I'm having a rough time of it this cycle. My PMS is out of control and my mood keeps swinging all over the place. I go from being perfectly calm and content in one minute to feeling sad and like nobody cares about me in the next, and I'm in a state of constant irritation at my husband. Most of these feelings are completely irrational, but some aren't--I do have reasons to feel sad, and I think it's probably healthier to acknowledge them than to shrug them off and chalk it all up to wacky hormones.
It's frustrating because this is my favorite time of year. I love fall, I love the weather we're having right now, I love pumpkin season and I'm eating and drinking pumpkin-flavored everything and loving that, too. I also love Halloween, although it's definitely one of those holidays that are more fun with kids than without, especially when you're beyond the partying stage (although I don't think I ever really had much of a partying stage). Even so, it's always been my favorite holiday, even more than Christmas, because for me it's all about fun and nostalgia for the good things about my childhood.
I was thinking to myself the other day that I love Halloween so much because it's not tinged with sadness and loneliness the way Christmas often is. But then I remembered that Emma's due date fell around Halloween of last year, and I realized that if I'd had her we'd most likely be planning her (or his--again, it was way too early to tell; I just have this feeling it was a girl) first birthday party as well as her first trick-or-treat outing. So there's that.
We're also right around the corner from having to face the first full set of holidays without Matt's parents. I keep thinking about last Thanksgiving, how that was the last time we got to be with both of them outside of a hospital, how happy and thankful we all were that Rob got released from his hospital stay in time to come home for Thanksgiving, and how none of us had any idea that in just a few weeks, Mom would be gone, and so would Rob just a couple of months later.
So this season is bittersweet. I'm trying to focus on the sweetness, but my hormones keep dredging up the bitterness. I want to curl up with a blanket and watch sad movies and eat all the chocolate, but instead I'm making myself stay busy (I opened up a new Etsy shop for all of the knitting and crocheting I've been doing lately) and stick to my diet and workout plan, and that's helping. I'm also praying a lot, which also helps. And every now and then I let myself have a good cry, and a little chocolate, and I remind myself that I just need to hang in there, because this cycle is almost over and then my thought patterns and coping abilities will be back to normal, at least for a week or two, and then my husband can stop sleeping with one eye open.
Showing posts with label miscarriage. Show all posts
Showing posts with label miscarriage. Show all posts
October 4, 2011
September 20, 2011
I Survived the Baby Shower
First, a housekeeping note: I moved my writing blog to http://blog.jeanmariebauhaus.com/ (but it will continue to be mirrored on LiveJournal) and am in the process of expanding it from a "writing" blog to an "all my creative pursuits plus stuff that makes me happy" blog. Just so ya know.
This past Saturday was my niece-in-law's baby shower. It was the first such shower that I've been to since before my first miscarriage, so I was just a tad nervous about how I'd be able to handle it. But I'll tell you, six months ago, when all of my RPL-related grief resurfaced in the wake of my in-laws' passing, I would not even have been able to contemplate picking out a baby gift, not to mention making one and actually going to the shower to give it to her in person. But as the time approached, I began to feel a lot of peace about the whole thing. I even got excited about crocheting a baby blanket for my new grandneice-to-be.
(As an aside, this was said to me at the shower: "You're [nephew #1]'s aunt?! You look way too young to be his aunt!" I can't say that didn't help get me through the day. But this is what happens when your parents spread you and your siblings out over 18 years.)
At the shower itself, I started out fine. The place was hard to find, and my mom and I drove around the neighborhood for probably twenty minutes trying to find the right address. We were followed by the girl who said the above thing to me, who was also lost, while I was on the phone with Li'l Sis, who was the only one with GPS and actually managed to find the place, and then had to stand in the driveway and help navigate the rest of us to the right house--by the way, I did look up the address on Google Maps before we left, but their directions were WAY off; and Flattering Quote Girl said that her Mapquest directions were also useless.
At any rate, for the first half of the party I was just relieved not to still be driving around looking for it. I was also worried about navigating the food offerings, since I just got back on my diet last week, but they had plenty of veggies and lean protein, so I hung out in the kitchen with my sisters and noshed on healthy snacks until it was time to open presents.
