I am Vicki. I am currently working through what makes me Vicki. My history, my experiences, my childhood, my loves, my children...... This place is where I want to continue those thoughts and the process of finding the special within me.
Like blowing my breath out in the winter for the pure joy of seeing it curl out like smoke - as if it's proof I'm alive and the unseen truly can be seen under the right conditions - so this will be too. Proof that I am alive and the feelings I have truly can be seen.
I had to stop before because my Mum came back with the kids and some hot donuts. I enjoyed them with a cup of tea, it felt so winter-y and wonderful. Today has been overcast and rainy, a perfect winter day, and so cold too. I've always loved this kind of weather - the type that makes most people depressed. It makes me dream of warm, snuggly quilts and hot toast with tea.
When I lived in the UK (BC = Before Children) I used to spend days on the couch under a fluffy blanket and watch the snow float down. It was so deliciously decadent. The lifestyle was so fresh and exciting, it never depressed me. I don't know if living there for longer or with kids would have changed my attitude at all.
I feel a bit depressed right now though. I started bleeding again this afternoon. You know, you never remember when the last time was that you pee'd when there's no blood. I saw it on my panty liner and said 'uh oh'. Yeah, I actually said it out loud, as if I was a naughty 3yo.
I came out and told my Mum, then told G over msn. He's going out with work tonight and I half expected him to come home instead. But I suppose it doesn't rate very highly on his radar right now. That hurts a little.
So Mum's gone home and I've fed the girls, and I'm sat here trying not to move. As if that will help somehow.
I don't know where to start my story. The events that led me to my hysterectomy seem to be the most relevant, because I feel so defined by that right now.
I recently read Harvesting the Heart by Jodi Picoult. I cried throughout it. I was touched by the story of losing sight of what makes you special after becoming a mother. But what happens if, like me, you never knew what made you special before you had kids? What happens if, after completing your family, you discover something you're good at? Then days into commiting yourself to this passion, you find out you're pregnant again. Your soul won't allow you to give up this tiny spark of life inside you, and you find ways to be pregnant and still follow your passion. Then your pregnancy starts to encroach gradually on your passion, until it eventually forces you to stop. You have your baby and suddenly your body betrays you - leaving you shattered physically and mentally. There is no chance of returning to your passion as it demands a healthy body.
What happens then?
I had a really strange dream last night - one of those that sticks with you when you wake. I curled up against G's back and wrapped my arms around him to push those lingering feelings away. His skin is always so warm.
He looked at me last night and I was struck by how blue his eyes are. He can make me melt with a certain look from those perfect blue eyes. Why does that not happen much anymore?
I'm currently seeing a counsellor for a combination of PPD and relationship issues. I'm finding it so helpful to have someone see through the emotions and make sense of them. I think sometimes I expect G to just accept my emotions, not fix them - and in doing so, make it impossible for him to help me work through what the real issue is.
The bleeding stopped again and aside from a vague ache, I feel good physically.
I seem to struggle with mixed emotions regarding my hysterectomy. I feel a deep sadness that I had it done, but I don't regret it. I am just so gutted that it had to be done. The symptoms of my prolapse have gone and I feel great about that, but this sorrow persists.
I feel as though part of me is missing, a part that makes me a woman. Even though we were done with our family, I feel as though I am missing another child. I keep thinking 'oh, what if I got pregnant' and then remember, it's impossible. It's not possible for me to ever fall pregnant again. Never again will I feel the kick of a tiny foot or run my hand across my swollen stomach as a caress to my unborn child. I feel as though I am mourning that loss.
I seem to only ever get 10mins to post before I am interrupted by kids. I had hoped I could just vomit my thoughts onto the page and walk away feeling lighter, better. But it seems I am not allowed to!! I struggle to keep my thoughts straight while I listen to 'Mummy, I want my tooth to come out', 'Mum, is she in the hospital?', oh and of course Friends is on.....
