Saturday, February 27, 2010

Put one foot in front of the other...

So it's been a few days since the big blow up with Derek's oh so darling family... And it feels amazing to not have to hear any of their voicesor see their terrible grammar, horrid spelling, and over use of exclamation points spewed onto my social networking sites. I mean, I love his mother, but she definitely showed her true colors. I'm not one to enjoy people that use passive aggression as a technique or that try to play the victim when they are told "no." I like meeting the bull at the horns, and I like people that do the same. It gets things done much quicker. Plus, if you disagree on something, two peoplle that actually address their problems rather than hiding them and being little shits about it, usually resolve things much quicker or simply agree to disagree. Whereas with a passive aggressive victim type, you may feel so frustrated with them that you are inclined to junk punch them into another universe. And then you make yourself look like an ass. And we don't want that, now do we? So it's definitely been a nice little break -- a break that will last a lifetime for some members of his family, which I personally have no problem with. Better to protect my child from horrendous people than to allow them the possibility and opportunity to whisper lies into my little girl's ears about how mommy corrupted daddy and made him her slave and tore their family apart. Yes, seriously. I wouldn't put it past them.

Moving along now. I am now 30ish weeks along in my pregnancy and I cannot wait for it to be over. Don't get me wrong, I enjoy getting first dibs on bathrooms, having people offer their seats/spot in line to me when at a restaurant or store. I enjoy the feeling I get when I feel baby kicking or how funny it feels when I feel the rhythm of her hiccups. But I am tired of the gross parts. You know... Gas, rib pain, nerve pain, vomiting, heartburn that doesn't seem to have an end, constantly changing sleep schedules, always having to pee, Braxton hicks, you know... The works. I know that once baby is here I will have to deal with poop, crying, screams, feedings, and a complete lack of a sleep schedule altogether, but at least those are things I can accept and that are, for the most part, tangible and to be expected. Not to mention I have just begun to have stretch marks... I am so not okay with this. I have gone 6+ months without them, why are they showing up now? I still have a bit of pudge that baby can use when she grows, why stretch the skin and leave the fat? Jesus.
Today I asked Derek is I could just trade stomachs with him and he could carry baby the rest of the term... And I could deal with the weigh-ins at his job. He declined, though I am not sure why. I thought it sounded like a pretty sweet deal. He said, "But you're almost done! Just ten more weeks. You'll be fine." Ugh. Ten more weeks seems like forever, though. It's funny, the longer I am pregnant, the faster it seems that time had flown by. But the closer I get to the due date, the longer it feels like it will take. Ten weeks, Chloe. Just ten more weeks. Six, if she really wants to come early.

And since we're talking about pregnancy, I am terrified of giving birth at a base, seriously. I've had a pretty good experience with my mid-wife so far, but base medical, not so much. Especially not at the ER. I know I won't be going through the ER when I go into labor, but the simple fact that "doctors" and nurses like that actually exist at this hospital freaks me out. Like... What if they somehow end up working in Labor and Delivery when I have to go through there? I don't want a some incompetent corpsman that can't seem to find an already protruding vein or a power-tripping officer with medical "training" that calls himself a doctor touching me or even talking to me. I'll be stressed out enough as it is. I don't want a bunch of corpsman walking in and out of the delivery room or the place they have me beforehand just so they can say they did their rounds or get trained. I want a professional. Not them. No one needs to see me like that, anyway. Seriously. I especially don't feel comfortable with it if I am going to be on the table/bed thing spread eagle with my cooch out for all to see. Not okay with me. Maybe I can express this to my mid-wife and the nurses on-call and mybe they'll ignore all of their military medical training and actually listen to the wishes of the screaming, hormonal pregnant woman who is about to pop out a watermelon out of a hole that shouldn't even ever be the size of a lemon in the first place. Here's to hoping.

I am extremely glad, though, that in order to get on base you have to have an I.D. Or a damn good reason to be there. And even if they get on base and have never been there before but are there to crash the time baby is at the hospital, they are not sure where to go or even how to get to the hospital. This means no unwanted visitors. I mean, I'll still be telling the hospital that I want to register as a private patient and to ask me before allowing anyone in to see me, but the fact that Pendleton is a bitch to navigate through is seriously appealing.
However, I am torn when it comes to guests once I actually leave the hospital. Who will I allow into the apartment? Who will actually listen to our requests? Who, of all the people we allow inside, will actually help out around the house rather than sitting on their asses playing 'Pass the Baby'? Who will stress us out and who won't? And how long do they expect to be able to stay versus what I am willing to stand? Who will pitch a fit when I tell them they will need to find a hotel? All this terrifies me. And just like with the guidelines Derek and I set out on the Facebook page that seemed to put his family's panties in a twist, I know people will think I am being inconsiderate for not wanting that many people around and not wanting people to stick around for too long, let alone not letting them stay at our already small one bedroom apartment overnight. I figure, I just when through a pretty big life-changing experience, not to mention a huge medical procedure, I can say what I want or don't want to allow. I figure that it is time for Derek and I to bond with our baby... We shouldn't have to worry about stepping on anyone's toes. Right?
I mean, of course I want people to see our child. I don't want to pull a Brangelina or a creepy Scientology thing by keeping my child in hiding for six months to a year... But Jesus Christ. I am simply terrified of having to go through upon having a child when it comes to having guests soon thereafter.
I have had friends that invited everyone and their dog to come visit them and the baby, and I've had friends that limited visitation to a few close relatives. In both groups, I have heard more stories about how their guests just sat around, held the baby, interrupted feedings and nap times, made messes, and expected the new mother and father to cater to them and clean up after them. This is a situation I want to avoid entirely. Basically, I need to figure out who will help Derek and I out, and who will feel entitled to sitting on their ass just to hold the baby and make more of a mess for the woman who is recovering from childbirth to clean up. Is that so wrong? I hope not. The easy part will probably be pissing off the people I don't want around to the point that they leave. The hard part, however, will be actually figuring out who will be on which part of the list.

