(Not So) Short and (Not So) Sweet

I'm going to try to keep this short.

No. Seriously. Stop laughing.

If I don't keep this short, it will never get posted. It will die a thousand deaths like the dozens of entries I've started and stopped over the past few months because I either 1) lost interest, or 2) fell asleep, or 3) I got... wait - What was that noise? Wait, let me just...

Okay, what was I saying again?

Right. Keeping it short.

There's probably no one out there reading this anyway, what with me dropping off the face of the earth and all. I mean really; out of sight out of mind isn't just for babies. And that's really fine. Because as I've repeated ad nauseum, this writing thing, it's for ME. If someone reads something I've written and it means something to them, well that's a bonus. But the reason I started this blog in the first place was for me to get things out of my head. There's been none of that for the last several months, (MONTHS!) and that's becoming an issue. Because what stays in my head, well... it STAYS in my HEAD. And inside my head? Let's just say it's dark in there.

So - back to keeping it short.

It seems the only way I can keep things short is with bullet points. If I think in paragraphs I start to go off in tangents that I then edit for hours to come. So I think for today bullet points are the way to go. First, a quick update on everyone else in the household, in no particular order:

Jete - Stay-at-home dad extraordinaire for nine months now. Things are going well, but he could stand to get out of the house once in a while. Unfortunately, he hates everything I've suggested from poker nights to kung fu classes. Maybe there's a good bowling league around?

CG - 3-and-a-half-year-old, and good at it. This an interesting age. They kill you with WHY's? and NO!'s and I'M STUPID AT YOU, MOM!'s, and then kill you with sweet innoncence and kindness a moment later. No longer a baby; I can see "kid" right around the corner.

Em - 8 months old. EIGHT. Gummy grin has been replaced by five teeth already. You know those rumors about babies who have big doe "cartoon" blue eyes and fat Gerber-quality cheeks, who sleep though the night from six weeks old and are happy all the time? THEY'RE TRUE.

Ethan - Oh, Ethan, you're a dozen posts unto yourself. All in all, he's doing well, with a bit more drama over the past year than we'd have liked. Changes to his seizure treatments, pneumonia scares, new body jacket, AFO runarounds, insurance changes - AGAIN, and did I mention the sleep study? The biggest issue on the horizon is another hip surgery. Unfortunately, his right hip didn't set as well as the left during the major surgery he had three years ago, and it's displacing. We'd let it be for a while, except he's starting to be uncomfortable during range of motion, so it's something we'll have to address in the next six to nine months.

Me - Yeah, well, it's all about me, isn't it? In case you forgot, I'm both the special AND the needy around here.

I'm doing better now than I was a few months ago. Life, PPD or PTSD; I'm never really sure. What I'm trying to accept is that a big part of what's wrong with me today is tied to my experiences six years ago. I'd love to shrug it off, but I just can't separate from that. I have dreams reliving my emergency surgery. I get a whiff of that horrible medical latex and I'm back in the NICU, at his incubator, waiting for an update, trying to figure out what went wrong.

So much about this time of year brings me back; the cold, wet dreariness day in and day out. The lack of warmth, and sunlight, and hope. I was on bedrest in December, he was born in January, and came home in February. Every year since, the winter has been hard. Add in the post-partum/post-nursing hormone shifts, a few viruses and a lack of sleep, and it's downright ... well, depressing.

In my experience, I've found both depression and anxiety to be diseases of selfishness. When I'm most depressed, most ridden with anxiety, all I can think about is me. Woe is me. What's wrong with me? I hate me. Everyone else hates me... You get the picture. As a result, everyone suffers. I'm a rotten friend, a bad wife, and a mediocre mother. And I'm not too nice to myself either.

The good news is, spring is coming. I'm taking steps to make things better, to be selfish in a healthy way. Writing here is one of those steps. I'm going to try to write more often (maybe once a month?) for my own benefit. I have a feeling I'm going to need it over the next few months.

Until then - as CG insists every time he has a cup: Salud!