The little things

The hardest part of depression right now is my inability to cope with even the smallest of problems. I will be fine for days and then a minor bump juat sends me into paralized fear and anxiety attacks, nightmares and breakdowns. I feel ridiculous, and it's mortifying, knowing people can see how absurd my breakdown is. Cookie is handling things (me) as gently as he can, but I know he's way out of his depth.

Last night baby Peanut bit me twice while he was nursing, after a rough day at work. He was very fussy and difficult, and I lost it. I went to our room to scream into the pillow, then tried to nurse him to sleep when I calmed down, but he just wanted to play. Cookie settled him in the crib and he just started to cry like sixty seconds later. I broke down and cried, big ugly sobs of woe is me. I was so tired and cold and I just needed someone to take over. Which I think might even be normal, except I feel like that about my whole life. I wish someone would take over.

My phone fell on Christmas Eve and the screen shattered. It has been acting up and making my life a little bit harder. I am not dealing with that very well. After the total breakdown of last night Cookie started to search for a new phone or a way to change the screen on this one. And I have to say, just that gesture made me feel better. Like, if he's taking care of that (of me) then I can.. Do the rest? Maybe?

I admit I've been having thoughts of death more often than before. I kind of always have had them, in the back of my mind, and they come to the surface now and then. I quickly forget they were there after a little while. Last night they had their moment, front and center. I had completely forgotten bout them until just now. That might be a good thing? At least they are not pervasive?

I hate the winter cold. It makes everything so much harder. I don't feel like I had much of a break over the holidays, with all the frantic last minute shopping and work and all the gatherings. I hope January gets me a few days to recharge, then everything will (probably) be better.

Frayed at the edges

I guess there are only so many posts I can make about being depressed and dealing with the waves of anxiety that keep throwing me off balance, but here is one more.

The holidays are always a taxing time for me. Seeing so much family and meeting friends and going to Christmas' parties (which I bypassed entirely this year) usually means that by December 26th I'm really frayed at the edges. By the end of the year I am on the verge of screaming. I don't have much time to recharge and it's cold and I know it sounds so ungrateful, like, ugh, I have all this *family* and *friends*, but it's not that! I love seeing them, but my energy levels just plummet as the season progresses.

Add baby Peanut to the mix and our household is hella tired, including the baby. He's missing naps and going really late to bed and missing baths and his meds for the reflux and too excited to eat and skipping meals, getting up early to meet people, so many new uncles and aunts! So much love! It's awesome and I am so happy that he got to meet pretty much everybody, and that they met him and had a chance of spending time with him one on one. It's been awesome! And exhausting!

Tomorrow I'm starting the house addition I didn't want to start during Christmas' week. I don't want to start it tomorrow either. I took on another project for a facade as well. I don't know how to stop! I don't want to have so much work right now, but I don't think I can outright stop working. I feel overwhelmed and anxious and stressed, as is the usual lately.

A friend had a c-section last Monday. I am really glad that everything went really well, specially because she lost a baby last year. We were pregnant together for a while. She seems to be doing so well, she's so happy and seems so relaxed! I... I am envious of how quickly she bonded with her baby, of how together she seems. I feel like I'm falling to pieces while she breezes through the first week post partum. Of course I'm glad for her! I don't wish PPD/PPA on anyone. I wish I was more together, though.

I dropped my phone on Christmas Eve and broke the display. This has been one really expensive December. But, on the bright side, I saw all of my college friends this week. I had breakfast/lunch/dinner with them, and I saw Cookie's college friends as well. It was awesome. I felt loved and comfortable and laughed a lot. I am thankful. Here's to good friends, family, and a healthier 2016.

Random things that keep me distracted

First! Milestones: Baby Peanut is now searching for us around the corner when we play peakaboo, indicating his growing grasp of object permanence. He is also working a lot on his pincer grasp, and he turns the light switch on and off, then turns to look at the lamp, showing his new understanding of cause and consequence. Yay, baby brain!

His sleep is... I have no idea. The regressing seems to be over? He's had some good nights and some bad nights and some night terrors and.. Uhm. I don't know where are we standing right now. I am sleeping as it comes, some nights better than others. Cosleeping and bedsharing are saving my life.

Yesterday we went to the movies for the first time since the baby was born. I don't remeber what was the last movie we watched when I was pregnant. We saw Star Wars last night with Cookie's friends who are visiting from out of town. It was cool! I enjoyed the movie more than I thought I would, Elias stayed with my parents and after the movie we picked him up and had everyone over for a late dinner. He napped then socialized and behaved like a champ.

I am not done shopping. Gahhhh. The. Horror. Peanut is a shopping champ, though. Friday he endured three and a half hours of shopping at the mall like it was nothing.

Our water pump and pressurization equipment broke on Friday. We need to buy new ones. This month has been really hard not to overspend.

I am still playing Hearthstone, the Blizzard card game. I started playing in February or March, and the game has kept me company for all the late night feedings and the baby napping on top of me.

I took on a new project with an old client, designing 5 bathrooms for her new, unfinished house. None of my other projects are done yet, though. I am also theoretically starting a new renovation this week but I'm not feeling it. It's Christmas week! Could we maybe start it next week? Ugh.

My friends will be here this week. I can't wait to see them all!! My brother is also arriving tomorrow, he's meeting Elias at last! Two of my sister's in law are due any day now, so I can't wait to meet my new nieces as well.

I barely did anything this weekend. It felt nice, if a bit maddening. At least I wrapped almost all of the presents!

I guess I shouldn't have said anything

Of couse we are now in the middle of a sleep regression, right after I said Baby Peanut was sleeping fine. He's been waking every hour, screaming, needing to nurse to fall asleep. I'm trying to reduce the number of nursing sesions at night, because 5 or 6 are just not feasible, but so far the best I've managed is three, with wakings every hour in between.

I *think* he's having confusional arousals, amd not actually waking up. Not sure if it's developmental or if he needs an earlier bedtime now that he's dropping a nap, though, but he rouses screaming, eyes closed shut, and eventually he stops and is suddenly fast asleep again. He's even opening his eyes and staring through me or rolling into his stomach with his eyes closed, crying. Cookie isn't sure he's asleep, but he doesn't seem awake to me. Even the crying and screaming is different. Needless to say, I kind of really need some consolidated sleep.