I'm just uploading some pics to photobucket and came across an old one of me, probably 8 months pregnant. It's ridiculous how big I was!! I was literally all belly/baby and I look at it and wonder how in the world any Dr let me go to term.
Then I feel overwhelmingly sad.
For ****s and giggles, here it is......
I feel as though I'm going crazy. Honestly. I feel as though I have this hurricane of emotion that tears through me and inside myself I am just a leaf blown out of control. I said to G last night, 'I don't know which way is up'. That's not just about my hysterectomy, but my whole life right now.
G seems to do just enough to make me question myself, but never the change he needs for himself and to make this marriage last.
For example, this morning I started painting and Gabe was in the lounge (I thought with G). I heard him whinging and then a really grumpy cry so I went out to check on him. G was outside smoking and said he'd be in soon. So I cuddled Gabe until G came back in. We had a sweet moment taking photos and G changed Gabe, I went back to painting. G then held Gabe while he watched TV. I started to get really ****ty because here I was painting and he was sat on his arse, as usual!!, using the baby as an excuse. When we finally sorted Gabe out (we put him in bed) G stripped the bed and put it in the washer. By this stage I had finished painting the 2 door frames I wanted to do and I was left frustrated and confused.
I don't know if I'm wrong for feeling angry that I was working whilst G held the baby. After all, he did end up doing *something* and he was holding the baby. But did Gabe really need to be held for that long? He could have put the baby in the chair and brought him down the hall so we both could have watched him whilst we painted. I don't know, is that just my frustrated expectations or a realistic thought? Is it that this is the norm which is why I am so sensitive to it? Or is it that we just had a conversation about this yesterday afternoon so I feel there should have been more effort from him?
I told G that I honestly don't want to change HIM, I just want his behaviours to change. That's the truth. I love him for who he is, but I can't make this marriage work for the two of us. I need his help to do that.
There are so many issues that I can see, that it starts to make my head swirl again. I spoke to him this morning about the way I feel inside - the way I am being made to feel by some of his actions. I cried and he held me until the kids came in.
I know my hysterectomy has alot to do with my feelings of un-womanliness (oh crap, is that even a word?) but he has a lot to do with it too. This is what I said to him this morning (to paraphrase slightly) :-
I feel as though having Gabe was a journey for me. Giving birth to him was a challenge I set myself and I succeeded. I feel proud of myself because it took so much strength, not just physically (and believe me it did to deliver a 12 pound 7 ounce baby!!) but mentally and emotionally. I was present for my whole labour and I handled it (mainly) with grace and a powerful sense of self. Afterwards took even more strength to handle, but I did. My prolapse and hyster has shaken me to my core but I am here and I have survived the experience. I am proud of what I have achieved. But I feel as though G has seen something in me that he can't move past. That he doesn't like and isn't attracted to. Oh, he tells me I'm pretty but something is different this time. Last 2 pregnancies he made an effort to make sure I knew he still found me attractive, but this time there is a gulf between what he says and what he does. And even what he says is lacking.
I feel disgusting. I feel as though I disgust him. He doesn't grab me like he used to, I get a hug perhaps but he doesn't tend to touch me 'romantically'. I have asked for more repeatedly, I have told him what I want and how I want it. But nothing.
I snuggled up behind him in bed this morning and he let me touch him. I gave him a ha-j and thought 'f* the mess, let's make it like old times'. I got up afterwards to tidy up and the kids came in - nice timing! When I got back into bed I invited the dog up and we gave him some attention for awhile. After sorting the kids out I snuggled back up to G and we lay there, his arm alongside me, touching but not holding me. Any positive feelings I had started to curdle inside me and I started to feel awful. I didn't want reciprocation, but I did want affection and perhaps appreciation. I got out of bed and sat on the floor with my computer, reading until the feelings passed.
I feel as though that's how I cope. Pushing the feelings away so that I can cope, because I want things to be good between us so much that it's worth pretending everything's ok even when it's not.
