Christmas

Once upon a time I loved Christmas. I decorated. Had more than one tree, went overboard on EVERYTHING. 

See, I had a rather lonely childhood with holidays. My parents were divorced. My mom and her family do not celebrate holidays and my dad has never been close to his family. So I never had that big gathering with grandparents,  aunts and uncles, cousins, noise and chaos. 

It was just my dad, my brother, and my sister. They were so much older than me that eventually it was just my dad and me. 

When I was 17 one of my closest friends and her family invited me to come to Christmas eve and invited me to keep coming. 

I had my own son at 20, and another at 24. Then I married at 26. Another son at 27. And then my second son passed away in March after my 3rd was born. 

That first Christmas after he was born was hard. My friends family didn't do the big Christmas eve party that year. Or the next. Accept they DID. They still invited the other family friends for that one, just not us. 

My heart hurt after my son passed, but having that tradition to look forward to helped keep me going. Without it and my Christmas spirit just went out. I haven't decorated the last two years at all. I didn't want to. I seriously considered the idea of not celebrating holidays anymore like my mom. But my husband is a very cheery holiday person. 

So this year I decided to try. But we have a newborn so I wanted to keep it small. We didn't have a tree until Christmas eve. I didn't try to convince my children that Santa was coming. I just wanted to cry the whole time. 

The little sister of my friend, who I truly view as a little sister too, messaged me how much she misses our big Christmas eve celebrations and it just hurt so much. She has a family to go home to. She still goes to her parents house each year. But I feel adrift and lost without them. THEY were the only family I had for this time. My brother is off grid and hates everyone and my sister hates my husband and makes him feel on edge and judged the whole time she's here. My father is still alive but an even bigger grinch than I feel like and hates Christmas. That seen in the grinch where Grinch is going through the phone book "hate, hate, hate..." yeah, about like that. 

I tried to get excited today for it (were celebrating a day late) but I just couldn't. I was relieved when the gifts were open and thought what a great thing it was that our kid friendly tree can just be folded up and hidden away so that the holidays are just over.

My heart just feels heavy. I just keep thinking "I HATE Christmas. I HATE this time of year." 

Maybe in 20 years when my kids are bringing their kids and spouses home I will feel differently. Or maybe they will abandon me for their spouses' big gatherings instead. All I know, is that I hate this time of year and the hurt and disappointment that fills me each time.

exhausted

Why I'm not taking a shower.

I'm exhausted. I bathed the baby, and showered both the 2 and 4 year olds. After each bath/shower I dressed them. 

Now its supposed to be my turn. But I'm so tired from the effort of caring for them... But I'm so tired from having to carrying the 2 year old down the stairs...

I announce all 3 are officially clean and dressed and my husband says "now its time for mom and dad to get clean" with a glint in his eyes. 

"But you took a shower last night."

"I'm always willing to take a shower with you"

Which means he wants attention. And you know exactly what kind I'm talking about.

I am all out of effort to give. I am LITERALLY pouring from an empty cup. A stinky, sweaty, hasn't had access to the freaking shower in 5 freaking days, empty cup. 

And he will say its not obligatory. That he doesn't EXPECT the attention. But we both know thats a lie. He will be disappointed and unhappy if it doesn't happen. We both know it. So now I have to decide. Do I take a shower and continue to pour from the empty cup while desperately trying to refill it. Or go longer without a shower so I don't have to GIVE more of myself today. 

help

I just need someone to help. And I mean, see something needs to be done and do it, not wait until I ask. 

I'm exhausted. My baby is 3 weeks old today, I was woken every 3 hours last night. This morning the first thing I did was pump for an hour, because while I'm trying to wean my production down, its not working and not pumping HURTS. 

The SECOND thing I did was get my kids up. The third was make a long list of phone calls to reschedule appointments for someone else, because when the appointments were made BY SOMEONE ELSE, no one bothered to tell me when they were, so they were all missed. 

I was honestly too tired to make myself breakfast,  or even do more than cereal for my kids. But then I went to the grocery store in hopes of finding that ONE food item I'm craving, that I haven't been able to find in enough quantity to keep me fed, because its LITERALLY the only thing that sounds good right now. 

