This afternoon I heard that Erick the Half a Bee is coming by himself this weekend to work some more with Mr K.  I can’t believe how overwhemingly relieved I am to hear that I won’t have to spend the weekend running from my own house in an attempt to stay away from the Crack Whore Baby – which is starting to remind me of the one on the ceiling on Trainspotting.
.

An innocent enough question, but when uttered by your friendly neighbourhood psychiatrist there are no innocent questions.

"Ummm, I’ve not been doing much really."  She tells me that most people she sees get in the chair and just go ‘blargh’ all over the place the minute the door closes but that for some reason (if she’s figured that reason out she hasn’t shared it) I tend to be rather quiet and non-responsive and she feels like she has to drag me kicking and screaming into a discussion.  Likely this is due to my long established habit of avoiding talking about my problems just … because that’s what I do.

"You’re looking rather tired today, have you had a busy weekend or something?"  Okay, she hits paydirt with this one and out comes the story of how Erick the Half a Bee and his wife were down on the weekend to help work on the house and how they bought their little foster baby with them and how much I seriously did not feel like I had the energy to be dealing with babies at the moment… and in particular babies that had been abandoned by their drug fucked mothers who didn’t deserve to be able to have them in the first place.

I found myself telling her about the statement that – ‘Borys would just have to deal with the baby being present if she wants the room finished.’ and how I felt that my cousin-in-law’s attitude was just a little insensitve given that they know all about my horrible IVF history and my five fucked up miscarriages – the whole works and jerks.  The Trick-Cyclist says "That’s not just insensitive… that’s cruel… deliberately cruel."  I never thought she was being ‘cruel’ and I found myself making excuses for her… "I’m sure she had no malicious intent… and I’m probably just being hypersensitive for no reason… and she’s probably just not really thinking that it might affect me at all…. and in fact I bet she probably thinks she’s actually trying to help me to get over my whole baby aversion/infertility thing… blah blah blah." 

But the psych was having none of it.  "No, not just insensitive – cruel." she says again.  "By saying that you’d ‘just have to deal with it’ she is acknowledging that she is fully aware of the discomfort and stress she is about to place on you by bringing a baby into your house and she has decided to force that upon you anyway.  It’s cruel and it’s bullying."  Bullying?  "No surely not," says I… "I’m sure she just wasn’t thinking.  She’s very opinonated and perhaps not as educated and well informed as she’d like to think she is… and sometimes she’s just not very sensitive to the feelings of others… she’s just very forthright and blunt is all."

"Remember when they used to put women who’d had still births or miscarriages into maternity wards along side several other women who were there with their families celebrating the safe arrival of their own babies?  (*this happened to my Mum actually)  Hospitals very rarely do this anymore as we recognize the enormous psychological impact it has at such a critically difficult time on the mothers who are grieving the loss of their babies.  This is a similar thing, she has deliberately put you in a situation in your own home that dredges up all the tears, frustrations and disappointments associated with your infertility, your many IVF treatments and your miscarriages…. and it is absolutely cruel of her to do that to you given that she obviously knows your history."

At which point I stopped defending Erick the Half A Bee’s wife and started to think that the psych might be right (God I hate it when that happens).  We spoke about it a little more until I started to ponder aloud about how I truly don’t understand why I am so emotionally wrung out over other people’s babies, and friends being pregnant given that it’s been nearly 4 years since I gave up on the whole IVF thing.  She felt that maybe I wouldn’t be feeling this quite so keenly if it weren’t for my current circumstances – those being that I’m told I’m suffering from a Major Depressive Disorder, Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, an Adjustment (to injury and chronic pain) Disorder as well as some sort of Anxiety Disorders… so the odds were high that a baby in my house would be another significant cumulative stressor allowing many feelings to surface that I had thought long burried.  Along with trying to handle being in pain all day and the limitations and frustrations that accompany those daily stressors, an additional stressor in the form of a newborn in the house has created an inability and unwillingness to have to ‘deal with it’.

So basically… no.  No. I don’t think I’m being hypersensitive anymore.  I shouldn’t have to pretend in my own home that all is well with the world when it patently is not.  I have been through an awful lot when it comes to IVF and infertility and I should allow myself to acknowledge that as well as the emotional scars that have been left behind.  So screw this.  I have every right to feel the way I do and I am not going to willingly put myself through any additional unnecessary stress if they bring that baby down next time. 

