Unbelievably Angry

Last week when I took Baby Bean back to daycare after our two week vacation, she was in perfect health (finally). Upon entering the infant room, I was greeted by a very snot covered nosed boy. I looked at him, smiled, and thought to myself, "I bet you $50 Baby Bean has his cold by Wednesday." Sure enough, Wednesday evening my daughter's nose began to run. As the days went on, she developed a cough to go with it. Nothing abnormal. I tried to nip it all in the bud by giving her some prescription decongestants she received last time she was sick. I also didn't want her ear infections coming back. By Sunday night, she was not only coughing a lot, she was wheezing when she breathed. I told Hubs I had to take her to the doctor first thing in the morning.

This morning I got to work and the first thing to greet me was the blue screen of death... twice. The IT guy came over to swipe my computer for the morning to reimage the hard drive. While he was doing so, I called and made an appointment with the pediatrician for my daughter. By 9:20, I had a borrowed laptop in hand, knowing full well I wouldn't be back in for the rest of the day, and headed to pick up Baby Bean.

When I got to the daycare, her teacher looked surprised to see me. I told her I was taking my baby. She asked if I was taking her to the doctor, and I told her I was. She made a comment about her cough and wheezing, and then told me that a couple of the kids had been diagnosed with bronchitis the week before. I was steamed. She then told me that the parents of those children brought their kids in every day and waited for them to get sick enough to run a fever before taking them out of daycare and to the doctor. I was even more steamed. She said she was glad I was being responsible and taking my daughter before she got to the point. I told her I wasn't an idiot and knew my baby needed to go to the doctor before she hit the fever stage.

We got to the doctor's office on time and sat in the exam room for half an hour past our appointment time before we were seen. Shortly after the doctor came in and checked out Baby Bean, she said she was almost positive the baby has RSV.

I can't even tell you the amount of rage that was welling up inside me at that moment. I was so incredibly, unbelievably ANGRY!!!

The doctor ordered an instant RSV test and a breathing treatment. Let me tell you, if you have never done a breathing treatment with a child before, it is horrendous. Not because the treatment is bad, but because the child hates it. The whole time I was holding the mask over my baby's face she was screaming bloody murder and kicking like crazy. I rested my head on hers and cried.

The RSV test came back positive, and Baby Bean's wheeziness only cleared up a little bit, so the doctor began telling me about the prescriptions and treatments ahead. The whole time I was seething with the irresponsible parents from daycare. She told me I would have to buy a nebulizer to give Baby Bean breathing treatments at home with two different prescriptions. The first one two times a day, and the second one four times a day, then I have to give her an oral medication to help keep the inflammation and mucus in her lungs down. On top of that, Baby Bean has another ear infection, so she got antibiotics.

By the time we were done there, it was an hour and a half past Baby Bean's nap time, so I took her home and let her rest while I called the daycare to tell them the news. First I had called Hubs who told me not to bother calling them so that the other parents could learn their children were sick the hard way. I told him that just because they were @-holes didn't mean I was one too. When I did call, they were shocked. But before I let them hang up the phone, I asked the girl to please tell the other parents of sick children that I did not appreciate them bringing their kids to school when they were sick because it was their fault my child was now this sick. I let her know I was very angry, not at the daycare, but at the parents.

Now before you tell me that I was one of those parents today, I am going to say that I took my daughter in this morning because she got sick from there. And I honestly told Hubs this morning that I hoped Baby Bean had a different variation from what the snot-nosed little boy had so she could give it back to him. I've been ticked off about it since last week. Not only that, but the damage is done. The germs are there and have been spread.

After lunch, Baby Bean and I went to the store to get her prescriptions filled. I knew the nebulizer was going to run me around $80. I figured I would be lucky to get out of there under $200. We turned in our prescriptions and waited. And waited. And waited. When they were finally ready, the girl at the pharmacy told me I was in for sticker shock.

$525!!! I kid you not!

She then told me if my doctor allowed it, I could get a generic on the one prescription that cost $300 all by itself. I told her to call and we'd wait. So we waited. And waited. And waited. Baby Bean was an hour past nap time, and she messed her diaper. Things were awesome.

