Sleepless Nights

Author: Veronica

  • The state of the uterus: 9 weeks

    Does anyone else find the comparing of fetuses to food objects creepy?  “This week, your baby is the size of a large GRAPE!”

    I’m sorry, a grape? REALLY? Is that the best you can do?

    It’s creepy.

    Things since I talked about the pregnancy last time:

    I continue to manage my nausea with anti-nausea tablets and I have not thrown up for a while, if we don’t count the retching out of my bedroom window the other day. If I forget a tablet however, I am in dire straits, needing to take myself to bed with a bucket immediately.

    I’ve lost 3kgs since falling pregnant this time, but my weight is still above 60kgs, making this my healthiest pregnancy yet. (With Amy, I fell pregnant at 60kgs and gave birth weighing 57kgs. With Isaac, I lost 6kgs in the first trimester. Yay for managed nausea!)

    I ate three thin slices of sausage last night and felt … okay.  It appears my meat aversion may be limited to beef, chicken and blowjobs. A piece of lamb on Australia day upset my stomach pretty badly, even thought it tasted great. It might have been because it was the first non-fish protein that I had eaten since the wedding.

    My blood pressure is driving me mad, sitting somewhere just above dead and making me race for the extra salty potato chips in order to bring it back up above “please don’t let me pass out in the supermarket” levels.

    Exhaustion remains, mostly because I am sick of feeling so fucking sick. I was pregnant, I miscarried, and then promptly fell pregnant again, not giving my body any time off. Fourteen weeks cannot come soon enough (although if this pregnancy is anything like Isaac’s, there will be slight nausea easing after 10 weeks. I can only hope.)

    Really, that’s it. Everything else is pretty normal – except my breasts.

    Have I talked about the massive breast expansion of this pregnancy?

    WOW. I am overflowing out of all of my bras, despite moving up a cup size just before getting pregnant (for the first time). I remember the painful aching accompanying this from Isaac’s pregnancy, but considering I conceived him only shortly after weaning Amy, there wasn’t much my breasts could do. This time, they’re HUGE.

    I have awesome cleavage right now.

    I’m just saying, there are some perks to feeling so crappy.

  • My blog is not about you, or what you want.

    In the last couple of months, I’ve seen a few posts about the tracks that haven’t sat terribly well with me. Bloggers trying to justify why they’re not reading a certain other blog, or why they’re not commenting, or not driven to subscribe.

    And I’m here to say:

    My blog is not about you, or what you want.

    No, it really really isn’t. It REALLY isn’t.

    I write my blog because it makes me happy. I’ve slowly developed a like-minded community here, who enjoy what I write and have followed me along in this journey. Frankly, this is awesome and this is what I want.

    But if you think I am weeping at night, wondering why you are not reading my blog, then, I’m sorry, but you’re sorely mistaken.

    If my blog doesn’t do it for you, then move on. Don’t whinge about what I need to change (or what any blogger needs to change) in order to get you as a reader. Find someone else who is more your cup of tea instead.

    I know that a lot of topics turn a lot of people off. For the record, no one is holding a gun to your head and making you read.

    People blog for a lot of different reasons. I blog for connection. I want to connect with those people who read my words and get something out of it. If I write a post about the hell of PCOS periods, or the miserableness of watching a pregnancy slide down my legs in the shower, then I am writing those words for myself.

    However, I am also writing them for the people out there who have felt those same emotions, or who find the post later and are so grateful that someone else knows how it feels.

    I’m not writing for the candy-floss readers, who want my blog to be funny and lighthearted all the time. My blog reflects my real life, not the life I wish I was living.

    There are topics out there that turn a lot of people off. Poo seems to be the latest DON’T YOU DARE WRITE ABOUT IT.

    I’m here to tell you that if shit is a big part of your kids life, then shit will make it onto the blog.

    And I’ll admit – I am sensitive in this case. Isaac’s bowel issues have gone from moderately annoying, to severe and impacting on our lives and I am at the end of my tether.

    You can’t decide what I can and can’t write about, just to fit it in with your pretty sensibilities.