I had stress dreams the last couple of nights. It was weird, this time around they were about meetig new clients and getting new projects. I also had a stress dream about failing all my classes because of a big misunderstanding on my part. I thought I was all done with dreaming about school!

I ended up asking someone to help me with the office renovation project this morning, I don't think the pay is worth the amount of stress it was causing me. Hopefully that will make it go away faster! I don't really want to take on any new projects right now, though I probably will. I would love to get some completely free days, to do my Christmas shopping and declutter my house and my office and visit some relatives. I'm gonna try to make some time. I already feel better, anxiety wise, now that school is done, but I suspect the anxiety is shifting to the whole "new projecta aversion" and it might paralize me later. One step at a time, though.

Can't say I'm surprised

On Thursday I turned in all the end of semester paperwork, grades and whatnot. I also finally succumbed to a cold on Wednesday evening.

This poor body has been pushed and abused quite a lot for the past few months (if you count pregnancy as abuse, and maybe it does, then over a year) so I'm not surprised I finally came down with something. I gotta say, it was a long time coming, and it happens often that once I'm out of the thick of stress I come down with anything that's floating around. Cookie woke up with a scratchy throat today (also not surprisingly, but he was sure his immune system would prevail) but at least baby Peanut is not sick. I hope my milk protects him, because he's being a handful as it is.

I think we just started the 8th month development leap, and it hasn't messed with his nightsleep too much (yet, I am sure the sleep regression is just around the corner), other than a couple of nights where he woke at 4:30 ready to play but I manage to get him back to sleep around 5 or 5:30, mostly without intervening. He has sort of dropped one nap (nooo), the really early one, the one I used to get breakfast while he slept. So it's been a week of transitions. He has, though, stabilized his sitting so he can now hang out on the floor without much danger, he's starting to use the pincer grasp, he's very mobile rolling and sort of scooting around (mostly backwards),  and this week he signed milk and more for the first time! I haven't seen the more sign, though my mom has, while feeding him, but he's signing milk while he breastfeeds almost every feeding now, and last night he signed it when we were about to get him in the tub, when I knew he was hungry. So, yay!! I don't think I'm imagining things!

I haven't signed consistently since I wasn't sure I was getting through him, but I am determined to sign more things more often! Hopefully the signing will help with the newfound communication "skill" he's developed: screaming bloody murder. It sounds like we're killing him and it depletes our patience in like two seconds. Nghhh. I know he's frustrated because he wants to do things but he can't yet, and his brain is going much faster than his chubby body, but boy can he scream.

It's been a whirlwind of a week with him, specially while I'm under the weather, but work is slowing down a bit. H&C's house is doneeee, my parents' bathroom is doneeee, the industrial park zoning project is doneee (and paid!) so I'm only dealing with Mrs. T's renovation right now and two projects, the office remo one that is still kicking my ass (mostly because I don't want to do it) and a new project for one of Cookie's coworkers, a facade redesign for an old house. I haven't even started that one. I'm trying to take it easy a bit, though I think once I kick this cold I'm just going to feel much, much better than I have in months.

Fingers crossed.

More goodbyes

My architecture students did their last exam today. I graded final projects and exams and gave them a last goodbye. Tomorrow, if I can finish filling out paperwork and grading, will be my last day at both schools, and even then it's just turning in grades.

So, more or less, it is over.

I tried to be inspiring and give some good advice. I tried as I could, given my mental state, to be fair and give them my best. I find myself feeling sorry I wasn't a better teacher. It was a disservice to my students. I wish I could talk to myself back in June, or July. Tell her that she was allowed to say no.

I am going to work on that, saying no. No to all the things that aren't adding to my life, that aren't fulfilling, that aren't needed. I need to say no to people, no to friends that are not looking out for me. I need to say no, and let go of things, and move on. Close doors and then forget about them, instead of wondering what was behind them.

Yesterday I took Elias to a photoshoot. I decided to buy one on an impulse, and I ended up not planning anything special for it. He was adorable and well behaved and I enjoyed the moment a lot. We took some pics of him breasfeeding, and I'm really looking forward to seeing them. He has been such a gift. He is teaching me so, so much, it's such a cliche. But he is an amazing teacher.

I finish my teaching season feeling less than amazing, definitely humbled, but proud that I honored my commitment and that in the process, I learned more about myself than what I managed to teach. I hope at least some of that awareness shone through my depression and they got something out of it.

Two steps forward, one step back

I was feeling really good and optimistic on Friday. We had a end of year lunch with all the students and I was really emotional about the first generation graduating from our program. I felt elated, proud. Capable.

Why was I giving up school, anyway? Post partum depression? Me? Nah, it had been the sleep deprivation, that was all, now that I was sleeping better I felt really good!

Saturday came and out of nowhere, without reason, despite adequate sleep... I'm barely able to function. Anxiety attacks and being at the verge of tears over everything, tired as hell, angry, feeling hopeless. What the hell happened?

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I started this post yesterday morning. I managed to get some work and errands done, but still a lot is left to do. Now that I opened up about the PPD to some people, they are now asking if I'm taking medications and pushing/advicing I quit breastfeeding to take care of myself. Argggg.

Work hasn't let up -I took on a design project that is kicking my ass, and I'm remodeling a bathroom in my parents house on the side (with all the Dealing With My Dad As A Client that it entails), Mrs. T and H&C's houses are still ongoing and I have a very long overdue project for a recurrent client. I also owe Mrs. Prado some table cloths and Christmas decorations she ordered from my side business with Pam. Now, none of these things should take that long to finish, not really. But I can't seem to get them done, and that inhability is driving me insane. No matter how much I run around there's always more than half of my to-do list left at the end of the day.

This Saturday I went to K's house to replace the lamp shade and see if I could figure out why it wasn't turning on.

The lightbulb was out.

I didn't know if I should laugh or cry. Clients, man, I don't know.  Are they functioning adults?

Am I? I can't deal with anything going slightly off program, let alone actual problems or arguments of any kind.

I need to shake this off. I just need to figure out how.

Last day of school

First, good news: my friend from school who had an aneurysm is improving. She's awake and talking and even sent a few texts to the school group. Which I think is amazing! I am so, so happy! At school we have gotten some activities done on her behalf, to help pay for the bills, and my 7th semester students rallied together after I asked them to help me organize an activity, and they really, really touched my heart. They are a group a wonderfully caring kids, I m really glad I got to see them work together like this before the school year ends.

