pouring on the resentment

I always think I'm going to write here, but then I rarely actually do. Mostly, I don't seem to remember to do so when I have the chance, but sometimes I wonder if writing some of my frustrations down will really help or just add fuel to the fire. I suppose it depends. In this case, the fire is well-stoked, so I figure that writing about it certainly can't hurt.

I feel an almost unmanageable level of resentment toward my husband right now.

He is a wonderful father and I respect him very much. But sometimes he can treats me like C-R-A-P.

Probably the biggest hang-up in our marriage is his coldness. He will completely shut me out, show zero affection, minimal acknowledgement, for days on end for no reason at all. When he IS affectionate, it's often because he wants sex. And if he thinks I don't recognize that, he must think I'm incredibly dense. It's deeply hurtful and makes me feel awful about myself. It's not always this way, of course, but his stone-cold phases happen frequently enough that it feels like a constant battle-- either we're heading into one or coming out of one much of the time.

This bitterness right now is somewhat stemming from a particularly rough weekend. We went away as a family and I thought it would be great. We were joining my parents, without any other family (which is highly unusual for my family, as I come from a large(ish) one... so it's both exciting and sort of daunting to me to have so much attention from my own parents). I was really excited about it and it turned out to be one big stress-fest.

I partly blame my husband for this. Since shortly after we got married (it was not always this way), he has entirely closed himself off from my family. Minus the nieces & nephews, who he treats kindly and affectionately, he acts like time with my family is worse than time getting his teeth drilled. I don't understand it, and it doesn't seem to have any specific cause. No falling out, no past conflicts of substance. He never passes up an opportunity to point out the faults of my siblings, or their spouses, or my parents. Sure, they are far from perfect. AND SO ARE WE. I want to yell it at him, but I know he wouldn't hear it.

Sometimes it's like he has the emotional intelligence of a friggin FOURTEEN YEAR OLD.

I naively thought that this weekend might be a good chance for my husband and my parents to warm up to each other a little. But my husband acted stone cold to them ALL WEEKEND. It's bizarre and even embarrassing. I don't ever want to apologize for my husband, since I feel like this would be a betrayal of him, so instead I find myself working extra hard to make up for his uncaring and bitter behavior.

I think some of this rubs off on my three-year-old, who acted like a tyrant all weekend. He threw constant fits, was negative about EVERYTHING, refused to have fun no matter what. He's imitating his father, that's what I kept thinking.

My husband is an extremely loyal man. I trust him and I love him and am fully committed to him. I've tried without any effect to talk with him about this issue. In recent years, I've stopped bringing it up and tried to accept that this is simply WHO he is, and perhaps it just comes with the loyalty, or something like that. He sees my family as a threat for our affection & time & energy, and it's hard for him to cope with that.

But this weekend, it dawned on me that his behavior toward my family is the OPPOSITE of loyalty. He knows that my family is important to me, despite all their faults and complexities. Yet he continues to drive a wedge between them and me, between them and our family. It's hurtful, that's what it is.

We're expecting another baby soon, and I really want to give the baby my mother's name as her middle name. My husband is loathe to do this, even though I don't think he feels very strongly about a middle name in general. And now his hesitation to not use her name, with no reason other than he's decided to dislike my family, is making me irrationally angry.

I often just hope he eventually grows out of it.

ticker update

I'm much less panicked right now about this whole thing than I was last night (when I was quite literally on the verge of yelling outloud "I don't wanna die!").

I spoke with the doctor first this this morning and got a more detailed report. Not that anyone's dying to know the details (<-- bad pun), but it's nice to write it out.

I'm having those ventrical arrythmias about 140 times per hour, or about 3300 times a day. So I'm not crazy that I've been feeling like my heart is flip-flop-flopping around all day.

They are happening almost entirely one at a time, rather than coupled together, which is good. There was only one time during the 24 hour period that I wore the monitor that I had an "arrythmia cuplet." Apparently the heart can recover quickly from isolated ventrical mis-firings, but when they happen two or more in a row, blood will pool in the ventricles instead of being pumped out & circulated, which is bad.

The baby should not be affected by any of this.

I'm seeing a cardiologist in three weeks, but am on their "on call" list in case something opens up sooner.

