Daughter's 6th Birthday

Daughter's 6th birthday party was on Saturday (her actual birthday is tomorrow, the 26th). It was very nice, and she got a lot of clothes and toys (as usual). I wanted to blog about it because every year around her birthday, I think about the day she was born, and how my life has changed since she came into it.

Not to get all into the gory details (as I am sure you would rather I spared you them) -- but Daughter was born on a Tuesday, but I went into labor on the Monday before, around 4:30am. The labor wasn't too bad at first, and of course, it didn't get really bad until later into the evening on Monday -- maybe around 9pm. I had gone to the hospital early on Monday morning, only to be sent home with a sleeping pill later in the day, as nothing had progressed enough for me to be admitted. (Figures the kid was taking her time in coming -- Daughter doesn't do anything until she's ready.)

I waiting until the last possible minute before I let Husband take me back to the hospital -- I pretty much couldn't take it anymore, and was in a lot of pain. We got to the hospital around 10pm, and the dude who does the epidurals finally showed up around 11pm -- and it took him close to an hour to get the freakin' thing in right. I was damn near tears during the whole process, and Husband was damn near a coronary. I could see the stress on his face, and knew he was at his wits end when he says to the anesthesiologist -- "You getting close there, doc?" Afterward, Husband said he was freaking out because there was blood everwhere -- from my spine where the doctor was putting the epidural needle.

We got settled and around 5am, my doctor came in and took a peek and said we'd be having a baby born in about an hour or so. I freaked becasue we hadn't even called our families yet--so Husband got on the horn and told everyone to get to the hospital immediately. Of course, Daughter wasn't actually born until 11:59am...so everyone had a lot of waiting to do, and my doctor lied. ;)

It was relatively uneventful labor -- I had heard horror stories about how women crap all over the table and stuff from pushing...or blow a hemorrhoid or something...and I was not about to become one of those women. I did have about a million people come in a take a look -- students, mostly -- but at that point, I didn't mind who looked. I just wanted the baby born.

Daughter eventually got stuck at one point (probably due to my lack of abandon in the pushing combined with the epidural), and according to the heart monitor, was in a bit of distress. My doctor told me that he would try one last time -- this time with forceps, and only if I was agreeable to it -- and if she didn't come out, he was going to do a c-section. Well, we decided on the forceps because, by god, I wasn't about to be cut open after a 30 hours of labor...and thankfully, Daughter was born with the help of the forceps.

She did have a bit of a conehead...you would too after being stuck for hours--but other than that, she was perfect!

And she still is....6 years later.

My life has changed in many ways since having her. I no longer think of myself first when I need something -- I put her first. I have cried and laughed more because of her than for any other reason in my life. Cried because she makes me happy and laughed because she makes me happy. She also makes me worry about the world and the future more. I understand why my parents wouldn't let me roam the streets or go to strange people's houses and why they were scared to let me on the schoolbus for the first time -- or when they let me drive for the first time. I also understand how my parents probably still worry about me...and the truth is, I will never stop worrying about Daughter.

I cry more when I read stories about abused or murdered children. I was horrified over the Lacy Peterson story. I worry about child molesters and about Daughter disappearing one day. I try to tell her about evil in the world, without scaring the crap out of her. I try to teach her that not everyone in the world is good--although there are good people. It's hard to teach a child the difference. It's also hard to teach them not to trust everyone, when trust is inherent.

I also look forward to her growing up (although not too fast!) and I pray everyday she has a happy life. I want her to find someone to love, and to have children herself. I want to give her everything that I didn't have, and then some.

I also now understand that being a mother is a job that is mostly unglamorous and thankless. But the reward of being a mother outweights the need for glamor and thanks. The reward for me comes everyday, when Daughter tells me she loves me and gives me a kiss and hug. Or when she writes her love down (which she pretty much does everyday)..."I (heart) u mommy and daddy"....

I KNEW it!

Daughter had conferences last night and her teacher says she thinks Daughter may have A.D.D. I was not surprised because that kid has the same problems I do with focusing on tasks.

I made an appointment with her with our doctor (her and I have the same one) and don't you think for a minute I am going to pass up this opportunity to tell him about my A.D.D. as well! You can trust that I am not being dramatic when I say that -- I really honestly think sometimes that I have it because of my problems with focusing. Now poor little Daughter has the same problem!

Other than that -- she had a really positive report from her teacher. She is very smart (and I'm not just saying that) and her teacher said it was her saving grace. :)

Oh...and the Hits Keep on Coming...

My luck has continued in its downward spiral, demonstrated by the fact that I got about $450 stolen out of my purse at my new job last Friday. It doesn't matter that I had that much cash in my purse and it also doesn't matter that I left it unattended for about 15 minutes. What matters is that some asshole stole it. As if I didn't hate my job enough. Now there is a thief among us.

The Negativity Continues...

I had a sobering thought today. Our new President-Elect, Mr. Barak Obama is 47 years old.

I am 37 years old.

He has achieved the highest office in this country -- a job only one person gets to have every four years. I haven't achieved squat. Nor, I am afraid, will I achieve 1% of what he has achieved by the time I am 47.

He was a great constitutional law professor...I can't even pass the Bar exam.

It's sad when I am envious of someone who had to work tooth and nail for everything he has achieved -- no one gave him anything on a silver platter.

I need to figure out some goals, find my direction and get on with it already. I just don't know where to begin, and my A.D.D. (see one of my first posts!) is preventing me from getting organized. Some days I just wish I could get my shit together. Fuck!

Same Shitty Attitude, Part Deux

I failed the Bar exam again. I really have had a banner year, haven't I? I got the results in the mail on Saturday and I am beyond frustrated. I just don't know what I am supposed to do with my life. Everything has been on hold -- waiting for these fucking results, and now I have to gear up and take the goddam test again. Fuck.

Ever get to a point in your life where you are just so sick of everything, that you just want to throw your hands up in the air and give up? Yeah. I'm at that point. I really have nothing positive to write about right now, or think about, or to look forward to. Don't worry, I'm not suicidal or anything--thanks to my Wellbutrin prescription....I just feel hopeless. And I haven't felt like this in a very long time.