Today (21 weeks) was the first day that everyone could see and feel Lightning move inside me.
I think that every pregnant person should be told to get a squatty potty or just put a damn stool in the bathroom. Even though I have chronic diarrhea instead of constipation, that stool makes ALL the difference between an awful bathroom experience and a reasonable one.
Poop. pooop. poooooooooop.
By month 4 I pretty much can’t shit without help.
How do I not have a tag for poop.
I woke up this morning and sent the OB a message saying I will be unable to be comfortable in his presence and I’d like to meet other people in the practice.
Nothing to argue with. No specific complaints to dismiss. Just “I won’t be able to be comfortable.”
I’m nervous about playing OB roulette while I’m pregnant but on the other hand I did better with the random on-call OB when EC was born than I did with my chosen birth attendant so who knows.
I met “my” OB today. I don’t like him. He inquired if Noah is a new partner and that’s why I’m having another baby. I came home and sent him this email:
I need to let you know that the way you inquired if my partner was a new partner was… incredibly poorly done. I felt pretty insulted. It felt like you were inquiring as to which baby daddy number I’m on and after eleven years of marriage… Yeah that was not well done.
He also proceeded to tell me I shouldn’t be on so many vitamin supplements. When I explained that this is a direct result of testing done within the last two months and is specifically to fix current deficits… he told me he will go check with the genetic counselor and they will get back to me with their opinion of the supplements I’m on.
He was rude when he inquired about sleep stuff. “Have you ever tried taking anything to help you sleep? Have you ever tried exercising?”
I… I am not going to fucking like this dude.
Naw. I’ve. Never. Considered. Taking. Anything. To. Help. Me. Sleep. Why. Would. I.
And exercise? What’s that? Clearly I’m too fat lazy and stupid to consider exercising.
Holy smokes. This pregnancy has been… so incredibly supported. My friends are stepping up in ways that shock me. One gal in particular, Rose, has delivered: a bassinet, changing table, a swing, most of the clothes we will need for the first year, bedding, a baby carrier, toweling, and maternity clothes.
I wasn’t looking for this support. I didn’t ask for it. I didn’t beg. It just arrived as this beautiful gift from the universe. I have a wonderful friend who saved everything from her last kid and she wants to share.
I first met Rose in I think 2001ish. She doesn’t remember me from that period. We started talking a lot more last year. She has spare maternal energy lying around. I appreciate such folks.
Other fabulous friends have passed on more maternity clothes and supplies I’ll need before/after the birth.
It’s starting to look like the only thing I’m really going to have to buy are diapers. That’s ok. I love buying Rumparooz because they are the cutest darn thing ever. The prints! Oh they are so cute. There’s not much in this world I think is more precious than an enormous cloth diaper butt on a baby. It’s weird… but man that sight makes me choke up with joy.
WHEN DID I BECOME THIS PERSON. Err, over a decade ago.
And my Jenny is even going to be sending me super tiny diapers so I don’t need to get any for the first few weeks.
I have arrived. I am there in life. I have friends and family and support and love.
I feel so incredibly lucky. I didn’t think this would happen to me. But here I am.
Do you know what is incredible to me? When I started on the parenting journey some of the folks I loved the most told me they didn’t approve. They thought I was going to do a horrible job. In the past nine years of parenting what has happened is I started off doing ok and I’ve improved. I am way more calm. I am way more able to communicate in useful, effective ways that are appropriate for children (or for anyone, really).
I got my first real shot at learning and growing and developing in a stable environment. And I have blossomed. And my friends tell me so and can point out specific ways I’ve changed and grown and they can tell me why they are impressed with my progress.
I’m not sure I’ve changed my spots. But I have developed some interesting stripes to go along with the spots.
So far my labors have been 49 hours and 9 days. I can’t pick someone for logistics who is going to have work conflict. I need to make the assumption going in that someone might have my kids for 72 hours.