I can still run. My doctor says there might be some validity to my claim that running makes this better. He said it's possible that a resting heart rate triggers the arrythmias more.

hopefully overreacting

Over the past two weeks, something strange has been happening with my heart. It's possible I'm overreacting, but I'm scared because-- well-- IT'S MY TICKER. And I'm pregnant. And I have small children. AND IT'S MY TICKER.

I finally got the start of some answers tonight, in the form of a voice mail from my doctor. I'm having "frequent ventricular ectopy and occastional atrial ectopy" (huh?)(exactly). Basically I've got an arrythmia where the valves of my ventricals are misfiring, beating uselessly at the start of the heartbeat rather than just at the end. It feels wierd, which is why I called my doctor about it in the first place. It's not a racing heart; it's more like my heart trips over itself. It feels like it beats one and a half times (which, I suppose, is exactly what happens), and it makes me lose my breath a little when it happens (maybe a hundred or so times a day?).

Good news is that last week I had a echo and an ekg done on my heart and it appears that there is no damage. So the arrythmia isn't caused by a damaged heart. That's great news. But what IS causing it ranges from very benign factors to factors that require open heart surgery and a pace maker.

There are so many reasons why I'm upset about this. It's easier if I just list them.

*Ventricular arrythmias are more dangerous than atrial. If you google search "ventricular ectopy" (which I DID, obv), you get a whole lot of articles about Sudden Cardiac Death. I really, really prefer to NOT drop dead at 32.

*I've always been so healthy. My lifestyle is HEALTHY. I exercise five days a week. I'm active. I don't have the best eating habits, but they aren't terrible. I don't smoke. I get enough sleep (sort of). I don't get stressed about work.

*And now I'm going to see a CARDIOLOGIST? How does that HAPPEN?

*I'm PREGNANT. Is this affecting blood flow or oxygen to the baby? I don't know yet.

*I've got small children and I cannot stop thinking about how they need me. It's morbid, and sure, any of us could die by lightening strike (or other random, more probable causes) at nearly any moment. But this feels different. In my mind, I keep seeing the worst case scenario. Dying and not being here for them, for my husband. My little one not even remembering me. PLEASE MAKE ME STOP IMAGINING THIS.

*My husband's father has been in poor health since he (my husband) was little. He had a massive heart attack and flatlined when my husband was four years old. He's had 4 open heart surgeries and who knows how many other heart-related procedures, and so my husbands whole life has, in one way or another, revolved around his father's heart disease. I hate to put him through this. My first reaction when I heard the message from the doctor was to not tell him.

*I'm afraid the cardiologist is going to insist I stop running, and I feel very strongly this is the wrong approach. On days I run, my heart skips LESS. I am sure of it. Running has been part of my lifestyle since I was 12. It seems irrational to cut out the healthy aspects of one's lifestyle in response to this. I dread a disagreement with a doctor.

*I'm PISSED that I missed this phone call this evening. I called back right away, but the office was closed. I have to wait until tomorrow to get any additional details and ask questions. Overnight feels like a really long wait.


So! The best case scenario here is that this whole thing is being caused by the increase in blood volume during pregnancy, and my heart is behaving bizarrely in response. The worst case scenario is really really worse. And that's why I'm scared.

disappointment

When I worry about my boys, especially with regards to behavoir issues, I find that talking to my parents about it makes it SO MUCH WORSE.

My three-year-old has been giving me a terrible time lately. When I tell my mom about it, she says things like, "Oh my! WHY would he act that way? I just don't know what to tell you! Maybe there really IS something wrong." And I get this panicky, oh shit feeling in my gut. Even my own mom thinks I'm screwing up my kid.

I don't know why I still expect something different from her, because this has been happening from my first day as a mother. She simply isn't a calming kind of person. If you're ready to hit the panic button, then she's right there with you, ready to help you launch into full-scale crisis mode. It's 100% NOT HELPFUL.

I frequently get frustrated also because my parents are very resistant to helping out with their grandkids. They love their grandchildren, OF COURSE. But I have been repeatedly surprised at how they will never offer to pitch in, to take the kids for dinner one night, or pick them up from daycare, or come to our house and help out for an afternoon. They NEVER do this. Before having children, I expected them to. I thought for sure they'd want to jump right in and get involved. They like being grandparents, but on their own terms and with limited time committment.