Below this post is the link to the Lemon Clot Essay, just to make my point. :)

The Lemon Clot Essay

The following is a link to an essay that I will be referencing in my next post. Read it and weep. Or be mildly disgusted. Whichever.

Thursday, February 25, 2010

Let's start this show off with a bang, shall we?

There is a lot of background to the situation I am about to talk about, some that doesn't need to be discussed, but probably will be discussed. :) What is the point of having ablog if you can't write about the things going on in your life? Ah. That's right, that would be counter productive.
Anyway, let's start off from the beginning of my marriage. I am starting there, simply to gve a bit of insight. The rest of the story will be revealed through out later posts... As there would be too much to cover should I choose to talk about all of it now.
My husband and I got married at a simple civil ceremony that was witness only. The witnesses were two of our very dear friends that were stationed out here in California with my husband. Pretty normal, right? Well something I forgot to mention was that neither of our families knew we even had plans to get married. I know, bad Chloe. But it seemed like the right idea at the time. Well, we got married in February of 2009 and it wasn't until March or April that his family figured it out. His mother was fine with it, his grandmother said "it's about time", and his sisters flipped shit. Thus beginning the downward spiral that is my relationship with his eldest sister.
From then on, his sister would try to find anything and everything to bitch about to Derek about me. And unfortunately, he allowed her to continue saying terrible things about me. He also participated in adding fuel to her already very hateful fire by telling her every little detail of our fights, but usually conveniently left out key facts that said he had done something wrong, either. But God forbid poor little Derek ever do anything wrong, right?
Anyway, whenever either of them had a problem with me, no one would talk to me about it so that I could understand, stop, or fix the situation. Nope, instead they spoke to each other. Thus leaving me completely out of the loop when it came to even my own marriage. So one day, his sister apparently had it with me and began to harass me, threaten me, message, call, yell, etc. Anything she could possibly think of. So when I finally blew up at her, I told her everything her poor little brother had ever done to warrant any of the fights or lack of trust that I had in him. She was livid. I was, too. I mean seriously? What kind of bitch says things like "I will kill you" to her brother's wife? Oh that's right, trash.
So I go to Derek, not knowing he has part of the problem and demand that he stand up for me. I demand that he tell his sister to leave me alone... Since my threats to her about filing harassment charges aparently fell on deaf ears. He refused.
I know what you're thinking. "Girl! You should have left that boy right then and there." But believe me. At the time I has a spine of jell-o. So enter the next day. Derek finally tells his sister to apologize, but fails to inform me that he promised her an apology from me as well. So she calls, she starts apologizing and then adds a clause to her apology. Then demands an apology from me. When I refuse, she flips out again. This time, she won't stop calling. I am already stressed out from the night before, and I cannot get a hold of my husband. So, my body responds by having my stomach form ulcers and I begin to vomit blood. Yeah. That's fuckin' stressed.
I end up having to drive myself to the hospital in severe pain, vomitting blood, and her still texting and calling. I tried to ignore her calls but that only seemed to fuel her anger. So I try to get a hold of my husband, and get nothing back. So I call his command, let them know what is going on, and they FORCE him to come meet me at the hospital. That's right, he had been ignoring me so that he can talk to his sister and make her feel better. Amazing, right?
That night, I tell him he needs to stand up for me. He claims he already has, but we all know that isn't the truth. So I tell him he needs to call her, while in front of me, and tell her to leave me alone. He begins to get angrier and angrier, and eventually storms out without his cell phone. That's right. He walked out on his wife who had potentially peptic ulcers in her stomach. He was gone for well over three hours, too. I had gotten into my car and drove around looking for him, but I couldn't find where he went. When he finally came back, he had aparently walked to Wal Mart.
Anyway, needless to say I never got a real apology from his sister and it took weeks for him to finally apologize to me for the bullshit he caused and put me through.
However, since then his sister and I made up and had been pretty okay with each other. Until we had to move up the formal ceremony for our wedding. She didn't have any vacation days left and therefore couldn't attend. She was pissed, but at least I got to have my grandfather there. Eventually she moved on and all was well with the world. Except for that whole bit about my husband was secretly sending them the one sided info train on how much of a monster I really was.
Fast forward to Christmas. We went up to his hometown for Christmas and all seemed to be well. I was five months pregnant and still horrendously nauseous. His family is a bunch of smokers but they smoked outside while I was there, and Derek had stopped smoking as far as I knew. So I thought that was really nice of them, especially considering I hadn't asked them to and Missouri is fucking cold in the winter. Well, it stopped being such a nice gesture whenever I would overhear their conversations about me. His sisters bitched about me, called me an inconvenience, and basically said terrible things about me behind my back. So I went to my husband and let him know how I felt about it. I told him that not only was I out of my element but I was also beginning to feel unwelcome and hurt. He brushed it off. I would later find out he was saying the same things about me that they were and that he was in fact still smoking with them and lying to me about it. Cute, huh?