Then I come home and make the baby a bottle. Because if I want what little milk I could produce, that I painstakingly pumped, to get used, I'm the only one who will heat it up to give it to my daughter. But I was told yesterday that if I want to do that then I need to "do it on my own time" and not leave my daughter fussing with someone else while I heat it. So I carry her up to the kitchen and begin the process. But I see the sink is overflowing with dishes, so I clear it one handed, enough to heat her bottle. Then I go change her and get her settled in her play pen, because now I know I'm going to have to do the dishes. 

I finish unloading the dishwasher. The one that everyone in the house has been pulling dishes out of since it finished running 2 days ago. Then I reload it. This takes just long enough for the milk to warm up, but longer than it took for my daughter to start crying. 

Once I get her milk in her bottle, and her and I down stairs again and all settled in to feed her, my father in law yells "weakly" down the stairs, so I tell my husband to go help him, it sounds serious. All he wanted was to make sure I'd rescheduled his appointments. Oh, and to ask if he can eat those mini pies id grabbed while at the store. Oh, and wash his bedding too. 

I stare at my tiny baby, slowly swallowing, and begin to cry. I'm so tired. I'm so hungry. And now I have even more to do. 

Once she finishes eating, and I've gotten enough burps that I feel she won't throw up what I've fed her, I lay her down and go up to make myself breakfast and the other children lunch. 

I enter my kitchen and see the heaping recycling can and the now full garbage. I think of the garbage upstairs in my room, and the other down in the media room, both full as well. So I put aside my plans of food and begin taking the garbage out. When I get out to the cans and open the recycling, I see that the last helpful person threw BAGS of recycling away. This isn't allowed. So I will have to reach into this large bin and grab these bags, to dump out, and put the bags in the actual garbage can. 

4 empty garbages later, I wash my hands and begin making food. Its 1:30. My hands shake as I twist the salt grinder, my muscles still weak from the blood loss of delivery and lack of food, and exhausted from what they have already done. I am so tempted to change my mind. To put away the real food I was going to cook and make peanut butter sandwiches for the kids and simply not eat. I'm too tired for this. And I'm not done. I still have to carry the laundry baskets up, swap the wash into the dryer and then go strip and remake my father in laws queen sized bed with 3 blankets and 4 pillows. 

So, I need help. I need someone to see the garbage can is full and take them out without me asking. I need them to remember that I've explained for 6 years that we are NOT allowed to put garbage bags into the recycling can. I need them to take the extra few minutes to empty the dishwasher when they see its still full and clean. To hold and bounce and rock my daughter while we wait for the breastmilk to warm. 

Thats all I ask. I think I can do the rest right now. I just need a little help until my body recovers enough to do it all. 

why is this so hard?

Why is this so hard? I can't get the oomph to DO anything. I'm not puking my guts out all days. I'm not comatose from nausea. But I'm EXHAUSTED. I just can't get going on ANYTHING. I am feeling so blessed that my brother in law is such a sympathetic person and is doing most of the cooking, and that my oldest is doing all the kitchen cleaning duties. 

But my youngest is going through a screeching phase and my 4 year old has decided he likes to make his baby brother yell. And even when he hasn't done anything my toddler screams at him incoherently. 

I have a list of things to do a mile and a half long, but can't get any of them done! I even MADE MASKS for my sister but can't seem to find the oomph to ship them to her! 

My husband had no sympathy for this at all. He just can't understand why I can't MAKE myself do these things. I wish I could. I spend half the day screaming in my own mind "JUST GET UP AND DO SOMETHING!" 

My one hope is that when all nausea is past I will be able to get back to work. I want to list this house and get my family moved into a bigger one, closer to the hospital I'll be delivering at, by the end of summer. 

pandemic

Admist everything, I've been too busy to write anything more than lists. 

