Welcome back sanity. I missed you. Promise you'll never leave me again?

So, this is awkward. I apologise for my rage, hormone, sleep deprived, possibly rum fuelled temporary loss of sanity in my previous post. I hope it made you feel better about your own sanity. If you were nodding along & getting ready to jump with me, then it's probably time to see a professional.

As per the previous statement, I actually did see a professional about my mental state. Reluctantly, but I did it.  It turns out, my reactions are mostly normal, human reactions to a pretty shitty situation. Do I have postnatal depression? Possibly. Is it bad enough for a phone call to the little men in white coats? Not yet. Hash tag winning.

For those worried about me, I'm fine. For those worried about my baby, he's also fine. See here's the thing. I actually have a very supportive network around me. My husband is amazing. My mother lives with us and helps out more than she probably should. My good friends are my good friends for a reason - they're good. No they're great.

Turns out there's actually a lot of support out there for those who are able to get it. Some people, aren't lucky enough to get it. Through lack of knowledge, lack of knowledge on where to get the knowledge, or simply because they slip through the cracks & help is too late.

Being a parent is hard. Like super, mega, how have we survived as a species hard. When I said 'how hard can it be?' apparently the universe accepted it as a challenge and complied.

That's cool though. I'll get there. I feel like sometimes our society has turned into something where being sad isn't allowed. When shit stuff happens you're expected to pull yourself up the bootstraps and continue on. It's OK to be sad sometimes, especially if sad stuff is happening.

This whole experience to date has really highlighted a few things for me.

Single parents - you're fucking legends.

You should be awarded as Australians of the Year every year. I don't know how you do it. My husband and I are finding it unbelievably difficult, and we have the ability to give bub to each other so the other can go and take a break. Same goes for people who have partners that work away. Hats off to you.

Mother guilt is real and it can & will kill your soul.

I thought the guilt I felt when I drank some coke whilst pregnant was bad. There are no words to describe the constant fear that I am failing my child. Is he well enough? Should I be teaching him words yet? Is he too hot/cold/insert anything here? Did I wait too long to change that nappy? Should I be taking his temperature more regularly? Did I pass on my crazy genes to him? The list goes on and on. It's ridiculous.

Mother shaming is also real and can & will kill your soul.

Unless you have an over inflated, untouchable sense of self that would rival Anthony Mundine, do not join any 'Mummy' pages/help groups unless they are run by an actual paid professional. If you didn't have mummy guilt before, you sure will after. If you must join, do not, I repeat DO NOT ask a question about how you should/have parent/ed your child. Not only will a war of words erupt, causing Facebook to implode and baby Jesus to cry, but you will end up feeling more shit than you already do due to the amount of Mummy shaming that goes on. There are 3 things you can be certain of in this world - Death, Taxes & the Self-righteous-I'm-a-better-parent-than-you-because-I-feel-passionately-about-x/y/z Mum. I just wish sometimes women weren't such bitches & could help a sister out instead of making them feel worse in order to make themselves feel better. Opinions are like arseholes - everyone has one but sometimes you shouldn't bring them out in polite company.

Sometimes, a flippant comment, or a miscommunication between a health professional & a parent can make the difference between a bad time & a disastrous time.

Today, I had an excellent specialist appointment. He appreciated the fact, that I'm a first time mum, I've had a rough time so far, and I'm fragile. He explained the not so good news in an understanding, calm manner. He made me feel like he had all the time in the world for my stupid questions. We left the office, disappointed but not feeling like it was the end of the world. He gave us his medical opinion and I respected it because of his manner. Before my last blog, I had a specialist appointment with a Dr who made me feel like I was a number, that my questions were irritating, that his time was more precious than mine, and who delivered bad news like it was no big deal that my world had come crashing down around me and 'next please!'. I left the appointment feeling like he should circumcise the dick on his head & I hoped he got genital warts. I also spent the next week in absolute turmoil, trying to find evidence that his opinion was wrong because he is obviously a peckerhead. Note to Dr's everywhere.....

It's ok to ask for help and admit that parenting isn't what you expected.

Remember that part about parenting being hard? Well when I spoke to a couple of my fellow parent friends, they let me in a little secret - it IS hard. Those new parents that look like they have it all together and that it's the most magical time of their lives? They're full of shit. They're struggling too they're just to proud to let you know (see Mummy shaming above). I've had it stuck in my head that I 'should' be doing everything myself & I 'should' be coping much better than I have been because that person on Facebook posted that wonderful status & picture. Well my words of wisdom are this....

Anyway, that's my diary entry for another day. I apologise for my flippancy about PND & mental illness in my last blog. It should be taken seriously & if you're struggling then please get help. Call lifeline, the hospital, a friend whoever. It's surprsing how a fresh set of eyes can change the way you see a situation.

Cheers,

Qld Nurse.

PND - Come at me!

See what I did there? I made light of my mental illness by rhyming it.... coz it's funny.

Not really.

Sometimes I want to leave my baby on someone's doorstep & hope they give him a better life than I believe I can give him. For realsie.

See here's what's happened. Bear in mind, events are shaded with a tinge of apparently post-natal depression (what PND stands for in case you hadn't figured it out already you stupid non-mental health professional stupid stupidity).

I've had a baby born 11 weeks premature, after almost 1.5 years of 'trying' and one round of fertility treatment. My pregnancy was awful, with me throwing up everyday until 2 days before said baby was born via emergency c-section due to pre-eclampsia and HELLPs. He spent 3 weeks in NICU, 1 day short of 6 weeks in SCN, a total of 1 day short 9 weeks before we could bring him home. I made the best that I could of the situation. I created charts that showed his progress. I decorated his room with photos. I made good of getting out of the room at least once a day like everyone told me I should. I expressed milk religiously, took medications & changed my diet to build up my milk supply to a) give him down his tube to prevent the millions of illnesses that were thrust upon him if breast was in fact not best, and b) be able to breastfeed once he was old enough & able. I kangaroo cuddled the shit out of this kid. If I was in the room, he was down my shirt asleep on me. I harassed staff daily, until the day that they finally said we could bring him home. I thought they were messing with me, but no, they were seriously giving a baby to me to look after.  I got him home. And....

He cries. ALL the time. If he's awake - chances are he's crying. Sometimes screaming. He has a whole range of health problems from being born prematurely - none of which is any of his fault. Hypothyroidism, phosphate deficiency, Hb deficiency..... a number of surgical issues that need to be followed up. The latest of which, is a tongue tie that is so severe it needs to be done under general anesthetic because it will no doubt need a stitch. The surgeon, tells me he won't do it until 12 months old, due to the prematurity and size of my bouncing baby boy. Sound medical judgement.  This however, means the weeks that I've been struggling to breastfeed are useless, because he will not be able to do it efficiently. Deep down I've know this. We've struggled. To the point I have yelled at him "this is instinctual!! All animals know how to do this! Why don't you?!?" We bottle feed him the milk I express all thinking "on Tuesday they'll snip the tongue tie and all will be well."

Here's the thing. I feel like the mother-fucking-epic-bob's-your-uncle-epic-fail of mothers that ever failed the fail. I feel like I should have listened to all the signs of the universe telling me I should not have a child, and just got another puppy instead. You know why? Because this is my puppy. Well my year and 2 months old puppy. This photo is not even posed. He just grabbed it, and wandered round like a "baws y'all". For real. Because he's amazing.

Here is my child. My 'survived me trying to kill him for 7 months, I'm a little human child'.

Cute, yes. Allowed me to make a beard out of bubbles in his bath, yes. Screams non-stop throughout the day, yes....

The one thing I was clinging to, was breastfeeding. The one normalcy of this whole situation, was being able to breastfeed my child. And that has been taken away from me. And you know what? I feel fucking cheated. If anything should be ok, it should be this. It could be the ceasear, where I couldn't hold my child, I didn't feel him 'coming out' of me. It could be the fact that I couldn't hold my baby for 8 days until he was over 1kg.  It could be a number of things, but I've always felt that I'm playing house. That this kid is someone else's and I'm just playing until someone real comes along and claims actual parentage. This confirms it. This should have been the thing that 'cinched' our relationship.

But it hasn't.

So welcome to the "Qld Nurses, wanted to be, but should have listened to the signs and now has PND and doesn't want to have a baby" blog.

