Monday, September 28, 2009

All by Myself

Today is my first day all alone with Shelby. Ziggy returned to work. Luke went to school. Just me...and her.

I planned tons of chores and projects and all kinds of things to keep me busy so I wouldn't get too sad being alone and so far so good. I have only 2 hours left before it's time to go get Luke from school and I'm almost amazed at how fast the day flew by.

I'm 10 days post partum. My incision is looking good. I'm down to about 1 percocet a day and 1 600mg Motrin. Nnot too shabby. I even took my first stab at post partum exercise today with a light walk in the neighborhood. I was really crampy after the walk, and I had a lot more blood than I've had in the past couple days...so that worries me a smidge, but I'm just going to chill for the next 2 hours and rest up.

Let's talk about weight...to hold myself accountable, I will try to post my weight at least once a week. I was 145 when I got married. In the 18 months of trying to conceive, I gained 30 pounds (thank you for that, Clomid!). I was 175 when I got my BFP and I was 180 at my first pre natal appointment.

At my pre op appointment the day before delivery, I was 199. This morning, I am 174. So I'm guessing that since I'm almost 2 weeks post partum, 170ish will be where I'll be starting from. That's about 20 - 25 pounds away from "happy weight"....my sexy playah weight.

Let's go!

Thursday, September 24, 2009

Here she is!


Sunday, September 20, 2009

And Then She Was Here

Shelby Renee was born at 9:02am on 9/18/09 weighing in at 8lbs 3oz and 19 and 1/2 inches long.

She is gorgeous and wonderful and all things fabulous.

I always hated it when people post ridiculously long birth stories, because really, who cares? But now that I've experienced another "birth story", I DO plan to write it out and now I feel like a goober for thinking birth stories are dumb.

I just took 15mg of Percocet, so if I made errors, don't judge me.

I came in at 6:00am on 9/18/09 for my scheduled c-section. I got my IV, I got some anti nausea drugs and I was monitored with the belly heart/contraction monitors for a while.

At 8:00am, they wheeled me into the operating room. When you're having a scheduled c-sec, they do your anesthesia right there in the frickin operating room, so while you're waiting for your anesthesiologist, you get to sit there and read/stare at every sign/tool/machine and basically scare the shit out of yourself.

The anesthesiologist came in and game me my spinal. While I'd rather never have a spinal again for the rest of my life, it wasn't all that bad. It felt similar to the epidural I had for Luke 9 years ago and took a ridiculously long time (to me, anyway) to take affect.

They laid me down and started with all their "doctor speak". I asked for my husband 10 times and I started freaking out. They had made the first cut without my husband in the room!!! A nurse ran out to get him. Ziggy said that when he walked in, the doctors already had bloody gloves and there were blood drops on the floor.

I wasn't hurting, but I could literally FEEL everything they were doing. It felt like rubber bands snapping in me. Between that and finally having Ziggy sitting next to me with a terrified look in his eyes, I had a full blown panic attack. They strapped down my arms and immediately shot me up with a drug that I would later learn was Ketamine.

Now here is finally the benefit of having an ex-addict husband. He can explain drugs to me better than any pharmacist can. Ketamine's "street name" is Special K. When abused, it is used as a hallucinigenic and yes, my dear husband has experienced it many times.

Let's just say that the next five minutes were the strangest and best 5 minutes of my life. I was high as a kite and I could have cared less if they killed me or not. Fabulous shit, that Ketamine is, and if you ever have the chance to experience it, by all means, go for it!

I remember seeing Shelby naked and being carried through the room. I remember them calling Ziggy over to see her. He cut her cord, which he swore he wouldn't do, but he did it. I remember him looking at me like he knew what I was experiencing with the Ketamine and he was so sorry and so scared to leave me. He kissed me and whispered "don't worry, it's a short high, I promise" and he left with Shelby.

I was left alone then with 2 doctors who were sewing me up and having coffee talk with me...kind of strange to talk to your doctor about her weekend plans when you know that she's stitching up your innards while she speaks. I got more shots of god knows what and was wheeled to recovery.

Once in recovery, I was shot up with Dilaudin, another lovely drug that my husband later explained to me and called it "pretty good shit". Again, so great to have a husband who once abused almost everything I was being given.

Shelby was taken for hours. And hours. And hours. Erick was being given all of the info - no one was talking to me...I guess so that I would relax? Who knows, but it took 7 and 1/2 hours for me to actually get to hold my daughter. True to his word though, Ziggy made sure that I was the one who held her first.

She had swallowed amniotic fluid on her way out and had fluid in her lungs and she was breathing too fast so she had to be monitored in the nursery for a while. It was torture waiting for her, but once we finally got her...she was ours.

The best part of this whole experience? Watching Ziggy become a father. I've never been more impressed with a man in all my life. When I say that he stepped up, I truly mean that she is 2 days old and I already feel like I could go out of town for a week and Ziggy would be just fine alone with his daughter. He's jumped right in and it's a beautiful sight to see.

