Well, surprise surprise…my maternity leave starts today. No, I didn’t have the baby (I wish!). This isn’t what I was planning, intending, or even wanting. I wanted to work up until at least next Friday (the day before my due date), but things just didn’t work out that way, and I’m feeling pretty defeated about it. The reason my leave had to start early had some to do with my health – I’m at the point where dealing with the stress of a crappy situation has just completely gotten to me. Yesterday, I was sweating, flushed, having intermittent and uncomfortable contractions (on top of the back pain and usual swelling stuff), and just not dealing with the stress well at all. I’m sure the baby was okay, but at the same time…why do I need to deal with this mess? But as much as this had to do with health concerns (of mine AND my doctor’s), it had even more to do with a choice I made:
1) to hang out for 6 or 7 more days and put up with a situation that I knew wasn’t just or right, allowing certain people to control me and my situation and go against previous arrangements and agreements that had been made (or so I thought), or
2) to cut my losses and start my leave earlier than planned, but know that I didn’t sit there and “just take it” from people who were clearly not interested in what was best for me or my baby.
I chose option 2. Yeah, it’s not what I wanted to have to do. And I’m painfully aware that some people would think that this is all my fault and that I must’ve done something wrong. Believe me, I feel like a failure for not being able to control this all and have things end up “just right.” But I can’t waste time on people who think it must be all my fault…those are usually the same exact kinds of people that force people into the situation that led to this choice, though, so I wouldn’t expect them to have much perspective on the matter. And when the nurses and doctors that I trust with my medical care hear some of the crap that I’ve been dealing with and their mouths drop open…I take it as a sign that there really was never going to be a “happy ending” to that whole thing. Well, except this beautiful little boy. He’s a happy ending for sure.
I am not the smartest girl in the world. I’m not the most creative. I’m certainly not the prettiest. I don’t have the biggest or most expensive education. But I have some standards for what I expect of myself and what I expect of the people around me, and it goes against everything in my being to just sit there and let people walk all over me. I feel like I’ve “hung in there” for far longer than a lot of people would, and now I have some really tough decisions to make. And I know that this situation ended with me looking less than golden, and there’s just not much that I can do to fix it. Sometimes, there is no clear-cut “right” or “wrong” person in a situation. Sometimes you just make your decision, lay down your cards, and see where the game takes you. I don’t know where the game is taking me, but I know that I’m going to continue to hold myself and the people around me to the same exact standards. I don’t have to be friends with everyone. Not everyone has to like me. It’s okay.
Anyhow, on with the show! I had my doctor’s appointment this morning (with “Dr. Cullen” again, haha!) and it went well. Well, except for the fact that I ran out of gas just as I pulled into the doctor’s office parking lot and had to hike to a nearby Kangaroo station to get a canister of gas. I thought “Boy, it’d be pretty funny if all this walking sent me into labor,” so I actually wasn’t too ticked off about it. It was my own fault, anyway (*sigh*…echo that part earlier about “not the smartest girl in the world”). The doctor didn’t do one of those fun little cervical checks (and I didn’t ask), but I suppose Russ is going to come when he wants to. It is starting to hit me, though, that one way or another, I will be in the hospital sometime within the next 2 to 2.5 weeks. I’m so excited, yet so afraid. I know that is a normal way to feel, and that somehow it will all fall into place. I guess it really doesn’t matter, all the stuff I worry about. I’ve been stressing about work, about what breastpump to buy, about whether I should get a Bumbo sitter yet or not, about whether I feel 100% sure about the daycare center we’d picked, yada yada yada…as long as this little guy is loved, warm, fed, and cuddled, things are going to be fine. This isn’t my life anymore, it’s his.