Enjoy the ride. Someone should.

Cheers,

Qld Nurse.

I'm a MUM

So here's a funny story. About a week after I wrote my last blog I gave birth to a tiny little boy 11 weeks early via emergency classical C-section. Ok, so not really that funny a story.

I was writing about how I hated being pregnant and it turns out, that my experience may have been skewed a little. I developed severe, early onset pre-eclampsia and then HELLPs where basically my liver almost carked it (for once, not because of too many Bundy Rums!) and my platelets dropped a bit. Was good fun, you should try it sometime. *searches for sarcasm font*

Here's how it came about. I had upper abdominal pain for about a week that gradually got worse. Being a nurse, I don't go to the hospital unless I'm dying - in this case I was, as was my baby but because I took Panadol & the pain went away I figured it couldn't have been that bad. After all, Panadol cures nothing right?  Anyway, the first time I went to the hospital everything was relatively ok with my bloods so I went home & was told to come back a week later for more bloods. 2 days later I was back at the birth suite & my blood pressure had skyrocketed. A scan of the baby showed he was growth restricted, and although I was 29 weeks pregnant, he was only measuring around 26 weeks. The blood flow was impeded but he was compensating, just. I had to be monitored extremely closely, was given a couple of steroid injections in case of early birth and told I wasn't leaving the hospital without having had a baby. Yes I did ask the Dr if I could go back to work, as it was only a level up & I was on light duties anyway. No she didn't smack me in the head but I'm sure she was face palming inside.

Long story (somewhat) short, 2 days later he wasn't compensating as well as they'd hoped, my blood tests were getting worse as was my blood pressure, so the amazing team decided it was better he come out then instead of waiting until full blown emergency holy shit he's dead time. We had 2 days to prepare for being parents as opposed to the 3 months we thought we had.

Born at 900 grams, he wasn't breathing & scored himself a trip to the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit then to the Special Care Nursery.  Today is our first full day at home after a very long 62 days in the hospital. So for those of my lovely Twitter pals who were wondering where I've been, I've been in room 42 of the Special Care Unit waiting (sometimes not so patiently) for my little boy to be strong enough to come home.

This little guy is pretty much the strongest dude I know. The will to live is incredible. Not only were nurses amazed that he was never intubated despite his young age & tiny weight, not only did he have no real complications that made his stay any longer than it had to be, but this little dude is showing no signs of developmental delay and has come home with only really relatively small health issues, considering his cooking time was cut short by 11 weeks. Most importantly, he also farts & burps at the same time, which I didn't manage until I was about 5 years old. He is the most incredible, tiny, scariest, cutest thing in my world and if anyone hurts him I will pull their fingernails out.

I went through a massive period of feeling immensely guilty that I didn't know something was wrong with my baby. Truth be told I'm still not over it. My little dude was making me sick because I was killing him and all I could complain about was throwing up and carpal tunnel. Having said that, I have been reassured by many, that the symptoms I was experiencing also happen to be symptoms of pregnancy. Carpal tunnel can affect up to 50% of pregnant woman, it also happens to be due to swelling which a sign of pre-eclampsia. I was sick well past the first trimester which some women are just unlucky enough to have to deal with, but it's also a sign of pre-eclampsia.

Hindsight is 20/20 and I did think that something might not be right quite early on. But, being a first time Mum, I put that down to being worried due to previous miscarriage and, well, being a first time Mum. My only advice to other future Mums, is to not feel stupid questioning your health care practitioner when you think something isn't right. I wouldn't have even gone to the hospital if it weren't for my husband strongly suggesting (with definitely no swear words) that I go right away. I didn't want to look like the over cautious, stupid, annoying first time Mum that got a check up for every niggle & pain. I should have.

Anyway, that's my story for the last 9 weeks. I hope you've all been well! I will spare you the million and one photo spamming of my gorgeous son because I'm sure you'll all see him when he rules the world in a couple of years. Ok, you twisted my arm, here you go. 

Cheers,

Qld Nurse (on maternity leave).

TMI about Week 28 of my 40 week sentence...

When I was barely 3 months pregnant, I wrote about what I'd learned so far about being pregnant. It's now 7 months & my baby will most likely survive with NICU support if born now (touch so much fucking wood). I have still have 3 months to go (yes that's right kids, women are actually pregnant for 10 months!) but have learned so much more in the 4 months that have passed. Here's some little gems that I hope you will find funny at my expense. I'm sure one day I will too.

1. Just accept you will lose all dignity from the start. It's easier that way.

This little gem came rather sharp and fast when my husband walked in on me naked and crying on the toilet, straining so hard from constipation that I thought I would give myself an aneurysm or rip myself in half. Through sobs I asked him to get me a glove so I could give myself a suppository. Sexy. That my friends is unconditional love right there. When someone sees you in that fine form, and still wants to actually have sex with you, hold onto them for dear life. They're a solid gold fucking keeper. I thought about it later, and realised this was probably excellent preparation for labour and we can laugh about it now. Well he can anyway.

2. Kegal schmegal. At some stage you will still piss your pants.

This one goes hand in hand with number 1. I've been doing my kegals like no-one's business. I've checked those little suckers out and can stop mid stream like a champion. Nurse bladder and all. I can tell you now, when you have such a violent spew that your nose bleeds and it comes out your eyeballs, with that added pressure of the baby on your bladder, you will piss your pants. My tip is to have a handy spew bag next to the toilet, so when it happens you can at least spew into that while you awkwardly try & get your pants off fast enough to maintain some sort of undie integrity. Worst case scenario, start stocking up on Tena when you find them on special. Do it now. You'll thank me later.

3. Don't ask a question unless you really, REALLY want to know the answer.

This one is especially true if you work with nurses. Specifically midwives who also dabble in special care nursery or the like. People think because you're a nurse you know everything about every medical condition in existence. This is so far from the truth. I worked with head injuries for a long time. Baby incubation and such are the completely other end to what I worked with and are just as much of a mystery to me as the next first time mother. So unless you really want to know what the actually likelihood of your baby surviving were it born at this particular instance, do not ask. You know the answer to whether you will shit yourself or not, don't be stupid. Do you really want to know what sort of damage will be done to your hoohaa and if it will heal like everyone says? Want to hear about all the ways you or your child could die during labour? You want an in depth description of how a full length mirror can be bought in during labour so you can watch what your hoohaa is physically capable of? No. No you don't. Trust me you don't. Unless it's imperative to your medical care, just ostrich that shit - keep your head firmly in the sand and pretend there will be butterflies shooting out of your lady garden as a harp plays, and the magic of the moment will sweep you up and make everything okay. That's what I'm doing from now on.

4. Just like the first signs of morning sickness, the novelty of the first kicks will wear off.

Especially when baby wakes you up sitting on your pubic bone kicking you in your special place at 2am. Don't get me wrong, it's a lovely reminder that baby is alive and I'd rather it kick than not. But when people think you have developed Tourette Syndrome because mid conversation you suddenly grab your guts & scream 'Oh Jesus Christ you little fucker get OFF there!', you realise the wonderment of the first 'oh my god I just felt the baby kick!' is long gone. Seriously, sometimes it's like a little kick boxer seriously testing the limits of skin elasticity and organ resilience to baby feet. It's lovely but it's fucking painful, and anyone that tells you it isn't, well they're lying to you fool. Which brings me to my next point.

5. Women lie about the 'joy of pregnancy'.

Why? I don't know. Maybe it's because they're evil bitches who lure the unsuspecting in to pregnancy just to smugly laugh at how someone else had to suffer like they did. I honestly don't know. Let me tell you this. I'm not enjoying being pregnant, and I'm telling every person who is wanting to have a baby this. The glow? That's sweat. The calm? That's deep breathing trying to keep the vomit down. Everything hurts and sometimes if you're really lucky (like me) you get complications such as carpal tunnel, bleeding, incompetent cervix, eclampsia or a list of other shit & painful things that by now you'd think evolution would have sorted out. Apparently it's all worth it in the end, and hey some dumbasses go back for it more than once so it's got to have some perks. I'm telling you now to think seriously about whether you are really prepared for a booger eating shit machine to stake down territory in your uterus for almost a year. I didn't. I was so focused on the 'getting pregnant' problem that I didn't focus on the 'once you're pregnant' stage. Be the healthiest you've ever been in your life, no joke. They don't tell you this just to make you feel bad for eating that cake. Make sure you've got a really supportive partner, friends, workplace, Doctor, community phone counsellor etc. Don't be like me and think 'how hard can it be? You get fat and your back hurts a little. So many people do it. She'll be apples.' Dumbass. This girl right here. I've learned my lesson so you don't have to. The cliches are true. You're welcome.