We got the 401k loan to do the repairs to the house, as well as give it a face lift with new paint and a few upgrades. But then COVID19 hit. I was in Skagit county for my niece's party at Chuckie Cheese late in February. On my way home, I started listening to the news podcasts I had missed. And I started to panic. I had just been at an arcade in the heart of this thing and didn't even know it! 

When I ovulated several days late, too late for me to have likely gotten pregnant, we decided to puta hold on trying to get pregnant. This just wasn't the time. 

We decided to move forward with all our plans to repair the house, hoping things would go through quickly enough to get pre-approved for a loan while we finished listing the house. But delay after delay stopped that. But during it all I kept busy doing the things I could do to get our house ready to show. Decluttering, rearranging, deep cleaning, painting, landscaping, ECT. 

I kept in mind that we may be here longer than we had intended now, but this is just a larger scale version of what I do each spring, this time hiring a contractor to take care of the larger repairs.

Well, my period didn't show. And it turns out we squeaked through the lowest probability window and it worked. Not the best timing, but we promised to leave the perfect timing to God.

We're sitting here, preparing for lock down and hoping the plumbers follow through with what they said they'd do before it happens, since having a tub that drains (new issues) and a gas line that doesn't leak (don't worry, it's turned off) is extremely important. 

I'm trying to rearrange fast enough that I can make masks for my family, not perfect, but better than nothing. And to simply not go crazy with worry. My husband's work is considered essential, so he will not be home, and it means we will continue to be exposed to the households he works with, so this doesn't protect us. My back stock of bleach wipes (4 boys pee on toilets and floors) is running out, and I'm having to decide "should I bleach that pee puddle area, or save those wipes for door knobs and cart handles?" 

Please don't think I'm complaining. We are so very blessed right now. My husband will keep working, so we won't lose everything we worked so hard for. We pulled his 401k loan just before the market crash hand those savings would have been greatly diminished. We have plenty of food, and thanks to my Amazon subscription for toilet paper and laundry detergent, we have plenty of those.

 But I worry still. 

 I worry about a variety of things, whether or not my family will be safe during this time. Whether or not this pregnancy could put us all at increased risk by lowering my immune system. I worry that once everything IS over that we will be stuck in a house that already wasn't big enough, and definitely won't be once we add a new life. 

I'm worried all across the spectrum. I'm worried morning sickness will hit before all the work *I* need to do to the house is finished. I worry I'll be too sick to be a good mom during these trying times. 

I worry we will run out of food that is safe for my gluten intolerant kids and I to eat. Hell,  just worried I'll run out of keto friendly foods, and that going back to my old ways of eating will make morning sickness worse. 

I'm worried about my dearest friend who is pregnant and due in July. I'm worried that she was recently, potentially, exposed while visiting her mother. 

I'm worried that SARS and MERS are associated with stillbirth. And I'm not just worried for me. I'm worried for that little niece she is carrying right now. I'm terrified of giving birth in a hospital in the fall, when they predict this will roll back around, even if it ends soon. 

I think my heavy focus on staying the course with prepping the house to list is simply to distract me. Simply to stay busy so I don't panic. Because I really feel like panicking.

mortgage

With mortgage rates so low we discussed two possibilities. One being refinance and remodel our current home to attach the garage, which would mean making it wider by 8-10 feet, and building rooms above it. But still have a kitchen that's too small (on the property line) and less than a quarter acre. Or we can sell this house and buy a bigger one.

We decided to sell. 

This means doing some repairs that are too much work for us, so we'd need a contractor. And doing an overall face lift by repainting everything, replacing the deck, and mostly removing 50% of the stuff in the house. So that's what we're doing. Today is day 10 of these tasks. I have several contractors who have given bids, but can't get to  us for 60 days. And us just working our butts of taking things to storage and painting what I can while I wait for those repairs to get done. So wish us luck on all of this 🤷

Nothing.