Even though my labors defy sanity for length… I am not comfortable with Noah needing to take off and drive 1-2 hours to drop the kids off. San Francisco, Oakland, or even San Jose are quite a ways away. I keep being told “third babies fall out of you”. If I have my first quick birth and Noah misses it… I will be pretty freaked out.
Kids can’t go past the lobby so if my kids are in the hospital… Noah can’t be in the room with me. So waiting a long time for someone to pick the kids up is also mixed.
I think Plan A (or at least the person I’m approaching first) is a kind neighbor for whom I have babysat a number of time. She used to live right next door but now she’s a mile away between my house and the hospital. She doesn’t have a job and she has a lot of available time. She would be ideal if my kids won’t cause her to have panic attacks because they disrupt the routine in her house so much.
I’m nervous about Plan B. My first impulse is to ask the neighbor who lives down the street who babysits for us sometimes… but she has a real job.
Plan C is probably going to be seeing if someone is up for spending a few nights here around the due date. Someone who doesn’t work and who would be happy to hang out with the kids for a few days.
Plan D is probably a solid list of people with jobs who might be willing to hand my kids off all over the valley. Sigh. This plan sounds too much like my last labor where EC kept coming home and going out again because no one had much ability/interest to keep her for all that long at once. Folks only wanted her for a few hours at a time then I had to find a handoff. That was incredibly stressful during my nine day labor.
Folks having jobs is a big hiccup. I need to respect the parameters of your life. You only have to offer what you have to offer. That’s appropriate. I also have to figure out how to make sure my kids are taken care of. It’s a balance thing.
We are starting to talk about what we are going to do during the next labor. Who will stay with the kids? If our beloved babysitter was still here it would be no question. Instead this is an incredibly tense question and I feel really anxious about the fact that Plans A & B are probably going to involve asking to impose on neighbors. Plans C & D are probably going to involve asking if there is a way to impose on friends who live farther away and that’s even more terrifying to ask for help with.
It is scary to ask for things when the “no” makes a serious hiccup in my life.
Midwife said “Well your sugar level IS healthy…. but it’s incredibly low. You should probably be eating every two hours. Preferably protein.” How much you wanna bet they are going to get hysterical in a few months about gestational diabetes and BUT DON’T EAT SUGAR. Bah.
[I went and looked up low hemoglobin. Turns out it can be caused by… duh duh duh… low folic acid! You know that thing that I had tested and it said I can’t absorb it like I’m supposed to? Like that.]
She was not real keen to accept my marijuana usage. Luckily it’s not up to her. She’s not the OB. From the gist I’m getting from the midwife and the other OB I talked to… I think the dude OB I’ve been assigned to is going to be completely chill about my pot. Luckily when I spent a while going off on my various medical diagnoses and the reasons I use pot and I detailed that I fucking have tried more “acceptable” drugs and none of them work for me… She backed off. And she contradicted herself by saying that the salves are fine anyway. She uses them herself. And she gives her dog cannabis because he’s a little excitable.
BUT I SHOULD GET OFF THIS MEDICATION BECAUSE OH MY GOD.
Pregnancy is a festive time.
I heard Lightning’s heart beat. Right around 160bpm like it should be. Yay.
I now have… three follow up appointments. Because of course I do. The first is tomorrow.
Since I didn’t note it yesterday about seeing the pain doctor: I was kinda pissy because he didn’t let me know that he hadn’t gotten more results in. So I drove to San Jose, waited a half an hour past my appointment time… to be told I don’t really get much new data. I let the front desk staff know how unhappy that made me. I need a phone call the day before my next appointment or it is really stupid for me to hurt myself driving down here for nothing. It’s not a casual trip for me.
The only thing he talked about new was Epstein Barr. Apparently I’m still showing up on tests like I have active Mono. Isn’t that exciting? It would explain some of my chronic exhaustion. He wants me to do antivirals. Which can’t happen during pregnancy. He wasn’t crystal clear about whether it can happen during breast feeding or not.
