Life has been hectic over the last few months and it doesn't look like changing anytime soon. On a good day, I'll tell you that everything is fine. On a bad day, I'll probably say the same thing. On a really bad day, I might admit to how I'm really feeling. The truth is, I'm struggling.
A few weeks after I found out I was pregnant, Rob lost his job. For the last 3 months, I've been working 50-60 hours a week to make ends meet. I love my job and I love my colleagues, but I miss my son so much. These are the last few precious months I have with him before his little sister comes. I'm really angry that this time has been taken away from us.
This year, our washing machine died, our dryer died, my car got towed because I couldn't pay my fines, my phone died, my car died, Robs car died, the phone & internet have been disconnected (several times), I got taken to VCAT because I couldn't afford the Rent and we both drove unregistered cars for months before I could afford to pay both rego's (I copped a $724 fine). Slowly, I'm getting on top of things but I'd be lying if I said, I don't despise my partner a lot right now. I've never aspired to the 'happily ever after' thing, but sometimes, just for one day, I'd love to be a princess.
Max had Round 3 of Botox at the end of May. This time, he only had the 'happy gas' and (true to form) he fought it, the entire time. It took 6 of us to hold him still and one play therapist trying to distract him with a video of Thomas the Tank Engine. Afterwards, he screamed so much, he puked all over me. It was our most successful Botox to date.
We're 5 weeks into an intensive schedule of post-Botox OT, we've been having sessions 3 or 4 times a week. Late last week, I realised I was dead set fed up with therapy sessions and cancelled one, just so we could go to the Zoo instead. I'm tired of spending what little free time I have, going to medical or therapy appointments. But, the gains he's made this time around, have been nothing short of amazing, so it's all been well worth the effort. Yesterday, one of his OT's said his right hand was now functioning at 'an advanced level' and I spent the most part of yesterday afternoon feeling incredibly gloaty about that.
Last month, our landlord gave us 4 months notice to vacate the house we rent. I suppose if I were a camel, this would be the straw. We can't afford to move until I get my tax return, and I'm not sure we'll have much luck getting a place whilst one of us is unemployed. I know the move is going to happen just as I'm entering third trimester and just as I'm starting to feel revoltingly uncomfortable. I know that I'm going to wind up lifting shiteloads of boxes and holding up the other end of the three seater couch as Rob swears and we struggle to squeeze it through the front door.
I'm trying not to dread the coming months and I'm trying to remain optimistic, despite the pregnancy hormones which make me wanna sulk like a teenager. Most days I laugh, some days I cry and everyday I'm grateful to work with such an amazing group of people, who probably don't realise how much they're carrying me right now. And then there's this face.......
.....which continually reminds me of everything I have to be thankful for. I think back to the time when I didn't know if he'd live or die and realise that the problems I have now, are trivial. I do still dabble in self pity from time to time (I'm only human, not a cyborg) but I refuse to wallow in it. Someday, we're gunna reach the top of that mountain and there's gunna be one hell of a great view when we get there.
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