So that's me done for another hormone induced rant. I'm just going to get up and dislodge this kid from my left hip bone before it then kicks me in the stomach & I projectile vomit. I'll probably have to wash my compression gloves & splints that I use for the carpal tunnel again. Then I will get some broken sleep where I will wake up crying after having dreamed that something has happened and this kid didn't get to know how much I love it. Then I will think about how overjoyed I am that this kid has made milestones and is healthy and I can't wait to meet him or her and realise that I would die before I let someone hurt it. Then rock the little bugger to sleep whilst feeling awful for all the other wannabe mummies out there who won't get to experience a baby lodging itself under their hip. Then I'll cry again. *sigh*.

Little shits really weasel their way into your hearts don't they?

Cheers,
Qld Nurse

This is not going to be a popular post.

So I'm going to dip my toe in a political post again. *Deep breath*

DISCLAIMER

I don't claim to be an expert on political affairs, most of the time I struggle to care because it's all such bullshit. I also in no way support Tony A-butt as I'm sure you know from me calling him a few choice words in a heated post a while back. I'm not a LNP fan, having said that I am also not a ALP fan, or a Clive Palmer fan or pretty much any of the politician's fans because the majority are overpaid megalomaniacs in politics for selfish reasons who really don't give two shits about the people they're representing.

Here we go.

There are proposed changes to the dole which mean that job seekers under the age of 30 will have to spend 25 hrs a week 'working for their dole' and apply for 40 jobs a month. Which works out to be 2 job applications & 5 working hours per working day, say Monday - Friday. Or Tuesday to Saturday, because we all know the Saturday paper has the biggest amounts of jobs.  My question is......and?

There are people losing their collective shit all over Australia stating how unfair this is and how you will have so many people applying for so few jobs and how are you supposed to fit in the job finding with the having to work? Seriously? You are unemployed and young. What else do you have to do with your 24 hours free a day?

In the short periods of time where I have been unemployed, I used to apply for up to 10 jobs A DAY. I had rejection letters coming out the wazoo. My job was finding a job. But I wanted a job. No, scrap that - I NEEDED a job. I applied for jobs that were beneath me, above me, jobs I wanted, jobs I wasn't so keen on, jobs I thought I'd have no chance of getting but would apply anyway. Because that's what you do. You don't 'wait' for the perfect job to appear because guess what kids? Sometimes that 'perfect job' doesn't exist or won't exist for months, and your landlord doesn't give a fat rat's ass that you've got a degree in interpretative dance and there are currently no jobs in your area. I've been a checkout chick, worked at Maccas, waited tables, I worked at a servo filling up gas bottles back in the day. Did I want to be any of those things? Nup! But apparently Ergon Energy aren't that interested in my dreams and aspirations. They're more interested in not letting me have free electricity. Because nothing in this world comes for free kids. So how 'bout we put our big girl panties on and deal with that ok?

The more time you are unemployed, the more undesirable you will be to a future employer. The more time off you have had, the less likely you will be to even get to interview stage. So if people are REALLY wanting to work, why is working for the dole such a big deal? It's experience. Even if you are working at a job you hate, you are getting experience in time management, in team work, in arriving on time, in organisation. The work for the dole may not be experience you would normally get, but it's experience. It will look good on your resume, it will show future employers that you have initiative. No, everyone is not suited to going out and digging holes but you will be a productive member of society and getting skills that can be transferred into your dream job when it is advertised one day. I was working 2 jobs while I was studying at uni AND still found time to volunteer at 2 places that I thought would get me valuable experience when I finally could apply for my 'dream job'. So don't tell me that it can't be done.

I don't know anyone that jumps out of bed in the morning, raring to go to work. Would I rather sit at home all day? Well yeah for a while I guess that would be great. I get pretty bored when I have more than 4 days off in a row and I remember going insane having no job and no money though, but hey! Maybe that's just me?

My point is, there are people out there, myself included who pay shitloads of tax to support people who need it. Who flog themselves into the ground daily but never see a third of that money because it goes to improvements in society like free healthcare, education and helping those less fortunate. I have absolutely no problem in that.....when it's actually going to people who need it. Disabled. Mentally ill. Pensioners. Yep, I got your back. Not single mums, who's youngest kid is 10 and going to school but she doesn't want to be a cleaner. Not a 20 something year old who wants to pick and choose when they want to go to work because some days they just don't have the energy. Not someone who has figured out that they get less money if they work over a certain amount of hours so they choose not to work instead because 'what's the point when I get less money?' No. No and no. Get a job. Get a shit job like everyone has had to do at some stage in their life. Figure out the child care and after school care. Work something out like other people have to. Can you imagine if everyone had that attitude? There would be NO payments because there would be no one paying tax. 

Not everyone on Newstart is one of these people, I get it. But you know what public outcry? There are fuckloads of them that are. I SEE it everyday in the hospital. People who can afford to drink grog everyday and buy illicit drugs but are on a welfare payment. People who are more than able to work but 'don't see the point' when they can get free money from the government. People who are earning almost as much as I am when I am, when I am shaving years off my life working night shift to look after those 'less fortunate'.  Being on the dole never used to be a lifestyle choice. It was something that you hated to do and were embarrassed by, but did until you got another job. It was a back up plan, not a first option.

Yes, there will be people that fall through the cracks. That's democracy unfortunately. Not everything will work for every member of society. And that's unfortunate. Will the amount of able bodied people being forced to actually get of the butts and get a job outweigh those who fall through the cracks? You bet. And if we had a government that actually had half a brain between them, the money saved would be filtered back into employment programs, mental health programs and homeless programs to help those falling through the cracks. If we had a government that actually listened to people and cared, they wouldn't have an ulterior motive to use work for the dole as a cheap labour source for their big business friends. But that will have to wait until next election.

Anyway, rage away kids. I honestly welcome your opinions as long as they are logical debate. I REALLY want to see why there is such outrage at this proposition.

Cheers,

Qld Nurse

I hit the dreaded number today....

The big 3-oh. Dirty thirty.

You know, when I was 15 and thought about who I'd be when I turned 30, this was not what I thought life would be like. I don't feel 30. Well, today in particular I feel 50, because this spawn of the debil (aka the future ruler of the world as we know it) growing inside of me is still giving my guts a hard time; but in general I don't feel thirty.

Like for example, I was a little bit disappointed that I was having a 'zero' birthday and couldn't get write-myself-off schnockered. I was a little disappointed that I didn't have a million and one Facebook messages from people I barely knew saying the obligatory "Happy birthday!" I felt a little inadequate, that I organised a dinner in a nice quiet restaurant, for 10 people.

I look back at photos of me in my early 20's and wish to Bacon that I'd seen how gorgeous I appear to my now 30 year old self. I think about the masses of friends I had back then and compare them to the few good friends I have now and wonder where they went. I look back to the times that I used to be able to hit the clubs until 4am but still wake up at 8am feeling like I could take on the world and wonder what the hell happened to that chick.

Then it hits me. I really AM 30.  Because none of those things really matter to me anymore. Suddenly having 'drinking buddies' became less important than having friends you could cry with over a loss of a child.  Having a quiet night in instead of a massive party where I have to clean up vomit & dread the photos being uploaded to the internet is kind of, well, a relief.

It's just funny how priorities change & you don't even see it happening really. How life goes on and it's not until you stop and go 'holy snapping duck shit, where the HELL did the last 10 years go and who am I?'

I loved that today, I got to wake up to the love of my life, who made me a quiet breakfast then we played with our dog. I loved that I didn't have to worry about being a host to a 100 people who were probably just going to get drunk and trash my house anyway. I loved that I am starting a family and my thoughts have been on buying baby things rather than alcohol.

I think the main thing I've learnt today though, is that growing older isn't a bad thing. There was a lot of bad shit that happened to me in my 20's. I wouldn't be the person I am today without it happening, but it wasn't fun to experience and you couldn't pay me enough to go back to those years & do it again. Why do we as a society (in general) fear getting older? Why was I clinging on to the fact that I'm not the person I was 10 years ago? I like who I am now. I feel like I'm a completely different person to the woman I was only a year ago.