I’m staying up because I have to fill the last tube with spit. I feel like I spend half of my day in medical appointments, dealing with medications, or taking fucking medical tests. It is so exhausting.
But I continue to be a wacky form of “healthy”. “Wow you are in good shape.” That’s complicated.
Oh, and I’m definitely negative for Syphilis.
In our house we act like hygiene is an evil force who is coming to get you. Because why wouldn’t we.
This is coming up for me because I am starting to Plan For My Alaska Trip! I’m excited. On one hand I feel like starting to pack is neurotic because I don’t leave for 11 days. On the other hand… I don’t think I have everything I need and acquiring things you need in only 11 days is sometimes a challenge. So maybe putting everything in bags is overkill… but making sure I have what I need is not.
Specifically I’m thinking long johns. Oh you say, Pansy Ass! It’s going to be August! To this I say: yes, I am a pansy ass. I’ll be cold. 50’s & 60’s won’t be freezing, but if I don’t have enough layers I will be in pain. My body doesn’t adjust quickly to change and it’s been hella hot here.
I’m sitting in my house under a blanket. On days that hit 85 degrees. I’ll need a god damn base layer for 60 degrees. My clothes are California clothes. They do not retain warmth. Except for long johns.
Did you know that there is a conspiracy to keep pregnant women cold? Maternity long johns are not a thing and I hate the whole fucking world for this. WHHHHHHHYYYYYYYYYY when I search on Amazon for maternity long johns do I get humorous underwear for men? THIS IS NOT ACCEPTABLE.
But hygiene is part of this story. Because depending on how many clothes I bring with me… that impacts either how often I have to do laundry or how often I have to shower. Because if I’m living in wool and I shower every single day religiously… I won’t stink much and I don’t have to wash the clothes constantly. If I do my normal bathing once a week whether I need it or not… uhm… wool doesn’t like that. It gets… funky. At home I solve this by wearing clothing once, rarely twice and the stink doesn’t accumulate. A week in the same set of clothes… that gets bad. I have of course tried.
But I don’t want to bring much with me for this trip. So I’m thinking two pairs of long johns (sized up one size so they fit over my increasing bulk without pressure on my abdomen) and two pairs of pants. I can trade off which pair of pants I’m wearing to air out the other in between.
Tops I’m less concerned about. I will have two wool tops that fit. My tshirts are mostly hella baggy and still fitting just fine. I usually wear a dress over pants anyway and that’s easy to figure out. I’m just not fussed about that step. I think the warm/water proof jacket I bought last winter (my first WARM jacket… ever…) will fit for this trip if not all winter.
In non hygiene planning… I’m debating my computer. I could use the rest for my hands of not typing for a week. But how realistic is that? Will I instead be on my phone which is harder for my hands?
Hard to judge.
I think I’m going to bring art supplies and have an art-tastic time up there. I’ll have a lot of time to kill. Maybe I’ll write letters instead of blogging.
I’m so excited.
Well, 10 weeks. That’s how long it took for me to puke. My daughter tells me that it is truly disgusting when I do. Good to know.
I’ve been awake for two hours because my back hurts so much I can’t sleep. People I barely know keep asking me stupid questions like “Why don’t you sleep more?”
Because I hate sleep. Sleep is so rude.
IF I COULD FUCKING SLEEP MORE I FUCKING WOULD. OH MY GOOD CHRIST.
My kids told me they think it is a little weird that linguistically I act like there is a God/Jesus but I don’t believe in such a dynamic so they think I should stop talking like I do believe.
I told them I’m a product of my culture whether I believe all of it or not.
I keep finding myself saying Gorblimey. Because who doesn’t want God to blind them? Am I right? (Google it if you don’t believe me.)
I’ve slept 2.5 hours. God I feel so shitty.
After a fuck ton of stretching I’m going to try again. Back into the breech.
172 lbs. Come on body. I’m happy to hear from the internet that losing weight early on is super common. I don’t see an ob/gyn for 8 more days. That meeting will not be with the person who is delivering me. She’s an lgbtq specialist and I’ve met her before and she’s going to talk me through the personalities of the available midwives.