So that's my birth story. I'm in the hospital until tomorrow so I need to get my butt back in bed. I was diagnosed with bronchitis Friday night after my doctor realized that even with all the drugs, I was coughing through my whole surgery(fabulous, right?). So I'm on about 9 million extra drugs for that, plus I have to do breathing treatments all day long. This was actually the really shortened version of the birth story, but no need to bother you with pages of details that are probably only important to me.

Smooches and hugs. I promise to post a photo when we get home.

Wednesday, September 16, 2009

Saying goodbye to say hello

Today was my last official day at work until November 16th. It was a truly bittersweet goodbye. I bitch and gripe about the people at work...A LOT. But in all honesty, I absolutely LOVE my job and for the most part, I genuinely care for the company that I work for...it's just those idiot people that I can't stand.

The older folk call me an old soul at work, because I'm one of the few in the younger generation who is a company person...I work for the company, take pride in the company and my job for the company really matters to me. The majority of Generation X'ers are only there for the paycheck and absolutely NOTHING more. They are there for their 40 hours and the second you need them to stay one minute late they are screaming, "PAY ME!" They're never happy - ever. Nothing is good enough, and no amount of pay or benefits ever makes them happy. The only thing that makes them happy is 5:00pm.

I'm the type who thinks of work and brainstorms ideas on weekends, checks my emails when I'm out sick even though I'm not paid to and feels real guilt when I've missed tons of work for personal reasons. I feel a personal need to find the money when the company is struggling despite the knowledge that our President drives a Porche AND a Mercedes and probably just got a $100,000 bonus. Many call that stupid, but just a generation ago that's how most people were. Most people worked in the same place for 30+ years and felt a part of their company. Not so much anymore.

So why do I feel this way about a company that when most people leave it, they absolutely hate it and bad talk it for life? Well, it's complicated. While I see, and for the most part agree with most of their grievances, I'm also of the sort of people who thinks - It's WORK people, shut the fuck up, quit your whining and work. Work is not there for your entertainment or to please you. We've become a country of pansy sissies who do nothing but whine and think that we deserve handsome compensations just for showing up.

Yes, my company is still a "good ole boy" company and that royally pisses me off. Sure they make me fib on tax returns, don't give me reviews when they should and they take me for granted. I watch every day as 10 men pile into giant SUV's for company paid 2 hour lunches while the women take less than an hour so that the company will keep running.

But and here's the big but - they also put food on my table, put my kid through private school, pay for the clothes on my back and afford me every luxury that I look around myself and see.

Not only that, but for the past 10 years, through marriages and a divorce, through hurricanes and disasters and personal tragedies and traumas, the one, the absolute one and only constant that I've had in my life is this very company. They've taken a college dropout and put her in charge of a $18 million dollar Accounts Receivable department. In return, I give them the best that I have to give them and I believe that for being a woman, under 35 without my official "degree", that I am paid pretty fairly although I sure would like about $10k more!

They sent me salesmen to demo my flooded house after Katrina before the mold had a chance to grow and the owner handed me a $5000 personal check under the table just to convince me to keep working when I could have just relied on FEMA and the government to take care of me while I sat in my house watching TV. They put my family in a gorgeous hotel for Hurricane Gustav and it's things like this that remind me that the grass is not always greener on the other side and that occasionally loyalty pays off.

So that's my soap box for today. Yes there are better companies out there. Shoot - there are better men out there, but I chose my husband, right? I choose this company and I'm faithful to it and honestly, it's hard for me to walk away for 8 - 10 weeks without a tear in my eye and a feeling of...so what do I do now?

Also - you may never ever hear me talk so kindly about my job ever again...it's half hormones here probably! But for the most part, it holds true - most of the people can take a flying leap off a bridge, but I would still be loyal to the company.

Thursday, September 3, 2009

Crazy Bitch

I don't even remember when this all began. All I remember is that it was well over a year and a half ago...probably even longer since she was pregnant at the time and her daughter is 17 months old - probably around my first few months of Clomid.

In a two part blurry haze, my whole work world was turned inside out. Incident # 1 occurred on the day that Harry Lee's death was announced. Harry Lee was the long running Sheriff of the town I live in. He was loved or hated by many. As for me, I neither loved or hated him...I honestly gave 2 shits about him, but many people were passionate in their love/hate.

It was a WELL known fact that our Security Director HATED him. As a former police officer who worked under this Sheriff, he said on many occasions that he would piss on his grave and dance around it after he died. He had a photo of him upside down in his office. It was a deep down kind of hatred. When I heard the death notice on the radio, said Security Director was at the copy machine outside my office. I hollered out, "Hey Henry, did you hear about Harry Lee?" And Henry replied something that went along the lines of that it was a very happy day for him. We both laughed and went our separate ways. That is incident #1.