I will be packing a bag for me and the Small Child and going to my Mum’s for the duration.
.

My house which until recently felt like it was falling down – well perhaps not so much falling down as being ripped to pieces – is starting to take on a more ‘houselike’ appearance again with the weekend’s addition of some wall frames and trusses etc.  Erick the Half a Bee is fantastic.  I can’t believe that he’s doing all this for us.  I don’t know anyone else in my entire life who would do something quite so generous as to help us build an entire room onto our house…. it’s a little bewildering really as he seems to be missing that whole "What’s in it for me?" that most people seem to have come preprogrammed with.

It’s been great spending so much time with him too.  He’s pretty easy going and a lot of fun… and cos he was my favourite cousin growing up we have quite a few ‘Remember whens…’ to mull over.  But… (there had to be one coming didn’t there) there’s been a recent development which has added a whole new level of stress to the already stressful building endeavour.

Erick the Half a Bee and his wife are Foster Carers and a couple of months ago they were entrusted with the care of a newborn baby girl whose mother is some sort of crack whore.  Okay slight exaggeration… she’s some sort of methamphetamine junkie but you get the idea (bit of background – this woman has had her three previous children removed from her care at birth in similar circumstances I understand and has several times abandoned rehab programs).

Anyway, they were charged with the little baby directly after the necessary detox period until the Mother (and I use the term loosely) decided to go into rehab (yet again) and I’m not sure why, but the little one was given back to her to be her ‘motivation and incentive to get herself cleaned up’.  To make a long story short the Mother (strangely enough) ended up failing in spectacular fashion when it came to meeting the demands of care taking for a newborn whilst trying to beat drug addiction and the baby has ended up back at home with Erick the Half a Bee and his wife for an indefinte period at this point…. luckily for the little one I think.

Now to the crux of the issue.  I don’t want a mewling (there’s a word you just don’t get to use a lot) infant in my house.  In the last decade I think there’s been maybe one or two of my friends for whom I have been genuinely happy when they’ve gone and done the breeding thing… but as for the rest, those have required the positively exhausting socially acceptable exercise of using the expected ‘I’m so happy for you’ smiley face to be in situ at all times.  Mr K had asked Erick the Half a Bee if the baby would be coming down with him on the weekend as he knows the little blighters still push my buttons (though fuck knows why after all this time the angst lingers on) and he got a reply that went something like this ‘If Borys wants her room finished she’ll just have to deal with it!" which sounds nothing like Erick the Half a Bee and everything like his opinionated wife.   Opinionated is normally a good thing – hell I’m about as opinionated as they come but I was taken aback by the complete lack of sensitivity in the statement given the situation.

So they turned up on Friday evening.  Thankfully the innocent little offender was asleep…. but when I stumbled out of bed on the Saturday and was confronted with a dirty nappy on the kitchen bench, an empty baby bottle near the kettle, another one on the coffee table in the living room, a can of formula (some of which was spilt on the bench), dummy, bunny rugs and other baby like acoutrements around the place I stood there shivering, looking around and shaking my head and thought to myself – "Self… it’s time to get the fuck out of Dodge!"

So I took the Small Child to soccer which is not a fun endeavour when you’ve had hardly any sleep and there’s no decent seating for love or money at the soccer fields.  After that I went to K-Mart to buy a laundry basket, some sneakers for the Small Child and other bits and bobs.  Then I went to get my car handwashed which cos it was Saturday took well over an hour or more (what a pity).  Then home for a quick sandwich before taking the Small Child and his little JackAss of a friend to the cinema to see Night at the Museum 2 only to come home quickly shower and change before heading out to the Fur and Feather party at Monkey Manor… whereupon I got mightly smashed.

All up I think I may have spent a total of two hours at home and all because I didn’t want to be dealing with a baby in the house.  Pain, depression, anxiety, panic and all other good things that have been happening in my life of late haven’t left a great deal in reserve for dealing with infants at the moment.

Though in truth… it’s been almost four years since my last IVF cycle so puny humans really shouldn’t bother me anymore right?  When is this shit going to go away?!?!