heavy sigh

Dudes. So much has been going on here and I’ve had neither the energy nor the time to write about it. It’s been a rough week with some good parts – so let’s recap, shall we?

As background info, Manny is quite a bit older than I am, so his folks are in their 70s. His mom has some unnamed form of dementia – she still remembers who we all are and functions in daily life to some extent, but is unable to do things on her own like shop, cook meals every day, etc. She has also, in the 9 years that I’ve known her, undergone some personality changes – she can get quite anxious and is just a bit more abrasive and short tempered. Not abusive or out of control, but she can be unpleasant, especially when she is under stress. Her short term memory is basically shot, although sometimes she surprises me – she seems to remember things with an emotional component the best, so she remembers stuff like that I am knocked up. My father in law is still fairly sharp mentally, but physically is a bit frail and has slowed down significantly since he had a T.IA a couple years ago. Since my MIL is not really able to do things on her own, he has taken over a lot of the day to day stuff, like preparing meals, feeding the cat, etc. All of that combined with living with a person with dementia equals some serious stress, which I think has contributed to the state of affairs we now find ourselves in, or at the very least is something we have to work on alleviating in the future.

Last week Manny had been keeping in touch with his folks who move out to their cabin at the lake for the summer, and learned that his dad had come down with a nasty sounding stomach bug. He was keeping in touch and making sure that things were going along ok – our brother in law was headed out there for his vacation, so we knew that they would have someone around to check on them and help if need be. On Friday, Manny was speaking to them again and decided to head out to the lake immediately, because his dad had had a minor fall when he was feeding the cat – nothing broken or seriously injured, but he was very weak and not walking very well at all. Both FIL and MIL sounded extremely stressed and both wanted to move home (over a two hour drive from the lake to the city where they live) which was a big sign that all was not well – usually, we have to tear my MIL away as she really likes it out there. So off Manny went. I figured he’d be out there for the weekend and that all would be figured out shortly. Um, no.

They got moved home ok, but it quickly became clear that they couldn’t manage on their own. Manny had booked two weeks off work for his summer vacation, so at least he had the time off, but he has been staying with his folks ever since last Friday. I saw him on Sunday when we drove out to the lake to pick up the IL’s vehicle which had been left behind in the hasty move, and we had a chance to talk about how things were going. Basically, this incident has shown us how much more support they really need, and how if my FIL is unable to get around or keep on top of things in the house, that they are unable to live on their own. Right now, we think that a combination of having meals brought in, possibly some home care, and family support will let them stay in their house for a while, provided my FIL keeps getting his strength back, which seems to be happening, although very slowly. I’ve had a sense that this was coming for a while, and actually tried to push everyone to have this discussion a few years back when FIL had the TI.A. But they didn’t, really, and it gives me no satisfaction to be right. Now my MIL is going to be much less able to cope with change, and they have a lot fewer choices than they did back then. We are just starting to investigate what is available in terms of support and in terms of alternative living arrangements for them, but it is scaring the living shit out of me and, I suspect Manny, his sister and her husband. Whatever change is coming is most definitely not going to be easy on any of us.

Some of you may know that Manny had just returned from being away on a work trip for 2 weeks, and now he is gone for another two weeks helping care for his folks. I know that sometimes I come across all calm and zen and generous, because, you know, I try to come across that way. The reality is that I spent last weekend and the earlier part of this week having a complete fucking wallow in my misfortune, because I’m pregnant, damn it, and want to be the center of attention, and have my husband around to talk baby stuff with, and have people fuss over me, and be all princess-y and shit. Instead, I’m stuck in charge of a messy house, a dog that needs walking, and a hungry and extremely fucking weepy beast that needs feeding at 3 hour intervals. Oh, right, I am that beast.  A self-pitying, anxious, teary, and fatter-assed-by-the-day beast.

It took me a few days, but I’ve mostly snapped out of it. The self-pity and anxiety at least. I realized on one of my and Lucky’s morning walks (although they are scarcely walks anymore – I’ve taken them to calling them “our morning toddles”) that I don’t have to carry around the whole enormity of the situation with Manny’s folks – all the what ifs were making me crazy and miserable. Right now, I have to cope with the fact that I’m living on my own, and I need to be as supportive to Manny as I can. I can handle that, even if I’m finding it hard sometimes. All the rest of it – what comes next? what are we going to do? – I can just put down for now. One thing at a time and all that.

Manny and I had tickets to the folk festival that weekend, but he ended up skipping the whole thing. I went with friends to the evening shows – Iron & Wine was great, although marred by the idiots who kept talking all the way through. I went up to the front for my favourite song, and there was a clueless girl behind me who would not shut up and was sadly ignorant of how ridiculous she was being. The whole time, she was going on and on about how much she respected musicians, how she was, like, in awe of them, and how, if she ever had the good fortune of dating a musician, she would just worship him, because, like they are so amazing, how they can play instruments and stuff. Meanwhile, not 30 feet away is a particularly brilliant musician, singing a particularly powerful and moving song, and she can’t find it in her to shut her fucking yap. It was all I could do not to just turn around and stare at her – she was like one of those hilariously oblivious people out of a Jane Austen novel. It makes a good story, but it sort of ruined the magic of the moment.

There is more, of course – I have been having deep, deep thoughts that I would like to write about some day when life returns to some semblance of normal. I am nearly 29 weeks, I’ve hired a doula, I’m feeling good most of the time, although today when I was getting my hair cut I was subjected to the unpleasant sight of my thighs in gaucho pants sitting down. You know how usually when you get your hair cut you need to put on extra makeup and make sure your face isn’t too hard to look at? Yeah, today, I could not have cared less about my pale and exhausted-looking face. Once I caught a glimpse of those thighs…unflattering.

I’m making progress on the baby’s room and am finding myself unexpectedly wanting to do more to decorate it. I am essentially anti-nursery (for myself, not others) because we plan to co-sleep and because, well, babies don’t care what their rooms look like. But I’m finding myself wanting to make it a nice space for myself – likely, this will be limited to sewing a different cushion cover for the rocking chair I got a while ago and perhaps some snazzy wall decals. Maybe a nice little table for a glass of water and snacks for nursing time. Basically, a sitting room for me that happens to contain a dresser for baby clothes and somewhere to put diapers.

I promise more fun stuff soon – photo of my glasses will be possible now that my cold sore is gone, with the added bonus of my fresh haircut. I know, I know – you can’t wait.