I admit it... I'm going a bit crazy in here. I can do the whole positive what will be will be thing but I can't help having the odd day or moment where I just feel... ANGRY. I even amuse myself with the things that irritate me and sometimes I'm actually ashamed of myself for the things that tick me off.
Like one of the student midwives. Poor girl... she's lovely, friendly and has done nothing wrong at all. She's a first year and so she's keen as mustard to learn and clearly enjoying playing with babies and pregnant bellies as she learns the ropes of what I imagine has been her goal for a long time. So why is it that when she comes into my room to do my observations I feel so damn cranky? Well it's nothing personal towards her, other than she is happy and some days, I don't find the happiness infectious... I just find it annoying. And because she's new and learning, she takes longer to get things done, like finding my babies heart rate with the doppler... and I'm thinking... I can see a huge lump of baby sticking through and you're looking for him on a squishy bit! And I realize I sound like a total bitch and this is completely uncalled for but if I'm honest, I'm just tired of being poked and prodded and practiced on.
Another thing - I have bruises all over my legs. Because of my "bed resting" I am given twice daily injections of blood thinners to prevent DVT's. It's a standard precaution that any long stay patient gets. Naturally after 2 injections of blood thinners a day for the last 3 weeks, I've got some decent bruises happening. It's not a big deal and bruises heal. But some of the midwives make a big fuss about it and ask if it hurts... I'm thinking nah it tickles love! Anyway, I've pushed out an 8 pound baby so a little needle is the least of my problems! See, another petty complaint... somebody feels sorry for me because I have lots of bruises and I get cranky about it! What the hell!!
OOOOOOK, then there is the water jug lady... Bless her, she comes in at 6am with a fresh jug of water for me everyday. It keeps me well hydrated and helps me swallow my meds happily. But honey, please stop wearing such pungent perfume! Not only am I pregnant and a little more sensitive to smell, but my room is not well ventilated and so every morning when the water jug lady arrives my poor body is woken with a startle as it tries to deal with an assault of what I am sure would be a lovely perfume, in a smaller quantity. It does not help that I am not a morning person and every man and his dog from the cleaner to the water jug lady, the midwives and the doctors all want to come and have a chirpy chat by 7:30am. I feel like telling them that if they wish to get sense out of me, they ought to at least bring a cup of tea as a peace offering. Even my 2 yr old understands that Mummy doesn't function at that hour. Before I came into hospital she even started bringing her little step out to the kitchen and standing next to the kettle with her head in her hands saying "oh mummy, I neeeeed a coffee!" Yeah that's right, I'm one of those terrible pregnant ladies who drinks coffee (ok only one or two a day) but I don't eat ham, so forgive me. You win some, you lose some right?
So now I've raged about innocent people just doing their jobs, I can continue to be pleasant and grateful for their care without being a mole towards them, because I've vented my frustration elsewhere. Because ultimately I am not angry at them, I am just feeling like a caged animal looking for somebody to bite. I can't even blame anyone for this. And I can't allow myself do the poor me thing too often (although this blog may have you thinking otherwise) because I'm just so bloody excited about eventually meeting my little boy. I can't wait to squish his little cheeks, to smell his fluffy newborn hair (is there nothing more delicious than the smell of your own newborn baby!) One of my friends bought him some little outfits yesterday and last night while I was watching One Born Every Minute I was cuddling the little outfit and bawling my eyes out because I just so badly want him here, but not yet. I'm hanging on to a thread of hope that he and I will stay together for long enough that when he's born he isn't snatched off me and taken to the nursery. It feels like an eternity away before my baby is all mine. Right now I have to share him with students and midwives and maybe soon I'll have to share him with nursery staff and doctors. Even Antony, who never really got excited about my pregnancy with Charlotte commented that he felt like he was missing out. Can I be blamed for feeling a bit pregzilla sometimes!
The good news is that I have been approved to have a day pass. I don't know when I'll go out or what we'll do (I'm thinking that French cinnamon toast is sounding like a winner). I think it will be wonderful for my mental health, although I may need to be dragged back kicking and screaming.
Now that I've had my whinge I already feel the rage leaving. Deep breaths and pat on the back for making it another day. It's all good!
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