When things are hard as a parent, my instinct is to call my own parents. Nine out of ten times, I feel worse for calling; I feel either more alarmed or more alone than I did before. I have other friends I can call, friends who can give me more level-headed advice and relate in more real sense. I suppose I should switch where I go to seek reassurance.

the outcome

I meant to update this past weekend, to let you know that my husband KEPT HIS JOB. Thank you so much for your thoughts last week. We were holding our breath all day Friday, as his company made pretty drastic layoffs; 40% of his office is GONE. It was a hard day for Eric, to say the least. People were handed boxes at their desks, and escorted out by teary-eyed security officers. Depressing. We spent the weekend feeling both immensely grateful for our own good fortune this time around, and sad for the families whose lives just got much harder.

Partly, I didn't update because I wanted to find some time to write out my thoughts about the past month, about thinking through this potential job loss. The gist of what I wanted to express is that I am somewhat stunned at how relatively CALM we were about it. We worried and spun our wheels and talked it out, and were left with a sense that we would be OKAY. It's a strange feeling for me. I tend to be a nervous person, a person with a seemingly constant sense of foreboding. It's annoying, as you can imagine. When things are good, I'm waiting for the inevitable crash; when things are bad, well, that just proves me right for all that worrying.

But what this made me see is that we are stronger as a family than I realized. I mean, we still drive each other crazy and piss each other off on a daily basis, but I've got absolute faith in us to stick together. This exercise of visualizing what would happen to us if we lost all seblance of those factors that shape our daily lives: our jobs, our house, our routines, our security... has made me realize that even if we lost these things, we would still be A FAMILY.

And I'm ALLOWED to be all pollyanna on you right now, because I live my life as the anti-pollyanna, so that buys me a few free passes.

not surprising, but still terrifying

I think my husband is going to lose his job in the next week.

It's not entirely surprising, but still gives me the distinct feeling like I'm DROWNING. This morning, his company president sent out an email announcing a suspension of all retirement matching, and "severe streamlining" of business operations to be announced soon.

We'll be okay, which I know for certain. As in, we'll stick together as a family no matter what. That is the most important, I realize.

I hate living in this Age of Anxiety.

the unimaginable

One of our neighbors is a single mom with seven kids. She is a tremendous woman. Her husband left when her youngest, now ten, was a newborn. He just up and quit being a Dad, just like that. She went back to school to get her nursing degree so she could support them all. This woman did a remarkable job with her kids, who are quiet and rugged and polite.

It seems to me that often when a person gets beat down by life, they become jaded, detached; they can't seem to connect or sympathize with other people and their seemingly normal struggles. This woman is not this way. She is a rare person who is both humbling and uplifting to be around.

We are particularly close to the youngest two, a 12-year-old girl and 10-year-old boy. They play with our own kids, tell us about school and sports, watch our dogs when we're out-of-town, shoot baskets with us in the street, swim with us at the pool. The 12-year-old has babysat our kids; she's the only teenage babysitter we've ever trusted our kids to.

The second-oldest sibling in the family, now 20-year-old, died on Saturday night. He died in his sleep at his grandmother's house where he was living temporarily.

The girl and boy came over to our house to tell us. I will never forget opening the door, the two of them standing there together, and I knew something wasn't right. I said, "Hey, what's up, guys?" They looked at each other and the boy says to his sister, "You say it." So she says to me, "My brother Scott died last night."

I took them both in my arms and hugged them. Then I let go, then hugged them again. I must have said, "Oh no, oh no, oh kids, oh no," about fifty times. I asked about their Mom, who is of course not doing well. I told them to come back for anything, anything at all. I hugged them again.

This has really struck me, how I am the ADULT here, how I am supposed to be able to help in some way, and how entirely impotent I am. Yes, there's a food list, and the family will be set for dinner for a good three months. Yes, there is a memorial fund to help pay for the funeral and burial expenses. But beyond that, what can you do? I want to grab those two children up and take them away from it. I want to reach out to them and HELP. I want to tell their mother how it is NOT FAIR for one person in this life to experience so much grief. It's an awful thing to simply stand by and be witness.