Back, demon!

I'm feeling pretty down, y'all. Please, have the good taste not to comment and remind me of all the things I have to be happy about. I know I have every right to be ecstatic right now, but I can't bring myself to feel very happy. Don't make me feel bad for feeling bad - I already do.

*Warning: icky subject matter*

My c-section incision opened on Sunday. I sneezed. Apparently, there was a buildup of fluid behind it (called a hematoma) that just had to come out somehow. I had to go to the emergency room, and the next day, to my doctor's office. At my doctor's office, and every day since, the incision got filled with gauze. Three times a day. Today, I get stuffed with what's called a wound vac. Basically, a sponge gets inserted into the incision. The sponge is attached to a tube, which is then attached to a canister. The canister is a vacuum that sucks all the goo out of the incision several times a day, allowing it to heal faster than simply packing it would.

A home nurse will come to my house to cut the sponge down to the right size to accomodate my shrinking wound on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. If I want to shower on any of the other days, my husband will have to remove the sponge then replace it after my shower. Otherwise, the nurse that comes to do the sponge will have to wait while I shower after she takes it out. I simply cannot shower 3 times a week - it will NOT happen. If you know me well, you know I must shower once a day, sometimes twice. When I couldn't shower while I was in the hospital, I thought I'd crawl out of my skin.

If my husband finds me in the least bit attractive after all of this, he is a saint. The things he's seen in the past few weeks are appalling. But, while I was crying about this last night, he hugged me and said "For better or worse, remember? Sickness and health?" Add him to the list of things I should be on my knees praising God about, but can't seem to stop feeling sorry for myself long enough to do so.

I can't drive till this thing heals. This means I'm still on borrowed time from anyone that will drive me to the NICU. That would be mostly my husband.

Then there's my son. God, I love him, so much sometimes that it makes me dizzy. But I have to ask permission to see him, to hold him, to change his diaper, to comfort him, to kiss him... all the things I am supposed to be doing. Having a child in the NICU goes completely against nature. Not to mention I can only spend 2 hours there at a time, since I have to pump every 3 hours.

My house is a complete wreck. I'm not allowed to clean, because I can't bend, I can't lift anything, I can't use my abdominal muscles to move in such a way to sweep, vacuum, or mop, and I'm supposed to be sitting or laying down as much as possible. This means the task of cleaning my disgusting house falls on... that's right, my husband. He's been working 10-hour days to make up for the fact that he missed Monday, and he's exhausted when he gets home. I feel bad asking him for things, but he never complains, never questions, never screams at me for being utterly useless.

I've developed the sleep sweats. Every time I go to sleep, I sweat. It's pretty funky.

I'm having a hard time with the every-3-hours pumping. I was slacking off, letting it go to every 4 to 4 and a half hours. Now that I've hunkered down and gone back to every 3 hours, my boobs aren't making as much as they were when I was going every 4 hours. Everyone keeps saying "you'll be doing it a lot more often when Ace gets home!" But I won't have to clean Ace before feeding him, hook him up to a machine, make sure he's on the right setting, let him rip for 20 minutes, label him, write the date and time on him, clean him again, and put him in the freezer on the other side of the house. At least I don't think so. Correct me if I'm wrong

I think I'm just feeling like a failure. I have the worst time getting pregnant, and I can't even carry a child like I'm supposed to. I don't suppose I should start on the fact that my little sister is pregnant by an A-1 loser, and jumped on the welfare wagon the second she found out she was pregnant, and will stay there till the child is 30, and doesn't have a highschool education, and doesn't have $40 to pay off a fine to keep herself out of jail for drugs, and children cost WAY more than $40, but she doesn't understand why everyone's not falling all over themselves excited about the fact that she's pregnant. Screw you.

This too shall pass. This too shall pass. This too shall pass. This too shall pass.

Will someone call Tom Cruise and have him send me some vitamins?