My period came after all. Two days earlier than expected. I had a very sad feeling I wasn't pregnant. I mean, trying for a girl only gave us about a 10% chance. But having it come early was like a gut punch. And I can't talk to anyone about it because my husband doesn't want people to know we tried. He's still not sure he wants to keep trying, but trying once was his anniversary gift to me. I'm trying hard not to push him into continuing to try if he's truly against another child, it just hurts that this could have been my only chance and it's over. Today I packed out all the baby clothes I saved for a friend. She's having a girl and won't need them. And the clothes another friend passed me for my niece are too small, and a small secret part of me wants to save a few pieces. But I almost feel that if I do, then I'm cursing myself. I have bought something girlie for every single baby and eventually had to give it away. It ripped open my heart every time. I can't handle that pain again. Especially if it just never happens.

I often sit here feeling selfish for wanting a daughter so badly. We have 4 beautiful sons. Why isn't my heart full? Shouldn't I just be grateful for the children I've been blessed with? Does it make me a terribly selfish person for wanting a 5th child JUST because I want a girl? I feel like I have no right to feel sad, to shed tears over our failed attempt. I mean, so many people cannot get pregnant at all, and here I am feeling sorry for myself for not getting pregnant a 6th time.

That's right, 6th. Four live boys and one miscarriage. For all I know that loss was a boy. But what if she was my only daughter? The only one I'll ever have? Maybe THATS why it's so hard? The unknown? Or maybe I am just selfish. All I know is that it hurts, and I can't even talk about it. 

we tried

We took a risk and tried for a girl. Now I sit here, ovulating just 2 1/2 days after we had sex and wondering. Am I pregnant? If I am is it a girl?!? I'm praying that God gives me a daughter. I'm also praying he doesn't give me another son. My words were "please give me a daughter, if I'm not meant to have one, please don't allow a pregnancy at all."

I realize his answer may not be what I want to hear. But given what science says and timing, if I get pregnant it's highly unlikely to be a boy. So cross your fingers and pray with me. 

hopes

We have discussed "leaving it to God" and moving in on my fertile window a day or two. Seeing if it would possibly give us the slight chance of getting pregnant, but only with a girl. After much research it seems the best way to try for a girl outside of a laboratory. We're still not sure if we will, because I don't want a 3rd so close in age. For example, if we were to get pregnant this cycle our toddler would be under 2 1/2. He's still mostly unintelligible nonsense. Our 4 year old was only a few months older when the baby was born. They fight like cats and dogs. 

My husband is also concerned that I would then want a 6th so She would have a playmate. I honestly couldn't care less about that. I was the 3rd wheel and had a rather peaceful childhood whole my close in age siblings were busy driving each other nuts. 

Jealousy

I scroll through Facebook and see a picture of an old friend's daughter. She's JUST learning to sit up. Cold, bitter, jealousy floods me for a moment. I never feel this way when my nearest and dearest have daughters. I was just happy for my bestie and cousin who had daughters, but jealous of an acquaintance who was due at the same time.bmy other best friend is expecting and waiting to find out gender, but I just want her to get what she wants (she really wants another girl) my husband says it would have a kind of symetry. Fore to have 4 boys and each of my best friends to have 2 girls. 

Anyways. I don't understand. Why do I feel jealousy at all? I have 4 beautiful sons and they are enough of a handful that the idea of another child makes me want to run screaming. I just wish that God would either give me reassurance that I will have a daughter some day, or let me know that "never" is true and accurate, not just the voice sobbing in the background of my mind. I feel that a final answer would help to accept this reality, rather than having a spark of hope that someday, somehow, I will have a daughter to call my own. 

Shades of Grey

As I sort laundry and put things away after our trip, I start pulling down items our youngest has outgrown. As I bag them up for donation there is a bitter sweetness to the act. Part of me is relieved to be pulling down items I have literally been storing for 8-10 years. All of these saved from when my oldest out grew them. There is such a relief in clearing out space. But at the same time there is an ache and pain of the last. The last baby. The last time these items will be worn. Be seen by our eyes. The last memories to be made in them. My heart desires a little girl, all our own, so even if she should one day materialize, these probably wouldn't have been hers. But it stings all the same. 

I can still remember holding tiny clothing items up to my belly, anxiously awaiting the arrival of my first, and the careful sorting of these items as I prepared for my second, third, and fourth. There are just so many memories attached to them. 

