It seems silly to think a two-year-old could be stressed out or nervous. But they’re little people, no? According to a life stressor quiz, I scored 654. More than 150 points on this test, and it’s time to reconsider what’s going on in your life, take a new direction, and perhaps get thyself into counseling.
If the events I’ve experienced in the past year are causing my hair to fall out, I’m sure that a portion of them — if not my own stress — has leaked out to affect my child. I try my best to remain calm, keep her entertained and distracted, and ensure her happiness. That doesn’t mean I’m always 100% effective.
So Bea has started pulling out her own hair. She has a habit of twisting the hair around in, usually, her left hand. She’ll pull a hair or two out of her head, then start absent-mindedly brushing it across her face. Next thing you know, it’s in her mouth.
For a kid that little, you have to wonder if it’s something you’re doing wrong, or if there’s something you could be doing right to help. It’s definitely something we’re going to have to keep an eye on and try to redirect. If that isn’t effective, we’ll have to consider other avenues, though I’m not really sure where to start.
To top it all off, yesterday, she had to be really patient with me. I felt so bad for her, but one of the downfalls of staying home is that, if I get sick, there isn’t any way for Charlie to help out – or anyone else, for that matter. I was nauseous, fighting a migraine the entire day, felt dehydrated and my muscles ached. It was all I could do to peel myself off the couch and try to play with her.
I thought I’d started the World’s Worst Period on Tuesday (a few days late), but the symptoms led me to believe that our last less-than-careful encounter ended up in a pregnancy, which ended this week. I had a lot of lower back pain, some pretty awful cramps, and . . . well, let’s leave out the other issues for the sake of your delicate constitution. Suffice it to say, I counted back and discovered that I had, in fact, been ovulating right around the time we were intimate.
I told Charlie about it because, I knew if I were losing a pregnancy, however early, I needed to switch up my use of feminine hygiene products. If you’re miscarrying, you should not use tampons, guys, just so you know. He ran right out to get me some other stuff and, when he returned, he asked if I was disappointed. I think because I seemed so down. But if I seemed down, I explained, it was because of the changes my body was going through, on top of all the other myriad difficulties and challenges we’d been faced with in the past week. Month. Year. Whatever.
Am I disappointed? Not really. I don’t want to have another baby. Am I sad? Yes. To think that Bea’s little brother or sister was this cluster of cells that just sort of washed out of my body and, for a few weeks before, I’d had no idea that this was going on . . . It’s a little disturbing. But I also realize that most pregnancies don’t make it past the first few weeks, and most women aren’t even aware that it’s happened (like me).
It definitely makes me think about where we are right now – emotionally, financially, time-wise. I haven’t even started classes yet, so I can’t imagine juggling that, Bea, a pregnancy . . .
So, yeah. It’s a bit of a relief, even if a tad bit sad. And physically painful. I think, if Bea is stressed out now from the move, from losing Trinity, from sensing that I’m so exhausted, I don’t think she would deal well with me being knocked up or having to compete with a baby for attention.