Finally they got the authorization for the generic and it dropped my bill down to $200. We spent freaking 3 hours waiting for those prescriptions. So on top of the cost and the anger already inside me, I had wasted an entire day at the doctor's office and pharmacy. Rest assured, however, that I was kind to everyone. No one knew I was seething on the inside except my husband and parents.

Tonight I want to go knock some parent's heads together. Because in addition to the fact that my child has a potentially life-threatening virus and now has a predisposition to asthma later in her childhood, and the fact that I lost an entire day from work coupled with the major hit to my wallet, we also get to pay for a week's worth of daycare when my child won't even be there thanks to the irresponsibility of stupid, selfish parents. I want to beat this week's tuition out of them. I really can't remember the last time I was this angry. Today cost me well over a grand when all is said and done. Yes, folks, I am seethingly mad.

Every time I hear my child cough in the next room while she sleeps, I get mad. Every time she wakes up screaming bloody murder during the night because she is having a hard time breathing, I want to beat a parent from the daycare. I really freaking hate daycare.

Now, if you actually made it to the end of this tirade, I would like to thank you very sincerely for braving the ride. I will reward you with love and comments on your blogs (which I am now way behind on). :D

Still Trying to Catch My Breath

Almost exactly one month ago, I wrote this blog post in which I told all of my blog readers that my husband and I were going through a difficult phase, and to please say a little prayer for us. The difficulty was not with our marriage. Rest assured, that is as strong as ever, if not more so. But I asked for the prayers in helping my sweetie find a job. I didn't want to come right out on the blog and say that, and I won't get into why other than to say it made me feel a little uncomfortable.

Hubs has been working and running his own business from home since 6 months into our relationship. Unfortunately, with the economy being the way it was, things slowed down considerably the last year. Needless to say, the need for full time employment became imminent.

Tuesday afternoon, Hubs dropped Baby Bean off at the office with me on his way to the fourth round of interviews with a company. Like any good infertile wouldn't, I didn't get my hopes up. I just didn't have feelings either way. I was tired of getting my hopes up that this interview would be the one only to find out later it wasn't. So I left work early, took Baby Bean home, laid her down for a nap, and took one myself.

Yesterday at around 4:00 in the afternoon, Hubs IMed me and asked if our neighbor might still be up for watching our daughter. I asked why. His reply was, "Duh." Okay, so either he is going on another interview somewhere, as had been commonplace of late, or he got the job. My next question was what day and time. Again, "Duh." I then asked if he got the job. "That would be the duh part."

I was elated! Finally! I knew God wouldn't let us down. I just didn't know when things would turn out. I turned around and told my teammates right away, and they were all very excited with me. I started to get lightheaded because it was such a relief. A huge weight had been lifted off my shoulders. I then found out he starts work on Monday, which inevitably sent me into a tailspin. We have two days to figure out childcare. I have two days to get everything together for Baby Bean to even go to childcare. Let us not forget the massive upset to everyone's schedules. As fast as the excitement had come on, panic took over in its place. So many things to address!

We are all very excited. This is a fantastic opportunity for Hubs, and it is a good thing for all of us all around, except for maybe the dogs who have never been home all alone during the day since we got either of them. We are going to check out daycare facilities tomorrow, and I will spend the rest of my weekend getting everything together for Monday. Oh yeah, and we'll be attempting round 2 of the 9-month photo shoot. Please let the weather and the baby cooperate!!!

What Then?

The past few weeks I have been watching the counter in my sidebar slowly count down the days until my IUD removal when we will once again be back in the TTC saddle. When I first put that little guy up there, I was excited. I couldn't wait for it to get to zero. Then the last few weeks I realized I could wait, and for couple of reasons.

The first and biggest being that once it gets to zero, it means my daughter is a year old. Just like my pregnancy with her, I relish each and every moment we have together because I know she won't be a baby forever. I sometimes struggle with the fact that she will grow up. I just want to savor these minutes and make them last forever. It will all go by too quickly, just as the past 8.5 months have.

The second reason is that while I thought I was all on board with TTC #2, I realize I am kind of scared. I don't think it really, honestly sunk in with me what that entailed until the last couple of weeks, and now I'm in a bit of a panic mode, willing that counter to take its time. I don't know that I am ready to get back in that saddle. The one that takes the intimacy out of my relationship with my husband. The one that has me biting my fingernails as I wait for results on OPKs and HPTs. The one that has my brain solely focused on it and barely anything else most of my waking hours. I don't want the last one to steal from my time with my daughter.

