I was going to hold off writing until after my appointments tomorrow, but the truth is that I just want to hide from these visits to doctors. I have written about my desire to breastfeed this baby, and the likely possibility that I won’t be able to due to medication and lack of clinical support. And tomorrow is that meeting.
The results from the 20 week pregnancy ultrasound came back all clear, so clear, clearer than I clearly expected.
I am excited this is happening. I can feel them moving inside me now; in the evenings after dinner, on the plane as it drops altitude to land.
I had an all too real dream last night though, that for some reason I had decided to go on a rollercoaster-type amusement ride that held my body against gravity, like those cha-cha rides they had at our school fetes as kids. I could fee my baby firm but small, rounded spine against the outer layer and I could hold them in my hand. I was trying to resist them being thrown around too much, and I could feel them pulse and their firm shape compress into my hand as I attempted to protect them.
When I woke from this very vivid dream my hand was tingling from the sensation of holding them. Although I knew it was not real, it was so vivid that my feeling was immersed in the touch. Dreams like this happen more often than not, and I am not sure if it is part of the pregnancy or a side effect of the medical or my mania seeping out. Sometimes they are manageable like last night, other times they are delicious in intimacy and joy, however more often than not they are insidious, dark and seeped in deep pain and horror. The prelude to my novella is a recurring vivid nightmare that I experienced every night during my psychotic episode in 2015. It was so real that my sweat and trembling did nothing to comfort and I felt disastrous loss.
Nap time for Master X
Yeah, no nap for Mr 18 months. It was actually more distress time as he sat next to the door Mr A had left through. My man has had a tough week looking after our boy as he was sick and could not go to care. So anyway, X is totally attached to Mr A now. I’m trying to watch him so dad can go to the movies, and all I get is a crying mess.
My mania seems a life time ago. What I am appreciating is the clarity of the bipolar medication Zyprexa in comparison to the Risperidone medication in 2015. The weight gain from the bipolar medication is a bit of a sucker (8kg in 3 weeks) and I always say, ‘all I want is to be well. I don’t care about the extra weight‘ until I gain the weight and start to feel better and it’s all ‘hella hoe I’m FAT’. I know that I have time to lose the weight later, and I have lost it before, but it does not help the down period that always follows mania heightens such changes. And I’m too afraid to walk after the severe pubic pain I had last time.
So things are on the up… today. And I’ll write some more after I crash into the wall of anti-breastfeeding pro-mental health appointments tomorrow. *Queue doom music*