We're both going to see the counsellor this week. I'm both looking forward to it and nervous about it.
Alright then. The events leading me here.....I could go back, waaaaay back. But I won't. I'll stick to the relevant story, Gabe's story.
So I was pretty depressed Sunday night, it was my EDD and I had never reached an EDD without a baby before. So I had a moan to G and fell asleep. I woke a few times during the night and felt very mucousy, I didn't let myself get excited though. I thought I had some contrax but thought I may have dreamed it as well. I woke at 6am with a few very irregular but painful contrax. I got up and wandered around, not being surprised when they stopped. I went to lay beside G in bed and had a big one as soon as I lay down. I lay there feeling as though the pain never really went away and 5mins later had another. It was mid-contrax that my waters broke (another first for me!!) and I jumped out of bed to stand on a conveniently placed bit of plastic and said 's.hit, s.hit, towels!!'.......
G leapt out of bed and grabbed me some, not before gazing blankly at me for 30secs!! I was wearing pj's and he couldn't tell my waters had gone, and in a big way!
I grabbed the phone beside the bed and called my Mum (it was 6:50am and she was supposed to work that day) and asked her to come around. She said 'are you sure this is it?' and I said 'well, my waters just broke.....' and she laughed and said she'd be straight around.
I got into the shower and felt a little disappointed that my contrax weren't getting harder, stronger or more frequent. In fact, they seemed to get better!! I didn't worry too much though because I knew I'd have a fight on my hands to go past 24hrs (not that I wanted to) so figured I'd be having the baby that day, regardless of what my body did.
G called the doula, Sally, and my BFF, Bek. I was over the moon that it happened that day because her DH wasn't working and could look after the kids, so I got the people I wanted after all!!
I washed the towels I had 'watered' and G came into the laundry and said 'WHAT are you doing?!'. I still felt really good so I pottered around the house, made some porridge and pecked at it, got Zoe ready for school etc.
It wasn't until about 8am that my Mum made the comment about peak hour traffic. My worst fears had been realised!! I had gone into labour at a time it would take me 3 times as long to get to the hospital!!! At that point I was having very mild contrax and the occasional 'big' one. I made the decision to wait for Bek to arrive and then we'd head off. I didn't have to get admitted, just being there would give me the peace of mind I needed that I wouldn't birth on the way or be forced to endure painful contrax on the way.
I was incredibly lucky and only had 2-3 big contrax that I needed to breathe through before we got there. I simply sat quietly, talking to G occasionally, and thinking 'this is it'. I still felt so good that I walked from the carpark with Bek and G!!
Getting admitted was fuss-free, I filled out the paperwork, had a large contrax which reassured me I was doing the right thing by going in and then we went into our room. That's when the fun started, literally. We were left alone for awhile and we just laughed and joked, it was really quite amazing.
Sally turned up and it felt so great to have all three of them with their hands helping me through contrax. Sally massaging my lower back and belly, Bek at my shoulders and G holding my hands. I had some beautitful moments with G, 'dancing' through contrax, that I will never forget. He was strong and comforting, my head fits neatly into his chest and nothing else mattered but us for that moment.
We laughed our way to about 11am and then I wanted to retreat for a little while. I asked for my headphones (instead of having my ipod play through the speakers) and I lay on my tummy over a beanbag and let everyone massage me. I couldn't believe how achey my lower back was, and I felt so much better when someone was rubbing it.
I really ought to mention my MW at this point. She came in while I was on the birthball, facing away from the door. Bek leaned over and said 'she looks really nice, young, blonde'.... She apologised we'd had to wait so long but that they had kept us for her and she had been busy. She told us that she did most of the natural births and her speciality was birth plans!! She looked over ours and was happy with everything we had requested. We talked about the times that it may not go according to plan and then said 'let's not focus on the negative though, let's have a baby!'. She was very hands off and let my team help me through the contrax, only occasionally listening to bubs. She never offered an IE but was happy to give me one when I said I wanted one at 12pm, she checked to make sure it was what i really wanted first. She let me take control of the situation and lay down when I wanted to and was very quick and gentle. She told me that I was 8cm and that I would be meeting my baby soon. When she checked contrax for strength and length I remember her saying to me 'I'm just a hand, just forget about me'. It honestly was as if she wasn't there for a lot of the birth but at the same time we created a relationship of trust.