On that note, this is the last day of classes! I am soooo grateful this is almost over. Next week we have exams, and at the other school I have two weeks left. But this is it. I made it. Anxiety, stress, sleeplessness, depression, I made it through one trying semester. Not as the best teacher I can be, not with the results I would usually wish for, not proud of all my decisions, but I Made It. I am taking a bow and retiring from teaching for a while, and it's bitter sweet, because I love so much about it. The look of interest, that bright eyed look when something clicks, their pride in their work when it's well done, the rush of adrenaline when I'm loving what I'm doing and I feel like I'm making a difference. But the other parts, the ones I don't care for, those have become too difficult right now to deal with.

I have an impossible time trying to not take it personally when they don't pay attention. When the work they deliver it's shit. When they ignore me, lie to me, whine and complain every step of the way. Dealing with The Powers That Be, trying to justify my poor results when I'm trying my best and the students just don't care. Having one group working great and one doing crap, unsure of what I'm doing wrong. Wasting time and energy, when they are just too tired/overwhelmed to listed to me, work with me, engage with me. Perhaps I was putting too much emphasis on Me, and not enough on what they can do by themselves. I felt like I tried everything I knew, and failed them. At this point of my life, when my own balance is so, so brittle, I can't afford to fail others because I don't have energy to spare trying to snatch victory from defeat.

The game is over, for now. I feel very relieved.

Elias is teething, again. Sort of? Last time the third tooth never came in, so it looks like we're dealing with it again. It's been a couple of rough days, where all he wants is to nurse and be held and cry. Poor baby Peanut. I really want to be there for him more. He's now mobile, not crawling but rolling from back to tummy to back to tummy as means of transportation. He is a delight, always laughing, giving hugs, shakily waving hello.

He wakes up in our bed, with sleepy eyes and damp hair. He turns to me and smiles. He lifts one chubby hand, and slowly waves hello.

Hello, baby. School is over. We can stay in bed a little while.

Sad and worried

This has been a very difficult week for people I love dearly. Monday we had a national holiday so Cookie stayed home and I only worked half a day at the renovations, and no school.

Tuesday I found out my best friend had been through emergency surgery. She texted me and said, "So, I was two months pregnant..."

Was.

It broke my heart. I can't put myself in her shoes, I cannot imagine the fear and the sadness. Everything happened so fast, it was so scary. She was bleeding and they got to the doctor, discovered it was an ectopic pregnancy, and had the tube removed in an emergency surgery, apparently minutes away from a ruptured tube. I am so sad for her loss. Thankfully she's recovering well.

On Wednesday another friend, one of the few people I befriended at school, had an aneurism. It's very serious and still touch and go. She's young and always seemed so healthy, such a happy and positive, sweet and relaxed person. She has an 9 month old baby boy and a 4 year old daughter. I am sick with worry and sadness, I hope, I pray, that she recovers.

I had not prayed in a long time, my relationship with God being very complicated. When we married by the church I promised myself I would try for real, not just to get it done. I tried for a while but... It's hard to be a catholic when you are more liberal minded. I keep falling off the wagon. But I've been trying again, lately (mostly because if we are baptizing baby Peanut I don't want to do it just to get it done, I wish I could really believe), and so, here I am.

I pray my friend recovers. Her family needs her so much. The world needs more people like her, good and joyful people. More, not less. Her baby needs her so much. I cannot imagine.

I pray my best friend recovers quickly, that God gives her strenght and love to deal with her loss, that she is able to have more children if she so wishes.

I pray for the sick, for my pregnant friends and family, for my family, for myself. I don't know if it's hypocrisy, to fall back into prayer when things get hard, I suppose it is.

I don't really know what else I can do.

Guilt

K's house is... Done. Not done-done forever done, since I need to replace a lamp shade that broke when we unwrapped the lamp, and then I need to do some other small stuff, but it's done as in I turned the keys in and they (mostly) paid what they owed us. I say mostly because the past three weeks have been hell, since K decided everything was badly done, I had been very unprofessional and it was very unfair (???) that I would charge her for my services.

Rude exchange after rude exchange, we finally managed to get an appointment with her on Friday, except she "missed" it. We got to talk with her husband, who was a)very pleased with the results and b)not at all rude and c)did not think paying was unfair. So. We settled things.

I have been going over this for weeks now, at times really really angry with her and the rudeness and the situation, at times feeling very guilty. Because of course there are mistakes and everything isn't perfect, but it's the best I could do.

I keep going back to her wording. Unfair. Is it unfair to pay for a service you hired? Isn't that a weird complaint? Let me go back a bit. I started their project on February 2014. It never really got finished. I ran into her around October? November? last year, and she looked pregnant. I congratulated her and told her I was pregnant too, and I felt truly very happy for them, because they had had a lot of problems with infertility. She didn't look super happy but I thought nothing of it. She said we should try and finish the project, and I got in touch with her again in December. She said her baby was very sick, and eventually, by the end of 2014, she let me know they had lost the pregnancy. I don't know how far along she was, but I was around 23 weeks in, and terrified of something going badly. Soon after that she called and told me they wanted to finish the project and start building it.

I know they really wanted a family. And I know it looks almost impossible now for them to get pregnant again. I think this is a really difficult time of the year for her, though I don't know the specifics. I suspect that having Baby Peanut around is just salt in the wound, and I feel awful, but I don't know what to say. I can't not bring baby Peanut with me. Maybe that is unprofessional. I wonder if this is why she thinks it's unfair. And I feel guilty, and scared. Because my baby made it, because I can't imagine losing him.

In the end I don't know for sure if she's truly angry at me (or us, my partner faced her rudeness quite a lot) or if she's lashing out because she's hurting. I wish I could say something, but... I supposs we're not friends. I presume too much, most likely. I feel guilty when I'm around her, running around with my six month old in tow.

I wish she knew I'm thinking about her baby too, and that I wish her peace. All I can do is hold Baby Peanut tighter, and hope I never have to face how unfair life can be.