Eventually, a fight erupted between my husband and I, and rather than standing up for me to them, he called me a bitch and told me to apologize to his family for constantly disrespecting them. Aparently cooking, cleaning, and keeping my mouth shut was disrespectful. Who knew?
When we were finally on our way back to the airport to fly back to California, he and his mother were talking about how it will be so good to see him again in the summer when we came by to visit before moving back to Texas. This was something my husband and I had talked about, and had actually decided that since our child will be 2 months old at the time that we would be moving to Texas for school, that we wouldn't have the time, money, or energy to make that extra part of the journey. So when Derek refused to tell her, I did. And I did so as respectfully as I could. Derek was furious. Aparently he had gotten this lovely little notion in his head that he didn't have to honor anything he and I agreed upon, just so long as he could make his family of origin happyan forgetting that he had a family to take care of already; me and our child. Ugh, gag me. His mother, being the typically understanding woman that she is, told us that was fine and that Derek should have been okay with telling her that. She said she totally understood where we were coming from and that everything was alright, since we had a family, jobs, and school to take care of. No harm no foul, right?
So fast forward to this month. Derek and I decided that I would post a list of general ground rules that we would be implementing in regards to our child. They were simple, basic, common sense rules that usually don't need to even be stated, but sometimes people go a little crazy when a baby is introduced into the equation. No one seemed to have a problem with them, and those that did came to us for a better explanation. Very mature, right? Well, his family just didn't want to act like adults.they began to talk shit with each other, and even went as far as to peint out the rules I had posted and hold a "family meeting". And I'm not just talking about his immediate family. I'm talking even extended family, like grandmothers, cousins, etc. His oldest sister and I had been talking about it and she supported Derek and I at the time. Then the family began bitching to her, as though she had any say in what is or is not changed in our rules. But no one would tell us who had a problem and no one with a problem would come to us. So I posted something I knew anyone involved would see. I said that if they had a problem with something my husband and I decided, they needed to take it up with us and no one else. That they should act like adults, not children. That's when his mother began posting passive aggressive bullshit about how I would be offended too if my child ever tried to implement rules on her family in regards to her child. That I should respect those in Derek's family, even if they did not respect me. I explained in a very rational manner that I had considered what she said, but I disagreed entirely. I said that if my daughter wanted to make rules for people to follow, especially if it affected the health and well being of her child and family, then it would not be my place to argue with her. I may not like her rules, but she is the mother and thus gets to make those decisions. I also explained that had the rest of his family actually came to us with their issued rather than acting as gossip mongering children then I would have no problem respecting them.
That's when his older sister decided to change her tune and began threatening me with physical harm. That's right, she threatened to beat up her brother's pregnant wife because I had "disrespected her mother". So when my husband came home from work, I showed him everything that had been said, so he would fully understand, and I deleted her from Facebook so that I would have no contact with her in that way. One less stressor in my life. Well aparently that meant I was a coward, since she called Derek and started bitching at him about me removing her from my page. She was wanting to show off to her friends how much of a bitch I was, but she conveniently didn't tell him that she had made threats against me. Threats he had already seen. So after her continually interrupting him, I finally told him that if he doesn't cut her off and tell her to leave us alone, I was leaving. He finally told her, "this behavior will not be tolerated." And he hung up. That's right, my husband FINALLY chose me over his faaaaamillyyy. So I was pretty happy. She called him again, but he ignored her call. So she began calling me. I answer, grinning of course, and said, "I'm sorry, I believe my husband hung up on you." And click. She called again. I answered saying, "if you continue to call here anymore, I will file phone harassment charges. Now fuck off." Before I hung up she said, "Bitch I'll kill you!" Yep, another death threat. She then texted me saying, "you scared little bitch you ain't shit."
So that night, I proceeded to remove every single member of his family from my page so I wouldn't have to deal with any spies, bitching, etc.
However, another rat came out of the wood work and now she is cut off, too. Oh man it feels amazing to be able to sever ties with these horrendous and toxic people.
It just goes to show how pride truly goes before the fall.