Another vent

I hate how everything my husband does is purported, by him, as being better than everyone else. How he makes himself seem like a prodigy, genius, and savior all at once. All the while I’m dragging my butt around struggling to get the dishes and laundry done, some slight form of composure found in the house, meals made so he doesn’t think it is okay to eat out all the time, run errands such as get groceries without his help when he is too busy to be around. I take care of everything, but it’s okay because it’s apparently my 24/7 job to do so. Because I can’t work outside of the house. Because I don’t contribute enough or monetarily. There are many days I loathe him with such a passion that I would desperately divorce him if I could. But he has already told me he would make the experience the worst and as horrible as he could. He would try to take my kids from me. He would drag it out in court. He would do his best to hurt me, and by hurting me he would hurt the kids. He would wage a battle against me. He has a lot of problems with me not putting out sexually. I don’t do this or that or have the time to wait on him hand and foot.

So he does whatever he wants despite knowing what’s best for our family and already having promised to do what we agreed was best. He changed his mind. He talked himself and the circumstances up till I turned blue in the face. So far nothing has turned out like he kept saying it would. Nothing. And we are now living with my mother because we are in a precarious position financially. We have bills but have no idea how they will get paid. I am so stressed out over it that I just want to cry constantly. I would be job hunting right now but I have to breastfeed my son every two hours until we figure out how to get him more independent than being attached to me 24/7. It’s so frustrating. I want to scream. I want to knock my head against a wall until the world rights it’s self and everything is okay again. Right now it’s not. It won’t be for the indeterminate future. And that is my daily life. 😣

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A vent of sorts

I have a confession to make. I’m not proud of it and it is something with which I struggle daily. I’m jealous of other people’s babies’ milestones. The roll overs, sitting, eating, walking, crawling, and so forth. My son barely meets 75% of the six month old milestones and he is almost 15 months old (8 days away). He is particular about when he wants physical touch, he is 95% breastfed and has maxed out at 1 4oz jar of Earth’s Best Turkey Apple Cranberry stage 2 baby food, which is still the consistency of stage 1, but with protein and more ingredients. If the texture is not right he vomits, gags, or chokes. He utterly refuses to take a sippy cup and only very recently mastered picking up a puff. He cannot eat it but he can pick it up! He did not roll over until he was about a year old. He cannot crawl. He is slotted for physical therapy and occupational therapy. There are days where I want to rip my hair out because I don’t know what he needs because he hums. He can make other sounds but only when he wants to do so. He doesn’t like looking at us and for the longest period of time we all thought he might have a hearing impairment. Which he doesn’t so we realized he chooses to not respond or react to us speaking to him or calling his name. He fits the label of intellectually disabled, which is a hard concept to grasp on its own. He is delayed in motor skills, speech and language, cognitive, social and emotional, and feeding. I’m probably missing an area but those are the ones that come to mind right off of the bat. I’m a frustrated parent. I feel horrible for being frustrated because he cannot communicate to tell me anything, because he cannot be left with a babysitter or his father without him going hungry because he refused to eat, because he cannot move around like other kids his age. I want a diagnosis so we can know what the future will look like! But that cannot happen immediately. I realize that, but it doesn’t make me feel any better. I suppose it is because a piece of me really wants him to be a cuddly close baby. To have that attachment, to hear mama, to sleep through the night… For my husband to stop talking about how my son should be weaned already 😣 that one is a pain in the behind!

Having my son have so many issues in his short life is a strain on my marriage as well. My husband doesn’t react like I want him to react. He’s more willing to brush things off and let it slide if it means HIS world is okay. In day to day care he doesn’t do as much as I do even though I’ve been really pushing for it. It took a lot to get him to treat our son like a valued child rather than demeaning him because our son didn’t behave or respond certain ways. Or because our son needed more care. It would break my heart hearing how he would speak to him so I spoke up and our marriage has been in tatters since. That’s another frustration. It’s pretty awful when your spouse doesn’t show enough care to one child but showers the other with kind attention. But for now, my frustration is with mainly myself. My anger is because of my choices, which I would change in a heartbeat if it meant I could keep my kids. I know the answers I seek will not just pop up on their own. They may occur without me realizing it. I know I need to work through these issues I have and I know what I need to do to work through them, I just do not believe I am quite ready to address it in full. Maybe one day soon, but not today. I realize acceptance is a key and it will take time to get to that point. For now I will vent on here, but maybe tomorrow will be the day when changes are made.