Hit the ground running

Baby Peanut is six  and a half months old. Almost 29 weeks, yikes! In ten weeks he will have spent as much time in my womb as outside, I can't wrap my head around that. I grew that baby! From scratch! He used to fit in my womb, whaaaat. Giant baby is now 9 kg, so we're a kilo away from tripling his birth weight. Or in another words, what the hell. It is super cool to know that I grew him from scratch (disassociated as I am from the whole birth/pregnancy) and that then I fattened this little piggy too, all with my body. It makes me feel really cool, to be able to keep a human being alive and thriving! I've been suuuuper lucky in that we had no glitches breastfeeding, for the most part. I have also been super lucky to have a friend who recently went through all of these, and who has been supporting me and helping me cope, and that I live in the information era, where all I need to do is google and read.

Which I have done. A LOT.

So much, in fact, that I am always surprised when I hear other people don't over research. My SILs don't even have a pregnancy app! Or a weekly pregnancy calendar! Or two dozen blogs about pregnancy/parenting/cloth diapers/attachment parenting/co-sleeping/the burning issue in me head this week. I have to laugh at myself and my neurosis, but it really does help. I feel like even if everything is new and challenging, at least I have some sort of safety line.

These mornings I've been starting to get to my pre-pregnancy weight. Not every day, and and more often than not I'm still half a kilo away from it, but I'm really happy aboit it. Everything changed, though. There's less in some places (ass, where did you go?) And much more in other places, at least temporarily (fun cleavage!), and lots of.. Looseness? Skin being... Weird? I guess I'm still a long way from my skin getting used to having less to cover. My abdominal diastasis is mostly recovered too, less than once centimeter to go. It was very creepy for a while, to have that hole between the muscles.

And then there's my chia pet head. Apparently by the lenght of the new hair I have, the moment Baby Peanut was born I started growing a new layer of hair. So I have this... Cap. Of sorts. Of an inch and a half long hairs, fanning everywhere. Like a chia pet. They cannot be tamed. I look pretty ridiculous and kond of unkempt, and my students already noticed them and ughh I almost died of embarrasment at their puzzled looks and comments of "you have... A lot of tiny hairs." YES THANK YOU. But I guess soon they will flatten out? If not, at least there's only 3 more weeks of school and then there will be no more 20 year olds commenting on my mommy style trending chia pet hair.

Teeth invasion

Two weeks ago I took the baby for his shots and had his 6 months visit with the doctor. He said the teeth weren't giving any signs of coming out yet, but that they could crop in a matter of days at any time. This was on Thursday, by Sunday the first tooth had broken his gums! Poor baby was all sorts of crabby. Next friday, bam! Second tooth! Yesterday I thought I saw a third tooth coming in, the first of the top ones. It's like baby Peanut hit six months and decided to Be A Big Boy in a matter of weeks!

There have been a couple of biting incidents. Not cool at all. Baby Center is all "babies that are properly latched and eating can't really bite because their tongue is covering their teeth" but keeping a wriggly baby eating and well latched at all times is not really possible. So. A couple of bites and mama is a bit paranoid.

I'm having a stressful (haaaa!) time with work. K's house is finished in theory but she decided that there are a dozen issues now, that my work has been unprofessional and that charging her for it is very unfair. After seven months. After everything is finished. She owes me around $180 dlls, which makes this the stupidest problem. I just want her to accept that the job is done, if she doesn't want to pay I don't even care anymore, but she also keeps stalling a meeting to see all these issues she has. It's been two weeks since she decided everything was wronnnngggg but she hasn't agreed to see us any day. This morning was to be it, but she excused herself very very early today and has not appointed a new time. It's driving me crazy. It makes me really sad. I know for certain that I did the best I could. I know things aren't perfect, because nothing ever is, but to the extent of my habilities I did my best. I wish she could see it.

H&C's house is alsoooo not finished because the electric door people have nooottttt finishedddd and it is going to drive me insane, to have all these things just hanging on forever. Work with Ms. Prado is going well, if a bit glitchy, and I'm starting a new job today, a cosmetic remo and some repairs for Ms. T. I am hoping so hard that all this work will be done by Christmas so I can take some time off.

I finally told my area heads at both schools that I won't return next semester, and they were very nice. They said I could return whenever I wanted, and one of them even offered to take over my class right now if I needed the mental space. I want to do things right and finish the semester, but knowing he understands makes a world of difference.

Anxiety dreams

Last night I had two dreams that pretty much sum up my personal life anxieties. (Talking about dreams! Is there anything more boring? Ugh! Sorry!) In one, Cookie wrote me a letter (on the dusty layer of grim of a car's door, uhm) about how he couldn't believe we could go from having a good, nay, a happy, great day, to not speaking to each other, and how it all boiled down to my relationship with the baby. It was resentful and accusing, and then I read it again and the spirit was the same but not accusing, just sad. I woke up feeling like shit from that one. Because yes, I had just lost it before going to bed while we got the baby ready for bed. As I have been losing it all week. He was asleep on his side of the bed, far away, and the baby in the middle. I don't know how to fix that. They are both (should be both) my priorities, but I seriously don't know how to do *more* without turning into psycho bitch.

The other dream was more violent. I was heading out of my parent's house with the baby in his car seat when a short woman started pushing me, poking at me with something. I felt angry, and asked her what the hell she was doing. She had a gun, and was nervously trying to rob me. I got so angry, I started to fight her for the gun, with the bay car seat still in one hand (all 20 pounds of it). She was much smaller and was making no sense and I was Not Letting Her Take My Baby Or My Money, so I turned the gun on her. I woke up before I shot her, feeling like I already had, like she was already dead, feeling no remorse, only vaguely wondering if I would go to jail.

I have been so afraid of someone stealing the baby, I guess it's no surprise that it would eventually show up in my dreams. And I have been so neurotic and impatient with Cookie, that I guess it's normal to feel sad and afraid about the state of our relationship.

I did fall back asleep pretty easily after both dreams, though. And I just managed to put the baby down for a nap, so I can work for a bit before school. So. No big deal. I can do this. I will beat the anxiety.

We are five weeks away from the end of the semester. One of those weeks is finals so I keep telling myself I just have to make it through another month without blowing up, and we'll be done. My students aren't helping much, though, whining and complaining every step of the way. I know I have been doing much of the same, but I feel like I'm gritting my teeth through every class with them, I see no glimmers of passion or interest. I brings me down, specially giving that it's my favorite subject to teach, Lanscaping. But I just feel like the biggest nerd, super excited about permaculture and companion planting and rain gardens and everyone looking like ughh, when will she let it go? And there's few creatures better than a 19 year old at throwing disdainful looks. It shouldn't matter to me! I'm an adult! Right? ...it definitely gets to me, though.