And that's ok.

Don't get me wrong, I still wish I could have a night of party & not pay for it for 3 days afterwards, but the other stuff that comes with getting older is so much more worthwhile.

So happy 30th birthday to me. This year I genuinely feel like I am actually another year older & another year wiser.

Cheers,
Qld Nurse

So this pregnancy gig is hard....

I read a blog the other day about the lies we tell each other as women. How we say we love being pregnant, that you forget how much labour hurts, that your body will snap back etc....

.......and what a crock of horseshit it is.

I almost high-five'd the screen. Then I cried. I do that now.

I'm almost 20 weeks pregnant. Almost half way. And I can tell you right now, it's been the longest 5 months of my life. I feel shit. I'm still spewing at least once a day. When I'm not spewing, I feel like I'm going to spew at any second. I'm exhausted ALL the time. Everything hurts. EVERYTHING. Including my teeth & gums because I'm pretty sure the stomach acid is eating them both away. My boobs have a mind of their own as do my tear ducts. Any form of exercise makes my stomach turn, and yes, for those thinking it, that does include sex. Just to give you an idea, I've spent today in my pyjamas alternating from the couch to the bed, all with a vomit bag in handy reach and a box of tissues to wipe the snot streaming out my nose because I'm crying so hard. That's been my day off, and I promise you that it's not a one-off.

I don't feel radiant. I feel sweaty, fat, sick and a little bit over this whole pregnancy thing. You know the 'pregnancy glow' people talk about? Yeah, well mine is either a layer of sweat from heaving, or if you're lucky it could be a little leftover throw up. THAT'S my pregnancy glow fucker. And to add insult to injury people keep saying to me 'wow! you're not even showing yet!' which I take to mean 'gosh you were so fat before that even with the weight you've lost you just look the same now.' Cue tears. So now I'm crying as well as sweaty, fat & sick with possible vomit in my hair or forehead. Sexy right? I have no idea how my husband controls himself, I really don't. A weaker man for sure, would crumble.

It started with fertility treatment - that made me vomit, cry every day for 3 weeks, gave me abdominal cramps like period pain having period pain & all round made me feel like shit. But it worked! I got pregnant! There was a whole 3 or 4 days where I was feeling amazing. Like my husband and I were the smartest people alive & there was absolutely no one in the world who ever got pregnant before us. That the pain had been worth it, because we were now growing a human.

Then the spewing started. And get this - I was happy. HAPPY. Because it meant the baby was alive. Having suffered a miscarriage, I was pretty keen to have any notice from the parasite living within me, that it was in fact, still sucking the nutrients from my body.

That happiness lasted about a month. Hell, it was even a running joke that my feet would hit the floor in the morning & the gagging would start. We laughed, and laughed & I would throw up from laughing too hard. The cleaner at work busted me singing the song of my people one morning & it became a new way for us to bond. It was funny.

Then it stopped being so funny. "It will get better after the first trimester" they told me. "It eases, it really does" they said. Then the 1st trimester came & went. 8 FUCKING WEEKS AGO ARE YOU LISTENING BABY?!?

Then "well mine ended around the 15-16 week mark". Well see ya 16 weeks. It's now almost 20 fucking weeks. 5 months of never knowing when I may just perform a multi-colour yawn wherever I happen to be at that particular time. 5 months of not going out to dinner because I may as well just straight up flush $50 down the toilet. 5 months of getting excited when I don't spew one day only to make up for it and spew ALL day the next day.

You add into that, the fact I do 12 hour shifts & I'm a mess. I'm not gonna lie to you. I'm a god damn mess. Call it hormones, call it exhaustion, call it me being a first class whinger whatever. I'm over it.

And I feel so guilty about feeling over it. SO guilty and ungrateful. If I lost this baby I would be inconsolable for sure. I wanted to raise a kid so badly & when I thought I couldn't have kids it devastated me. That's the key though isn't it? I didn't want to be pregnant, I wanted a child. I wanted to raise a family. Pregnancy is just  (one of) the ways to do that.

So I've decided today that I'm just going to wallow for a little while & stop feeling guilty about it. Because I don't want to be pregnant, I want to have a child. I want other women who feel like shit, to be able to come right out and say "you know what, I hated being pregnant too!" I'm not going to lie to people and say that I love this. I don't. I fucking hate it. I hate being pregnant. There. It's said.

When my midwife puts this baby on my chest for the first time, I'm sure it will all be worth it. Right now though, right now I'm going to sit here, bitch & moan, and not feel guilty about it. So there baby.

Cheers,
Qld Nurse.

When is enough, enough?

*Warning - this post talks about sensitive issues including suicide & euthanasia.  It is in no way a judgement & I welcome intelligent debate. Any trolls or personal attacks will be deleted.

Ok. *Deep breath*.

At Uni, we as nursing students are taught the benefit of reflective journalling. A place to talk about our day & what we think we did well, what we didn't, maybe some issues that patients bring up within ourselves. After all, we work in a pretty traumatic area. "I've seen shit man!"

I've generally just debriefed with other nurses or my husband. But consider this my reflective journal. Please note - I will not mention names or specifics in order to protect the privacy of the patients I will be talking about.

A few weeks ago, I had a patient that really got to me. Now, in critical care, we get a lot of attempted suicides. Sad, but we do. Most are overdoses, some are hangings, a few we get are physical trauma such as cutting themselves etc.  As a general rule, most of these people survive because IMO they weren't trying to die, they were calling out for help. I find it incredibly sad, that people have to go to that level before people will listen to their cry, but generally when we extubate them, they are remorseful & willing to get help.

This particular older lady, who had been living with a chronic illness, WANTED to die. The things she did to herself were shocking and I almost cried on several occasions. She was not messing around, she was not calling out for help, and my heart absolutely broke that someone would be in such a deep, dark place, that they were able to do that to themselves. It was something off a horror show.

It reminded me of another patient who was riddled with Cancer, he had been through a ridiculous amount of pain to try and rid himself of said Cancer, and it had gotten to the point where his body had given up. However, his family wanted to keep fighting. Despite the fact the doctors had told them there was very little chance he would survive. I felt like I was torturing this poor man by performing care. I hated myself.  These type of patients stick with me and I occasionally think back and wonder when enough is enough?

I'm talking about Euthanasia. Her chronic illness has no cure, she had lived a fairly full life, she'd had enough. He was not going to survive his Cancer, yet had to go through the indignity of losing control of his body and being kept alive by a machine until his family decided enough was enough. Not him, his family.

Australia - it's time we talk about this. We talk about abortion, we talk about child abuse, we talk about murder and yet, we cringe when the big 'E' is mentioned.

We as a healthcare system seem so intent on saving everyone. We prod, we probe, we do palliative surgery & put people through hell when unfortunately, they are going to die. We are all going to die at some stage - it's inevitable. So why do we have no say in when this happens? If you're living with chronic pain, there's no cure, then why can't it be a case of sooner rather than later? Sure we have a few palliative care centres here and there. Are they adequate? Not really.

Now I know there's many arguements on each side of this debate. I have a firm belief that people who are anti-Euthanasia because we 'shouldn't be allowed to play God', have never watched a love one suffer so incredibly until finally they can take no more. BTW if 'God' was as good as you think he is, why does he make good people suffer in the first place? Most stupid statement there is. It's not an arguement because there's no logic to it, it's a statement and a stupid one.

Yes, it has the ability to be misused. Depression is classed as a chronic condition, and as someone who's been in that dark space where you don't see any other out, I'm glad euthanasia wasn't around. But can't we put safe guards in place to prevent that? People need to be psychologically screened before they're allowed access - if you're in a depressive episode, you can't make legal decisions anyway because your judgement is impaired.  Sure, there will be some people who will slip through the cracks. But as it is there are people doing that. Look at the suicide rate! At least with some counselling we may save some lives.

Doctors can make mistakes. But can 2 or 3? When they all reach the same conclusion?

Technology is changing constantly and there are scientific breakthroughs all the time. Yes, that's great. But for some people, it's not happening in their lifetime. So we should make them sit and rot internally because in a few years there might be a cure?