It was soon after 12pm that I started to get vocal through my contrax. The MW, Lauren, came over and asked what felt different about that contrax and I said I think he's moving down. I took back more control of the contrax's after that but as the need to push grew, so did my fear. This felt very different to my last birth, pushing hurt - it didn't make the pain better as everyone kept telling me it should. At one point my pubic bone felt like it would split in two and I knew he was trying so hard to come out.
Bek encouraged me to get onto all fours as I'd expressed in my birth plan and it was then that I lost control over my fear. Pushing wasn't working, it hurt and instead of the powerful, productive pain I'd been experiencing previously, I felt as though I was fighting against something too big for me.
I ended up in a kneeling squat on the bed during contrax and lay limp over the beanbag between. Lauren came over and spoke calmly to me, explaining that I had reached the point that I had pushed for so long that it was becoming clear that I needed some help. (At this point I was drenched with sweat from working so hard and had asked them to pour the ice over me, which they did). I had started asking for pain relief, saying that I couldn't do this. The feeling that I was working so hard for nothing was overwhelming and I desperately wanted a break. Everyone was wonderful, telling me I *could* do this, that I didn't really want the drugs, I was so close.... I still chuckle when I remember saying 'no, you don't understand.....' Such a typical labouring woman thing to say, but I was trying to vocalise that this wasn't working.
I flipped back over to a side/back position and Lauren said 'Vicki, I can see your baby'. That quick change of position had done the trick and suddenly I was pushing with a purpose.
Lauren put up a mirror and for the first time, I saw my baby. I thought it would bother me to see the baby come out, but it gave me so much incentive. I remember Lauren saying 'see how much energy you have now that you can see him?'. She was right, I went from exhausted to pushing with power.
I still held fear about tearing as bubs crowned and I think it wasn't until I really let go of that fear that I became my most effective. Everyone was watching him coming down and I could hear the awe in their voices.
"Look at him, Vicki. That's our boy!"
"Oh my God, look at him come. You're so amazing!"
It was the voices and the positivity that made me close my eyes and just push with all my might. Lauren said, this is going to sting and burn, but it didn't as much as I thought it would. She said in hindsight that it was my controlled (read - scared!) pushing that stopped me tearing. I stopped when she wanted me to and gave little pushes when she asked for them. I totally trusted in her and let her guide me. I do believe that it was Gabe's size that made it that easy, he wasn't coming without the effort so I could stop if I needed to. Whereas Sasha came barrelling out like a greased piglet!
I had a vague comprehension that the head was out when Lauren said 'ok guys, we're going to need to use those techniques we practiced, his shoulders are stuck". She told me to push and said, 'give me a nose, I need his nose, Vicki'. I pushed so hard and then she told me to stop. Everyone rolled me more to my back and grabbed my legs and pulled them back to my ears (McRoberts manoeuver) while Lauren helped turn Gabe. Another MW applied suprapubic pressure and they pulled him out. It was incredibly painful and it was at this point I screamed at Lauren to get him out. She said 'he's out' and placed him across my tummy. He was grey and still but they left the cord intact and gave him some oxygen where he was. After a thorough rub he pinked up and had apgars of 8, 9, 10.
Lauren talked to me about his size and said that even though I had wanted a physiological third stage, due to the size of Gabe, she recommended I get the injection. I agreed and don't regret it, nor the Vit K I agreed to have administered to Gabe. We were treated with so much respect when things didn't go according to 'plan' and everything made perfect sense.
It was at this point I should have been listening to my body, but I was very tired and excused it all away.
