I find drama, stress and other overwhelming life stuff is a lot like buses - it arrives all at once and when you least need or expect it.
Since finding out I was pregnant back in April 2021, life has certainly thrown a lot of buses of crap our way (and this is without the general stresses of COVID, government, climate change, first time mum stuff). These buses have been rocking up so fast and furious (averaging one every two weeks), I’ve struggled to get excited for the baby’s arrival, I’ve not had those nesting instincts, or got those butterflies of nervous anticipation. Everything else has been more urgent, more pressing, more immediate, all needing attention and action in the moment, all detracting from what should be a wonderful time. Now, I’m nearly at term and still waiting for those happy feelings to kick in.
Some are one off events. Others are longer term or ongoing. Many of them overlapping. Some weeks were so relentless, constantly uttering “what now!?” in despair to the latest news bus.
So what’s been going on? In no particular order…
Scary genetic testing and results. (Fortunately all clear, but waiting was particularly worrisome after I found out I was pregnant)
Broken arm falling off the sofa pissed. Yes, nugget was conceived whilst mum was in a plaster cast. Super sexy.
My Nanna was admitted to hospital with pneumonia. Less than ideal pandemic timing, Beryl.
My Father-in-law (FIL) breaking a vertebrae and developing an addiction to his pain relief medication, causing similar symptoms to rapidly onset dementia. This led to stressful situations at home, before he was admitted (and subsequently banned) from 3 different hospitals and nursing homes, then spending 5 months in a care home.
Clearing FIL’s house, at 12 weeks pregnant, in a heatwave. A tough task for anyone, but given his grief and anxiety has manifested in hoarding for 20 odd years, it was an overwhelming and emotionally challenging few weeks.
Moving into FIL’s house, replacing his things in our bungalow next door after it had been renovated to be suitable for him. Simultaneously migrating our things into his previous part of the house, putting us in an unsettled limbo of living in an old man’s house containing our belongings. Planned renovations put on hold.
Dog slicing his paw open on a walk, needing an operation and cone of shame for 2 weeks.
Dog (somehow) eating half a plastic spoon and nearly needing another operation to remove it Of course, we were due to go on a much needed break two days later. Fortunately it was spotted with some diligent poo sifting duties. Delightful.
FIL moving out of a care home back to us, adjusting to life next door, refusing carers, refusing to pay for any support, causing general selfish trouble, breaking back (again), and getting confused, again. Continually feeling like we’re boomeranging back to square one.
I developed a blood clot on my lung needing an overnight stay in hospital. A nice (stressful) surprise, as I only nipped out of work for 30 minutes to have a honking cough checked out.
My Grandma Irene passing at 96, attending my first funeral & a glaring lack of anecdotes or tales to tell. A startlingly small life, summarised in under 5 minutes - something that’s deeply affected me ever since.
Our old family rescue dog, passing at the grand old age of nearly 17, after 15 years of being a large and loving part of our family.
One family member completed their 2nd cycle of chemotherapy, enduring some pretty horrid reactions throughout their treatment.
Another family member diagnosed with cancer.
Surprise asbestos in the house near the baby’s nursery.
My partner losing his job for no reason, from a company big on their “family values”. I was 32 weeks pregnant.
A COVID outbreak at work, meaning I spent 2-weeks working from home sending my mental health into a downward spiral and a near breakdown.
I received a diagnosis of Complex PTSD at 35 weeks pregnant.
I’m writing this out not as a weird brag for how tough my year/pregnancy has been, proving I’ve had it tougher than others, for validation and attention, or sadistically poking the sores remaining from the last 9-months of stress. But as a reminder I can get through anything, a reminder of how resilient mine and my partner’s relationship is, as a reminder I’ve tackled tough stuff and can do it again.
Sometimes laying it all out in black and white really helps shed light and perspective on situations, especially when you’re being phenomenally hard on yourself.