3 Month Old Baby

So. My baby is 3 months old now. There’s a lot of things that I felt and thought immediately after the birth of my daughter. I wasn’t sure how to share those feelings though or even if I should. The last thing I needed at that point in time was to be judged. Then again, I might have gotten support from an unlikely source if I had just reached out for it. Either way it’s a moot point because my baby girl turned 3 months old on the 12th.

My little puddin’ showed up fashionably late, almost 5 hours after her due date. 😉 She weighed 9 pounds 3 ounces and she nurses magnificently. Her labor was relatively easy but I don’t know if that’s because it was actually easy or because I didn’t go in until the very end so no one was able to tell me how hard it was. Either way the back labor was most certainly worse than the contractions.

The past 3 months haven’t been as…..pleasant as I’d always dreamed them to be. This comes from a mix of actual reality, stepparenting shenanigans and depression dalliances. But either way you slice it, we made it, we’re here and we’re just making it work.

She cracks me the hell up. Seriously my baby is the funniest person I know. My husband comes home soon and I’m going to have to share her with him. I should be excited about that but honestly I’m not quite ready for that. I like holding all the cards and making all of the decisions. (Not that I’m not keeping him in mind but…he’s not actually here to voice a disagreement if he were to have one.)

Bye Bye Daddy

So Mr. G left this week. They came home earlier than expected in December with the knowledge they were going to have to go back out about a month before they were originally scheduled to be home. So. That happened. And he was told he’d be able to stay back and be here for the birth and then the big boys over his boss’s head told him no. So he left with everyone else this week.

I think he took it harder than I did. I think part of me was waiting for it to fall through the entire time somewhere in the back of my mind. Don’t get me wrong I planned like he was gonna stay but I wasn’t surprised when they said no either. It is what it is ya know? This is what our life is.

I Can’t Do This

So.

I’m 32 weeks on Monday. I also have an appointment on Monday.

I can’t go. I also can’t give birth at a hospital. I just…I don’t trust them enough. I’m too scared of being pushed over or violated and I feel like I can’t speak up because of my past history with mental health. I feel trapped and cornered and ridiculously unhappy. This is my first baby. And I’m having a princess. I should be over the moon and instead I’m just devastated and SO worried. I can’t relax. I think if I had had a better relationship with the providers that I’ve dealt with it would be better.

I’m making progress with my craft business and some (although a lot less than I’d like) with my Scentsy business. Maybe I can raise a part of the money between these two ventures and beg my family for the rest.

I don’t know what this revelation means for my marriage. I just know that I owe it to my daughter to take care of myself so that I can take care of her.

Living with my parents

So as I’ve mentioned (or maybe I didn’t I suck hard as a blogger) we’re living with my parents until after Mr. G leaves for deployment. Yay for super awesome parents!!! Not yay for parents who have SOMETHING to say about EVERYTHING.

I don’t remember this much commentary when we briefly stayed with them when we left my home state for the Duty Station From Hell. Then again we’ve picked up some bad habits. The more we’re here and unpacking and growing and learning the more sad I am. I feel like the past three years have been a waste. We were so miserable and we didn’t flourish at all like I’d expected we would in the first three years of our marriage. We’re getting better now but it makes me sad to think of all the wasted time and opportunities. And the habits we’re forming are better for us so there’s that.

Friends

I suck at making and keeping friends. I’m moody, I communicate poorly, and I’m terminally late. That’s my life. It is what it is. I’m 22 and while I can change some things, (I’ve been really working on time management), some things are just what they are. I will always be moody unless I’m on pills and I have yet to find a pill that doesn’t make me a robot. So some of my personality defects that make me this awful horrible person that no one can seem to find it within themselves to like for any decent length of time or love completely will never go away. I will always be screwed up. That’s just what it is.

 

That being said it’s really bothering me more today than usual. Maybe it’s because things are stressful with Mr. G and I could really use some friends that just listen and say the right thing. Or do the right thing. I like to get out but I like to stay in too. I’m not a giant party animal and I’m poor to boot. I just…I want to be understood. And I want people who claim to want to make connections to actually follow through. I’m tired of fake people and just…I’m tired. Of everything.

I’m Not a People Person

Ok so there’s 50-11 things that I want to write about and share with you (whoever you might be). Health stuff, marriage stuff, military moving stuff….but today (and for the past few days) I’ve been cranky. And that is incredibly distracting. There aren’t enough hours in the day, I’m exhausted and I’m struggling to communicate effectively. So yeah. I’m cranky and anti-people right now. I’ve got a couple of posts brewing though and I’ll edit and post as soon as I get these monkeys off my back.

Let’s Talk About: Identifiers

Who are you? What are you?

I am black. I’m not entirely sure if I’ve said that on here or if it’s on my About Me page. I’ve been blogging under this name and this title for about a year (I started this blog on another platform so it might be longer but I didn’t transfer everything over because it was a long ass stupid process) and I’m not entirely you could envision me.

Being black is awesome but it isn’t a big deal to me. I enjoy it, do not get me wrong AT. ALL. I completely enjoy and love my culture. As a people, African Americans have overcome a host of injustices and it hasn’t broken us. Many of us are bitter, that is true, but we still have contributed all of these wonderful amazing things to the American landscape. From food to music to all of the great inventors to spiritual discovers and an innate sense of family…we’ve accomplished a great deal. I’m very proud to be black. It’s just not the first set of glasses I view the world through.

My musical tastes are widely varied. The Black Keys, Anthony Hamilton, Skrillex, Jason Aldean, Luke Bryan, Red Hot Chili Peppers I love them all. I like soul food as much as the next person but I also really enjoy French cuisine and green healthy eating. I like beer (micro brews or anything that doesn’t taste like sweat sock swill) and mudding. Apples to Apples is one of my favorite games. I just…I like what I like. Yes I’m a black woman but that’s the whole sum of the “issue”. I’m a black WOMAN. Black is a type of woman I am, not the entirety of my being. I approach situations as a woman first. I tend not to bring race into a situation until someone else brings it in. And it seems that society at large has an issue with that.

*blink blink*

I don’t know what to tell society. I NEVER know what to tell society because I always seem to be doing the wrong thing. I’ll tell you a secret though. I like the way I view the world. I don’t want to be hostile all of the time. And a lot of people who put race first seem to be hostile. Always being offended by someone about something. I don’t want to live my life like that. There’s too many things to be happy about and life is too short. Liking what I like doesn’t make me white or stuck up or bougie. I don’t think I’m better than the black person who might be standing next to me. I just like what I like. Some of it is on the high end but plenty of people like the good things in life, that’s why people continue to make the nice things in life. I’m not the first person to like them and I won’t be the last.

I am a woman. I am a daughter/sister/wife. I am black.

Tell me: Who are you? How do you identify yourself?