Hello Dear Reader,
Sorry for the delay – I’ve been rather lazy as of late and that’s OK! I’m allowed. lol
A small update on my pregnancy – Everything is going as planned. I went for my first prenatal visit yesterday. A full body scan showed I’m right on target (Small grapefruit and all). Much relief after it was done because it’s not like I can tell if things are going ok…I’m no doctor. He said everything looks good and that’s enough for me. My ultrasound is set for March 13th and I’m holding my proverbial breath until then. I’m still not getting excited or celebrating it until I see everything is ok. Worry wort? Probably. I’d sooner take it in stride than to get overly eager. I’m awaiting my bloodwork to ensure I’m healthy, but I know that’ll turn out just fine. (I think??)
Bipolar – This pregnancy has been really good for it much to my surprise, yet frustrating as all hell. It’s great to have periods of “Normal”, but I often find myself reflecting on the past. The times before my last major break. Everything was peachy keen, as much as one could hope for IMHO. That girl never thought about death, not in the sense she does now. That girl rearranged a room when it required, not on a whim. She could work full time hours. She could be herself on full time hours without repercussions, sort of. She spent 15 years kicking ass and taking names. Now she’s herself on part time hours. Seeking answers on full time hours with “We don’t know” replies. Bipolar is one of the oldest known mental illnesses, you’d figure they’d know a bit more of what is in store. Where are the facts and figures?! This illness is nothing but a wait and see game and I’m done playing. I’m putting my foot down and taking a page from the past. Enough! Enough with the documentary watching – honestly, I think I have a grip on what BP is. Enough with comparing – I’m not them and they’re not me. Enough with the questions – life is mysterious and the answers will show themselves soon enough. Enough with feeling sorry for myself – I HAVE BP, I am NOT BP. Keep perspective. To say I AM is to say I’m defined as. I’m not defined as BP, it’s a very small – VERY SMALL – part of my behavioral identity it doesn’t dictating who I am. I am funny, caring, kind, serious, inquisitive, black and white. BP has nothing to do with that and I’m tried of pretending it does. I’m tired of defining myself by it and seeing others fall into that trap as well without noticing it. I’m done focusing. Life is too short to focus on such a minute thing.
The other day when I was down, like real down, I was caught up in thinking traps.
What happens if I go overboard when the baby gets here? What kind of mother will I be when my child wants to play and I’m too sad to? What happens when the day arrives when the baby is old enough to recognize that little Timmy’s mom doesn’t behave the way his mom does?
What happens? Well – I’ve set up every single possible help I could without basically sealing myself in a rubber room for when the big day arrives. My psychiatrist is planning on coming to my room the day of my delivery to see me and make sure everything is ok and then a couple of days after I’ll be going to see him to make sure everything sniffs out and I haven’t gone overboard and if I have then measures will be taken. I’ve accepted all the outcomes (Minus the hospital…ew) and whichever order they appear in. I have my social worker on alert with my concerns so she will be there as well. My family doctor has been in my life since he pulled me out of my mother himself and knows the drill. My partner is aware of what could potentially occur and will take the first couple of weeks off with me to ensure I’m able to cope. My greatest fear is not being able to cope.
What happens? I call bullshit on not wanting to play. Depression is no excuse to lay around feeling sorry for yourself and neglect the being you chose to bring into this world. I have enough insight to know that for the first little bit it’d be like dragging your heels through the mud, but eventually it’ll go away and fun times will ensue. Life is choice. You chose to stay static or you choose to move. Either way – you choose.
What happens? The day they recognize or realize mom’s a tad different will be a day of talking heart to heart. Hopefully without having to be sooner because of passing on this silly disorder. The way we will raise this child I KNOW it won’t be a problem. We are a very open and honest couple and will raise our child in the same way. Communication is the ball buster when it comes to illness. There’s no chance in writhing in silence when you don’t have any other options than to talk. I know growing up with my dad who was clearly (looking back) mentally ill and in the closet I didn’t see anyone but the person he was. This is the way my child will see me. They will judge me based on my character and how I treat them, not based on a diagnosis.
How silly…The other diagnoses I have – anxiety, IBS, functional scoliosis, degenerative disc disorder have never had any claims on who I envisioned myself as being, they’ve been my sprinkles. It’s time to put BP in its rightful place, a sprinkle on the cupcake that is me. Enough defining has been done.
It’s hard. 😦
bipolarwitch 