Well, it's been a while since my last blurb….so what's been happening…..We had our first go at making Halloween pumpkins, which went quite well. They looked great at night with the candles going. We had one bunch of trick or treaters knock on the door – in their casual clothes. So I told them their costumes were shit and gave them some of the overcooked shortbread I was in the middle of making. They seemed pretty happy with their brown biscuits. The pumpkins are now sitting in the yard going mouldy and no doubt the boys went home and told their mums that I make really bad shortbread.
The shortbread was for the pre-school stall at the primary school fete. I cut it into Christmas tree, star and bell shapes, and put 9 pieces into a little cellophane bag and put some curly ribbon on it. It looked very naff. I haven't heard how much they sold or how much for, but I can feel good about having contributed.
The veggie patch is going well although for some reason the bok choy, parsley, rhubarb and rocket have all bolted to seed. This needs research and remedy. I am battling some little green caterpillars for ownership of the remaining bok choy and the weeds are just starting to encroach but otherwise it's all good.
There was a rather unexpected and tragic death in the immediate family that lives abroad. The circumstances of the death have rattled us quite badly. My husband has had something of an epiphany as a result and is promising to be the world's best husband and step father from now on. Meanwhile, he had to wear Speedos to work under his jeans because he didn't have any clean underwear. My efforts towards domestic goddess status are not going well.
On the weekend I took the girl to the big city to stay with her father and I spent the weekend catching up with friends and family. Over the past few months the girl and I have traveled south a couple of times due to my grandfather's illness and as such I allowed the X to spend time with the girl without asking him to contribute to airfares, which is our usual arrangement. So to reward my generosity he refused to take the girl on Friday night as he and his wife had tickets to Phantom of the Opera so he picked up the girl from my hairdressing appointment on Saturday morning. This caused several logistic problems with accommodation and travel and ultimately cost me extra money. When he informed me that his wife's sister was staying with them (and I extrapolated that to could-have-baby-sat) I was not amused. Later in the weekend he informed me that his wife was pregnant. Now this is something I have been anticipating and I actually am glad that the girl will have some siblings, but I was very unprepared for just how much the news triggered me into bitterness and pain. Don't get me wrong, I'm not jealous of the new wife, in fact I pity the poor fool and feel little but compassion for her and her naivety. But I feel cheated. I am unable to have more children, my age being a contributing but not the only factor. The X gets to simply marry a younger woman (much younger) and he can go for family no. 2. He carries a genetic mutation which caused us problems when we were trying to conceive and I had two miscarriages before getting pregnant with the girl. It took two years and was heartbreaking. By the time my third pregnancy reached viable status I was already exhausted physically and emotionally from the previous miscarriages and spent the entire pregnancy in super-paranoid mode being totally fearful of more loss.
My pregnancy was relatively easy physically, the usual nausea at first, sinus problems and then reflux/heartburn later and some intermittent sciatic pain and perpetual tiredness. Nothing too bad, yeah? Now, I'm not precious and I'm not a princess but making a person is hard work and puts an enormous strain on your body. A little bit of pampering, sympathy and compassion would have been nice – in fact, it would have been wonderful.
But the X thought it was hilarious to grab my oversized boobs and squeeze them, and when I cried from the pain he would laugh and do it again. He refused to allow me any indulgences, if I was tired or my back was hurting it was just too bad. If we went out at night he would refuse to come home early and at one party stayed until after 1am and even teased me with the car keys and laughed at me in front of his friends when I started asking if we could go. He even started competing with me and I would come home from work (so tired I was almost crawling) and he would already be in bed because HE was so tired/back hurting/not well leaving me to walk the dogs and organize dinner. I wanted to eat well, nutritious food, do the right thing etc but X refused to cook so if I was too tired to cook we had take-away. I used to joke that the girl was made of pizza.
The labour was difficult and ended with an extended episiotomy and forceps. I was badly damaged and actually totally incontinent for days after. The pain lasted six months. I was determined to breast feed as I had bought right into the "breast is best" propaganda but of course the baby had other ideas and fought me all the way. After 10 weeks of every feed being a fight I finally gave up and I was heartbroken and felt like a failure.
For the first month X was great, he helped with preparing formula and bottles and would even do his share of night feeds, I wouldn't have coped without him. But then he went back to work and the help stopped. He would put in token amounts of help but was basically emotionally and almost totally physically absent. The more I asked for help the more excuses he came up with to stay out at nights. Due to our financial problems (not entirely X's fault, but largely) I returned to work when the girl was only 3 months old. I was still only getting 4 hours of sleep a night and after six months of this I reached breaking point and considered suicide. I was diagnosed with Post Natal Depression and put on medication, which helped. Did the X change his ways? Did he offer any help, support, affection, compassion even a cup of tea?? No.
I was very isolated, ashamed and scared. When the girl was almost two years old I had finally had enough of his bullshit and told him to leave. My life hasn't stopped improving since.
The point of this tirade is to say – I didn't get to enjoy being pregnant, I didn't get to feel special. And I didn't get to enjoy having a baby. It was an ordeal; I was constantly stressed, deeply unhappy and very, very lonely. I blame him for this. If he had just helped me more, if he had just loved me as he said he did, if he had just shown some concern for my welfare if he had just BEEN THERE then things would have been quite different.
I now have a wonderful husband who loves me very much and I'm sad that I won't get to experience pregnancy and a baby with him, that my only experience was with a totally selfish, heartless bastard who ultimately didn't care if I lived or died.