I was having after pains which put my contrax to shame, but I knew they get worse with each pregnancy so put it down to that. I also asked Lauren to take Gabe to weigh him after 10mins which went against everything I had wanted. I was too tired to hold him and felt a little distanced from him. All of these things pointed to something more sinister yet I thought I was simply too tired.
Bek and Sally left to go home and the Dr came to stitch me up. I loved the Dr, she suited my funny-bone down to the ground. This is an indication of the brief connection we made:-
'Ok Vicki, you suck on the gas while I have a quick look to see if you've torn'
After some long breaths.....and some spaced out pain.....
'you've done really well, there's only very minor tearing, almost nothing worth stitching. I want to make really sure though so I'll just put the local in and have a better look'
'couldn't you have just done that in the first place?'
'oh, the local causes the flesh to swell which makes it a bit harder to see the extent of the tearing'
'convenient excuse for being a b.itch'
Laughing 'I'm not as bad as the midwives!'
It was after she had left that G and I were left with a snack, Lauren went to have her belated lunch as well. I had just finished a crumpet when I felt incredibly thirsty. I practically ordered G to get me my drink and drank the whole lot. He was walking the room with Gabe in his arms when I said 'I'm not feeling good'. He looked at me and I said it again and then told him to get Lauren. It took him seconds to press the buzzer but in that time I closed my eyes and let the flashing lights and dizziness take me away.
Apparently Lauren was in the room within a minute and then the room was full of people. I woke to this bustle but couldn't fully come to. I could see G sat near the bed with Gabe with a rather blank expression on his face. I felt terrible for scaring him so, but could only tell him I loved him with my eyes.
Lauren came close to me and explained that they thought I had retained some placenta and that I had two options. I could take some gas and they could check me there and then and hopefully remove it or I could go to theatre and undergo surgery. She told me I was a trooper when I said do it here. I didn't want to be taken from my son and husband - I would go through any amount of pain to avoid that, and I knew how much this was going to hurt.
I kept enough of my sense of humour to say 'oh, you're the b.itch' when my original Dr came in and held my hand. She joked that I could hold it as hard as I liked because she'd hurt me before. It was that hand I focused on through the pain, I wish she could know how much it meant that she did that for me.
The MW announced that I would need surgery, she couldn't get to the clots. I started sobbing, huge gut-wrenching cries from my soul. I had just had my baby, my huge baby, without any meds, it was the most amazing experience of my life and now this was happening. I covered my face with my hands and cried as if my heart was breaking.
Lauren came over and talked to me about how I could be so proud of what I had done, and that this was the best thing for me. She was replaced by the anethesiologist who again was reassuring me that this was going to make everything better and there was nothing to be scared of. He went through the required questions and they began to prep me.
I was still sucking the gas due to the pain I was in, and I couldn't stop shivering, my teeth were chattering. I looked to G again, he was still sat holding his son, beside my bed but out of the way. I whispered 'I'm sorry. I love you. I love you.'
The rest of the experience was quietly terrifying in it's own medically managed way. Once professionals get down to business they stop being empathetic, and this was no exception. I couldn't wait to sink into the oblivion of the general, just to get away from how I felt. When oblivion finally arrived, I fell into it dreamlessly.
I woke up to G's voice and immediately opened my eyes. I had been floating for awhile but it was him who pulled me like a magnet from my musings. The recovery nurse came in and said 'oh, you're awake. That was your husband but I've told him you weren't ready to see him yet'. I desperately wanted to see him so I forced myself to keep my eyes open and wake up properly. I watched another nurse come and plead G's case to be allowed in but they decided to bring Gabe in instead. Lauren brought him in and lay him beside me, she told me 'G didn't let him out of his sight for a minute. I'll go get him in a minute'. Though as it turned out another nurse had been the b.itch from hell and fought to keep him out (for no good reason) and G had decided to go get something to eat with my sister. I had told G to call her to come and be there for him, thinking he might need someone to help stave off the fear. It wasn't until I was being moved to the ward that I saw G. For some reason it wasn't until then that everything was all right. I had my son, my baby boy who we'd waited so long for - and I had my man, my comfort, my shelter, my home.
