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1997

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I was in 7th grade and I was changing. My body was becoming womanly. The little nubs on my chest were becoming rounder and more pronounced. My round bum was starting to attract male attention and it was all so new to me. We lived in a large apartment community. I had grown up there and knew the neighborhood kids, but didn’t really have friends outside of school. Growing up in a Mexican household, I was to act like a lady, and had restrictions to make sure that happened. No sleepovers, no talking to boys, no friends coming over, and no going out by myself. But, I would sneak out. I would take longer, more scenic walks to the mail box. I never dressed provocatively, but even in a T-shirt and jeans, my blossoming curves were obvious. I started getting catcalls, the very romantic “pssss-pssss” that Hispanic men have perfected. Even though I had no experience with the male species, I liked the attention. At a time when our self confidence is on shaky ground, the attention made me feel good. If I were laying on a psychiatrists couch right now, we could easily trace the need for attention to the little to no attention I received from my dad. At that age, I would have said that was crazy and I could care less what my dad paid attention to. Once I got a taste of the attention, I walked a little taller and learned how to flirt and tease. I had a sway to my hips and knew how to dress to accentuate my attributes. One problem… I was 11.

Haven’t been here in a while…

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Wow. Life sure has caught up with me. Ali is now 5 months old, and learning new things everyday. She’s loud, squealing and yelling all the time! She’s so much better at tummy time and is starting to sit. Time is flying!

But now that I’ve met and have acquainted myself with my mommy self, I’m feeling super imbalanced. I stay at home full time with Ali. And when I say full time, I mean, 23 out of 24 hours a day. I clean, I cook, I do schoolwork, I change diapers, I make bottles… That’s my day. I feel like a shadow. Like a broken and dim glow stick. I don’t really have many friends, in fact, I only really have one friend that talks to me and checks up on me. My family is really only good when I need a high dose of guilt or criticism. Ex Co workers are out of sight, out of mind. So I don’t talk much. I smile, laugh, muse about Ali’s daily activities with my wife, but mostly I’m quiet. I’ve tried to talk, to express my feelings, but I either get dismissed or told to suck it up and snap out of it.
I’ve started working out, counting calories, in the hopes that getting control of my weight will make me feel better. I’ve decided to get back to blogging because I need to let my thoughts out or they’ll rot in there.
I’m a mom now, and I know women who are happy to let that be their title and define them, but I’m not happy with just that. I love being a mom, but want more. I need more. So, I’ll be blogging. Don’t expect just one topic because my mind wanders.

Time for a shower, because kickboxing kicked my ass tonight! I’ll be walking like a baby giraffe tomorrow! Goodnight!

this was supposed to publish 2 weeks ago…

Went in for my post partum check up today. I actually tried everything I could to not go, but in the end I went because Amanda wanted me to go. I know she’s worried because my hormones have been all over the place, and I seem almost bipolar at times. I took Ali to my moms house so she could watch her for me, and was on my way. 

 

I sat in the waiting room with a pregnant lady on either side of me. I felt so out of place. Like I didn’t belong. The last time I had been in that room, I had been having major contractions and the memory of that day started creeping back in. My name was called and I was escorted to the ultrasound room where I used to excitedly see Ali before she was born. The walls are covered in birth announcements and it felt like all those newborn faces were asking my why Ali wasn’t with me. I had to call my mom before I had a panic attack. After what seemed forever, the doctor came in, checked my incision, and we got to talking. I asked him what my chances at ever having a vaginal delivery were. He was very cut and dry, none. My heart sank. 

 

Amanda and I had already talked about it and decided we aren’t going to have another baby. Ali’s delivery was very traumatizing to me mentally and physically. I don’t know that I could deal with another c section. I think I secretly had stored away a sliver of hope that vaginal delivery would still be an option and that if we did try again, I could deliver naturally. Now that sliver was gone. My heart sank and I was sad. It was so final. I was unable to give birth the way I had dreamt about and now that was completely out of the question. It has hit me harder than I expected. 