This was when things got tough. I wonder if I would have had as difficult a time watching the gifts being opened if it had been boy things instead of girl things. But I'm irrationally convinced that my second pregnancy would have been a girl, so seeing all those little tiny dresses and pink and frilly things hit me pretty hard, and I had to paste a smile on my face and practice deep breathing.
At one point, my Big Sis turned to me and told me she was proud of me, and I almost lost it, but I managed to keep my composure, and I got through it, although after the gifts were all opened I had to excuse myself and go hide in the bathroom and give myself a few minutes to feel sad and cry it out. But then I blew my nose and dried my eyes and went back out there to have some cake (yes I had cake; at this point I felt like I'd earned it), and then I was okay for the rest of the day.
So that's one more hurdle out of the way. Hopefully, the mere thought of somebody else's baby shower won't be so fraught with fear and negative emotions after this, now that I know for a fact that I can get through it.
This past Saturday was my niece-in-law's baby shower. It was the first such shower that I've been to since before my first miscarriage, so I was just a tad nervous about how I'd be able to handle it. But I'll tell you, six months ago, when all of my RPL-related grief resurfaced in the wake of my in-laws' passing, I would not even have been able to contemplate picking out a baby gift, not to mention making one and actually going to the shower to give it to her in person. But as the time approached, I began to feel a lot of peace about the whole thing. I even got excited about crocheting a baby blanket for my new grandneice-to-be.
 |
| The blanket: one giant granny square |
(As an aside, this was said to me at the shower: "You're [nephew #1]'s aunt?! You look way too young to be his aunt!" I can't say that didn't help get me through the day. But this is what happens when your parents spread you and your siblings out over 18 years.)
At the shower itself, I started out fine. The place was hard to find, and my mom and I drove around the neighborhood for probably twenty minutes trying to find the right address. We were followed by the girl who said the above thing to me, who was also lost, while I was on the phone with Li'l Sis, who was the only one with GPS and actually managed to find the place, and then had to stand in the driveway and help navigate the rest of us to the right house--by the way, I did look up the address on Google Maps before we left, but their directions were WAY off; and Flattering Quote Girl said that her Mapquest directions were also useless.
At any rate, for the first half of the party I was just relieved not to still be driving around looking for it. I was also worried about navigating the food offerings, since I just got back on my diet last week, but they had plenty of veggies and lean protein, so I hung out in the kitchen with my sisters and noshed on healthy snacks until it was time to open presents.
This was when things got tough. I wonder if I would have had as difficult a time watching the gifts being opened if it had been boy things instead of girl things. But I'm irrationally convinced that my second pregnancy would have been a girl, so seeing all those little tiny dresses and pink and frilly things hit me pretty hard, and I had to paste a smile on my face and practice deep breathing.
At one point, my Big Sis turned to me and told me she was proud of me, and I almost lost it, but I managed to keep my composure, and I got through it, although after the gifts were all opened I had to excuse myself and go hide in the bathroom and give myself a few minutes to feel sad and cry it out. But then I blew my nose and dried my eyes and went back out there to have some cake (yes I had cake; at this point I felt like I'd earned it), and then I was okay for the rest of the day.
So that's one more hurdle out of the way. Hopefully, the mere thought of somebody else's baby shower won't be so fraught with fear and negative emotions after this, now that I know for a fact that I can get through it.
August 30, 2011
This post pretty much takes on a life of its own about halfway through.
I'm having a really hard time getting going this week. I don't know whether this is an ADD thing or what, but if my Monday is off, then my whole week tends to be off, and yesterday's doggie drama disruption seems to have thrown me for a loop. I can't get focused or get my head in the game.