I guess my birth story ends where my life with Gabe begins.....
Gabe was a wonderful newborn. He slept so well and BF like a champ. I adored snuggling in bed with him even if he was the noisiest sleeper!
I felt fantastic emotionally and was looking after the boys as well as my 3 AND cooking dinner every day. I had the house clean and tidy as well. I really felt on top of it all.
Physically was a different story. I had seen a physio in hospital who was very concerned about my muscle tone (erectus diastasis?) and recommended I take it easy. I was about 3 weeks PP when I noticed things 'down there' looked a little different. Being aware I was high risk for prolapse, I made an appointment with my GP who referred me to an GYN. He checked me out and diagnosed cervical prolapse with bladder and bowel involvement as well. We discussed options and decided on a vaginal hysterectomy due to my age and other factors. I got his quote to have it done privately but looked at going through the public system which involved a wait. It was only a matter of a few weeks and I had my date. The 7th of July.
The week before the op I got a serious case of cold feet. I told my Mum I wasn't having the op but didn't cancel with the hospital. I dithered for a few days but eventually decided to go ahead. My symptoms were getting worse and I didn't see how I could live like that indefinately.
The morning came of my op and I got up as normal. I got the kids ready and before I knew it my sister was here to watch the kids and my Mum, to take me to hospital. I decided at the last minute to take Gabe with me because he had an awful cold and was miserable.
Mum helped me check in and I shaved and got changed into a gown. I was nervous and just wanted Mum to leave with Gabe because I felt like I could focus enough to hold a conversation.
I sat in a waiting room with other women and felt occasional waves of nausea. When I was put on a bed and was waiting to be taken in I felt them coming more frequently. I was rolled down the hall and was left in a small room outside the op room. A nurse told me that they were finishing up with the previous patient and would clean the room before taking me in, but it wouldn't be long. The feeling of being in a McDonalds style operating queue made my nausea worse.
I was soon taken in and my kind Dr got me sorted out. I drifted off quickly. I don't recall being in the recovery room at all, which strikes me now as strange. I came to in the room on the ward and soon heard G come in. He cleared his throat and he tells me I opened my eyes very slowly but I felt as though I snapped to attention.
I was terribly tired and spent a lot of time sleeping. My pain wasn't too bad, never above a 5 on my pain scale. I apparently stopped breathing when they gave me morphine so I was forced to stick to other drugs. I was dehydrated and not passing urine through the cath so I was given a couple of bags of fluid.
I slept for probably about the first 36 hours and then woke up and wanted to go home. I had my cath removed and had a shower. I felt a little shaky but really good otherwise. I got my prex filled and came home. The girls were happy to see me and I was so glad to be home.
I've really enjoyed having my Mum here to help out. I feel as though I'll look back on this time and be grateful for the time I had here all to myself. We spend all day talking, drinking coffee and playing with Gabe. There's life to take care of but it's been lovely to have her company while we do it.
I had thought G and I were really making headway with some of our issues. I posted yesterday re $exual issues and we talked it through really well. I honestly thought 'yay, we're not in trouble after all!!'.....
I read a book about relationship issues and boundaries. I found it great to help me focus on MY behaviour and how it can affect HIS behaviour. But personal accountability was really it's primary focus. So I looked hard at myself and we talked in depth about my negative behaviours and how he can help me to change them. I set in place a very clear boundary for his overspending and we agreed on consequences. I was upset and disappointed that he never apologised nor took clear responsibility for his behaviour.