 

I’m not going to dwell on it for too long. There is no point. I have a beautiful little one that takes up all my time and in the grand scheme of things, I am very blessed. The news just conclusively closed the door on the possibility of carrying again

So final.

So final. Went in for my post partum check up today. I actually tried everything I could to not go, but in the end I went because Amanda wanted me to go. I know she’s worried because my hormones have been all over the place, and I seem almost bipolar at times. I took Ali to my moms house so she could watch her for me, and was on my way. I sat in the waiting room with a pregnant lady on either side of me. I felt so out of place. Like I didn’t belong. The last time I had been in that room, I had been having major contractions and the memory of that day started creeping back in. My name was called and I was escorted to the ultrasound room where I used to excitedly see Ali before she was born. The walls are covered in birth announcements and it felt like all those newborn faces were asking my why Ali wasn’t with me. I had to call my mom before I had a panic attack. After what seemed forever, the doctor came in, checked my incision, and we got to talking. I asked him what my chances at ever having a vaginal delivery were. He was very cut and dry, none. My heart sank. Amanda and I had already talked about it and decided we aren’t going to have another baby. Ali’s delivery was very traumatizing to me mentally and physically. I don’t know that I could deal with another c section. I think I secretly had stored away a sliver of hope that vaginal delivery would still be an option and that if we did try again, I could deliver naturally. Now that sliver was gone. My heart sank and I was sad. It was so final. I was unable to give birth the way I had dreamt about and now that was completely out of the question. It has hit me harder than I expected. I’m not going to dwell on it for too long. There is no point. I have a beautiful little one that takes up all my time and in the grand scheme of things, I am very blessed. The news just conclusively closed the door on the possibility of carrying again. Went in for my post partum check up today. I actually tried everything I could to not go, but in the end I went because Amanda wanted me to go. I know she’s worried because my hormones have been all over the place, and I seem almost bipolar at times. I took Ali to my moms house so she could watch her for me, and was on my way. I sat in the waiting room with a pregnant lady on either side of me. I felt so out of place. Like I didn’t belong. The last time I had been in that room, I had been having major contractions and the memory of that day started creeping back in. My name was called and I was escorted to the ultrasound room where I used to excitedly see Ali before she was born. The walls are covered in birth announcements and it felt like all those newborn faces were asking my why Ali wasn’t with me. I had to call my mom before I had a panic attack. After what seemed forever, the doctor came in, checked my incision, and we got to talking. I asked him what my chances at ever having a vaginal delivery were. He was very cut and dry, none. My heart sank. Amanda and I had already talked about it and decided we aren’t going to have another baby. Ali’s delivery was very traumatizing to me mentally and physically. I don’t know that I could deal with another c section. I think I secretly had stored away a sliver of hope that vaginal delivery would still be an option and that if we did try again, I could deliver naturally. Now that sliver was gone. My heart sank and I was sad. It was so final. I was unable to give birth the way I had dreamt about and now that was completely out of the question. It has hit me harder than I expected. I’m not going to dwell on it for too long. There is no point. I have a beautiful little one that takes up all my time and in the grand scheme of things, I am very blessed. The news just conclusively closed the door on the possibility of carrying again. Went in for my post partum check up today. I actually tried everything I could to not go, but in the end I went because Amanda wanted me to go. I know she’s worried because my hormones have been all over the place, and I seem almost bipolar at times. I took Ali to my moms house so she could watch her for me, and was on my way. I sat in the waiting room with a pregnant lady on either side of me. I felt so out of place. Like I didn’t belong. The last time I had been in that room, I had been having major contractions and the memory of that day started creeping back in. My name was called and I was escorted to the ultrasound room where I used to excitedly see Ali before she was born. The walls are covered in birth announcements and it felt like all those newborn faces were asking my why Ali wasn’t with me. I had to call my mom before I had a panic attack. After what seemed forever, the doctor came in, checked my incision, and we got to talking. I asked him what my chances at ever having a vaginal delivery were. He was very cut and dry, none. My heart sank. Amanda and I had already talked about it and decided we aren’t going to have another baby. Ali’s delivery was very traumatizing to me mentally and physically. I don’t know that I could deal with another c section. I think I secretly had stored away a sliver of hope that vaginal delivery would still be an option and that if we did try again, I could deliver naturally. Now that sliver was gone. My heart sank and I was sad. It was so final. I was unable to give birth the way I had dreamt about and now that was completely out of the question. It has hit me harder than I expected. I’m not going to dwell on it for too long. There is no point. I have a beautiful little one that takes up all my time and in the grand scheme of things, I am very blessed. The news just conclusively closed the door on the possibility of carrying again.