I do feel oddly lighter with them set aside for donation. Just as I did when I donated all the baby furniture last year. Part of me is so very ready to move on to the next stage in life. The one where I have deep meaningful conversations with my children as I teach them to read and write. Another part of me cackles at the image of my son with a tinkertoy hanging from his nose because he thought it was funny. And yet another part longs for those quiet moments in the deep of night feeling my child move inside my womb. Those moments of deep anticipation when I count contractions, is this the time? Those still moments holding my sleeping baby and stare into the face of life. A life we created. I suppose it's true then. Life is never truly black and white, but so many beautiful shades of grey that they all become muddled in the end. 

hmm

Today my husband mentioned that his grandparents had 6 kids. And how all of his family has at least 4. That it's not crazy for us to want more. He specifically added that he's not suggesting we have more. But. Why would he bring it up if he wasn't considering it? He knows how much my heart yearns for a little girl. Every time I think I've come to terms with it I get smacked in the face with thepain again. Sometimes it's a dress, or a doll. Sometimes its seeing a round pregnant belly. I'm just not ready for this season of life to be over and it kills me that it is. 

frustrated

I am not a perfect person or parent. I have many flaws. But I am also not the ONLY parent. 

Yesterday I very clearly told my husband that I had a project to work on and asked him to cook breakfast. You know, at noon since we all slept in terribly late. Then I worked all day on said project. And at 10 I discovered no one had eaten again. So I asked my oldest to please make hot dogs for everyone. This is not hard and required a microwave. I also got the baby a snack of cheese while he waited. This is beyond the lunch he gets just before nap time every day and did get yesterday. At 10:30 when it was discovered that our oldest had only made hotdogs for himself and no one else my husband went off on ME. First. You are their parent too. If you hadn't eaten and we're hungry you very well could have fed everyone again. Second. I told you I was going to dive into a big project and that you were in charge of the kids. So there is that. I did feel bad that I forgot to put dinner in the crock pot as I had intended because we slept so late. 

Fast forward to today. We ALL slept til after 11. No, we were not up all night, so I think we're all coming down with the cold our friends have. As soon as I was up and dressed I woke up the older boys and started cleaning up the kitchen. By 1 pm I had the first batch of pancakes coming off the griddle as well as dinner in the crock pot and a clean kitchen. It would NORMALLY be the baby's nap time but he just woke up at 11:30 when I woke him up. So he starts to fuss while the birth batch is cooling enough to eat. I flippantly say "I'm working on it shorty, I'd hate yo have to put you down for a nap before you get to eat." AS A JOKE IN A JOKING TONE. My husband had apparently just gotten up and starts going off on me for being mad at the baby when it's my fault he hasn't eaten all day. I woke him at 11 when I woke up and voiced how frustrated I was that I'd slept so late and he said "eh, it's vacation"

I informed him that I went to work as soon as I got up cleaning and cooking and he continues in on how it's my fault I didn't clean the kitchen the night before and how I'd been awake for 2 hours and should have at least fed him a snack. This is where I stop everyone and say "My baby will not eat when he first wakes up. For nearly an hour after waking he is a jerk about food. He's not hungry. I think he takes after me. Because I don't eat, usually for HOURS AND HOURS."  So he's finally hungry, just as I'll pulling food of the griddle, and I'm a bad mom for this?!?

Shut up. I'm not even joking here. I am furious. I hadn't even SAT DOWN since waking up at that moment. I had spent every single minute doing something productive. Dressing children, changing diapers, waking other children, doing dishes, starting both dinner and breakfast, cooking these items. What the hell????? 

I understand that he wasn't there to see me doing stuff, but he should have figured I was working on it considering I was literally standing there cooking at that moment. 

Rant over. 

If you made it this far, I'm surprised. I do get relief from being able to vent this way without complaining to family and friends about these things, because who even wants to hear about our petty issues when they arise? Here's hoping tomorrow we can go back to where we were YESTERDAY morning when we took time to share the things we loved and appreciated about each other.