So after yesterday morning I looked at my behaviour and thought about how it could be contributing to his. I wondered if the reason he doesn't touch me $exually was because I moved away if he tweaked my nipples. So when he came in after my shower and did that very thing I asked him what he felt when I did it to him, and did it back. He laughed and moved away but kept coming back and hugging me while we talked. I explained (in a humourous way) that when he tried to tune me into China I wasn't turned on, but I liked it when he touched me in other places. We laughed together and I feel as though the point was made. I felt so proud that we'd really focused on the issue and it seemed as though we had achieved something from it.
Then last night I checked in with him on my behaviour. I wanted to know if I was doing well in curbing my control-ism because I want to change that. I was stunned and hurt when he said 'I was disappointed when you were talking to me this morning because after last week and taking responsibility for your feelings I feel as though you were blaming it all on me'. I readily admit my voice went up an octave or two and I got a bit narky. I couldn't believe he wanted ME to take responsibility for his behaviour!! I wanted to smack him and let him know he doesn't get off scot free from acting like an ***. So I'm not allowed to say how I feel if he hurts me?
We talked a little longer and I think the point of what he was saying was that I nailed him to the cross for the way he acted instead of talking it through and accepting he made a mistake. (After all, don't we all?) But then it turned into something else. I think he was saying that in terms of being a provider, he does that really well. I said that I thought he should focus on our marriage and family - the important things - and try to do them well. Hang the bloody job! This is where it gets weird. He was saying that the amount he earns IS important and I dosagreed - but he said it DID matter to me. I got upset that he was trying to tell me what I felt/ thought instead of listening to me TELL him what I felt/thought. I feel as though he is projecting his issue onto me. That he thinks it's all-important that he earns a lot of money, and me focusing on his overspeanding/lying about it makes him feel as though I am money-hungry.
The convo ended with me pointing out that my weekly budget is half the amount of his.......and him saying that the convo was going downhill. I took that as a sign he wanted to end it so I rolled over and went to sleep.
This has been my first quiet moment in days. Even now it's not terribly quiet with Sashi running around, the tv on, the dishwasher clunking and the cat meowing at me. But I have some free time!!
Today is my first day by myself in 4 weeks. Wow, that sounds like such a long time, but it flew by. I'm going to miss having my Mum here and speaking to her every day. She's much too busy in her 'normal' life to speak every day so I really cherished the time we had.
Things are going really well with G. At least, I think they are. We had a hiccup this morning but damn, I love that man.
The counselling session was a wash-out, for me. I was so nervous I got a funny tummy but with all that's been going on with my bowels, it ended up in excruitating pain and I spent a total of 5 minutes in the room. I guess that gave G some time with Anne and from that perspective it was good. I spent all night in pain and had to see the Dr the next day because I was so concerned. I'm no baby when it comes to pain so when I said this was agony, it was severe pain. He gave me medicine and it's all good now, thank goodness!! I was terrified of that happening again.
Anyhoo, the session - little positive feedback from G though I keep pressing for something. I feel as though he is resisting looking inward, but I can see how it would be hard to change long-held beliefs about 'shrinks'. This is what Anne means when she says she can't help him if he doesn't want to change, I imagine.
He did a quick test to check his drinking habits which he tells me has revealed he doesn't have a problem. I want to believe him, and based on his current drinking habits, that may be correct - though I think that drinking the amount in one session that he does is a problem. I don't know. I'm happy to leave that one for our next session. I assume we will all talk about the test he took and check the answers.
Yesterday was simply amazing. I can't begin to describe how amazing he made me feel.
He had asked that we have a lazy Sunday morning, which I was most definately up for after our usual Saturday scramble to get the house ready. So he got the kids something to eat, put a movie on and we cuddled with Gabe in bed. He eventually made a proper breakfast for us all and I put Gabe to bed. I had just grabbed G and thrown him on the bed for another cuddle when the phone rang. It was Tab asking if I wanted to pop out with her to do some shopping. I said yes and got up to get dressed. I had my top off and cheekily flashed my breasts at G who was still in bed. He told me to bring them to him, which I did, complaining all the way that he would start something he couldn't finish and that he was cruel. He offered to give me a quick O and rolled me into bed with him. It was very quick but oh so delicious for it.