On top of the stress just brought on by TTC, I now have the added bonus of worrying about the pregnancy. I get the pleasure of praying that I won't miscarry because the embryo implanted in the same scar tissue my daughter did. Along with that, I get to worry about if it does, will its placenta make its way through my uterine lining and implant in my bodily organs, resulting in potential death to the fetus as well as me. I also face a small chance of an immediate hysterectomy, eliminating the possibility of more children. I won't even go into the other fears that one alone brings on.

Then there is the fear of premature birth. I have already been told I will not carry to full term again. My future children (God willing) will be born early via c-section because of my uterine rupture. I just worry that the birth will be too premature. I don't wish all of the potential complications that come with prematurity on my child. I realize that many babies are born early and end up being just fine. I know of one in real life who was born at 26 weeks and is the most perfect, on track little girl.

Sometimes when I tell people what we will be up against, they ask if I am serious about wanting more. Do I really want this? Yes. I really want this. There is no question in my mind. I want it even more now that I am a mother to a perfect little girl, because I feel like this is the whole reason behind my existence, to bring my children into the world and take care of them, love them, and nurture them, no matter the cost to me.

I guess I didn't have to seriously start thinking about these things the last few months because there was so much time between the birth of my daughter and the removal of the IUD, but that time is slowly passing. The closer I get, the more I really realize just what I am up against. It was easier to say it could happen than to realize it all really could happen.

These are the thoughts that have been constantly going through my head lately. I don't know why, but I feel like it will be time to really think about this once that counter goes below three months. I've tried to bench the thoughts, and have done well up until now. Even now I'm not majorly stressing, but they are definitely making their way to the forefront more as the counter goes down.

There are just so many unknowns and "what ifs". All I know is that this is absolutely, positively what I want.

And the Fun Continues...

Apparently it just isn't my week. Maybe it won't be my month. But something sure as hell hates me lately.

I came home from work at lunch today like I always do to feed the baby and spend some time with her. I stopped off on my way to get lunch for Hubs and I and then took what turned out to be the long way home. By the time I got home, I had 15 minutes to feed the baby and then head back to work. By then my fries had gotten to the cold, disgusting point, so I tossed them in the garbage, kissed Hubs and the baby, and headed back to work.

I was happily driving along when I came to an intersection. Straight across from me another driver was threatening to turn left. She moved into the intersection a bit and my heart skipped. If she pulled out there was no way I could stop in time.... She pulled out. Time slowed down as I slammed on the breaks, listened to my squealing tires, and waited for the moment of collusion. Not if, but when. *SLAM!*

I pulled through the intersection and immediately called Hubs, shaking, trying not to cry. He didn't answer, so I dialled 911. I got out of my car and went around front to assess the damage. I couldn't believe how minimal it was. My bumper wasn't dented at all, but pretty badly scuffed up. I walked back to the intersection, heart pounding, shaking like a leaf as the 911 operator picked up. When I got to the intersection I could not find the other driver at all.

"911, what's your emergency?"
"I think I've just been in a hit and run accident."

The operator instructed me to pull my car off the road into the parking lot adjacent to it and she would send the police. Just then the other driver came walking over the hill. She was a young, 18-year-old girl. I pulled into the parking lot next to her car and surveyed the damage to her back bumper. It fared as well as my front, just badly scuffed. After I got off the call we both asked each other about 100 times if the other was okay. I couldn't help it, I was so relieved we were both okay that I hugged the girl tightly to me and told her everything was okay and that it would be okay.

The cops showed up and helped us exchange information. They told me that because Texas is a no fault state that if we reported the accident it would go on BOTH of our reports, even though the accident was 100% not my fault. (Let's pretend we're surprised here. Nope, can't do it.) Long story short, we opted not to file the report and I told her I would not file with her insurance so her rates wouldn't go up. She offered to pay 100% of the damages, and I told her that was fine. I will probably call her tomorrow just to make sure she is okay. I felt so bad for her because she is so young.

On top of getting my heart going, I got a nice little sun burn from standing outside in the 100 degree heat while we were exchanging info and talking to the police. By the time I got back to work my lunch was nasty and I smelled of dirty, burning flesh.

