18/03/20: today was an organisation day. i sorted out my bookshelf and then made a list of things to keep me organised.
what would y’all think if i made an instagram account for revisewithjen??
18/09/20: in the times of uncertainty when i have no idea what modules i am taking, no idea who my lecturers will be, what my class timetable is; i try and take solice in the quiet moments i can spend reading my favourite books on the beach.
tomorrow is a new day, a new plan, and bullet journal research, i really want one now haha
I’ve just seen how many followers I have, there is 102 of you seeing my posts and joining me on my journey, that is a lot more people than I ever expected to see me! thank you all so so much.
lots of love- Jen xx
submitted my second year dissertation & have been going on lots of woodland walks
Soooo.. I asked my former teacher in high school to proofread my thesis. It came back and I was able to finish it today with lots of procrastination and gaming xD Tomorrow I’ll revise it again with my Professor’s comments. The fucking layout was totally wrecked sooo I also have to consider that again. After that, I hope I could write papers again. I was thinking of writing 2 or more journal papers as a parting gift to my professor since he was really kind as fuck and have been patient to me.
March 8th, 2020
day 1/100 days of productivity
hey, my name is tavi and this is my first post on this blog @tavi-studies ! i’m hoping to use this as motivation to study hard and leave school feeling like i’ve tried my best, whatever the outcome of my exams. i’ve been feeling stressed by how quickly a-levels are approaching (and how much i procrastinate) but i hope that with the studyblr community i’ll be able to focus better and find encouragement to keep going <3
My breathing’s fine, but I’m still suffocating
My sight’s fine but I can’t see past these white walls
My hearing’s fine but it’s too loud or maybe too quiet.
My hands are fine but everything’s cold.
My voice is fine but I haven’t used it.
My heart is beating but I feel dead.
Passed all my recent exams, proud of myself!
Term 1 exams went okay. Now to start term 2✨
What The Fuck Is Happening (Labour and Delivery)
I feel like nobody prepared me for half of the shit I went through, but overall, it wasn’t really as bad as I thought it would be and I would do it again. Although, I definitely wasn’t prepared to basically be fisted, but more on that later.
Before I get into it, just realize this is going to be raunchy and tmi. That’s just how I roll. You’ve been warned. And just so you know, the rest of this book will be the same. I don’t tend to censor or sugar coat much, if anything at all.
I was supposed to be induced because I have a blood clot in my right thigh which happened to me when I was about 22. I developed it from smoking while being on birth control that had estrogen. I don’t recall ever being told that that was a thing. I never expected to get a blood clot at such a young age, and a lot of other people can’t believe it either.
Finding out I had a blood clot was an interesting adventure within itself. At the time I was just finishing up my private college schooling for medical office assistant. I was doing my internship at a Pediatric clinic in my city, although that information isn’t really relevant. Sometimes I just like to let people know that I know my medical shit. I know all the terminology, and systems, and I’m basically a nurse, okay? Not really. But I am trained to do urine tests, PVR scans, urine flow testing, take blood, etc.
ANYWAY. One day, I fell down the stairs and my right leg felt like I had pulled a muscle. Over the following week it had gotten much worse and had swelled to almost a third of the size. I went to the next town over’s walk in clinic because their wait times are not as long, thinking I had just pulled or torn something. I told the doctor as such and she agreed. With no testing whatsoever, she gave me a prescription for anti inflammatories and sent me on my way.
The next day it had gotten so much worse. The swelling and pain had both exponentially increased, so I went to the emergency room in my city. The first thing they asked was if I was on any medications and if I was a smoker, then sent me for an ultrasound which revealed that I had a blood clot in my right thigh. I don’t know if it’s in my femoral artery, but where they were pushing the ultrasound wand, it certainly seemed like it. Regardless, they told me the clot was quite large and it definitely looked to be true on the ultrasound screen. They were very annoyed that the other hospital’s walk in hadn’t been thorough enough and had given me anti inflammatories, as that apparently makes things worse. I started immediately on blood thinners and had to have blood tests every week for the next six months until my blood specialist said the clot was small enough to go off the thinners.
Skip ahead to my pregnancy. Apparently pregnancies increase the risk of having another DVT, especially if you’ve already had one. Back on blood thinners I go. Except THIS time, they’re needles. Because apparently, the needle version (Lovenox) of blood thinners is less harmful to the baby than the pills (Wafarin). So I gave myself a needle in the stomach/abdomen every day (kind of).
