If you've been following Curious Endeavourances, you may have noticed that several months ago things went sideways. Everything was going along just as it always had, a few hiccups and a lot of silliness, but then I disappeared without much warning. I believe it was October, and frankly, I think given the circumstances, I did well making it that far.
While it's not atypical for me to drop off of social media during the school year, what led to my disappearance began much earlier.
While it's not atypical for me to drop off of social media during the school year, what led to my disappearance began much earlier.
This is what I had been secretly lugging around. Maybe the odd tweet gave it away, but I wasn't going to turn this into a Mommy blog. My unborn child deserves some privacy from the worldwide web.
So where was I when missed out on a Curious Endeavourance hangout? No, not in the delivery room. As I said, things began much earlier.
During the summer, on a routine ultrasound check-up, I was told that something didn't look right. Not just something - several somethings. While most pregnant ladies get 3 ultrasounds before delivery, I did about 10.
During the summer, there were no answers, only concerns. And come September I went right back to work. New school. New community. Same stresses. Only this time I got to add the waiting, the wondering, the follow-ups, and the "we just want you to be prepared" speeches. By October, reading for pleasure was no really a thing. Very few things were pleasurable. So I ducked out. The other Curious members knew that I hadn't finished the book, and it wasn't the first time so who cares? Even if I didn't even start the book, I could wear the cone of shame, right? I signed on, met with the girls and told them "I'm out." They went live. I watched live. I felt a little more broken inside. I was already broken.
By November, on a routine check-up, my doctor told me that I had to be done. I was spending every last shred of myself just trying to fulfill my promise of making it to report cards that the stress of everything was wearing me and the baby down too much. I was just supposed to be gone for an hour in the morning. I had my sub-plan set up to get by until noon. By morning recess I was back at work, handing in my notice of critical illness. I have never felt so defeated. I cried so hard. I was so ashamed of myself.
Why Curious Endeavourances didn't go on without me, well, that was a decision made by the other members. I had a lot of recovery to make up for in other areas. Despite my guilt. I had to admit that I really did need that break - that break down.
Once I already considered myself to have failed (my biggest fear in everything), I had to take the help that was forced upon me. I needed it. Finally I was accepting it. I agreed to take medications that would actually allow me to eat and sleep again. It really does make a huge difference when drinking water hurt too much to handle.
I wasn't trying to be a superwoman. I knew that pregnancy was supposed to be uncomfortable, and honestly, I used to endure worse pains so I was using that as a standard of measurement. But not eating well and hardly sleeping on top of stressing about everything, you can imagine what I felt.
If you followed my Goodreads updates, then you know that somewhere in all of this is a happy ending. Maybe just not as happy as you'd like to think.
I had my baby. I was prepared for the intensive care and potential surgery that my little one would need. Nonetheless, it wasn't easy enduring all that I had only to have the baby wheeled out right away. He would be 13 hours old before I was able to hold him for the first time.
We found out that the things we were preparing for, weren't the things that our little one was suffering with. No one knew exactly what, and to this day there are only theories as to why. Just a few more days, they told us. Christmas came and went, then New Years. We waited for a room to open up at the Children's Hospital, and then we continued to wait. My husband and I lived in the hospital with our baby for two and a half months.
We're all home now. It's been a whole week. The little one still isn't 100%, but we've made more progress than the doctors even expected. Why we aren't wheeling an oxygen tank around with him is a mystery. I was told that most children with respiratory issues grow out of their oxygen tank by two years old. That's what I was expecting. He's our little anomaly.
So why am I going into all of this here and now? So that it can be behind me. Family and friends have been following this journey for a long time now and it's not over yet. I'd just rather be honest about why this lost time happened, and now that I've said it, I'd prefer not to have to address it publicly again, at least not on this medium.
It will still be slow coming, but the site and blog will be back to writing-related things. I'm not gone, just finding new ways to navigate through life. I think I'm doing okay.
So where was I when missed out on a Curious Endeavourance hangout? No, not in the delivery room. As I said, things began much earlier.
During the summer, on a routine ultrasound check-up, I was told that something didn't look right. Not just something - several somethings. While most pregnant ladies get 3 ultrasounds before delivery, I did about 10.
During the summer, there were no answers, only concerns. And come September I went right back to work. New school. New community. Same stresses. Only this time I got to add the waiting, the wondering, the follow-ups, and the "we just want you to be prepared" speeches. By October, reading for pleasure was no really a thing. Very few things were pleasurable. So I ducked out. The other Curious members knew that I hadn't finished the book, and it wasn't the first time so who cares? Even if I didn't even start the book, I could wear the cone of shame, right? I signed on, met with the girls and told them "I'm out." They went live. I watched live. I felt a little more broken inside. I was already broken.
By November, on a routine check-up, my doctor told me that I had to be done. I was spending every last shred of myself just trying to fulfill my promise of making it to report cards that the stress of everything was wearing me and the baby down too much. I was just supposed to be gone for an hour in the morning. I had my sub-plan set up to get by until noon. By morning recess I was back at work, handing in my notice of critical illness. I have never felt so defeated. I cried so hard. I was so ashamed of myself.
Why Curious Endeavourances didn't go on without me, well, that was a decision made by the other members. I had a lot of recovery to make up for in other areas. Despite my guilt. I had to admit that I really did need that break - that break down.
Once I already considered myself to have failed (my biggest fear in everything), I had to take the help that was forced upon me. I needed it. Finally I was accepting it. I agreed to take medications that would actually allow me to eat and sleep again. It really does make a huge difference when drinking water hurt too much to handle.
I wasn't trying to be a superwoman. I knew that pregnancy was supposed to be uncomfortable, and honestly, I used to endure worse pains so I was using that as a standard of measurement. But not eating well and hardly sleeping on top of stressing about everything, you can imagine what I felt.
If you followed my Goodreads updates, then you know that somewhere in all of this is a happy ending. Maybe just not as happy as you'd like to think.
I had my baby. I was prepared for the intensive care and potential surgery that my little one would need. Nonetheless, it wasn't easy enduring all that I had only to have the baby wheeled out right away. He would be 13 hours old before I was able to hold him for the first time.
We found out that the things we were preparing for, weren't the things that our little one was suffering with. No one knew exactly what, and to this day there are only theories as to why. Just a few more days, they told us. Christmas came and went, then New Years. We waited for a room to open up at the Children's Hospital, and then we continued to wait. My husband and I lived in the hospital with our baby for two and a half months.
We're all home now. It's been a whole week. The little one still isn't 100%, but we've made more progress than the doctors even expected. Why we aren't wheeling an oxygen tank around with him is a mystery. I was told that most children with respiratory issues grow out of their oxygen tank by two years old. That's what I was expecting. He's our little anomaly.
So why am I going into all of this here and now? So that it can be behind me. Family and friends have been following this journey for a long time now and it's not over yet. I'd just rather be honest about why this lost time happened, and now that I've said it, I'd prefer not to have to address it publicly again, at least not on this medium.
It will still be slow coming, but the site and blog will be back to writing-related things. I'm not gone, just finding new ways to navigate through life. I think I'm doing okay.
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