do what you say because it is the day you were released from the womb. There is so much build up to it - but since 'adulting' I have not really enjoyed my birthday. I enjoy the cards, well wishes and all that. That is the good part. I hate that in my head - it is supposed to be the perfect day.
As a singleton I took the day as an opportunity to do exactly what I wanted (within my monetary means). But inevitably I normally cried from loneliness at some point during the day. When I became a duo - that stopped and somehow the task was placed upon my partner. To plan, purchase, put together, bake, make and give me the best day possible. (The poor schmuck!) But again, at some point in the day I would cry because ''you just don't know me, man!''. Now as a parent, having had my first birthday with my child - - welllll. Poor husband worked his booty off just trying to make it the best yet. Unfortunately : Peaches spilled my special coffee (thankfully cold) before I could get a sip in, and as I am cleaning up the mess she pulls a folding chair down upon her chest. She screams bloody murder, I call 111 hoping to hear ''she is fine you are not a bad mother and hey, have a happy birthday'' but am instructed to get to A&E asap. I call husband at work in tears, his wonderful colleague drives him to us and we all haul butt to the hospital. (Leanne really is so wonderful she even sat with us for half an hour just to make sure we were all okay). We are there half the day (enough time for my migraine to hit record number pain factors in my adrenaline come down) and Peaches was/is fine.
The rest of my day I spent either puking or cocooned in our bed. Really not the day either of us expected - that's parenthood!
So birthdays aren't always the perfect celebratory days TV and Film tell us they should be.
It beats the alternative!
Not an instructional blog but the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth - so help me Mom.