Converting back to a green life, one week (and nap time) at a time

Field of Dreams

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February/March 2015

I’m tired. Just plain tired and tired of everything. Just plain tired because I haven’t had two consecutive full night’s sleep since September – our daughter is going through a phase where she doesn’t want to sleep alone. Tired of work – I love my job but we’re entering our busy period, and me being me goes full throttle all day (need to learn to pace myself). Tired of the weather and, ironically, of wondering whether the oil deliverer will be able to get through the snow so we can get an oil delivery before we run out completely (if only we could go off grid).

And tired of womb woes, which so far include:

  • Intermittent nausea and heartburn (alternating with ravenous, insatiable hunger)
  • Foot swelling and pain
  • Vertigo and lightheadedness
  • Nosebleeds
  • Fatigue

When I am able to sleep, my sleep is fitful and interlaced with weird and disturbing dreams. Apparently this is quite common in pregnancy, though I didn’t have the pleasure when I was pregnant with my daughter. In fact, I had always had strange and realistic dreams, and when pregnant with my daughter switched to happy, comforting, normal, bunnies and flowers and hugs dreams..

Lately a lot of my dreams seem to surround around things falling, specifically my daughter. Falling down through an open staircase at daycare, falling off the Acadia on the waterfront onto the dock below. Spiders falling through a newly gaping hole in our ceiling courtesy of snow build up (which so far, in reality hasn’t been a problem, knock on FSC-wood). Bus trips with my parents where my daughter is stowed below with the dogs in the luggage hold, which in the dream seemed like the most normal thing in the world, at first. Then I started freaking out that she didn’t have her pink blankie and it was dark and cold and probably choking on her own vomit since she gets motion sick and WHAT KIND OF MOTHER AM I for letting them put her down there! At which point I woke up, and tried to convince myself that it could never happen. That dream haunted me for days.

My husband, who is loving and good to us but not the most compassionate or empathetic person I know and to my knowledge never took a psychology class in his life. He epitomizes logic at times. He is my Spock, I suppose I am his Kirk. Anyway, he rationalized that the dreams are really my subconscious brain’s way of dealing with the anxiety I am feeling this time around. And, and while he gets a cynically twisted sense of relief that i am feeling anxious about having a second child, he’s probably right about my subconcious. He’s always right.I say that in jest of course, but more often than not, when it comes to money, maps and math he is right.

My subconscious, and my conscious for that matter, are also gnawing at me knowing that a lot of the work I did last year to make environmentally friendly switches have been undone in a matter of a few months.

For example – my attempt to eliminate straws from our lifestyle – hard when the only thing that seems to cure my nausea is sipping on Five Alive juice packs. And I’m basically eating whatever meat and produce we can get our hands on, regardless of where it’s from (though the awful winter we’re having hasn’t helped). I’m getting take-out at an alarming rate, granola bars in their shinny wrap and other prepacked goodies have also made a comeback with my cravings, and I expect as my mobility is reduced my transit use may follow suit. Q-tips have also made a return, as the nosebleeds require daily Polysporin and Vaseline treatments to keep them at bay.

At least I can reuse the take-out packaging for my daughter’s crafts (styrafoam trays make excellent paint pallets). There are a few other things I’ve managed to stick to, such as hankies (Week 2), reusable straws for my daughter’s drinks, collecting yoghurt containers for the local soup kitchen (Week 13), using water & vinegar and microfiber clothes for cleaning (Week 34), and volunteering for 100 in 1 day Halifax (Week 18). Yes, I’m at it again this year, when my energy levels permit, and hoping this year will be bigger and better.

While dreaming of what a better Halifax could look like, or my life back “on the green”, I also daydream of what it will be like to see our unborn child on the ultrasound we’ll be having in a couple of weeks. After an unfortunate experience a good friend of mine had a couple of years ago, , until I see its fuzzy black and white outline projected on a monitor I`m not getting to excited. Until then, our second child still seems like a dream.


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