Today I was struck with many thoughts.
It came about like this: My mom gave me some very long bell-bottom pants. So long I walked on the tails. I have needed new pants as my current wears are leggings and more leggings. Pants would be nice, maybe I would feel like an adult again and not like a milk dispenser.
Only I needed to sew them. I figured it wouldn't take long to shorten and skinny-jean them, so I handed off baby to Dad and went upstairs for what I hoped would be a relaxing half hour of communing with my sewing machine.
Only it wasn't. The baby (who was recovering from a cold) was fussy and Dad kept calling to me from downstairs "to help" interrupting what was supposed to be my zen moment. I was ticked off. Reuben shouldn't be hungry. I had just fed him. I kept thinking I only want pants to wear. So I ignored Brian, who was saying things like "mommy will come back, don't worry" to my whiny 7-month old and giving me "the eyes" of "please help me". As I threaded my sewing machine Reuben finally quieted down and I could hear him playing with some toys. I tackled my pants.
I made one leg too wide and one leg to tight.
By that point about 30 minutes has passed and I was ready to cry. All I wanted was pants to wear, and because pants are kinda expensive, sewing my moms to my size had sounded like a good way to save money and have fun. If only my husband wasn't an incompetent baby sitter. Okay, so I know he's not a baby sitter, he's a father. He's a good father. But he sometimes equates every peep and squeak with Reuben's need for a boob. I feel like he does not try to soothe the baby in other ways most of the time--he just turns to me. And that frustrates me. I tried to remember that my baby was getting over a cold, and that my husband currently had said cold, but still. I was also sick.
I gave up on the pants. I will probably just throw them away and buy a pair that actually fits. I feel useless.
Anyway, what does that have to do with anything? I'm not done with the story, and I certainly haven't gotten to the point yet.
Later that day I went to the doctor. Ever since birth sex has been very painful. Extremely painful. As you can imagine, this has not helped my marriage relationship blossom. This was my third doctors visit, and to be honest I went in feeling extremely helpless and hopeless.
So. My doctor says my body is basically lacking estrogen and that is causing extreme dryness in my lady parts. We do use things to help this (lube is your friend) but that and the fact that I had a ten pound human exit my nether regions 7 months ago... well, you get the picture. She says it will all go back to normal once I stop breastfeeding. She also said I could use a estrogen cream for 4 weeks and that it would help, but it might dry up my milk. She wrote me a prescription for the cream that I am supposed to pick up tomorrow, but I feel so conflicted about it. I don't like the idea of putting synthetic estrogen in my body. And I don't want to quit breastfeeding.
The doctor (who was wonderful and listened to my whole explanation of everything) also told me not to have sex, because having painful sex isn't good and causes inflammation and perpetuates the problem.
I cried all the way home.
Anyway, I am sitting here just wondering about things. Why do I feel so driven to blog, to write and to make videos? Why do I like to devote my free time to these things? Putting my life on the internet annoys my husband. This irritates me, and we have discussed it several times and basically agreed to disagree. I hate fighting. My husband loves me, and I love him. We just both have different needs.
But is it worth all this time and effort to do the thing I love?
I suppose that question needs more explanation behind it. I have limited free time. I already realized I don't have time to make crochet and knitting tutorials anymore--the thought of doing that stresses me out and it isn't worth expending the brain power when I am sleep deprived and tired and fighting to stay afloat. I mourn the loss of making things for people (I will never give up my own personal creativity). Sharing my love of knitting and crochet satisfies me a lot, but I simply do not have time to do that anymore. I know it's a season. I will return to it. I mean, I could make a pattern, but then I'd have a hard time exercising and that, frankly is a big priority to me right now. I need to exercise or I will fall apart. I need that to feel human again.
I love making videos, but I think I will have to stop making everything but vlogs. I just don't have the energy to devote to it. I mean, I have all sorts of ideas but no time. And a vlog is basically just a bunch of clips thrown together with music, I can edit that in no time.
Right after I had said above revelations I felt like an utter failure. A mom who couldn't follow her dreams. A mom who had given up.
But I am not failure. Setting aside things that make me stressed and practicing good time management is important to me. I will return to the things I love when I have time. Right now I have limited time and my emotional and physical well being comes first. I can't be the same person I was before I had a small human. Why do I expect this of myself? Why at the end of the day do I feel I've gotten absolutely nothing done? Why do I feel like a failure?
These are the hard questions I am pondering right now.