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Why Disney and I do not get along

I see so many Disney-based things out there for my daughter. She is a little over a year old, but I really do not want to encourage Disney themes for her. Why? Because for one, the Disney princesses are never ordinary sized with the features of a woman who just got out of bed with no makeup and bed head. Take Cinderella for instance, the step-sisters were ugly. They were ridiculed for not being as enviously beautiful as Cinderella. What kind of message does that send to kids out there? How about, unless you have breasts, a tiny waist, and some butt, you will never be sought out by Prince Charming. Now for the male side of things, even in the Incredibles being ordinary or above average weight was seen as bad and therefore had to be remedied by intense workouts, deprivation, and secrecy. The highlights of an eating disorder right there. Now we instill these thoughts of unnatural appearing women and men at such an early age, then we wonder why a 13 year old dresses like a 20 year old. Then said young teen (or even pre-teen) gets pregnant because she has showed off all the goods, made her body be the way it should be according to the fairy tales, and then went and found her own version of Prince Charming. Usually to find out Prince Charming is not charming at all, and reality does not compare even in the slightest to those fairy tales. The real world is hard. The fairy tale life is ideal. So now we have an extremely high population of men and women who hate how their body looks, strive to make their body be more ideal (thanks again Disney), and then feel like failures when they cannot look like one of those ideal fairy tale characters. So many people complain about their weight. To be honest, I am one of those people. I have issues. I acknowledge the issues. I also acknowledge that my weight does not make me any less awesome, any less of a person, or any less attractive, because honestly, the stuff on the outside changes as days pass and years go by, but the stuff that is on the inside is what needs to the most work, attention, and care. Caring too much about my weight (even though somedays I drive people crazy about it), is detrimental. I, like many others, have the ideal image of a woman imprinted in my brain from countless years of Disney movies, media influence, and the endorsement of “weight watching” throughout childhood and adolescence. But there is a difference between letting that socialized, encouraged thought pattern take control and saying, “Hey, guess what world, women and men come in all shapes, sizes, and forms.” Instead of encouraging words such as, “skinny, big, chunky, fat, thin, ugly,” to describe people, I encourage the use of words such as, “lovely, pretty, beautiful, awesome,” because our future generations do not need to be so focused on how to look, but instead they should focus on how to treat others and themselves. 

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What NOT to say

Recently I, being a paranoid parent, announced that my children would not be exposed to all the body image, semi-degrading, sometimes sexual sayings, cliches, and clothing graphics. Why? Because I do not want them to be haunted by seeing a picture themselves in a shirt or whatever the piece of clothing might be with a saying such as, “It’s not fat, it’s all muscle.” I really do not want my daughter being haunted by people telling her what a BIG girl she is. Or that she is chubby, cookie butt, cupcake face, or anything of the like. Why? Because kids now have to fight a constant psychological war against statements from the media, so why should they feel as if they might not find support from their closest people? In this time of eating disorders that run rampant, high rates of depression, and anxiety disorders, why should our future generations not receive the most support they can to be just as they were created? I see no reason why they should not have the best chance that they could possibly have, so why not start endorsing self-esteem building characteristics?

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An unhealthy fear

So this past week has been filled with ups and downs. Mostly downs, which is why I am posting up here. One major downer was that I found out most of my husband’s platoon was weighed this week. The week right after Superbowl weekend, which is generally filled with greasy high fat comfort foods and beer or an alcoholic beverage of some sort. The week where the majority of the platoon would have indulged on those comfort foods since they know they are not getting to have any for a very long time. Some came up over by 1 pound, others by over 10 pounds. So ensued the threat, lose the weight by tomorrow or you get put on BCP. To add some context, BCP is the USMC’s body composition program. It is not a good thing to be placed on the program, as it reflect negatively against you if you are on it and prevents you from being promoted among other things. So the guys that are built like tanks, or brick walls, attempted to lose any and all weight necessary to not be placed on BCP. Unhealthy? Yes. Will I list some of the things I found out they did? No, and please no comments about tips on how to lose weight fast. Because honestly, losing weight fast puts so much strain on one’s body and mind that in the end the consequences are negative. So after all they put their bodies through the day before, most of the men were put on BCP even if they were less than 5 pounds over. It is ridiculous that the guys that go off and train hard, fight harder, and end up with PTSD among other things have to make sure they fall within the correct percentages and weights for height…. or else. A healthy outlook would be to say that is weigh in is precautionary and the last weigh in will be prior to shipping off to some undisclosed location. These poor guys work their butts off, and in return are made to work harder just to move forward in their military career. Do I believe this is wrong? Yes. Can I honestly stand up for them from the standpoint of someone in health services? No. Not without having the punishment rain down on their heads for my words. 😦

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Okay, not that many people will read this, but I have a confession to make. I hate it when other women/girls I know get pregnant quite easily. It is hard for me to take in that a girl can get pregnant without even trying, or even if they are trying, they can get pregnant almost instantly. I know it is selfish and self-centered of me, but it irks me to no end. I even hated it that my sister, who had been trying for a while, was able to get pregnant with  no special interventions.