I am dreading talking with the department heads at both schools to let them know I'm quitting. I know both will try to convince me not to, for different reasons, and they can be really pushy (which is how I ended with so many hours this semester). It's hard because, in theory, I love my classes. I love teaching. I loved teaching? I am not sure I have it in me anymore, though. I do know I need to take some time to work on my mental health. Which is the speech I'm working on, because it would be a shit thing to tell a teacher you neeed them to work regardless of their mental health, right?

A friend of mine went through PPD and is encouraging me to make an appointment with her psychiatrist. I keep thinking about it but not doing anything. I feel like, if I can find some time for myself, some of the anxiety will go away. So I think I'm going to give myself until January, see if I feel better or not, before going to a doctor for meds. By then I think I'll know for sure if I can work through this on my own. I do feel a bit more stable these days -we're back at having some sort of sleeping routine, so even if Peanut wakes 5/6 times a night, I'm sleeping better- but I'm usually exhausted and Cookie suffers for it. It's hard to not be resentful of his freedom. But I have talked about it a bit with him, and it helped, and he's trying to have us tag along with him more. Even if it's not freedom, at least is something of a social life, which is more than what I had.

Baby Peanut is beginning to be able to stay ib a sitting position for a short time, which xan be fun. He's a super happy and smiley baby. I love his silly face :3

Restless

The sleep front remains the same, with the baby sleeping a three or four hour chunk some lucky nights and then waking up every hour and a half or every two hours to eat. I have kind of found my peace (and comfort) with cosleeping and I feel better. I'm still battling a lot of anxiety, I live in constant fear that someone will kidnap or steal the baby when we're outside, or that someone will break into the house and steal the baby. It's obvious these thoughts are out of control and very unlikely events, but I'm having a hard time not thinking them. At night I still struggle with fear of SIDS, specially while he sleeps in our bed. Recent research shows that proper safety in the family bed actually diminishes the risk of sudden infant death, but we do have a cover and Cookie and I do use our pillows, we have made a sort of spartan zone in the middle of the bed where the baby sleeps. Before bedsharing he was sleeping in a pack and play (where he sleeps the first chunks of the night) right beside me, but for some reason he can't settle back in there in the middle of the night.

I feel like we're doing what we need to sleep right now, so I try to not cling to the anxiety monster too much. I'm still very short on patience at school, and rather disenchanted with work, as it feels very grindy right now. K's house is still NOT finished, mostly because I haven't gone to do the last details and because they just decided on the lighting fixtures this week. Next week we just HAVE to be done with it, I don't think I can handle having it in the back of my mind anymore. H&C's entryway is almost done too, and with some luck it should be finished in a week or two tops. Ms. Prado's dining room renovation is going well-ish. I am afraid of a hundred details going wrong, but so far nothing has gotten too out of hand, so I hope it continues that way.  No end in sight for it yet, maybe a couple of weeks.

I just feel like I need to do... More. Time is so short, I have a lot of things waiting for "when I have a chance", and it's frustrating. I know everyone struggles with deadlines and work loads, it's not anything special, and in a grindy, harried way, I think I am coping as well as I can with the workload. But it's the restless feeling, the frustration and impatience, that I feel is making me bad company right now. I wish I could get rid of those, since I know work is just never going to stop being challenging. My brain is using up energy I don't have to spare to worry about things that don't matter. I wish I knew how to deal with that.

Vet visits

Our dog Odin is a special dog. He's overcome most of his anxiety issues thanks to Max's confidence and Lana's playful company. Max was never very playful, but then again, I noticed the limp that eventually revealed itself to be to bone cancer two weeks after we adopted him. Lana indulges Odin a lot more, but is still dominant and confident enough to keep Odin's anxiety away. Odin has become a very playful and social dog, he's only afraid of some men and some small children, but my friend P's son and baby Peanut are great in his book, as are most of Cookie's male friends. I think he's really turned around from the scared, insecure dog we took in. But some issues remain: he's always had a very sensitive stomach, and we have to test him again for ehrlichiosis after having kind of treated it last year.

That being said... We have had to take him to the vet twice in two weeks -always Sunday afternoon, too! When nothing is open!- because he eats some plants then throws up.. And throws up some more... and more... And stretches and whines in pain, and throws up... And aghh! Why does he keep eating the plants? Why youuu do thisss dawggg!! Over and over again... I ended up moving most of the plants to the backyard, out of his reach, but I wish we could address the reason why he inflicts this on himself. Dumbbb doggg.

The same but somehow better

We had a couple of decent nights this Sunday and Monday and then another awful one last night. Baby Peanut slept from 8:40 to 1:40 like a champ, but I was up until almost midnight watching a movie with the hubby. Staying up late, bad idea! After 1:40 he was up every hour or so. Nghhhh.

Yet I don't feel quite so bad this morning. I guess our only-three-feeding-sessions nights got me some air back.

I'm fighting a cold, though, which was to be expected. My immune system is doing what it can, but I can't ask for miracles! Sleep deprivation and depression are not conductive to great health.

We finally discovered why the baby will take water but not expressed milk from a bottle or his sippy cup. It got to the point where he would cry as soon as he saw the bottle, so we gave up on bottles entirely. I still had some bags of frozen milk in the fridge, since I thought they would be needed when I returned to school, and yesterday I was meeting a new client and it got late ans I couldn't come to feed baby Peanut before class, so I told mom to take a bag from the freezer.

When I came back, baby Peanut had not taken anything but a sip from the milk on the sippy cup, though he had taken some water. We were going to throw the thawed milk out and then it occurred to me to taste it. Yukk!!!! So gross! Mom tasted it too and she was disgusted, it tasted a bit like fridge and plastic but a lot like soap. Grosssssss! No wonder the baby will not take any frozen milk! I've been reading about it and it's apparently an excess of lipase, an enzyme that breast milk has to break down fats so they are easier to digest. It seems to be uncommon to have an excess, but then the forums are full of women asking whyyy foes my frozen stash taste like asssss???