I’m pretty convinced I need to lie about the pot. The hospital where I’m going to deliver says “We don’t screen everyone. Just if it is indicated.” So I need to not indicate it. Will it complicate my care to lie? Not more than screwing my life for honesty.
I meet the pain management doctor in 6 days. I will be telling him about the pot. Partially to explain why I truly do not want other pain management medication. Could I be in less pain with more drugs? Probably. Would I be as functional? No. I’m in pain. That’s life. I want physical therapy. I want to find out if some of my old injuries are things that should have had surgeries. My shoulder is still an ongoing problem.
A friend who is a medical practitioner with Ehlers Danlos Syndrome did a physical test with me yesterday and she wants me to be officially screened for it. It would explain most of my chronic pain and my digestion problems. She explained it as, “EDS isn’t a new diagnosis. It’s the umbrella that hangs over every other diagnosis you’ve gotten and tells you why those problems exist.”
The pain management even has a blood test for fibromyalgia. I’m not sure how I’ll feel about this whole process. He may say “I can’t find anything. You are making everything up.” That could happen. But I know I’ve been in pain since early childhood.
I’m completely exhausted and I feel too weary to focus my eyes. My hands hurt and I feel so locked in my head that I can’t stop typing in various places. Come on, Krissy.
I am having an excessive amount of fun researching the progress of cloth diapers over the past 6 years. Snaps are everywhere! This is exciting! (Velcro wears out with all the washing. Snaps are my best friends.)
Also: baby carriers. Whoa. There are a bunch of new brands.
I’ve lost weight. Only 2 lbs so far but I really hate that pregnancy is a weight loss plan for me. It is every time. I swear to cheese I’m eating as much as I can hold.
Still barely sleeping. It has caught up to me and I’m so exhausted my bones ache.
That freakish energy burst is over. I’m kind of grateful. That was really hurting.
Exercise is sooooooooooo haaaaaaaaaaard again.
I get to go see my buddies in San Pablo today. I haven’t seen them in a while. I fell into a hole of “house remodeling” and haven’t been up to my normal monthly visits. (We trade locations monthly so I drive every other month.) So that’s exciting. I’m going to get amazing veggies for lunch today. Yay!
I feel like shit. I’m bloated as fuck. I’m cranky as fuck. I hate every one and every thing in the world.
I was reading through journal entries from five years ago. The best thing I can say is I think I scream less.
I wish it was politically possible to do a study of the outcomes of women who have mental illness during pregnancy that actually randomized SSRI’s & other medications vs pot vs unmedicated spikes of emotional distress.
I would sign up to be randomized. I would fully comply with taking heinous medications that I know hurt me if it would help people on a larger scale understand what happens.
I worry a lot about the emotional spikes I have because I feel ashamed of needing pot. One dose a day is… not the best thing ever. It means I come up and down every day. So I have these wild grief/sobbing periods and that doesn’t seem healthy.
In a few weeks when I start needing maternity shirts… I’m buying this: http://www.cafepress.com/mf/77953219/fck-gender_maternity?productId=1437421518
This is also lovely: http://www.cafepress.com/mf/86443698/gender-is-not-binary_maternity?productId=1225027311
I called my first pregnancy The Lizard. I called my second full term pregnancy TBD. This time I want to call it Lightning. When you are hit with lightning you are so consumed with energy that sometimes you die. That’s kinda what I feel like. I am exercising more than usual. I am sleeping less than usual. (2.5 hours tonight according to my fitbit.) I feel like I’m vibrating with excess energy. I feel like I’m about to burst into flight and shoot towards the sun, the only source in the universe with more energy than me right now.
This is incredibly overwhelming.
Maybe kiddo will come a bit later than Valentine’s Day. I was curious about when Pisces starts so I googled to see the dates. I got this:
The Pisces (born February 19 – March 20) is known as one of the more mysterious of the zodiac signs. Pisces have a lot of feelings. I asked my friends which one of them was Pisces and one of them exclaimed, “Right here, with ALL THE FEELINGS!” so that should tell you something.