Here is why: My husband and I decided we wanted to start our family young. As screwed up as it may sound, I wanted to have a part of him with me. A little someone who is a little bit of both of us wrapped up in all that is good and right in this world. My husband is an infantry marine and tends to get into life-threatening situations when on deployment (some stories he has told me have almost made my heart stop at the thought of how close we came to almost losing him!) The risk of having him leave and never return breaks my heart a little bit each time I thought and think about it. So we decided we would try having a baby before he was deployed. His rationale was that he didn’t want to be an old man when his kids were in their active let’s-play-sports-and-run-around years. So we tried… and tried… and tried some more. I made an appointment with my OB/Gyn and discussed things with her. I told her I had not had a period in almost an entire year. So she gave me some pills (progesterone and Clomid) to see if that would jumpstart my cycle. While we had talked about a reproductive specialist, I did not realize she was going to refer me to one or that I would get in so quickly. So here I was, 21 years old, walking into a fertility specialist’s office, terrified of what might happen. After an examination, discussion, and blood-work I was sent off with a new medication regimen. This one involved injections of hormones (aka ART assisted reproductive technology/treatments… or hormone replacement therapy, it is very similar). FSH/LH combo in the form of Menopur. Then since I just could not ovulate on my own, I was given scripts for HCG injections. To follow that up I had progesterone treatment as well. I did the Menopur injections until the follicles were large enough that we could induce ovulation and actually have a chance of conceiving. This took anywhere from 10 days to 21 days. I induced and then used the progesterone until I either got my period or did not. If not I could test to see if I was pregnant or not. So, round one came and went, round two… three… four… five… six… and finally I didn’t get my period after 10-14 days post induction!!! So we went through all the tests to find out, YAY!, we were pregnant! We were in a haze of happiness for a few weeks. Then we found out my husband would be deploying in two weeks, I bled, and at my 8 week let’s-make-sure-everything-is-okay appointment we found that the pregnancy was not viable. I was utterly heartbroken and hated the world. Why could all these other girls my age get pregnant so easily and I could not? So a week before my husband left for overseas I miscarried the only child I could get pregnant with at the time. My doctor assured me that we could continue on with treatment, we just needed a sample from my husband to freeze. About 6 weeks after my miscarriage I went to my doctor for an IUI. My husband was in a battle zone and I was thinking that this must be the weirdest thing ever. I know it is not, but hey, I was 21 and I felt really young getting that procedure done. But it worked. A few weeks later I found out I was pregnant. And now I have my little girl who is my world after 42 weeks of pregnancy (she was a late baby who tried to come early, but decided against it.)

Now, after all I have been through, I still see all these girls getting pregnant very easily. But that is how God made their bodies. Mine has seen years and years of abuse from an eating disorder (which was why I could not get pregnant apparently). This said, I have to say that if anyone is ever wanting to have kids and people suspect them of having an eating disorder, get them help! Despite the facts that they deny it, they more than likely secretly agree but won’t do anything unless forced to. If I knew that I would face the possibility of never having any kids at such a young age I would probably have been more proactive. Because once it is gone it won’t come back on its own unless in some cases of Divine Intervention or intervention through some pretty heavy duty and expensive treatments.

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The people within

Recently, my husband looked at me and said he was two different people entirely. He has a work persona and a home persona. Both personalities are separate from one another. Now, this made me stop in my tracks, jaw drop, eyes wide, a million thoughts racing through my mind. My first thought was, “If your work personality comes out at home… do I have to fear for my life and safety? How do I know which personality I am talking to?” and so on my thought travelled down the long line that branched off in varying directions. Finally I came to the conclusion that is just is not logical to be two different people. To maintain those two different lives within one mind is not logical, rational, or sane in any way. I personally believe that if you have to change how you are, who you are, and your behaviors to suit people then who are you truly? Personality A, B, or C? D, E, or F?

Having this thought pattern opens my eyes to seeing so much more about why I have such a hard time making friends. I just cannot alter my personality to be a fake me. I have no rational, logical reason to do so. Being a wife of a Marine and not near home or people I really know is difficult, being a student whose classes are solely online is horrendous, being a mother to an infant is degrading my verbal skills to the point of speaking in motherese more than actual speech. I realize I am kind of weird, that is my charm, in my opinion, but it does make me wonder if that repels others. All in all, I am finding I need to get out more, make more friends, be more independent, and the list goes on for a mile or two. But will I teach my daughter that she needs to be two different people. A work or school person and a home person? Or that she needs to be true to herself and just be the perfect little girl God gave me…and that is it. Hopefully I will be able to show my daughter that being Joy as Joy is, is the perfect person she can be. Here is to the next 50 or so decades in which I will try to instill into my daughter good values, honesty, and acceptance!

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