So that's one mystery solved! Deactivating lipase implies scalding the freshly pumped milk before freezing it and zzzzZzzzZzz forget it. Baby Peanut waits for me to eat, whatever. It's good to know that's the issue, though, so next time we leave the baby with our parents for sitting I'll know to leave a fresh bottle of milk instead of pumping the day before. It only takes a few hours in the fridge or at room temperature for lipase to change the taste, so I guess the few bags I have left in the freezer are going to the trash.

Baby Peanut totally pooped on his dad yesterday. First time for everything! We went out to a cafe to get panini and he decided that was a good moment to finally poop after 4 days of no luck. I cracked up, Cookie was mortified/grossed/freaking out, it leaked through the diaper, the onesie and through Cookie's pants. We had to change the baby on one of the tables. We used our travel changer but still. Sorry, cafe owners! We are gross people! The baby was so much happier after that, though! And everybody knows this happy baby makes this momma happy :)

Rope's end

On Friday morning the dogs would not stay inside while I tried to go out to open the fence so we could take out our cars and Cookie could leave for work. The neighbors' dog was outside and our dogs wanted ouuuttt they wanted to bark and run and ouuuuttt and I had had a terrible night and the baby was crying inside and so I headed for the garden hose to scare the dogs into the house with some water. He stopped me, told me he knew I was angry but there was no reason to be mean to them. The dogs ran inside anyway the moment they saw me head for the hose, anyway. I said goodbye to him, with tears in my eyes, and I said it. "You don't understand."

----

I went out to work on Saturday and he stayed home wih the baby. My friend P picked me up, and when we arrived to K's house we found out her old lab Sophie was agonizing. We sat with them for a while, chatted with K's mom, petted the poor old thing -we've been working there for 6 months, I loved that dog- and P suggested we return later to do what were going to do, to give them some privacy.

We went to the other site, dealt with things there and headed back to my place. We ended up talking about our kids and our husbands for about an hour, just parked outside. When I went in, Cookie was pissed. "You could have come inside," he said. "This is not easy. I could have used a break."

He had the baby from 10 to 12:45. I just stared at him in disbelief. I'm sorry, I said. I don't know what else to tell you. He said it felt like I just didn't want to come in.

Can you blame me? I asked him. I said I wished I could have a break from the baby that wasn't me going to class or to work. "You were outside for an hour. You could have come in for tea or something. Given me a 15 minute break."

I didn't know what to say. I wondered if he could listed to himself.

He took a shower. I fed the baby.

I got angry. Angrier. I realized I never showered that morning, so I did. Took my time. So angry. Then it all turned to ashes. Sad. So tired. So ready to flee, to be done with everything.

The day got grayer and grayer, my mind slowing down to a halt.

K messaged me. Sophie had finally died. Where had I buried Max last February?

I took a nap while the baby ate. Woke up. He was playing on the computer, never said anything about lunch or supper. Eventually I gave up and cooked. I knew he was worried about me, perhaps maybe even a bit sorry for being angry at noon, but I didn't care. I couldn't muster energy to do anything. I wanted to sleep more than anything but I couldn't fall asleep for another nap.

I downloaded Ferber's book, How to solve your child's sleep problems, read the first four chapters. I don't like CIO methods, even controlled crying and gradual extintion sounds like too much for me, but I was ready to try anything. I needed sleep, and Cookie had previously been on my case about sleep training.

Baby Peanut cried for 45 minutes before falling asleep on his own, gradual extintion not feeling gentle at all. I wanted to die. I told Cookie as much. "Is there any rule in the book about quitting after an hour and just holding your baby and telling him you love him?" he asked. No. No such rule. The crying was killing us. He slept for only 40 minutes, and then we were back to wanting to eat to fall asleep.

My back hurts so much from picking him up and putting him down every hour or two. I gave up in the middle of the night, screw Ferber, I can't do it like this. Not while I'm this sleep deprived and tired.

We had an awful night, worst than the one before, I think.

But somehow I feel better, the weight of his words is finally slipping off me. He was right. In his own way, maybe he does understand. A 15 minute break would be nice.

Old beloved faces

We had an awful night last night. Baby Peanut woke up every two hours all night long, with a couple of stretches of 20 minutes between awakenings. I felt like I was losing it. Picking him up from the pack and play or from the bed can be kind of awkward -holy 17 pounds, baby!- and my back felt like it was going to give up.

After three students messaged me saying they were not making it to class today and a whole group telling me they were out on a visit and were going to come in late, I decided to skip school today. Screw it. I needed a break. So I went to order the day's construction materials after breakfast and then headed to my mom's. We went shopping for a baby chair, and I got an awesomeeee oneeee, and it was on sale, and we looked at clothes and mom bought a sweater and everything was really nice!

Then K sent me a message about how she thought the installation of the lighting fixtures was included on the budget, and it sent me into a tizzy of anxiety and thebudgetsayslightingfixturesarenotincluededaughnooaughaugh and that kind of destroyed my ability to decide if I should buy a baby bathtub or not. The one we have is my brother's, and his baby will be born in December and Peanut will be 8 months then so maybe I won't need a tub but then I don't want to shower twice every day also I always said bath time should be daddy time so *fizzles crackles explodes*

So I didn't buy the tub though I think I will be back to get it. We really won't have a changing station otherwise, and I don't want to rely on my brother not needing it to keep our routine.

Anyway! Wow, those were a lot of words about nothing. When I was going through my anxiety attack at the store, I also got a call from my best friend. He moved away a few years ago, then hooked up with one of the few real friends I've made after school and she moved away as well. They are in town! For a wedding! Surprise, did I want to have lunch? *fizzles crackles explodes with happines* I can't even begin to explain how good it is to see them, how much I miss my friends. I've been super lucky and I have seen all but one of them this year. It always hits me hard, realizing how lonely I feel when I say goodbye. These people, I chose them, and they chose me, and we work to keep our friendships going. It's not about the convenience of seeing each other at work, not the forced friendships of routine. These are my *friends*. I miss the hell out of them, and I'm incredibly lucky to have had a day with them, amidst so many difficult days.

Adventures in Gross Gardening

Thursdays are the only day I don't have classes at either school, so even though I still have to go to the construction sites and run errands and the like, they feel like my day off. They are actually even better than the weekends, somehow.

Today I was gearing up to Go Clean!! At K's house, and while I was loading the car I saw my tomato bush. It looked decidedly smaller. What...?