Given ALL MY FEELINGS RIGHT NOW I’m kinda wondering if this one will bake extra long to make it to the explosion of feelings sign. Given that Aquarius supposedly rejects expressions of emotions…
Tommy was a borderline Pisces. He was born at 11:58 February 18th. He just couldn’t fucking wait two more minutes. My dad was so mad. He had to pay for an extra day in the hospital because of the timing.
If my kid manages to be born on February 18th around midnight… I’m in so much fucking trouble.
The internet tells me that first trimester insomnia is very common. Oh, great. A whole bunch of assholes want to give me the advice that I should avoid sleeping during the day to force myself to sleep at night. WHY DON’T YOU GO FUCK YOURSELF WITH A CHAINSAW, M’KAY? If I can get some sleep during the day I’m going to sleep. I’m going to sleep any time my body says ok. Because during the night time I can’t force myself to get more than 4 hours of sleep. The belief that I will sleep at night if I just stop napping is fallacious, harmful, and really fucking irritating.
According to my fitbit thingy (I’m wearing one so that when an ob/gyn says “You’re fat and you should exercise more to be less fat and you shouldn’t eat so much unhealthy food” I can go back and forth between data sets to point out how their bigotry is incorrect. This is not my first rodeo.
It hurts me emotionally that doctors will look at my pregnant body and go “Wow. You should be on a diet.”
Go fuck yourself with all the chainsaws that have ever been created.
And I’m “only” overweight. I’m not clinically obese. I feel so much sadness for the folks who are dehumanized more than me. You deserve to be treated like a person.
We shouldn’t have to obsessively log what we do and eat in order to be treated like human beings. It’s disgusting.
But given how I’m eating right now? Oh I’ll fight you if you imply I should cut back on calories. In my first pregnancy I was so sick I lost almost 20 lbs in the first trimester and a half. People complimented me a lot. I was so upset. I felt like everyone was cheering about me feeling like death. This is different in every way and I’m not going to put up with folks saying ignorant, rude things this time.
I may go off like a bottle rocket.
I’m working with my kids on the concept of “You don’t ask strangers personal questions without first asking them if it is ok because hello, boundaries.”
I feel like a lot of people never got that lesson. What the fuck.
Do you know what is a fun game I’ve played a few times? When I was going to spend a while sitting next to someone (I don’t wait well) and I noticed that they had an Obvious Feature That People Comment On I started talking about random stuff (temperature in room, number of people waiting, how long it would take) to get folks warmed up to the fact that I’m chatty as shit. After a few minutes of back and forth I lean and ask if it is ok to ask them a personal question. I see a little bit of tenseness appear. Sometimes they say yes and sometimes maybe and sometimes (rarely for some strange reason) no. I lean in and ask, “What is your favorite ice cream?” They laugh. Then we talk about food until we leave having never talked about the Obvious Feature That People Comment On.
I like the smiles that people wear when we part ways.
I used to wish that people would talk to my brother Tommy about something other than “why are you so weird?”
We are all weird if you look closely enough. Weird just means you aren’t used to something yet. Don’t be an asshole.
The more I think about this new baby the more excited I am. Parenting has been the best phase of my life. Is it always easy? No. Things that are always easy aren’t worth that much. I was not looking for convenience in this life. I wasn’t looking to keep my life the same and drag my kids along. I’ve changed everything.
And, despite my recent whining about alienation (which is a feeling), I am in by far the best place I’ve ever been. I’m healthier. I’m more stable. I’m more calm. I haven’t self harmed (despite having the impulse to do so) in a long time. I have bad hormonal weeks, but I even scream less.
It is… strangely comforting to have a professional tell me I am autistic. I have spent my life wishing for routines and I’ve never been able to maintain them for very long for a variety of reasons. It is comforting to know that part of my constant feeling that I just can’t adapt to whatever is being demanded of me this minute is… biological. It is hard for me to just adapt.