To round out the evening Baby Bean was a pill and wanted nothing to do with me tonight. In retrospect that could be because I smelled bad. All I wanted to was play with my bean, make her smile and giggle, and all she wanted to do was be fussy. It broke my heart.

When I put her to bed, Hubs had left the drawer under her crib partially pulled out. When I went to put the side of her crib down I thought it wouldn't go down because there were a couple of shoe boxes there and ended up kicking the drawer with my foot. When Hubs asked what happened and I told him, he opted not to apologize for not pushing the drawer back in, but rather chastise me for kicking anything in the dark.

I am so ready for this week to be over. Hell, this month. I don't know how much more my nerves and heart can take.

Clarification

I realize after my last post (or maybe even couple) that I need to make a bit of a clarification.

First of all, I do NOT ever physically abuse my pets. I don't believe in hitting animals for any reason. They don't understand why you are hitting them, and it only makes them scared of you.

When I say I am angry about something (like Mags pooping on the floor) it means I audibly voice my displeasure in her current choice of activity and in a very negative tone of voice. She gets the hint.

When I say I "lost it" that means I screamed at the top of my lungs and swore like a sailor. I am not a physically abusive person and I don't throw things.

At no point during Maggie's displeasing bowel releases was she harmed by my hand. My husband does not hit my animals either.

I understand my dog is sick, but that does not mean that I have to smile and praise her when she poops on my floors. My first instinct is to clean up the mess ASAP to keep it from setting in and then ask myself why she is sick. I do everything in my power to keep my pets healthy (as evidenced by my last $200 vet bill for vaccinations). I've said it before, and I will say it again, my dogs are like my babies. I treat them as well as I can. I am a completely responsbile dog owner (yes, that means I carry poop bags on dog walks and clean up after my pup). I do the best I can by them, and that is all anyone can ask.

I did not put white berber carpet in my house. I purchased the house just over three months ago and it came with brand new, white berber carpet. If I had my choice, I sure as hell would not have picked berber. But as it is new, it would be completely wasteful of us to change it out, and we have a million other places our money needs to go (like trying to make our house energy efficient so we can avoid any more $450 electric bills).

Maggie is in good health right now and acts completely normal and happy even though she has diarrhea. I called the vet first thing this morning before I did anything else, and they were not concerned. They did tell me to put her on a bland diet, and I will have you know her bland diet is almost as yummy as mine. Her menu tonight will consist of pumpkin soup (per the vet) and boiled chicken. She had a generous helping of rice this afternoon.

I also sobbed for half an hour last night before I went to bed because it absolutely broke my heart to leave my baby outside. I literally walked between the bedroom and the back door for an hour, debating over whether or not to bring Mags in for the night. In the end I determined it would be better for both of us if she just stayed outside where she could do her thing the minute she needed to without the possibility of being scolded and without the possibility of me needing to be awake for an hour and a half during the night cleaning carpet when I need to be resting (now more than ever).

I firmly decided before going to bed that I cannot make my dogs outside dogs, and told my sweetie so before turning in. When he saw how hard it was for me to leave them out overnight, he didn't put up even a hint of a fight.

The last couple of weeks have been really hard and stressful for me even without my dog being sick. Work has been hell. My hormones bring out Psycho Bitch with little to no warning. Our bills are ridiculous and depressing, and they never seem to stop adding up and conspiring against me.

The bottom line: I am doing the best that I can. I am trying so hard to deal with everything that is going on right now, and it is just not easy. So please, don't judge me. I am not a horrible person. I realize my last post may make me sound like one, but I am a dramatic person who can sometimes have the tendency to blow things up and make them sound way bigger than they are.

So there you have it, clarification for all of our sakes.

Brain Fry and New Best Friend

Anyone who has either ever moved to a completely new state and a completely new job or experienced finals week at college with 16+ credits (yes, I wanted to be done with college bad enough that I never took less than 16 credits a semester) will understand exactly what I am going through right now. I am experiencing that total, complete brain fry that comes along with such stressful, brain cramming circumstances to the point that I can't remember menial things from one day to the next. I can remember the major things that happen, such as getting up and going to work, but I can't remember the details, such as the people I met on any given day or their names. The worst one so far is that I apparently gave my phone number to my new best friend at work and totally don't remember it... at all.