Incident # 2 occurred shortly then after. I had an employee with A LOT of drama going on in her life. In a matter of weeks, she miscarried, got pregnant again, had a mother in a coma and a grandmother dying. She would come and talk to me often about the suffering that her grandmother was enduring and how she wished that they would just pull the plug and allow her grandmother to rest. She spoke about her desire to see her grandmother at peace to me at least 5 times.

Her grandmother died and she left a voicemail on my cell phone. Thinking that I was being a good "boss", I called her back to offer my condolences. I got her voicemail. I left a message to the effect of, "I'm so sorry to hear about your grandmother and I'm happy to know that she's finally at peace and no longer in pain." That ends incident # 2.

I'm not sure of the timeline here, but shortly thenafter, perhaps even in the same week, I am informed by Human Resources that my employee has filed a formal complaint against me. The basis of her complaint? Oh it was as vast and as broad and the Mississippi River. I was mean/rude/insensitive/unprofessional blah blah blah.

Two things specifically mentioned in her complaint were that I had "celebrated the death" of a political figure...I think she even complained about me expressing my political views at work because of my celebration of the death of the Sheriff. The other specific complaint that I remember is that in my voicemail to her after her grandmother's death, she twisted my words and claims that I had said that I was happy that her grandmother had died. She even played the voicemail so that it is now recorded and probably sitting in my file for life.

Weeks of hell followed. Though my boss supported me to my face, he sat next to me in total silence while I was YELLED at by our President for not handling this employee better. She spread her sob story across the building and I could feel the glare of 50 people every day wishing for my demise. In the end, neither of us was punished per say, but I was forced to be kind to her and manage her and be her BFF to make her feel all warm and cozy inside. Gag. But...I did it. And since then, we have had not a single problem. We don't like each other, but we work well together and can even chat together without issue.

Fast forward. Things have been quiet. It's been about 6 months since she had a family tragedy...which is a really long time for her since EVERYTHING is always a tragedy and tragedy seems to seek her. Her work product began failing and we all started noticing her on the phone with personal calls all the time. She came to me to let me know...her father was dying.

FUCK!

In the past 6 months her father has been on the brink of death every second. Also for 6 months, the WHOLE building has heard of her hatred for him. A hatred so deep that her plans for his memory was that she was shipping his body off to a University for medical research against his will after he died so that she wouldn't have to pay for a burial. There was no obit in the paper when he finally died either. She would laugh and talk about shipping his ashes via UPS to some brother that he had and "letting him deal with the asshole".

She needed to leave work for half days CONSTANTLY to rush to her dying father's side and handle his affairs and then about 80% of her work time was spent gaining sympathy from everyone she came in contact with - customers, salesmen, janitors - everyone over her poor dying father.

Last Saturday morning, my phone began ringing at 6:00am. My phone rang or tweeted for text messages 10 times in 3 hours from 6:00am - 9:00am. It was her. Her father died and of course the ENTIRE world just HAS to know about it regardless of the time. My husband, who throws newspapers as a second job on Friday nights and had just gotten in bed for the night was so livid with the calls that I had to talk him out of answering and cursing her out.

I chose not to answer. I chose not to return her calls. First, I was exhausted and trying to get some sleep seeing that I am 9 months pregnant here. Second, once I did wake up, I didn't stop until that night since SIL's shower was at my house that day. Third, I was afraid to call her because I KNEW she would let it go to voicemail and then use whatever I said against me later. Fourth, I was fucking pissed off at her rudeness and disrespect of my personal time.

I called her on Monday when I got to work to verify that there were no funeral arrangements (because we send flowers if there are) and she sounded fine and everything was well.

She returned to work Wednesday and has now spend the past 2 days drumming up support for her next formal complaint. According to her, I am insensitive and evil and a horrible human for not calling her to console her this weekend over the death of her father. I've already been told by two Human Resources employees and the head Security whateverthefuckheis guy that not calling her was indeed insensitive of me.

And I know that you may be saying "who gives a fuck"...but well...I have a lot on my mind. First, I will only be at work for 7 more business days and I have shit tons of work to complete and I don't have time for hours of investigations and interrogating and being yelled at. Second, I will be out for 8 weeks, which gives her 2 months to build up her support and convince the world of how victimized she's been by me. Third, annual increases just so happen to be decided AND implemented while I'll be on maternity leave and I'm scared of this issue being first and foremost on my bosses minds and not how I've worked like their bitch for the past nine months to prepare for me being out. Fourth, I'm fucking 9 months pregnant and I'm in so much physical pain that I'm liable to throw a phone at her head. And finally, fifth, I'm already worried about my job and finances and money - I don't think that any woman goes on maternity leave feeling 100% secure with her job and money and all that.

So this is what is consuming my mind. I can't get past it, even though I know I should. Her and I are both off of work until Tuesday, so I know I should at least just let it go until then...but I just can't. I'm freaking worried out of my mind.

No formal complaint has occurred yet, but I just know...I really just know that this isn't over yet and that she will take it as far as she can take it.