It makes me incredibly sad. Why are we so afraid of letting people decide when they've had enough of this life? In the end, we have the autonomy to decide whether we seek treatment for chronic illness. At least with Euthanasia, you have the ability to choose a time, place, who will be around and you can get your affairs in order. As opposed to being kept alive by machines because your family don't want to let you go & your body being too weak for you even to protest. Or having to buy drugs illegally from overseas & die alone because your family could be charged & jailed if they have any idea what you're about to do.

I know if it were me, I would hate to not be able to move and have to have someone clean me up because I'd lost control of my bowels again. I would hate to be too weak to talk to my loved ones & tell them the things I always wanted to say. I would hate to have to watch my loved ones faces, as they saw me slowly fading away to a person they didn't recognise anymore. It's not pleasant, and the outcome is always the same. So I think we should have the right to choose.

Anyway, please feel free to comment, tell me your story, let me know what you think.

Cheers,
Qld Nurse.

Pregnant Woman Rant ahead

Seriously, language and hormone induced anger warning.  Look away. I said LOOK AWAY!

I am currently 12 weeks pregnant after undergoing some fertility treatment. Yay! I am having quite bad all day sickness because whoever called it morning sickness was probably a MAN who only ever saw his barefoot pregnant wife in the morning before he left to have AFFAIRS with his WHORE I'm sorry please don't leave me alone I love you!

Despite the fact I may scream "WHAT DO YOU FUCKING WANT FROM ME BABY?" through a stream of snot and spit while hunched over Percy the Porcelain, I am quite ecstatic to be pregnant.  Even more ecstatic that we have gotten to the infamous 12 week period and I was able to see a head (only one, phew!) and a heartbeat on the scan this morning.  I'm also aware of why I'm so sick because baby decided not to sit still for one second.  There was no photographic evidence but I'm pretty sure it's because she was swinging on my intestines. Also, I know it's a girl because it just is, and don't argue with me because I'm pretty sure I could stab you and get away with it on the hormone defence OKAY?

So I thought I'd spout some gems of wisdom that I have learned in my 12 weeks of being pregnant. i.e. I will rant about things that piss me off because hormones and hunger and constipation.  Right.

1.  Everything is a competition

EVERYTHING. Either people brag about how much sicker they were than me, or they brag about how little they had. Then they brag about their natural, drug free labour or they brag about how horrible their labour was and how super humanly they were somehow able to survive it and I should worship their every word on pregnancy.  They brag about how little weight they put on, or how much they put on and how hard they worked to lose it. Seriously, I don't care. Every pregnancy, every baby and every labour is different and when you asked me how I was I genuinely thought you wanted to know. If I'd been aware that it was just a way for you to bridge into your life story I would have just answered with 'fine thanks'. I apologise. Also, you are not the first or last person to have a baby and whatever you've done is not special - look at the internet and see the millions of others that have also done whatever you've done. So take your vegan, organic, yoga, home birth story and shove it up stage 4 torn ass. I don't want to hear it right now. Thanks.

2.  People who don't immunise their children should be placed on notice of having their children removed

Because they are obviously too stupid to raise them properly.  I haven't even had this child yet, and I am harassing every family member to make sure they are up to date on the whooping cough, flu and measles vaccine at the very least.  Vaccines don't cause autism, they don't cause birth defects, they cause children to NOT DIE FROM PREVENTABLE DISEASE. Fair enough, if your child has a severe allergy & you have it under great medical advice that it's not appropriate for your child to be vaccinated, great. But you should  make DAMN sure everyone else around your un-vaccinated child is done. In this day & age, I refuse to enter into an arguement on why you shouldn't vaccinate your kids, because as Mark Twain said 'never argue with idiots because they'll drag you down to their level & then beat you with experience.'  I do not understand parents who don't want to do absolutely everything in the power to prevent their kids from suffering and dying. If you give my child a disease because they're too young & you're too stupid, I will do a Liam Neeson on your ass. I promise. #vaccinateyourkidsstupid

3.  There's so much wrong with the world

It's depressing. Inconsiderate, rude, ignorant dicks who seem to be breeding at a phenomenal amount, with their stinky offspring just waiting to taint my precious future ruler of the world with their bigotry & bullshit. The worry about whether my child is going to grow up to be a serial killer is always there in the back of my mind and the fact that they will be socialising with children who RUN IN FUCKING SHOPPING CENTRES does nothing to quell said fear. The world is going to hell in a hand basket kids.  Bacon help us all. But more importantly Bacon help your kid if it so much as whispers a bad influence into my child's ear. Because I will be an absolutely amazing parent who raises the best child who does nothing wrong and that's my story and I'm sticking to it and if you tell me anything different I will cry so shut up!

4. Everyone's a fucking expert

Do you know how many articles are out there pretty much outlining that I am going to kill/damage/disable/severely fuck up my baby? I read an article telling pregnant women not to have Paracetamol. Panadol FFS. Because it causes autism. Are you fucking kidding me? Like we don't have enough guilt as mothers, then there's these arseholes out there making us feel guilty for not 'soldiering through' a headache. Oh and ultrasounds, as well as C-sections! Oh an make sure you limit X, Y, fucking Z because it causes X, Y, fucking Z. Well you know what? Fuck that. If this fertility struggle has taught me anything, it's that I have limited control over the baby situation. I can eat as healthily, exercise, avoid teratogens, whatever and it will still have limited impact on what is a process we don't fully understand because the baby gods will do what the baby gods will do. And that's coming from someone in the health field! Unless you have some scientific evidence in the form of millions of double blind trials and the recommendation of the world's experts, then keep your opinions (and that's only what they are without evidence) to yourself. I already feel guilty enough about EVERYTHING so take your judgement and jam it up your clacker bitch.

So that's my pregnant lady rant. I do not guarantee there won't be more to come. Please feel free to add your rants into the comments section. I will most likely virtually high five you, because that's the mood I'm in right now. I may cry about it tomorrow. Who knows! My poor husband is playing emotional bingo lately, but I think he likes it. Keeps him on his toes, no?

Cheers,
Qld Nurse.

Not sure what is worse....

So, um, the fertility treatment worked. Yep. I'm pregnant. I have spent the last 22 days since the positive pregnancy test waiting to miscarry, but it hasn't happened yet. Praise Bacon! We went for our first scan yesterday and I saw the tiniest little heart beating of the thing growing inside of me and I felt.... well.... sick.

Mostly because that's how I've felt for the last 3 weeks. Violently ill. I don't feel pregnant, I feel like my boobs are going to explode at the same time my stomach does.

And anxious. Oh the anxiety. I know i'm not the only person who has miscarried in the world, so I'm putting it out the to the universe, if you are one of the lucky ones who miscarried and then went on to a healthy pregnancy, hit me up. Tell me how you coped, because the next 7.5 months are looking mighty long when all I can see is waiting for the cramps and baby dying thing to happen.

I don't know what was worse - the waiting for a positive pregnancy test, or the complete guilt every time I do anything at all. I vomit salad, I keep chips & gravy down. I feel guilty for not eating well. I had some post mix coke to try and quell the nausea, caffeine. I felt guilty. I lifted something at work. Guilt. I'm even working at all. Maximus Guiltimus! Every single thing I do, I'm wondering if I just killed the baby.

I'm getting the feeling though, that this is it. Like literally this will be my life from now on.

The guilt and anxiety never go away do they? I have a sneaky suspicion that once the kid is born (fingers, toes, eyes and legs crossed it IS born) it will in fact, get worse. That every single thing I say to this kid will potentially screw them up and that in 19 years I'll be sitting watching the news and my kid will come on surrounded by a SWAT team. That the thing that I just fed them that wasn't wholefood organic with a side of anti-oxidants, well that just gave them diabetes.  That because I had to go back to work to financially give them a life, the emotional scarring means they will never recover and spend a lifetime alone, smearing lipstick on their face screaming "do you love me NOW MUMMY?"

Seriously, what the hell is this? Is it hormones? It is the maternal instinct everyone talks about? Or has the lack of sleep and absorbed nutrients finally eroded my brain to the point that my level of logic has disintegrated?

Cheers,
Qld Nurse.