I've been trying to tell myself, and everyone else for that matter, that it is just because the past two months have been high stress, and I am trying to figure out a situation that is completely new. I'm in a new job, in a new city, in a new state, in temporary housing, and trying to buy a new house. Somehow, I can't help but feel like I'm not only a little bit nuts, but also trying to make excuses for my lack of short-term memory. It actually kind of scares me a bit, even though I know its completely normal and I'm not making excuses.

Friday afternoon I realized how much short-term information I was not retaining while trying to learn a new computer program at work. In a moment of panic and despair, I sought out my new best friend. I just want to say, I sure did pick a wonderful woman to be my new best friend. She told me exactly what I had already been thinking about my lack of memory retention, but put it in such a way that made me feel so much better about it. She also reminded me that all of my comfort items (such as my furniture, pictures, etc.,) are all in storage, so I have precious few of my personal items in my possession right now to comfort me. All I have with me from home is what I could fit in my little car when we moved here four weeks ago, which is not very much at all. She reminded me that my situation right now is extremely high stress, and that what I'm experiencing is completely normal. How does she know so well what I'm going through? She went through the same thing herself not too long ago. She even has the same car as me, so we both know how precious little space we both had to pack belongings into. She has only been here a short amount of time longer than me, and only started working at our office a week before me.

The more I get to know my new friend, the more it becomes obvious we were meant to be best friends. We have almost the world in common. We lived and grew up in the same state, went to the same university, frequented the same buildings at the university, lived in the same places after college, frequented the same places, drive the same car, love the same books, the list just goes on and on. I feel so extremely blessed to know such a wonderful woman and to be able to call her my new best friend. Our friendship is only going to grow and grow the more we get to know each other and are here to support each other through this high stress time in our lives. We have both recently stated we need haircuts, I think I foresee a Girl's Day Out in the near future. :D

Hello Stress, My Old Friend

Yep, the stress has finally set in. My little brother came down over the weekend for the last time in this house and helped me clean out unwanted clothing and DVDs. We spent the whole day Saturday running around; we made three trips to second-hand donation center, sold back DVDs to F.Y.E. ($42!), picked up boxes from our storage unit, bought new bathroom fixtures from Target and Home Depot, ate dinner, and went to the grocery store. After all of my running around on Saturday, I was glad to have a 2-hour massage already scheduled for Sunday. I'm still a little sore from that, but I sure did love having my feet and hands rubbed. Ahhhhh!

Yesterday evening we went to my parent's house for some Sunday dinner and I grabbed most of what was left of mine at their house. This was when everything really sunk in. I am leaving my family behind. I'm leaving the only place I have ever really lived (outside of college). Needless to say, countless tears were shed. I even ended up with one of my most prized possessions that I was not allowed to take from my dad's house before yesterday: my grandpa's trumpet. (My grandpa played trumpet for over 40 years and had his own band in the Big Band Era. He played at a lot of dances in his time.) I took with me a lot of my childhood memories including a box of notes written from my old best friend to me during our junior and senior years of high school. I can't wait to read through those and remiss in the daily stress of a teenager. I came across boxes of goodies from my college days that have been stored and forgotten in my parent's basement until last night. When I left my parent's last night my mother and I said tearfull goodbyes, even though I will be back up at their house all day this coming Saturday. It just really hit us that I am moving far away from my family. I cried the whole way home in the car as I looked over the valley where I spent most of my life and realized what I was leaving behind. The thought, "I hope I know what I'm doing; I hope I like Texas," kept going through my head. I guess I cried more than I thought last night because I woke up with puffy eyes this morning. lol

Now I have mixed emotions about the move. I was so excited the first few days after I received the news. Excitement changed to stress as I realized what needed to be done before we leave. Stress changed to sadness as I realized I am leaving behind my family and the only place I have ever known. Today I am a mixed bag of emotions ranging from sadness to stress to downright pissiness (I think that's the PMS talking [I have never prayed so hard I wasn't pg]). Right now I just need to learn how to stop stressing. My new employer has done everything in their power to make this move as easy on us as they could. What I need to do more than that is stop taking my stress out on my sweetie who is, as ever, a calm, stress-free rock.