    You can make the decision to only read what you want to read and not be an arse about it though.

    I love my readers and my community here, but I will never be writing about pop culture and the pretty shiny things in life. I have one kid who scales the cupboards and steals my chocolate while screaming like a banshee, and another kid who can’t chew properly, can’t poo and won’t eat most food, while I spend a lot of the day downing anti-nausea drugs and trying not to puke, dislocate or miscarry.

    THAT is my real life. THAT is what is happening here on a daily basis.

    And if you don’t want to see that reflected in my writing, then I’m not sure this blog is for you.

  • Maybe this one will be a wizard, rather than a toad

    When Isaac was five months old, way back in June of 2009 (right before my grandmother died and part of my family decided that they really didn’t approve of me and everything went to fucking hell) Isaac was hospitalised for a suspected intussusception in his bowel.

    The ultrasound was inconclusive, but the screaming (good God, the screaming) was not and he was admitted for observation.

    In the morning, whatever had caused the pain had eased, and we were sent home, none the wiser as to cause.

    Then life went to hell for a while and a few years later, we are finally clawing our way back to some semblance of normality. Since then, both children have been diagnosed with autism, as well as Ehlers Danlos Syndrome – two added things that make everything else very complicated.

    Isaac has bowel issues, that include, among other things, constant leaking. He’s in nappies and we’re trying to transition him to underpants, but when he is leaking poo nearly constantly, it is not all that easy.

    We’ve been trying, with our Paed, to get Isaac’s issues sorted (bowel issues, autism issues, hypermobility issues) since some weeks after his suspected intussusception. Considering that was two and a half years ago now, I think we can say that we’ve failed. Or that we’ve been failed, because the medical system seems to see us, scratch their heads and send us away to “wait and see” or to “deal with his sensory problems and see what happens”. Basically, here is the too-hard basket, sit in it for a while.

    He’s not constipated and nothing works to clear his bowels out. Nothing, nothing, nothing. We don’t have a day in which I don’t change a dirty nappy every hour, or underpants every 20 minutes. It’s wearing. It’s frustrating and honestly, I’m a little sick to death of it all.

    This afternoon however, I went back to our GP (who until this point, assumed that the Paed was managing the children, because he didn’t see them except for sore ears and immunisations). I dumped the entire issue in his lap and requested to be referred somewhere better. To someone who specialises in bowel issues, bonus points if they know children as well.

    And he did.

    I’m not sure whether to laugh or cry, because it was that easy. It’s been over two fucking years of this bullshit – could our Paed not have sent us to a specialist YEARS AGO?

    Why, yes. Yes he could. But no, no he didn’t. And life was so chaotic at that point, it was easier to let someone else do the managing for us.

    It’s a waiting game now, again – but this time, there might actually be light at the end of the tunnel.

    Or at least, someone who knows what they’re doing.

  • The MONA FOMA Supergroup [photos] #mofo2012

    Last night, I was lucky enough to watch a once in a lifetime gig – The Dresden Dolls (Amanda Palmer and Brian Viglione), Brian Ritchie, Mick Harvey and John Parish performing The Violent Femmes first album.

    It was, amazing.

    Things like this make me happy.

    And if you’re interested, here are the photos I took of The Dresden Dolls performance.

  • The Dresden Dolls at MONA FOMA [photos] #mofo2012

    Last night, I was lucky enough to see The Dresden Dolls perform at MONA FOMA. I took my camera, to see if I could get any decent photos and voila, here they are. The Dresden Dolls have definitely been the highlight of MOFO for me so far and they were amazing to see live. Brilliant performers.

    We also have a few shots of Brian Ritchie in here, because at one point, he played bass on stage, alongside them.

    Nice.

    Also, I would like to have it noted that despite having a few difficult moments, I did not throw up on anyone. Can we all please thank my doctor for prescribing anti-nausea meds? On the flip side, the continued (and worsening) morning/evening/all fucking day sickness would suggest that the tiny little fetus is still alive. Which you know, is nice. The wanting to puke? not so much.

    As always, images are copyrighted you guys. If you’d like to use one, email me.