Fuck you womenz

So I'm subscribed to Mamamia.  I'm getting a bit sick of the shit they post to be honest. It's turned into a bit of publicity bullshit grab and I don't like it.  Mia Freedman kind of annoys me and I'd love to work for them simply so I could antagonise her (oh and not clean shit off the walls) but I digress.....

I continue to click on their crap though, so colour me guilty.

But ----> this http://www.mamamia.com.au/parenting/fitmum/ post really shit me to tears.

For starters, in case you've come across this blog due my absolutely unexpected nerve hitting piece "Tony Abbott, you're an arsehole" found here http://qldnurse.blogspot.com.au/2014/02/tony-abbott-youre-asshole.html (which thanks for everyone's input, glad I'm not the only one who's a big fan of the term 'douche canoe'), I'm having trouble conceiving another human being.

So the fact, that ANYONE who CAN conceive another human being without trouble, feels they have the right to criticise anyone else who can conceive another human being, is pretty much worthy of being castrated (or have a hysterectomy - I'm a nurse not an idiot I know biology) in my opinion.  THERE.

WHY THE FUCK do women hate each other so much?  Seriously?  I'm not sure, but I think I graduated high school (quite) a few years back and the backstabbing bitchiness stopped there.  But apparently I am wrong, as a wimenz I am subject to the backstabbing bitchiness that apparently comes along with being a wimenz. My question is why?

Now, before I was a Registered Nurse, I worked in Construction. Sexism aside (I once had a Site Manager say that a construction site was 'no place for a woman') I loved loved loved working with blokes.  Because this is how it went.

Them: "You fucked up."  Me: "Yep, sure did." Them: "Fix it. Don't do it again.". Me: "I'll buy a carton this Friday". Them: "Sweet".

Then, it was forgotten!  Holy mother of Bacon!! (If you're confused, please refer to my earlier post where I clearly indicated I was a Minister of the Church of Bacon and no, am still not ashamed. I will ordain your marriage in the Church of Bacon if you wish #praisebacon).

So here's my issue.  Working with the wimenz.

I recently found out, that the wimenz that I used to work with over 3 months ago, were bitching about me changing my Facebook privacy settings so they couldn't see everything I posted.  I did this a while ago and apparently I'm 'such' a good friend they've only realised now.  So, instead of coming to me personally, these wimenz decided that they would bitch about me to someone they knew was my friend, knowing this conversation would get back to me and I would somehow respond.  Well you know what wimenz? FUCK YOU! If you're upset you're not getting my information on Facebook, text me! Call me! Get the information from the source directly.  Don't bitch about me behind me back.

Re: the crap mamamia article. Wimenz - stop being bitchez!!!  Yes, I am writing with the z's because I feel like this subject is so stupid and outdated the new technology needs to be adapted just to highlight how stupid we as wimenz are.

Why? My question is why? We have so much pressure from pretty much EVERY other area, to be better than we are, more than we are, better looking than we are, better mothers than we are, better WHAT-THE-FUCK ever than we, that can't we just do the sisterhood a solid and get each other's back for fuck's sake??

Seriously, you're now bitching about other wimenz not exercising enough with kids? Seriously? Like for serious? As in the real world?

When I finally do get to become a mother, I will spend (possibly) a week or more in my pj's doing nothing but stare at my new born child.  If you don't like that, FUCK YOU.  There is 0 possibility of me dragging my (apparently, I just gave new life to another human being, but whatever) fat ass to the gym and leaving my miracle of a being alone while I squat my 'tight ass buns' at the gym.  Because you know what? I JUST GAVE BIRTH TO ANOTHER HUMAN BEING SO SUCK IT!!

And you know what wimenz? You probably just did too!  So shut the fuck up!

Raising children is HARD. Like ridiculously hard! And I have this sneaky suspicion, that if you're more concerned about what the women next door is doing with her 'saddlebags' than you are with your child's next smile/laugh/giggle/burp/bowel movement, then you are doing parenting WRONG!

So shut the hell up!!

Next time a friend comes to you saying that she feels fat and unloved, tell her she GAVE LIFE! Which isn't easy to do.

Next time someone tells her she isn't losing her 'baby weight' as fast as she wants, ask her about how her kid is doing.

Next time your friend says her husband says her body isn't the same since she gave birth, tell her to nut punch him.

Stop being bitchez! Let's support each other hey?  Geezus.  Is it seriously that hard??

And Mamamia - YOU. Stop writing deliberately inflammatory crap under the guise that you are all feminists working towards bringing the sisters together. Because THIS crap is NOT doing that. We are all aware you are simply doing it to get clicks on an article. SO STOP. Bad Mamamia. Bad!

Love,
Qld Nurse.

Tony Abbott, you're an arsehole.

Hi Tony,

You're a douche canoe.

When you said that some people earn too much money, I'm sure you didn't mean nursing staff.  Because I'm nursing staff.  And I ASSURE YOU, I earn every single fucking dollar I earn.  Like my tweet said, if you came to me in hour 10 of my 12 hour night shift and told me that I was 'earning too much' I would probably kick you fair in the nuts and then continue on with the rest of my shift on autopilot.

For starters, when I worked on the Neurosurgical ward, I got spat at, kicked, hit, punched, abused and had to deal with people painting the walls in their own faeces.  So I'm sure that when I was on an early shift earning my $30.3526/hr which included showering, feeding, changing pads, walking, dealing with family/friends/doctors/physios etc etc. you didn't mean me.  I'm SURE.  Because when I got home from my early shift (for those in the know, that means NO penalty rates) and couldn't move from the couch because my back hurt from physically moving several people from a bed to a chair/tilt table/regency and I couldn't feel my feet from being on them for 8 hours straight, I know you didn't mean that I didn't earn my dollars.

Now I work in Critical Care, and it doesn't matter what shift I'm on because I run my ass off no matter what, I'm 100% sure you didn't mean that I didn't earn my dollars.

I KNOW that on Sundays, when the cleaners got paid more than me and all they had to do was vacuum floors and change linen skips while I was juggling the life of at LEAST 8 people instead of enjoying a weekend with my new husband, that you didn't mean that I didn't earn my dollars.  (PS I love you cleaners, you make my life so much more bearable and please don't hate me for trying to make a point, I heart you.)

Because here's the thing.  I never went into nursing for the money.  I'm 100% sure that no nurse EVER goes into the profession thinking 'hey, I'm gonna retire when I'm 30 from the $ i'll be making'.  No one. EVER.

Nurses, want to make sick people feel better.  Nurses, want to make a difference in people's lives.  I've been doing this shit for almost 5 years now and I've been told maybe 3 or 4 times 'Really, thank you.'

You know what sucks?  Those 3 or 4 times, make it worth it.  I do what I do, not because I have a HECS debt that I'm not gonna repay until i'm 105, not because I can tell people that I save lives, not because EVERY SINGLE FUCKING DAY someone tells me thanks.  No.  I do what I do, because I love it.  Sure, the money isn't fantastic. It isn't terrible, and I get penalty rates.  But guess what Tony, I earn those bloody penalty rates.  I don't go on a fucking charity bike ride sponsored by whoever and claim that shit back on the taxpayer's dollar.  I work on weekends.  MOST weekends. Because people don't get sick between the hours of 9am to 5pm Monday to Friday.  I have to book my holidays over a year in advance because everyone is so burnt out and we are so understaffed that we are only allowed a certain amount of people on holidays at one time.

I don't say it often enough.  I don't even feel it often enough.  The amount of times I've thought to myself, "I can't do this anymore." "This is killing me." "Why do I do this?" "No one even cares."

But you know what Tony A-Butt?  I do what I do because it make a difference in someone's life.  It may not pay the best, it may pay the best. Whatever.  It still makes me a better human being than you.

Because the taxpayers pay my wage, and I give back to them.  Unlike YOU.  Who are taking, and making a mockery of the system.

You earn 10x more than what I make and what have you given to the Australian public? SFA that's what.  What you need to realise Tony is that you too are a public servant.  If you make a decision that 'isn't going to be popular with the public' then you probably shouldn't do it. Because the public voted you in to do what was best for them.  So if the 'general public' don't want it, then don't fucking do it, you wanker.  YOU work for US.  The same as me.  The same as all the public servants who are earning the minimum wage, that you lovingly think is too much.

Hey Tones, can I call you that?  I feel like because my taxes are paying you, we are on a nick-name kinda basis.