Upon closer inspection, a lot of the branches looked broken, but I couldn't find the missing twigs on the ground.

Meet the Grossness:

Whyyyyy! These things were like 3-4 inches long, so, so gross! Further inspection (and the fact that these were on my tomato plant) got me the culprits' name. Tabacco hornwood caterpillars, from the Catalina Sphinx moth. Nnnghhh. These things ate half the plant overnight, they seriously creeped me out with their tiny yellow eyes camouflage. I picked about 10, but the tomato plant is so unruly (and, I admit, ugly and chaotic, turns out a newborn made gardening a bit more difficult!) that I don't know how many are left.

But! Aren't these cute? Tomatoes! Next spring baby Peanut and I will be ALL ABOUT THE GARDEN.

The 4th month sleep regression

Poor baby Peanut has been sleeping pretty badly for the past... ...7 weeks? Almost two months now. Given that there is not much that I can do about it, I read about it. The hows and whys and how longs, and it helps me, it keeps me on the rational level instead of the gurgleeeimdyingggahhhhhggggg sleep deprived madness. First it was a growth spurt, then he had his fourth month vaccines and a low fever and general unhappiness for a few days, then we had a couple of better nights, then another growth spurt, and now.. The 4th month sleep regression. It's been two weeks of bad nights, every night, but it seems it's a development leap. In a matter of a week he learned to drink from a sippy cup (since he haaaates anything that is not Teh Boob),

he reaches up and makes grabby motions when he wants something, he can hand off objects from one hand to the other, swat at things, bring things to his mouth, all of these things he wasn't doing well or consistently or at all two weeks ago.

Also he's trying to roll. He can manage when he's not wearing diapers (making our changing station a danger zone), but not the rest of the time yet, so he tries and tries and tries, all the time. And then he goes to sleep (eventually!) and his brain can't shut down and he keeps trying in his sleep, the poor thing, and wakes himself up, and he cries, so frustrated. All he wants is some sleep! Stop that, brain! 

I found it both awesome and heartbreaking that he is working so hard all the time. Baby brains are unbelievable. But I wish he could rest better, too, not just for my sake. Poor baby, so angry at his own gross motor milestone.

One day closer to still not being done

The pergola at K's house got delayed again, but I'm crossing my fingers and hoping tomorrow will be the day. Today they were running late and I had to leave the keys to my partner, who couldn't meet them when they were finally ready and they didn't want to wait for her for an hour, so they rescheduled the installation for tomorrow.

The electrician fiiiinally made it to L's backyard, the other unfinished renovation, but after taking a look at the light s
witch a drizzle started to fall, so he rescheduled for tomorrow as well.

No one showed up at H&C's entryway construction today. It happens some mondays.

I did manage to prepare class and make it to my classes, so at least that's something! 9 more weeks! I am dreading informing both schools that I won't be returning next semester. I know the Design school will be short of teachers next January, so I think they expected me to take on more classes, not to step down, but I don't think my mind is in the right place right now for teaching.

I don't feel patient or inspiring, I don't feel particularly passionate about my classes or my job. I don't have much time to prepare classes or grade. And the running around trying to make it to the campuses at a set time regardless of the baby or whatever disaster of the week crops at the construction is driving me crazy.  I will miss some things, some of my students and the joy of talking about the subjects I really like. I love learning new things and passing them on. I love helping students when they are feeling low or conflicted. I will miss the academic feel, the contrast of the mental and emotional challenge of teaching with the physicial and practical challenge of construction. And I will miss the steady pay, the call of the siren for the freelancer in this unsteady economy.

I was very sad last December when I figured out I would not be hired in January because of my upcoming due date. I mourned the loss of that aspect of me, unsure if they would rehire me this Summer. It never crossed my mind that coming back was a mistake. The set is over and I'm half heartedly singing an encore. I hope I'll have a chance to teach again in the future, but for now I'm ready for the semester to be over.

Sunday morning

I get the impression that despite the multiple wakings and the bad early morning juju, baby Peanut really likes our late Sunday mornings. We're usually up and about at 7:30 am during the week, and though he gets his first nap around 9, Sundays he can just sort of do this dance between my bedside/his pack and play  where he gets to nap while I hope for another half an hour of extra sleep.

I had a pretty anxiety filled night, with to-do lists composing in my head about all the things left to do at K's house, along with mild panic about the rain washing away the construction material at H&C's new entryway that we are purposely renovating to help with the flooding that happens whenever there's flash storms. So... Uhm. Hopefully that didn't happen. I kept trying a mental exercise where I put all my worries in a plate, and then cast them away. Which led to an odd dream where I couldn't pictures my worries as anything other than water and the plate became a kiddy pool and I tried to throw the water into a garden but it spilled on the way and only a trickle reached the grass. 

I feel like there's got to be a way to put these things in perspective and get a grip. Every time I manage some eye-of-the-storm peace I become super productive and get a lot of stuff done and find assertiveness to deal with people, but it only lasts a day or so and then it's back to my tremulous grip on my rampant worries and fears. Lately I picture scenarios of someone breaking into the house (a fear that's plagued me since we married) but with a twist of someone taking the baby hostage or trying to steal him and what would I do, what would I do?

It's a good thing I have these guys and our Sunday mornings to shup up the crazy voices in my head. 

The guilt of the (not instant) bond

I had a few very neurotic weeks before baby Peanut was born. I should probably post his birth story at some point, but in short, we had what looked like a big baby with a huge head ("but it doesn't look like hydrocephalus!" said my doctor, cheerfully, scaring the crap out of me), not a lot of fluid left and a baby that would not engage my pelvis. So at 39w1d I was induced (though labor had started the night before on its own, really slowly) and my water broke at 1:20 pm, stained with meconium. A c-section followed and at 2:22 baby Peanut was born.

I remember many things about the operating table. Cookie was not feeling very well looking at the gory show. I was staaaarving. The cap kept falling over my eyes and Cookie and a nurse kept pulling it back. Being tied like Christ at the cross (that was super unnerving!). Chatting with the doctors. Then the pressure on my chest, the pulling and the weird feeling of a crowbar trying to dislodge the baby. Then the cries, the chaos of Cookie taking (notttt alloweeeddd) pics, missing the APGAR score, then the ped quickly showing the baby to me and shoving him close to my face. I was pretty confused as to what he wanted me to do then, so I kissed the baby's face hoping that's what he expected.

