I feel like nothing has stopped since Thanksgiving. I’ve been overly social all week and, honestly, I need a flippin’ break from interacting and, more importantly, a break from removing myself and my child from our jammies.
Saturday morning we spent arguing with Eric’s childhood friend over abortion, politics and breastfeeding. Yes, even breastfeeding. (Yet another blog with the boob being discussed!) I was aghast but had very little argument for his response regarding breastfeeding in public, “I’m uncomfortable with it because it’s not a normal thing to see, so I stare. I should have the right to stare because it’s strange.”
“It makes people uncomfortable when you stare. It’s sad that any person’s immediate response to breastfeeding is that it’s strange.”
“It is sad, but that’s the way it is. Change isn’t easy. You have to fight for it.”
While I agree that change is hard, I don’t agree that we need to put up with people staring at us just because they find it “strange”. It’s impolite. Even if you find it strange, you look, look away and think, “Huh, that’s strange.” I don’t see the point of staring. Anyhoo, that’s beside the point…
After Eric’s friend left, his sister came over. She’s visiting from Alaska and is staying with her parents. Immersed in the madness, poor woman. So we invited her over to spend the night. We spent a few more hours discussing family insanities and Zoloft. By 9pm, Ben was tired of the discussion and responded, accordingly, with the following:
We missed the part in which he was yelling in two different voices. I think this was his version of, “BLAH BLAAAAH BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAAAAAAAAAH! Do you people EVER shut up?” We’re raising quite an orator.
Sunday evening we spent with my family, watching Dexter and Weeds. Very little discussion involved, which I think Ben much preferred. There’s only so much politics one infant can take before he just wants to veg in front of a tv to learn about serial killers and marijuana.
While I was too stressed (see? working for me already) to remember to bring my camera with me to dinner at my grandma’s tonight, I did manage to get a few pictures of him in the second iteration of the “Benjamin’s First Thanksgiving” outfit. So here he is, in all his drooling, orange couch backdrop having, all by himself sitting, glory.
While I love my grandmother immensely, she has a touch of the narcissism. If you are at all aware of NPD, this conversation will probably be deja vu for you, substituting the subject, of course.
Mom: So, explain to us what they were doing with the TEDDY thing…
Me: Well, they started by taking some of his cord blood, then…
Gma: Oh, they did that with me. My glucose was too high. His glucose was too high.
Me: No, they took his cord blood…
Gma: Yeah, they did that to me. Glucose.
Me: No, they took blood from his umbillical cord when he was born and tested it for the genetic markers for type 1 diabetes.
Gma: Like me. I have diabetes.
Mom: No, mom, you have type 2.
Me: See, type 1 is what starts when you’re small. You’re born with it. {{Explain autoantibodies here}}
Gma: Oh yeah, well I don’t have that. See, I have it because I ate too much chocolate.
Mom: Yes. Type 2.
Me: Exactly. Type 1…
Gma: But I have type 2, he doesn’t have it, yet.
Me: Yes, but Ben has all the genetic markers for type 1. So, they…
Gma: Oh, I know. The doctor says I have type 2. I can’t have any sugar. Here, let me show you my monitor. I was doing really good…{{Here she goes on to discuss her sugar levels}}
Me: Okay. {{Starts telling mom how the test went}}
Gma: (feeling slighted because I didn’t want to keep discussing her problem, gets up and starts talking very loudly to Ben) You brought us diabetes, didn’t you? I didn’t have diabetes before you were here!…But I have type TWO!
At the TEDDY study, the lady handed me a sheet of paper, “These are the things that may have happened to you during your pregnancy. Just tell me the numbers if any happened.” I began reading down the list:
Serious illness in the family…check
Family member hospitalized…check
Injury caused to yourself…check
Moved…check
Got married…check
Serious arguments with family members…check
Family member died…check
Lost or quit a job…check
Financial issues for yourself…check
Financial issues for your spouse…check
Her three lines for the stressors were filled, and the remainder of the numbers continued down the side of the page.
“Okay, so…what trimester did all these things happen?” The majority of it was in the first and second.
“You had a really busy pregnancy. Geeze. Like, really busy…” She was obviously in awe, as was I. I hadn’t realized, until that moment, that I had a really, like really, busy pregnancy. Things that really should’ve knocked me for a loop and pushed me into laying in a fetal position in the corner of my closet, crying for mercy.
But it didn’t and that makes me incredibly proud.
“Well, at least it’s not too bad now!”
“Yeah, it’s great…well, then he got colic and food allergies and then we got the diabetes call, so…”
She laughed, and I laughed with her but was wondering if I should have been. The past year and change has been a never-ending cacaphony of bad news, but it’s never really hit me as such. It’s always been case-by-case. Tomorrow’s a new day. I’ve never let it pile on top of itself. As well as it’s worked for me thus far, I wonder how sustainable it can be. I mean, shouldn’t all those things have had me holed up in a closet somewhere? Shouldn’t I be taking mass amounts of blood pressure medication and martinis? Why am I not freaking out here?
While I hope I never actually have that moment where I realize nothing has stopped since becoming pregnant, I do, on occasion, want to have a few “lost my mind” moments. Moments where I run around the house in a leotard, tutu and stripey toe socks while singing, “I’m tired of dancin’ here all by my-se-helf!” without being questioned. And, you know, I think I’ve finally found the perfect excuse. “But…I’m stressssssssssssssed!”
Ben’s first TEDDY visit was today and, let me say, it was as horrifying as expected and more.
It started unassumingly enough. We waited in a child’s playroom/waiting room on mini-chairs. We spoke to another set of parents. We were ushered into an “Infant Examination Room” by a nice woman who spent an hour explaining our consent form. We then went over the surveys we’d already filled out….
{{Here we take a break because Ben has pooed and we must collect the sample to mail to NIDDK}}
The survey filling out was followed by an explanation of our billion page book where we write his food, his stressors, his shots, his everything. Then an explanation of how to fill our 3 day diet record sheet. Then an explanation on how to collect the aforementioned poo in a plastic rigatoni shaped collector and send it off to the aforementioned NIDDK.
And then came the horrifying part. Her promises of only taking a half of a teaspoon of blood were lies. Everything she said was a horrible lie.
They laid him on a table and tied off his arms, “Ooh, you have a good one here.” Lovely. They gave me a little bowl of sugar water, “This is what they used at his circ to distract him…”
“Uh, we didn’t have him circ’d because we didn’t want to hurt him.”
“…Oh….Well, just dip his binky in this and he won’t even notice. It usually just bothers them that they’re being held down.”
Here she brandishes a large needle. I get nervous and want to take him away. But I don’t because I’m apparently evil.
So I dip the binky and shove it in his mouth right as they stick him with the needle.
SCREEEEEEECH!!
Can I just say, BULLSHIT THEY DON’T FEEL IT! That screech had nothing to do with holding him down. And it didn’t stop until well after they took the needle out, despite the sugar water. Add to it that the blood “Just wasn’t coming fast enough” so the wiggled it around. Another SCREECH when they removed the needle and then sobbing afterwards.
It was horrifying and made me feel like a jerk. I know it’s all for his own good, and he was fine within a few minutes of leaving, but still, he’s a baby and that is a horrible thing to do to a baby. Their blood shouldn’t come out! That’s why the body has so many things working to keep it in!
My only regret is that I didn’t deck her afterwards. I think it would’ve made both he and I feel better.