Not what I expected

I feel like i have to be clear. It isnt that i am not loving motherhood. Seeing her little smile and watching her big eyes take in the new world she is in, that makes my day. I really would lay my life down for her, no questions asked. But what i am having trouble with is fitting that in with being myself. How do i explain this when i have no idea what i mean? I guess there is just so much to take in at once. I just went from carrying the most precious load ever, to having her here in the flesh. I went from expecting a certain type of delivery to having the complete 180 thrown at me, no options. I went from never having been in the hospital for anything, to having major surgery, needles in my arms, oxygen mask on my face, not knowing how everything would pan out. I feel like i am fine 90% of the time, but the other 10% sneaks up on me. it hides in the corners of my brain, and just shows itself and drags me down with it. I have explained it to amanda, but i dont want to keep rehashing it because im supposed to be tougher than that. I am the one that tells people they need to let things go. and most of the time, i have done just that. but aside from the thing of 2001, labor and delivery have been the most traumatizing experience of my life. I want to move on, but i was never prepared to deal with the fear. the fear. I have never been that afraid in my life. it took over my body. it took over my thoughts and heart. and as much as i am trying to get rid of it, it is still there. not as paralyzing, but just as aggressive.  

After 2001, i have had panic attacks. at first I didnt know how to handle them, so i started self medicating. weed and pills. as the years went by and with a lot of love and patience from my beautiful wife, i was able to breathe through them and not self medicate. but this is a whole new feeling… a whole new fear. I have got to learn how to cope in a healthy way. 

almost three weeks later…

I had a breakdown last night. There has been a know in my throat for days and last night I let some of it out. Becoming a mom has really made me question things about myself I used to be sure about. Am I feeding her right? Is she getting what she needs? Am I a good mom? Its funny because I have always heard and thought that when you give birth your outlook on life changes automatically. Once you see that baby, there is a switch inside of you that turns on and you’re a mom. You know how to feed, burp, change, and do all things for your baby. 

After having Ali, and not instantly feeling this way, I have felt inadequate. No one told me that it might not happen right away. The love does. I loved her from the moment I knew my body was creating and growing her, but there is a connection you are supposed to feel the moment she is in your arms. Her birth went completely opposite of what I had imagined and hoped for. Instead of a beautiful vaginal birth, I had to have an emergency c section. And instead of feeling calm during the surgery, I freaked out and had a horrible panic attack. After she was taken out, I saw her for a minute, held her with my shaky arms and had to hand her over. I didnt get the emotional connection that i saw all those mom’s in the youtube videos have the moment they saw their newborn. i honestly feel cheated. 

So, now for the last few days, it has all come to the surface. I have felt sad. Sad in a way that I feel like I was mourning something. I guess it took me a while to deal with my birthing experience. I was rushed from laboring for over 72 hours, to an emergency c section, to start recovering. Not to mention that my little one spent the first two days of her life in the NICU for a phantom fever I had contracted. I have googled and searched the internet to find someone that might have felt like me. That might have had to wait for the connection to their baby like i have, but I havent found anything. I have decided to not hold anything in and to let my lovely wife know if i feel overwhelmed again. And I know once i am no longer in recovery mode, and i feel back to normal, everything will get easier. For now, I have to take it a day at a time.