And that's the thing. I did it because I thought that's what *he* expected, not out of a huge rush of emotions and love and relief or any of the things I expected to feel. In fact, I felt... Hungry. That was it. They took the baby away, Cookie left with the ped, and the doctors kept chatting while they closed me up, and I felt impatient. It took them about an hour to finish, then another hour in recovery listening to my anesthesiologist chat with the nurses and eat lunch and take a nap, while I lay there willing the epi to wearoffwearoffWEAROFFFF I'm starvingggg. I wanted to see the baby, of course, but mostly I wanted to see Cookie and talk with him and not be in recovery. 

We stayed at the hospital for two nights, and I think the endless influx of visitors certainly didn't help me to bond with the baby. I kept waiting for that feeling I had read about to wash over me, that sudden engulfing wave of love to take me over and I felt... Determined. To give this baby my best. To recover quickly. To keep my sanity. 

The first 8 weeks after the birth or so, I knew there was something wrong with how I felt. I read that not all moms bond with their baby instantly, and I held on to that, giving myself time. But I felt a profound disconnections between my pregnancy and my baby. I don't know if it was the c-section, or if it was my brain's way of protecting me from my fear at the time: I had wanted a natural birth and I cried as they wheeled me to the operating room, not from the loss of the natural experience -or at least not just because of that- but out of fear of the procedure itself. I was afraid of dying on the table or that something had already happened to the baby. So maybe my brain decided that nope, this was unrelated! To anything! And the birth was just not-related-to-the-baby. I'm not sure this makes sense. But Cookie kept telling me, with his eyes full of love and tenderness, that the baby loved me, couldn't I see how he looked at me, how he calmed as soon as I held him? And I was almost robotic. "The baby knows he needs me to survive, babe. That's all. I wouldn't call that love." Or, "I don't think he's conscious enough to *feel* things, you know." 

I cringe just thinking about it. I wish I had fallen head over heels for him, instead of that robotic-duty thing I had going on. I took care of the baby, I was patient as I had never been in my life, but it was so so hard. I was tired, but I also felt disconnected. Someone had cheated me of the motherly love I was promised. I hadn't had the most, ahem, excited attitude towards the miracleee of lifeeee during pregnancy, what with all the pregnancy weird stuff, so I guess I had somewhat brought this on myself. But it was sad. 

I think it took about 3 months for me to finally feel like hey, I have bonded with the baby! I love him! And I think he loves me back! Not a sudden rush, not the breaking of a wave over me. More like the slow, steady rise of the tide. At some point, almost without noticing, I was submerged. I wish I could have felt this way from the start, since the moment the doctor put his face near mine to kiss and cherish right after he was born. But he just woke up while I was writing this post, squawking and fussing because ughh being awake is the worstttt, and I picked him up and he's sleeping on my chest. And I'm smiling. 

I love you baby Peanut. I'm sorry I was too scared to figure it out from the start. 

The endless drag of the last details

For the last two months I've been "almost" done with the construction in K's house. Just the laaaast details. Just a bit of paint. Juuuust finishing with the garden. Just cleaning. Just some more cleaning. Clearing left over materials from the garage. Trying to find our pergola guy. Trying to find a new one that charges around the same as the now-dissappeared pergola guy. Failing. Then the victorious return of the pergola guy. Gahhh.

It seems like maybe, hopefully, with the blessing of the gods, we'll be done by the end of next week. We just need to install the fountain's fixtures and pergola. Retouch the paint. Clean the stained tile that is refusing to shed it's layer of cement and debris. And retouch the paint inside. Almost done. Almost almost done.

Perhaps what has me so on edge -besides, you know, sleep deprivation and baby blues/post partum depression- is that clients tend to get very critical by the end of renovations. Everyyyy little detail gets them frowning and worrying and complaining, every bit of dust is such a disaaaasterrr in the renovation but pee in every room of the existing house is fine.

Maybe it can seem like lazy work, to expect some understanding of how there's always going to be *something*, that perfect is really not humanly possible. They forget the run down, unusable, cracked, old patio/house/room/bathroom, so now all they can see is the chipped corner or the dusty tile or the slight color difference between the new paint and the old paint. And it drives me crazy, because the renovation looks gorgeous! And everyone else can see it, but the clients aren't quite happy, and it makes me sad, and anxious, and a tad neurotic.

At some point of the relationship of client-architect, there comes a shift: It can no longer be measured as a comercial transaction. Everyone is tangled in the psychological aspect of renovating a *home*, the physical representation of hopes and dreams of a family. I become fretful, neurotic, eager to please, eager to escape. I can't seem to detach myself from that aspect of construction, and what's worse, I know that's what makes me good at my job, because clients often need a lot of handholding. I wish they could see their renovation with fresh eyes and enjoy the new space, allow themselves the excitement after the long exhausting process.

But most of all, I just really, really wish we could be done already.

4m20d

Today Baby Peanut is 4 months and 20 days old. It's been quite a ride. I never thought being a mom would be so... different. It sounds stupid; in retrospective, I have no idea what I was thinking while I was pregnant, all these worries about how would I return to my "normal" life, to work, to being myself. I get that no one can really know what it feels like to have your life change completely until it does, that's pretty much what change is, but still. Normal life! What did that even mean? Prepregnancy? Newlywed? Premarriage? PreCookie? PreFreelancing?

Baby Peanut is an awesome baby, he really is. Easy. I sleep little and fitfully, and he has been waking up crying, inconsolable, every day, starting at 5 am, every 20-30 minutes all the way to 8 am, past the time we're up and getting ready to work. That's the physically tough part. I don't know if it's the reflux, or night terrors, or melatonine/seratonine circadian rhythms bad juju or what (painful baby erections??? MAYBE?) So there isn't much I can do. Pick him up, soothe him, shush him, rock him, feed him. Put him next to me in bed and pat him while he cries and I groggily pretend that's helping because SLEEP DEPRIVATION ughh. 

I forgot what my point was. 

Anyway! He is an easy baby. Those three hours a day are usually the only bad ones. When he doesn't wake up crying, he opens his eyes and looks at me and smiles as he rubs his eyes and stretches and sighs. He's brilliant. It took me a while to bond with him, and the guilt over my semi robotic reactions was not helpful, but I'm there. I get it now. I love him so much.