Tones, here's an idea.  Instead of cutting back on things like Australians benefits that they are ENTITLED TO, how about you look at your useless Minister's wages and cut back on that shit. Because the way I see it, if you think that the rest of Australia should be paid on a performance basis, your dickwads of pollies should be too.  If they don't perform, they should be subject to the same kind of scrutiny that the police/fire/ambulance/nurses/ALL PUBLIC SERVANTS are.

YOU WORK FOR US TONY.  Don't forget that.  You've pretty much pissed off the entirety of Australia with your backflip on policies.  So how bout you do us all a favour and do what you were elected to do, and stop flipping us all the bird.

Yours sincerely,
Qld Nurse.

As the year 2013 ends.....

So as the year comes to an end I think to myself "THANK CHRIST!" Or "THANK BACON" as I am now officially an ordained member of the Church of Bacon. Yes - it was a drunken impulse.  No I am not sorry so deal OK?

Seriously, this has been probably the worst year of my life. I've thought about divorce more times than I should have (yep hit my first anniversary in September = winning!!!), I've miscarried the baby I so desperately wanted and I've changed into a job where I feel I know nothing and everyone is wondering when I'll get fired, my parents have separated (again for the like the 60th time) and my father in law has undergone chemo like 3 times. It's been grand. :o/

So, at the end of the year, I walk past homeless and the less fortunate and I think, well maybe I shouldn't be such a cunt. (Sorry for the c word mum, I love you.)

I mean, I have a job where I get paid (fairly) decently, I have an alright car, my bills are paid on time (relatively) and the only REAL problem I have is that ppl turn to me with their problems and expect me to solve them (mostly my parents, but occasionally 'friends').

Which is cool, but I feel like a fraud because if they're turning to me, it means they think I've got my shit figured out. Which means I'm obviously a hell better actor than I thought I was.  I do NOT have my shit figured out. I mean in total "I've called Lifeline like twice in the last month and have made an anonymous donation to counteract the calls" not figured out is what I'm talking about.

I do not understand life. I do not understand why some people can be absolute bastards to their bodies and survive and others can live an 'organic, drug free, preservative free, colour free, fun free' life and die of brain cancer. I do not understand that.  I do not appreciate (especially now working in ICU) how sometimes bad shit happens to good people and you just have to accept it. I don't. I don't have the answers to life. I don't have the answers to what ails you and I have definitely not felt more stupid because I'm aware of what I don't know than what I do now.

However, I've gained a friendship and familiarity with a sister that I never knew before, I've had emails from friends I haven't spoken to in years, I've touched a few lives that I didn't think I'd touch, and I've gained an inner strength I didn't think I had.

BUUUUUUUUTTT, I have realised the importance of friendship. I had a friend tell me the other day (when I suggested I shut down a little because I didn't know who I could trust) that my openness was what ppl loved about me because as much as other ppl were selfish bitches they knew where they stood with me and that was a value that was understated.

So, my new years resolution - is to pay more attention to the ppl who I think deserve it, and listen to the patients who I think have more to say. I promise that 2014 will be the year that I feel I achieved something, and hopefully, that's another human life.  If it's not, then I hope it's filled with GENUINE friendships, and a love of life that I haven't really experienced before. Because there's some terrible shit out there folks. And if you're lucky enough not to experience it, then I hope you KNOW that you're lucky enough not to experience it.

Peace out you lucky motherfuckers. xo

Life throws you curveballs. Those balls suck ass.

So it's been a while since I've blogged.  Because I miscarried. On the 5th week and 4th day I woke up nauseous, with cramps and bleeding.  One day, after a positive pregnancy test and the whole life being planned of the baby we've so badly wanted.  About a week and a half before the pregnancy test I "knew" though. So let's go with one week and a few days of planning a baby's life before nausea/cramps/bleeding/baby dying etc.

I've just logged in, and half a finished blog about how excited I was to be pregnant was waiting for approval.  What's that guts? You needed another kick? Of course you did.

I'm sad. Like ridiculously sad. I keep it together the majority of the time, but there's just some times (like now) that I can't keep it in. Mostly because it's 330am I can't call anyone so I'm here blogging. Because sane that's why. So shut up.

Not dealing. No idea how to deal. Sick of getting told 'well at least you know you can pregnant'. Well great then! Hopefully I can lose like another 3 pregnancies just to make sure 'at least I can pregnant'. Hash tag fucking sarcasm.

So life sucks right now. And my husband tries his best to 'be there' and 'support me' and all the other inverted commas shit you can think of.  In his defence, he's tried his hardest but he doesn't get it. He probably never will. Mentally, I got it. Emotionally, weeeeellll.....

A week after I lost the baby he was all 'well let's go again'.  In all honesty I wanted to punch his fucking head in.  Because hormones and anger and grief get the better of me like 50% of the time and it mostly comes out as anger or tears. Neither of which my husband is greatly equipped to deal with.

I feel responsible, I feel like a failure (once again, get over it already right?) and I feel like I have let every single person in our life down.

So that's my last 4 weeks summed up. You caught up?  If not, here's a summary:

Ocsober - feeling great

Baby death

Anger

Anger

Drunk

Anger/Resentment

Drunk Anger

Drunk crying

Drunk sad

Anger

Sad

Sad

Anger

Drunk/Resentment

Drunk Happy LOL Jokes, drunk Angry all the time

Drunk

Angry/Drunk/Crying ALL THE EMOTIONS

Fabulous month. Oh by the way 2013, you can lick my balls, hope your 2013 boyfriend dumps you and then you can lick my balls again.

Have a great weekend kids!!

OcSober half way, Acupuncture & night shift. Golden combination....

So I'm halfway through OcSober! Yay! I've just finished a string of night shifts so I would gladly beat someone senseless for a Bundy right now and the fact there is only 14 more days until I can have one is doing nothing to quell my thirst.  My sister said to the me the other day 'with your luck, you'll find out you're pregnant on October 31 and won't be able to drink anyway!'.  Thanks, jinx! (But secretly wishing it would come true.)

OcSober has done nothing for my health despite taking liver detox tablets everyday and actually being pretty good with the diet thing.  Not so much with the exercise thing, but weight loss is 80% diet, 20% exercise anyway right?  Or in my case, 60% hormones, 30% diet, 10% exercise - that's my story and I'm sticking to it! Remember, i'm just off night shift so I will hurt you.....  I have gained weight, I'm still not sleeping any better and it's not getting any easier.  Cry me a river right?

Soooooo because the alcohol thing is a crock of shit, I decided to try some 'Fertility Acupuncture' today.  It was quite an odd experience, the chap comes highly recommended and I've never meditated before, but I had an 'experience' which made me feel more at peace and hopeful than I have in quite a while.  He also gave me some herbs to try, and at this point I'm willing to pretty much give anything a go.  I left feeling not better, but different. I'm choosing to see it in the positive.

Acupuncture was decided after reading a book called "Bump & Grind - The A to Z survival guide for when you're trying to get pregnant and sick of being told to relax" by Genevieve Morton.  If you are struggling to conceive, and you haven't read this book already, do it.  Seriously, here's the link.  http://www.amazon.co.uk/Bump-Grind-Z-Survival-Pregnant/dp/1905410883
This book was written TO me. TO ME guys. It was like she had gotten inside my head and was writing to let me know that everything I'm going through is completely the same as others who are also struggling to fall pregnant. I mean I always knew I wasn't alone. But now I KNOW.  I can't explain it.  Validation is a powerful tool I guess.

On the flip side, it also made me realise that maybe i'm not actually doing enough, and made me hell nervous for our specialist appointment next month.  For example, I haven't once taken my temperature.  A) because I don't own a thermometer but B) because seriously you have to take your temperature? WTF? I don't religiously piss on ovulation tests.  Mostly because my cycles are so irregular that it would cost me hundreds of dollars a month (or three) in tests because i'd have to test pretty much every day, for sometimes up to 10 weeks.  I also don't have our diet religiously planned out to ensure that i'm having fucking quinoa or some shit because it increases the likelihood of the production of blah blah blah.  I just figured, up the vegies, down the processed crap, watch the portion size = happy days.

But most importantly, this is the first actual book I've read on the subject. Don't get me wrong, I've seen enough web pages on PCOS and trying to conceive and blogs, that this blog should probably be a lot better than it is, but I've never actually read a book.  The picture she paints in this book is that I'm supposed to have a library of books, categorised by colour and number of tips and my genitals should have friction burn from having sex twice a day for the past year.

