Tina Rowley

writer + (performer) + [space left blank for surprises]

Welcome to the internet home of Tina Rowley. Here you'll find my blog, links to my other published writing, and whatever ends up climbing into the space I left blank for surprises.

 

slippage



Let me tell you straight out, this post is written to elicit sympathy. I understand that posting a Hang In There kitty picture for myself was a risky maneuver in that light, but there we go. Love me despite the fact that I've already provided my own kitty.

This last week has been no good. No good. My mom had a sort of collapse last Tuesday, and it turned out that she had a couple of blood clots in her lungs. We had to get her quickly to the hospital, where she's been since and will be for a couple more days. She'll be all right, it's treatable. They're giving her blood thinners and she's stabilizing. But she came close, there, and that was horrible. And even though she's better and will be fine, you know how it is - there's a chapter in a novel I read once, the title of which (the chapter) was "The Prospect of Rescue Undoes You". My mom and I had a fine weep today as we contemplated how close she came to...yeah.

We've been staying most of this last week up at my mom's place with my brother, who has some chronic situations that require support. The bed there is not good for gigantic pregnant mofos who have enough trouble sleeping as it is! And, goddamnit, I am about to pop. No kidding. Trying to be all bustly and efficient for my mom and brother is a physical challenge right now. I can barely freaking walk! I'm having the Braxton Hicks contractions, but where they used to just feel like a sudden curling of my belly into tight armadillo formation, now they're getting painful and not-fuck-around-y. Saw the midwife last Thursday, and I was 60% effaced and a centimeter dilated already. I'm certain that things have advanced since then, because these contractions are, as I said, not fucking around. I'm trying to make peace with them as they hit, because hopefully they're sparing me some time during actual labor, hopefully they're getting the sort of early work done on my body that Dave and I have NOT been getting done on our house. Nice to know that my body isn't a procrastinator, even if my mind and my husband and I surely the hell are. Our house isn't quite ready, and I really suspect that Finn isn't going to sit around and wait for his due date. So that's freaking me out. Trying to juggle my beloved mom and brother and our baby readiness and my aching lump of a body is bringing me down.

And also, I'm the driver in the household, and driving's getting tougher all the time. I'm getting close to giving that shit up until the baby comes. So, waah to that as well!

It's all a bit much, I say. I feel that it's enough to be facing imminent birth and parenthood. Life was an asshole to throw motherly blood clots into our scene.

That's the suckball report. Bring on the pity! Come to the party! I'm totally throwing it!

For those who may be feeling ballsy: don't even think of invoking My Therapy Buddy right now.