Stress

There are so many stressors in life. Since my miscarriage in July 2004, I've tried my best to not let them get to me. I've tried...

But being sick, and having a child, makes it much more difficult to deal with stress. And so, it's getting to me.

I ended up taking Margaret to the emergency room yesterday. Daycare called about 45 minutes after my work day started, concerned because she was having difficulty breathing. I told them I'd come to get her, and tried to call her doctor's office before I left work. I got the answering service, even though it was 9:15...and I got disconnected while I was on hold. This threw me into quite the fit. By the time I picked Margaret up, her breathing was much better. They told me they had no problem with her staying if she had a breathing treatment, or if they got authorization to give them. Seeing as I couldn't get in touch with her doctor, however, I brought her straight to the hospital. I wanted to ensure there wasn't something else wrong with her.

After a nasal RSV test and a chest x-ray, the diagnosis is the same as before. Bronchiolitis, although not the type caused by RSV. That test was negative. Treatment: continue with the breathing treatments. :-/ I finally got in touch with her pediatrician at around 2PM and was able to get them to give authorization for nebulizer treatments at daycare. I also got a prescription for a nebulizer so I could buy a 2nd one to keep exclusively at daycare. However, it will be about a week before that 2nd nebulizer arrives.

This morning was pure hell. Brian didn't set his alarm clock so he was running behind. I did what I always do... get bottles ready and labeled, get food ready for daycare, fill out forms for daycare, feed Margaret her bottle, start her solids (Brian usually finishes her solids). Brian gave her the Pulmicort breathing treatment, but not Albuterol. So I had to fit that in, after stuffing and packing the cloth dipes for daycare, as well as changing a disgustingly messy poopy diaper, rinsing off said diaper, and packing myself up for the day. I ended up leaving the house 15 minutes late, and I almost forgot her antibiotic.

In the middle of all of this, Brian actually had the nerve to tell me that I need to get up earlier. I already wake up 2.5-2.75 hrs before I have to be at work. He's barely managing 1.75 hrs before work lately. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to see how this isn't fair, especially considering I also stay up later with everything that needs to be done at night. I am SEETHING right now with rage. We've had this discussion over and over again about his time mis-management in the morning. But for him to blame ME because I expect some help from him in the morning is absurd. He's well-known for taking 30-40 minute showers (mine are a measly 10 minutes, at the most). Plus all the time he spends in the bathroom before the shower. BUT I'm to blame.

I told him before that I would start taking showers at night since he doesn't leave me much time in the morning, but I'd need to cut my hair short because I can't do that with longer hair. He flat out refused to let me cut my hair. I'm so mad right now, though, that I'm about ready to have it buzz-cut.

I don't like the person I am right now. I don't like that I become this person because of the nonsense that escapes from his lips. And the selfishness he exhibits. There's so much more to this, and I really am in no mood to go listing off every marital issue we've had. But the stress... It's really the last thing I need right now...