Thursday, August 16, 2007

I want a tiger Patronus

As we should have realized it would, life is accelerating out of control in these final weeks. As are my emotional swings.

Two nights ago I had a fresh new panic attack over feeling overwhelmed by the responsibility to be calm, cool and collected while making the final decision about inducing baby early. I do not trust myself to have any intuition one way or the other. I had no idea Wendy was in trouble until I saw her emerge in the tub.
I also have no faith that a hospital is a safe place for a baby to be born. Last week I presented my OB with my birth plan. To her credit she read it through and took me seriously. To my dismay she then started explaining why she couldn't promise to accommodate my desires. She explained that I wouldn't be able to choose the most comfortable position for delivery because only when I'm on my back does she have a good view of things. She said she couldn't promise that I wouldn't be shaved because that is necessary to keep the area clean. Then the scariest blow to my hopes, the baby would need to be taken to the nursery for 2-3 hours after birth (oh, they'd "show" her to me first) for observation. At that I must have gone deathly pale because she told me about the one pediatrician that might be willing to observe the baby while I hold on to her. We have since met him, it turns out he was the Dr that came to declare Wendy dead, and he seems like a truly sweet nice guy. He didn't quite promise that baby could stay with me for the duration of my time in the hospital but he was reassuring that he prefers to do things more naturally. He had also been prepped by my OB to expect us and he gave us his cell number and told us to call when I'm in labor and he'll be sure to come be there when baby arrives. I plan to go to the hospital with plenty of cash for when I need to provide more motivation than simply solid research to back up my crazy wishes!

I am trying to find faith that this Dr and my OB will truly do everything they can to help keep baby safe before and after birth. I am trying to stay positive. I am trying to visualize nothing but happy safe scenarios. I am not succeeding 100% of the time.

I am trying to stop thinking of the risks associated with induction, the trouble breathing, the trouble nursing, the increased chance of a c-section. I am trying to focus on the end result. A sweet happy healthy baby safe in my arms. I cannot believe how hard that is. I feel like such an incredible failure. I feel like Harry Potter being probed by a dementor. I can't block the worst thoughts from surfacing. Actually that is a pretty spot-on analogy. I need a wand, a bogart and a pile of chocolate so I can learn my Expecto Patronum charm.

So that's the internal turmoil happening. The external business, it doesn't quite qualify for chaos, yet, is a pileup of business, school, last days of summer camp, real estate deals and pre-natal organizing.

We are in the final three days of B&B life. I can't wait for Sunday. We are just so ready.

We have made the decision to stay in town and send the Bunny to a school which has been siphoning off all the kids with attentive parents from her old Monessori school. On Monday she passed her entrance exam by somehow demonstrating enough pluck and intelligence to compensate for her mistakes on letter and number recognition and an unusual display of dyslexia. Yesterday we bought her uniform, a standard blue and green plaid jumper, white knee socks, with polo shirt. She was brimming with pride. So grown up! She looked like someone who has stepped over a threshold into a whole new epoch. It was happy and sad and beautiful and frightening all at once.

Today and tomorrow she gets some make-up days at horse camp. She loves it and she's rightfully proud of her accomplishments there. Today I found myself wondering, now what? I don't want her to have to completely give up this new love, this new skill for which she so clearly has a natural talent. But it's expensive and a little scary too. For now we have enough on our plates that I don't feel compelled to come up with an answer, but the question will still be there when I'm ready.

And, as everyone knows, in real estate timing is everything. And so, at long last, a property we bought with friends to improve and flip and which has been in process for almost two years is finally at the point where we (read Dh) are supposed to get the infrastructure improved . We already have buyers waiting to give us money and though we aren't desperate for it yet our partners are so we can't stall on getting water and power lines run and roads fixed so that the deal can proceed to the selling part. It just figures that all of these things need to be supervised organized and completed in these two weeks left in the run up to September 1!

We are also within a breath of an agreement to sell the Bluff property. This afternoon we faxed off counteroffer #8, our final offer which we are fairly confident the buyers will accept. However, since we've got that freaking shed full of crap out there we'll still have to hammer out an agreement about when we need to drag our asses to Bluff to sort through the stuff we (and my brother) couldn't bear to part with way back when. Of all people, my mom seems to have the best idea of what is in the shed. She helped move a lot of stuff out of my brother's house when he sold it. I'm not ashamed to say my blood ran cold when she said, "Oh yes! Those lovely green and gold dishes we always used for company are there." I don't want those dishes!!! They can't be washed in a dishwasher and they screech like nails across a blackboard when you cut anything. But I've got them! Somehow they ended up in my shed in the middle of the freaking desert!

And lastly, speaking of my brother, he left a nearly inaudible message on my machine last night. All I could hear was that it was him. We haven't spoken since February when he had basically said we had it coming with Wendy since we made so many irresponsible decisions. Then he topped that off with attacks on dh. He did apologize but quickly threw cold water all over that by telling my dad that he was still mad at me (!). So now he's called. Okay bro, I'm freaking out about shit that has nothing to do with you, I don't think I have the space for anything more. I am hopeful enough to assume that he was calling to try mend the fence but if I'm wrong I'm not sure I can withstand that. So what to do? That's the question of the day. And I'll leave it there. This post is sure long enough for me and the horse I rode in on!


Kristin said...

P. when I read your post I was so drawn to recognizing so many of my own fears on attempting a vbac (vs. just planning a repeat section). For whatever it's worth I give you the "round" that the women in my prenatal yoga class sang to me in the last week of my pregnancy. Imagine all the dingoes with one hand offered to you and your baby in that beautiful belly while we sing

dear sister, dear sister,
we have gathered here today
to send you all our love and blessings on your birthing way.

oh and we have a "shed" too. Only my sister pays over 1000 dollar quarterly for the professional storage place to continue to store my parents' crap. There are some valuable things there but nothing I haven't been able to live without. Sis wants me to fork over 250 dollars (my "share") quarterly to store said crap. I want to go and unpack the damn place and sort it -- determine what is going straight to the dump and be done. We can't agree. So I continue to not pay and she continues to pay.

Tell your brother to get bent. There's nothing more important right now than taking care of yourself, your dh, bunny and your baby.