So on Tuesday when they returned the girl to me, I looked at them and knew I should say congratulations, but I couldn't. I know it's wrong, but I resent their happiness. He doesn't deserve to be happy; he doesn't deserve a second chance. I do, but I don't get one. There is no justice here and it hurts me.
Shit happens, get over it, yeah? Yeah.
The shortbread was for the pre-school stall at the primary school fete. I cut it into Christmas tree, star and bell shapes, and put 9 pieces into a little cellophane bag and put some curly ribbon on it. It looked very naff. I haven't heard how much they sold or how much for, but I can feel good about having contributed.
The veggie patch is going well although for some reason the bok choy, parsley, rhubarb and rocket have all bolted to seed. This needs research and remedy. I am battling some little green caterpillars for ownership of the remaining bok choy and the weeds are just starting to encroach but otherwise it's all good.
There was a rather unexpected and tragic death in the immediate family that lives abroad. The circumstances of the death have rattled us quite badly. My husband has had something of an epiphany as a result and is promising to be the world's best husband and step father from now on. Meanwhile, he had to wear Speedos to work under his jeans because he didn't have any clean underwear. My efforts towards domestic goddess status are not going well.
On the weekend I took the girl to the big city to stay with her father and I spent the weekend catching up with friends and family. Over the past few months the girl and I have traveled south a couple of times due to my grandfather's illness and as such I allowed the X to spend time with the girl without asking him to contribute to airfares, which is our usual arrangement. So to reward my generosity he refused to take the girl on Friday night as he and his wife had tickets to Phantom of the Opera so he picked up the girl from my hairdressing appointment on Saturday morning. This caused several logistic problems with accommodation and travel and ultimately cost me extra money. When he informed me that his wife's sister was staying with them (and I extrapolated that to could-have-baby-sat) I was not amused. Later in the weekend he informed me that his wife was pregnant. Now this is something I have been anticipating and I actually am glad that the girl will have some siblings, but I was very unprepared for just how much the news triggered me into bitterness and pain. Don't get me wrong, I'm not jealous of the new wife, in fact I pity the poor fool and feel little but compassion for her and her naivety. But I feel cheated. I am unable to have more children, my age being a contributing but not the only factor. The X gets to simply marry a younger woman (much younger) and he can go for family no. 2. He carries a genetic mutation which caused us problems when we were trying to conceive and I had two miscarriages before getting pregnant with the girl. It took two years and was heartbreaking. By the time my third pregnancy reached viable status I was already exhausted physically and emotionally from the previous miscarriages and spent the entire pregnancy in super-paranoid mode being totally fearful of more loss.
My pregnancy was relatively easy physically, the usual nausea at first, sinus problems and then reflux/heartburn later and some intermittent sciatic pain and perpetual tiredness. Nothing too bad, yeah? Now, I'm not precious and I'm not a princess but making a person is hard work and puts an enormous strain on your body. A little bit of pampering, sympathy and compassion would have been nice – in fact, it would have been wonderful.
But the X thought it was hilarious to grab my oversized boobs and squeeze them, and when I cried from the pain he would laugh and do it again. He refused to allow me any indulgences, if I was tired or my back was hurting it was just too bad. If we went out at night he would refuse to come home early and at one party stayed until after 1am and even teased me with the car keys and laughed at me in front of his friends when I started asking if we could go. He even started competing with me and I would come home from work (so tired I was almost crawling) and he would already be in bed because HE was so tired/back hurting/not well leaving me to walk the dogs and organize dinner. I wanted to eat well, nutritious food, do the right thing etc but X refused to cook so if I was too tired to cook we had take-away. I used to joke that the girl was made of pizza.
The labour was difficult and ended with an extended episiotomy and forceps. I was badly damaged and actually totally incontinent for days after. The pain lasted six months. I was determined to breast feed as I had bought right into the "breast is best" propaganda but of course the baby had other ideas and fought me all the way. After 10 weeks of every feed being a fight I finally gave up and I was heartbroken and felt like a failure.
For the first month X was great, he helped with preparing formula and bottles and would even do his share of night feeds, I wouldn't have coped without him. But then he went back to work and the help stopped. He would put in token amounts of help but was basically emotionally and almost totally physically absent. The more I asked for help the more excuses he came up with to stay out at nights. Due to our financial problems (not entirely X's fault, but largely) I returned to work when the girl was only 3 months old. I was still only getting 4 hours of sleep a night and after six months of this I reached breaking point and considered suicide. I was diagnosed with Post Natal Depression and put on medication, which helped. Did the X change his ways? Did he offer any help, support, affection, compassion even a cup of tea?? No.
I was very isolated, ashamed and scared. When the girl was almost two years old I had finally had enough of his bullshit and told him to leave. My life hasn't stopped improving since.
The point of this tirade is to say – I didn't get to enjoy being pregnant, I didn't get to feel special. And I didn't get to enjoy having a baby. It was an ordeal; I was constantly stressed, deeply unhappy and very, very lonely. I blame him for this. If he had just helped me more, if he had just loved me as he said he did, if he had just shown some concern for my welfare if he had just BEEN THERE then things would have been quite different.
I now have a wonderful husband who loves me very much and I'm sad that I won't get to experience pregnancy and a baby with him, that my only experience was with a totally selfish, heartless bastard who ultimately didn't care if I lived or died.
So on Tuesday when they returned the girl to me, I looked at them and knew I should say congratulations, but I couldn't. I know it's wrong, but I resent their happiness. He doesn't deserve to be happy; he doesn't deserve a second chance. I do, but I don't get one. There is no justice here and it hurts me.
Shit happens, get over it, yeah? Yeah.
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