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I should update this more. I don't know why I'm dragging my feet.
There are a ton of things on my mind, I'm going to try and sort threw them, bear with me.
In the last six months I've become a mother, been dragged over the coals for my parenting choices, been accused of starving my child (by acquaintances,) had my son admitted to the hospital and I gained some friends along the way.
Our birth didn't go as planned, and I kinda hate the fear mongers for not rooting for me. I try and be open with just about everything so when I'm excited about something I shout it from the rooftops. And when you give out you get back. I just wish I got back more support.
Thankfully I had/have some amazing people then and now around me. Some very supportive positive like minded people.
Should I have commas in there? Ah, fuck it. I don't care.
So I had a section. I'm dealing with nerve damage from it. That's right ladies and gentlemen, I have all but lost my orgasm. My belly is numb, parts of my lower back and butt are numb and apparently. . .my orgasm has gone to vacation in Cabo.
So, those of you who think sections are a walk in the part, it's not. It's MAJOR abdominal surgery. Great for some, sad situation for others.
After the section I had bouts with depression, because it didn't 'constantly get worse' they are thinking it's PTST (post traumatic stress disorder) and I go to therapy weekly now. We haven't talked meds as he thinks I just need to get it out in a healthy way.
I've been healthier. My anger snaps are less frequent and my saddness isn't as consuming but that is compounded by my sons health.
That's right boys and girls, I had a son. I had a little penis growing inside of me, fucking kicked ass.
Well, my son is tiny. Small.
It pisses me off to no end. "Is he a premie?" God, does that question chap my ass. It's not anyone's business if he's a premie. Oh, I can hear you now, but we all know he's intact.
Yeah, that's on here. I don't go walking about Target saying 'hey, fucko! My son's intact! Whoo hoo!!'
*sigh*
So my son's tiny. Big fucking deal.
What else?
Well, I am kinda sick of shit about my parenting choices. Talked to someone today and they just seethed disapproval. Why the fuck should I care? That's a good question, but I have this . . .ANNOYING need to please people. I also have this ANNOYING need to make excuses. I know where it comes from, working on it in therapy.
I also mentioned to this person that a womderful woman donated breast milk to him and she got all 'scared.'
"I hope you know her, thats so dangerous.'
Really? IS IT?! IS IT SO FUCKING DANGEROUS!?
No, seriously. Why is it so dangerous for me to give my son donated breast milk versus opening a canister from fucking China? Formula people: YOU don't know where that formula came from! YOU don't know if someone put something in there! Formula HAS been recalled. IT HAS, so please, explain to me the big fucking deal here.
Oh, right body fluids. . .and body fluids are gross right?
Get over it.
Seriously.
Hrm. . can you tell I'm back yet? No?
Well, how about this kiddies. . .
My therapist thinks I'm 'too informed.'
Not sure how to take that, but hey. .. . I'd rather be informed over a sheeple.
My Master calls to me, he needs a change.
Until next time!
There are a ton of things on my mind, I'm going to try and sort threw them, bear with me.
In the last six months I've become a mother, been dragged over the coals for my parenting choices, been accused of starving my child (by acquaintances,) had my son admitted to the hospital and I gained some friends along the way.
Our birth didn't go as planned, and I kinda hate the fear mongers for not rooting for me. I try and be open with just about everything so when I'm excited about something I shout it from the rooftops. And when you give out you get back. I just wish I got back more support.
Thankfully I had/have some amazing people then and now around me. Some very supportive positive like minded people.
Should I have commas in there? Ah, fuck it. I don't care.
So I had a section. I'm dealing with nerve damage from it. That's right ladies and gentlemen, I have all but lost my orgasm. My belly is numb, parts of my lower back and butt are numb and apparently. . .my orgasm has gone to vacation in Cabo.
So, those of you who think sections are a walk in the part, it's not. It's MAJOR abdominal surgery. Great for some, sad situation for others.
After the section I had bouts with depression, because it didn't 'constantly get worse' they are thinking it's PTST (post traumatic stress disorder) and I go to therapy weekly now. We haven't talked meds as he thinks I just need to get it out in a healthy way.
I've been healthier. My anger snaps are less frequent and my saddness isn't as consuming but that is compounded by my sons health.
That's right boys and girls, I had a son. I had a little penis growing inside of me, fucking kicked ass.
Well, my son is tiny. Small.
It pisses me off to no end. "Is he a premie?" God, does that question chap my ass. It's not anyone's business if he's a premie. Oh, I can hear you now, but we all know he's intact.
Yeah, that's on here. I don't go walking about Target saying 'hey, fucko! My son's intact! Whoo hoo!!'
*sigh*
So my son's tiny. Big fucking deal.
What else?
Well, I am kinda sick of shit about my parenting choices. Talked to someone today and they just seethed disapproval. Why the fuck should I care? That's a good question, but I have this . . .ANNOYING need to please people. I also have this ANNOYING need to make excuses. I know where it comes from, working on it in therapy.
I also mentioned to this person that a womderful woman donated breast milk to him and she got all 'scared.'
"I hope you know her, thats so dangerous.'
Really? IS IT?! IS IT SO FUCKING DANGEROUS!?
No, seriously. Why is it so dangerous for me to give my son donated breast milk versus opening a canister from fucking China? Formula people: YOU don't know where that formula came from! YOU don't know if someone put something in there! Formula HAS been recalled. IT HAS, so please, explain to me the big fucking deal here.
Oh, right body fluids. . .and body fluids are gross right?
Get over it.
Seriously.
Hrm. . can you tell I'm back yet? No?
Well, how about this kiddies. . .
My therapist thinks I'm 'too informed.'
Not sure how to take that, but hey. .. . I'd rather be informed over a sheeple.
My Master calls to me, he needs a change.
Until next time!