I’m not making up this struggle. It’s real.
I am reminded of a former-friend who was diagnosed with autism some years ago. I need to not use this label as an excuse to be an abusive asshole. Autism doesn’t make you an asshole. But some assholes use the label to justify their behavior and that’s not cool.
I will, of course, continue to work on adapting my brain and my behaviors to being more in compliance with being who I want to be. Neuroplasticity for the win. But it is really nice to feel like, “Some pieces of this change will be particularly hard. That’s ok.”
I don’t exactly shy away from hard work.
I just looked at the calendar and realized we really shouldn’t add anything in the next three weeks. It’s overwhelming. Given that I’m getting about 3 hours of sleep a night… I need to lower my expectations of myself right now.
I’m growing a brain, spinal cord, and nervous system. What are you doing with your time?
Pregnancy is so damn neat. I wish that as a species we spent more time marveling at the members of our species who are DUPLICATING THEMSELVES RIGHT IN FRONT OF US. It’s so neat to me.
Wanna know something weird as hell? I have practically no nausea. I’ve been god damn nauseous for most of my life, pregnant or not. I rarely feel good. Also I’m seeing dramatic negative poop response from wheat but without it I’m pooping like a champ. It’s solid, formed–perfect.
Poop is a huge thing in my life, yo.
Poop tells you about your health. My body is less irritated and that’s hella a big deal. I may do my best to cut wheat out this pregnancy. I’m not going gluten free. I’m just… avoiding wheat.
I don’t think it’s the gluten. I don’t know what it is. But I’m tired of burning diarrhea. One day in the past two weeks I had two slices of pizza and scones in the same day. I had burning diarrhea.
I feel like the most shocking part of this pregnancy is being totally turned off sugar. I ate one butter toffee almond yesterday. More would have made me sick. I ate one Dot. I could not eat more to earn money.
Even my tea is less sweet than usual. Sugar feels like poison.
Woo doctor said that we aren’t doing any detoxing any time soon. Just supportive stuff. Mostly I’m going to be increasing my daily consumption of minerals like whoa. Apparently I am depleted.
I think I miss Twitter more than the friend who divorced me last. That feels fucked up. Twitter was available 24/7.
Holy shit. I don’t remember my last pregnancies that well. That’s a biological mechanism that causes folks to be interested in getting pregnant again. I don’t recall being suddenly overwhelmingly suicidal. I want to cut so badly. It was a conscious decision to not walk over to the wall and start beating my head during dance class when I kept making mistakes.
My self hatred is way up around 8/9. I feel like I went from mild anxiety to full bore intense depression and this is horrible.
Do you know how grateful I am to be having this experience at 35 instead of when I was younger? It’s scary and it’s overwhelming and it feels shitty, but I have a steady track in my brain saying, “These are disordered thoughts. You don’t have to do what these feelings are telling you to do. It’s ok to just wait. Don’t react. Just… cry. That’s ok. Crying is awesome.”
So I’ve been sobbing almost all day for a couple of days now.
I’m sleeping for shit. For a bit now I’ve been taking 50mg pills of pot twice a day. Once with breakfast (takes 2 hours to kick in, lasts 4-6ish hours) and one with dinner. Because I REALLY want my level lowered I have been only taking the breakfast dose for the past 3 days and as a result my sleep is shit. Insomnia like whoa. Pregnancy exhaustion is no match for how much god damn sedation my body needs in order to calm down and sleep.
I have a woo doctor appointment tomorrow. I have a dentist appointment today. I have an appointment with a new therapist today. They are primarily a gender specialist for Youngest Child, but before we get into all of that they are going to talk to Noah and I about ADHD and autism. Because frankly I would like to have that conversation.