I then spent the day with Tab, running around getting things sorted for her garden. I was longer than I'd said I would be but G was wonderful, doing the grocery shopping and looking after the kids without complaint. When I got home he had transformed a corner of our yard from a mess into a gorgeous looking rock garden!! I was gobsmacked.
He then washed the cars while I gave Gabe dinner and helped a little. I put the roast on but he made the kids a seperate dinner and got our veggies sorted. We got the kids into bed and had our dinner - it was the most delicious roast he's done, ever! He offered to put a movie on and I said I wanted to tidy the kitchen first. I was sitting watching the end of a program when he brought out the last of the dessert for me and then started to clean the kitchen! I said that I'd do it and how guilty I felt, and he said 'I'm looking after you' which made me melt. I helped him finish up and we watched a movie together. Sigh.
I told him that he'd been so great, so alive, so switched on. He said 'good' and gave me a kiss. I want him like that all the time. Not so he'll do all the work, but so that he see's me, that he is fully a part of our lives.
I can't tell you the last time he gave me an O and didn't expect or get anything in return. Actually I can, it was very early on in our relationship, so around 2000/2001 sometime. Some people may gasp in horror, but that's just the way it is for us. I guess it bothered me a little, but part of me being so in love with him was always wanting HIM to be happy, even if that meant me missing out. There have been so many times over the years that I haven't been able to O for various reasons - usually medication induced - that it seems my needs kind of fell by the wayside. Maybe he also thinks I just know how he feels about me, that I don't need reminding occasionally. Or that because I can be so vocal about his attributes, that I'm happy with things between us in that way.
Anne and I spoke about how it has made me feel that while I was pregnant G didn't like to have s#x with me. For the first time, in the longest time, she made me face the concept that s#x isn't just physical. But that it's because we love each other, it's an expression of our love. So why should that change just because I'm pregnant? And carrying his child no less. Anne asked me how I felt that he didn't find me attractive when I was carrying his child. I didn't really know how to answer. Gutted, sure. Upset, sure. How exactly does a woman feel at something as unfair as that? How does a woman change something like that? That's how I answered, that it was reality and I couldn't change how he felt. She came back with the same again, it's about love and why should that change?
The reality of that is staring me in the face. He has changed over the years, he isn't the world's most gorgeous man - yet I adore him. I watch him sleep, I stroke his skin, I mould my body against his for the pure joy of feeling his warm skin, I grab his butt whenever I can. I find him attractive still. WHy can he not give me the same love and respect?
Our hiccup this morning.......we went to bed late and I'll admit to not wanting to get out of bed this morning! I did of course, giving myself 45mins to get out of the house. I felt that was reasonable given I only had to do breakfasts, hair, baby brekkie, get myself dressed and then go. G has to leave at around 8:10/15am. It was 7:50am and I was still doing breakfasts for the girls as well as Z's lunch (which is his job) and Gabe was crying, I called out and said I needed help - he got out of bed then.
I was disappointed that he couldn't get out of bed himself, and angry at myself that I got him up because I promised myself a long time ago that I wouldn't get him out of bed anymore. I feel as though I can't truly bask in how magical yesterday was because it's as if he wanted to do nothing today because of it. If we're keeping score, I can take a few more weeks off and spend them in the Carribbean!! That's not how life works, just because you were great the other day doesn't mean life can stop today.
I just feel it's now so difficult to tell him again how wonderful I thought he was yesterday. He doesn't want me to 'nail him to the cross if he makes a mistake', but how much of it is mistake and how much is pure selfish laziness?That's what I'm not getting - how is not getting up in the morning a mistake?
In my defense, I didn't go off at him and I kissed him goodbye which I may not have done otherwise. (I'll admit to having been juvenile and sulking when upset)
So, I love him - I adore him in fact - and I am frustrated by him. I don't understand him but I am trying.