I’m really bad for remembering to take medication, especially when you add baby brain to the mix. I would often forget to take my blood thinners, and by the time I went into labour, I hadn’t taken them in weeks. The nurses were VERY mad at me. Apparently, three days prior they had a woman die after delivering due to not taking her blood thinners. Woops.
So I was supposed to be induced and have a planned delivery due to the thinners, they didn’t want me to bleed to death. But, I wasn’t taking my needles regularly. The induction was supposed to be a week before my due date. But, two weeks before my induction date, I went into labour. I had Liam at 37 weeks.
I was standing outside on my apartment balcony having a smoke. I know, I’m a shitty mom, hence the title of this book. I felt like o was discharging more than normal and thought, “well maybe I just have to pee”. I finished up my smoke, went inside and peed. I started to make dinner in the kitchen and while I was boiling water and putting the veggies on the stove, I was googling what a mucous plug looks like. Because apparently that’s something that comes out before your water breaks, but I didn’t know what to expect or look for.
I’ll be damned, right then and there, my water broke. Water, every where. So much. It soaked through my panties, through my big fuzzy pajamas, and all over the kitchen floor. I said to my then husband, “Will, I think my water just broke.” He yelled, “HUH?!” And jumped off the couch. “What do you mean you think your water just broke?!”. I stood in the kitchen, unsure of what to do, but keeping calm and collected as I usually do in high stress situations. Don’t ask me why I’m like that when I have such bad anxiety and depression, but I am. Will obviously went into a frenzy, as most partners do.
When the leaking seemed to subside a little, I waddled to the bathroom and stood in the bathtub to take off my bottoms, while the leaking seemed to start again and not stop. Will stood in the bathroom saying something like, “what should I do?” I asked him to grab the number for the clinic off the fridge. He darted from the bathroom, and I could hear a lot of rummaging happening. I stood there, kind of laughing to myself over the ridiculousness of it all and wondering whether I should call my mom who lived two hours away, or the doctors first.
I called the after hours clinic, while Will called my mom. The after hours clinic connected me to the hospital with the on call obstetrics physician. I explained the situation to her. That I was on blood thinners due to a clot (I didn’t tell her I wasn’t taking my blood thinners as prescribed), that I was supposed to be induced and have a planned delivery due to the fact, how far along I was, and that my water had just broke. She didn’t quite believe that my water had broke, questioning whether or not it was just urine, as if I couldn’t tell the difference. Lady, I had literally just peed and then I covered my kitchen floor in a clear, non urine scented liquid that wouldn’t stop.
She asked me if I was having any contractions, which I was not, and to come to the hospital within the next hour or two. We called my best friend and packed what we could because at the time our apartment building also had a bed bug infestation and we had to essentially clear out our entire apartment, including the nursery, and my dumb ass forgot to pack a fucking hospital bag. My water had broken at around 7pm and we got to the hospital around 9pm.
The nurses got my checked in and set up in an examination room, hooked me up to machines and whatnot, and barraged me with questions. When they found out I hadn’t been taking my blood thinners, they essentially tore me a new asshole. The nurse, and then the obstetrician when she came in, as well as receiving dirty and concerned looks from my then husband, while I glared back in a way that said, “shut the fuck up.”
So the obstetrician asked if I had experienced contractions yet, and when I said I hadn’t she explained that she was going to see how dilated I was. She didn’t explain HOW she was going to check such a thing, just that it would be very uncomfortable. Okay, I thought, uncomfortable is fine. It wasn’t fine. She shoved, what I felt, was her entire fist inside me while I groaned and winced. It was more than uncomfortable, but apparently I was already 4cm dilated. Then my contractions started at 9:18pm.
A little while later a nurse asked if I would like the epidural yet, as the anesthetist was going into a case and wouldn’t be back for at least an hour. At the time I thought it was too early for the epidural and the contractions seemed manageable. That didn’t last long. The nurse came back to see if I had changed my mind since the anesthetist hadn’t started the case yet, and as I was deciding, another nurse came in and said he had gone into the case. Damn it. The nurse hooked me up to a Gravol drip, which at least eased the discomfort a little bit.
My mom came and by 2am or so, the anesthetist was there to give me the epidural. I hardly felt the needle at all, which, other than the labour itself, I was most scared about. My mom cried while I got it and I told her to stop being dramatic, I was fine. To which, she told me to shut up. This is the type of family I have, and my mom is where I get my sass and sarcasm.