I was up for hours crying about my student who died. This is such a terrible loss. Oh dear Claudia I love you. You were so beautiful and kind and fierce and loving and… so young. I’m having a hard time dealing with her loss. I know it’s harder on her family, especially her young children. I certainly don’t think my suffering is the part that matters here. But I’m really sad anyway. The only thing I’m looking forward to about the memorial is that many of my former students were good friends with her and I’m looking forward to being able to cry and hug other people who loved her who understand just how devastating this loss is. I am so grateful she became my friend and not just my student. I think I learned a lot more from her than she learned from me.
Also weird: I’ve initiated sex twice in the past week. I barely ever initiate sex lately. Mostly only around ovulation. But right now I feel like I could ride a fire hydrant. Even though I’m depressed and feel shitty. It’s a seriously weird feeling. I KNOW I didn’t have this feeling with any previous pregnancy and it makes me have questions about testosterone levels in my body versus estrogen levels. Not that Youngest Child is a girl, but they do have a body that is consistent with primarily having a lot of estrogen.
Of course the “Are you going to check gender” questions are going to start. Uhm, well, with my last birth we made a bad assumption about gender starting with birth. I don’t really want to make that mistake in utero. Seems ridiculous. I’m good. I can wait.
I am absolutely ecstatic about getting to meet this child.
And I can’t stop the drum beat in my head that goes, “You are stupid and worthless and bad. You only hurt people. Why do you want to add to that list?”
I did delete Twitter. I don’t need more reasons to type all day. I don’t know how I’m going to limit my blogging without losing my fucking mind.
I feel really excited that my pain levels have dropped down to 2/3. Even with an inadequate amount of sleep. Maybe it’s all the vegetables.
God I want vegetables.
THIS IS THE WEIRDEST PREGNANCY.
I ate three bowls of vegetable soups yesterday. More than one kind, obviously.
I want soup, soup, soup, soup, soup, soup, soup, soup, soup, soup, soup, soup, soup, soup, soup, soup, soup, soup, soup, soup, soup, soup, soup, soup, soup, soup, soup, soup, soup, soup, soup, soup, soup.
This is overwhelming.
Noah and I are having hard conversations about what safety means. What is adventure? How can someone be your life and an escape from your life? I don’t know but I know that for a while now I’ve been changing and I don’t even know how to talk about it.
Sex is different. I don’t want to be hurt all the time. I don’t want to take one for the team. I am not here to please you. And if that is what happens it fucks me up really badly. That’s not much like how I’ve been for most of my life. I’m ready to be done with being treated like a cheap whore no one has to respect. There are consequences in my body and I just can’t absorb them any more.
By the way, sex workers deserve better treatment than that. What the fuck.
I don’t think it is that I am completely over bdsm. But it’s hard to have Noah hit me. It feels like being treated “like I deserve” and that’s complicated and mostly bad.
I think I deserve so little and I already have so much. I am often tempted to encourage Noah to hurt me in ways that are… really not a good idea. Because I deserve it. Because I am a piece of shit and Noah is way nicer to me than I deserve.
That’s complicated and bad. It seems not-good to keep encouraging him to hurt me in ways that make me feel more like I should die.
I don’t know what the path forward looks like. I was detransitioning from the kid phase and now that is restarted with a bang. I don’t know what that means.
Also, because this kind of thing comes up during pregnancy, I’m at 176 lbs. Lighter than when I started either other pregnancy by 5-10 lbs. I think I have fucktastically more muscle mass compared to then. That marathon 5, almost 6 years ago left my body changed. I’ve continued exercising at a rate previously unseen in my life. I’ve eaten more vegetables in the past 5 years than in the first 25 years of my life put together.
This is such a different experience.
I ate 5 times today. Every single time it involved vegetables: tomatoes, peppers, asparagus, green peas, carrots, broccoli. Sometimes only vegetable, sometimes mixed with protein: eggs, a little ham, and chicken. About half a serving of fruit: a handful of raspberries and some apricots and apple cooked into the chicken . Some of the vegetables were a little starchy but I really don’t want more starch.
This is… not normal for me.
Walked 2.25 miles.
Did lots of chores.
Not a pathetic loser who should die. I hope