The feeling - inadequate. I've felt inadequate as a woman for a while now because I can't conceive, but now I also feel inadequate to be able to bitch and whinge about it too!  Like I haven't tried hard enough because I haven't gone gluten, dairy, carb, sugar, caffeine, and sanity free whilst also checking my cervical mucus 3 times a day and charting my temperature whilst exercising for 2 hours a day.  *sigh*

I can't win. I think I think too much, and my acupuncture today pretty much (in my head where I was thinking) confirmed this.  The needle that hurt the most and didn't seem to ever 'fade'? The one smack bang in the middle of my forehead.  Sign?

Anyway guys I've got to go and buy another 10 books to read asI molest my husband whilst cooking some berry oats.

OcSober - Week 1

Well, I made it! 7 whole days without so much as a sniff of a Brandy.  I don't drink Brandy, but that sounded a bit more flash than 'a suck of a black rat' (Bundaberg Rums cans are nicknamed Black Rats for those who are clearly not as classy as I).

I'm actually OK. Crisis averted. The images of me sneaking into an AA meeting in a hoodie and visor cap are slowly disintegrating and I think I may actually be able to go even longer than the month required for OcSober.

But on Day 6 I got struck down with a corker of a migraine. The whole shebang.  Loss of sight, unable to walk, neck and back feeling as though they were barely keeping my head up.  My first thought? "HOLY SHIT. I am ACTUALLY withdrawing from alcohol.  I'm a fucking alcoholic."  My 2nd thought?  "Don't be stupid. You know that the most of symptoms happen on Day 3 of withdrawal, and you also know your migraines are caused from muscles."  My 3rd thought? "I haven't had a migraine in ages. Maybe having a few drinks every few days keeps me relaxed enough to stop getting migraines."  My 4th thought? "HOLY SHIT. I'm a fucking alcoholic!"

On the downside, I have actually GAINED weight? Are you kidding me body???  My husband and I decided to do this a) for the health benefits, because in case you hadn't read any of my other blogs, we are trying for a baby and b) the weight loss benefits, that would ultimately, help us in our quest for a baby.  Oh and also helping charities and all that shit....

So that's a bummer. I'm really not sleeping any better either which I thought would be the first thing to happen.  Buuuut, I did go and have a blood test today (checking Prolactin levels, my last one in May was elevated. So yay for maybe having a pituitary tumour as well as PCOS!!) and I didn't have to worry about the results being 'not so accurate' because I'd had a 6 pack the night before.  So I guess that's a plus!

So all in all, this week has proved a couple of things to me:
1. I am not an alcoholic, I'm clearly a binge drinker. Difference ok guys?
2. My weight gain is not from alcohol and is most likely from the hormonal freakshow going on inside my body.
AND
3. My husband is a gem when I'm sick, and clearly loves being needed.  Needed to text people for me, get me pain killers, heat my heat pack and rub my back when i'm feeling sorry for myself.  Dah, I also just realised I missed out on a killer opportunity for him to sing 'Soft Kitty' to me! Dammit....

And again, if you don't think you could do the OcSober challenge and your drinking is harming yourself, others here's the ATODs link.
http://www.health.qld.gov.au/atod/

Ocsober.

So I've signed up to do Ocsober.  Granted, I signed up today on the 1st October, and I may have been hungover when I did it, but I did it.

Here's the thing, I love Bundy Rum.  Like a lot.  Like more than friend love.  I drink a 6 pack on my days off, about once a week, and sometimes I will drink more than that if I have a few days off and am feeling particularly happy/sad/depressed/excited/good about myself/bad about myself.

Yes, I do know that this is binge drinking. Yes, I do know that's not healthy. Yes, I am a nurse and realise what a hypocrite I am. No it has never affected my job and I do not drink when I have to work. Yes, I do probably do it to self medicate because for a good few hours I forget about the world's problems, and how stressful my job is, and how I'm not pregnant AGAIN. Yes, I have at times considered if i'm an alcoholic - a highly functioning one, but an alcoholic nonetheless.

So I not only want to to do this, for my health I NEED to do it. But I have very little confidence in myself. I am also a Jew (not just metaphorically, LITERALLY like 1/4 Jew on my Dad's side) so I'm hoping that the option of having to buy a $50 pass will turn me off having a drink. This will be the only option, because my guilt of having a 'sneaky' drink will eat my up from the inside out and I'm pretty sure it will make my breasts turn gangrenous and fall off and my cat will eat them while i'm sleeping.

So, tips on how to survive a dry month?  Aside from the obvious - signing up with a friend.  Already done. My husband didn't have a choice.  Well he did, he had a choice.  Sign up with me or he'd also be having a 'dry month', but not in the alcohol way. ;)

Oh and obligatory, if you or anyone you know struggles with alcohol addiction head on over here:
http://www.health.qld.gov.au/atod/

HOPE!

Hope.  Is there a greater word? I think not.  It gives you images of green grass, and children playing with bunnies and old people playing cards around a table laughing, and laughing and laughing.

I have an appointment with a fertility specialist.  Originally, thought I would have to wait 3 months.  Although it may not seem like much, after 12 months of disappointment, 3 months is a lifetime.  But it's only going to be about 6 weeks and it makes my heart sing.

So the catalyst, was after 9.5 weeks, 2 weeks of aching boobs, countless times of nausea and the 'feeling' that this was it, I got my period.  Yes, my poor husband did come out into the lounge at 3am to find me wasted and crying uncontrollably listening to Celine Dion (why Celine, why??) and I figured that I couldn't do this again so I made a Drs appointment.

So we have an appointment.  I feel sick.  I'm so nervous about finally getting some answers, but what if it's bad news? What if he tells me that my worst thoughts are true and I can't have kids?  Or what if he tells me what my Dr has told me all along and that it's just because I'm too fat?  I know it's stupid, but I have this deep down feeling that all those mean kids throughout my life were completely right and I'm just a worthless fatty.

What if it works though, and like my friend at work,within 2 months of treatment I'm pregnant with a child?  Like, a real human baby.  That I will have to mould into a human being.  Am I ready?  Are WE ready?  What sort of Mum will I be?  Can I handle it?  Can we afford it?  Will I be one of those people that uploads photos to FB every time their kid takes a dump?  Will I spoil them?  Will I be too hard on them and they grow up to be a serial killer???

My boss told me a couple of weeks ago that I was 'born to be a Mum'.  I was so proud.  But how do you tell if someone's 'meant to be a Mum'.  Do I have a vibe?  Or is it just the fact that I take the student nurses under my wing instead of throwing them to the wolves like I had done to me?  Do I give off a Mummy vibe?

The thing that sticks in my mind the most - is that there are people with REAL problems in the world.  There are people literally dying to get out of their countries, jumping on unsafe boats for the hope of a better life.  There are people living in tents in war torn countries, daily wondering if this day is their last.  But here I am bitching about not being able to fall pregnant at the drop of a West Coast Cooler.  I feel so selfish but I can't stop thinking about it.  It literally controls just about every thought I have during the day.

My best friend is pregnant.  She had hyperemesis for the first 3.5 months of her pregnancy and felt like shit.  She would tell me about how she was 'forced' to go on 2 weeks leave by her boss (she's also a nurse) and that being pregnant was the worst thing she ever did in her life.  I envied her so hard.  I would gladly give up every worldly possession I own and give up work for the chance of a baby.  But that makes me selfish right?  Should someone that selfish be having a child? Will I be able to give up the things I like for a baby? Will my husband and I kill each other from sleep deprivation?

Boils down to 'hope' right?  What do we have if we don't have hope?  Should I hope to have a long career, or good health instead of hoping to fall pregnant?  Should I hope to be able to live comfortably and go on long holidays?

Or should I hope that I continue to have a partner, who loves me so hard for who I am regardless of the challenges we are faced with and if a baby comes along then so be it?

I think I'll hope, that the next time he comes out at 3am and I'm crying uncontrollably, it's when I have a newborn in my arms, my nipples are raw and bleeding, I'm so sleep deprived I could probably get away with murder, and it's because I'm so unbelievably happy that there's no other way to express it but crying uncontrollably.