It doesn't help that, despite the fact that the high today is supposed to be 103, my brain has checked out of summer and decided that it's fall now, thank you very much, and no matter how many times I go outside and expose myself to the stifling heat, as soon as I come back inside all I can think about is sitting on a pleasant patio somewhere, working with yarn and sipping pumpkin spice lattes (or pumpkin ale -- something pumpkiny, at any rate) while I watch the leaves fall. And what's not helping that is that yesterday afternoon I went to Hobby Lobby to stock up on yarn for a baby blanket for my niece's upcoming baby shower. It's a super soft, heathery alpaca blend, and it's so pretty, and I just want to work with it all day long, never mind that my wrist starts hurting after about twenty minutes.
On the plus side, I think it's a really good sign that crocheting this blanket for someone else's baby is making me so happy. I put it off so long because I feared it would depress me, but so far I'm feeling totally okay with it, which is helping to lessen my dread about attending the baby shower. Really, these past few weeks I've been feeling a lot of peace about the whole baby thing. Still some pangs of grief here and there for my past losses, but mostly hopeful about the future, and full of conviction that, whatever happens, it will be okay. That things will happen according to God's plan and purpose, and if that doesn't happen to coincide with my plans, I'll be able to put my trust in Him and get through it with my faith and sanity intact. It's about trusting that Romans 8:28 is true, even when I can't see any evidence in my own life that any good is coming out of the stuff I go through.
Although, if I think about it, there is evidence. While I would happily suffer diabetes if it meant I could have my babies alive, the fact is that the miscarriages woke me up to where I was headed, health-wise, and forced me to start taking better care of myself. I also feel like my experience has equipped me for, and made me more open to, ministering to other hurting, grieving women. I think it's definitely made me more empathetic and compassionate in general.
Of course, none of this in any way makes me glad to have been through two MCs and an uphill battle against PCOS. But I can see evidence that God is using my experiences to help me grow, both as a person and in my faith.
Well, THAT went to a far more spiritual place than I expected. I thought this post was going to be about fall fever and yarn craft when I started. But maybe now all that's off my chest I'll be able to get some work done.
It doesn't help that, despite the fact that the high today is supposed to be 103, my brain has checked out of summer and decided that it's fall now, thank you very much, and no matter how many times I go outside and expose myself to the stifling heat, as soon as I come back inside all I can think about is sitting on a pleasant patio somewhere, working with yarn and sipping pumpkin spice lattes (or pumpkin ale -- something pumpkiny, at any rate) while I watch the leaves fall. And what's not helping that is that yesterday afternoon I went to Hobby Lobby to stock up on yarn for a baby blanket for my niece's upcoming baby shower. It's a super soft, heathery alpaca blend, and it's so pretty, and I just want to work with it all day long, never mind that my wrist starts hurting after about twenty minutes.
On the plus side, I think it's a really good sign that crocheting this blanket for someone else's baby is making me so happy. I put it off so long because I feared it would depress me, but so far I'm feeling totally okay with it, which is helping to lessen my dread about attending the baby shower. Really, these past few weeks I've been feeling a lot of peace about the whole baby thing. Still some pangs of grief here and there for my past losses, but mostly hopeful about the future, and full of conviction that, whatever happens, it will be okay. That things will happen according to God's plan and purpose, and if that doesn't happen to coincide with my plans, I'll be able to put my trust in Him and get through it with my faith and sanity intact. It's about trusting that Romans 8:28 is true, even when I can't see any evidence in my own life that any good is coming out of the stuff I go through.
Although, if I think about it, there is evidence. While I would happily suffer diabetes if it meant I could have my babies alive, the fact is that the miscarriages woke me up to where I was headed, health-wise, and forced me to start taking better care of myself. I also feel like my experience has equipped me for, and made me more open to, ministering to other hurting, grieving women. I think it's definitely made me more empathetic and compassionate in general.
Of course, none of this in any way makes me glad to have been through two MCs and an uphill battle against PCOS. But I can see evidence that God is using my experiences to help me grow, both as a person and in my faith.
Well, THAT went to a far more spiritual place than I expected. I thought this post was going to be about fall fever and yarn craft when I started. But maybe now all that's off my chest I'll be able to get some work done.
May 30, 2011
Boring you with contentment
I think you can chart my overall mood by how often I blog here. I tend to update less when things are going well. When I'm generally content, I feel like the boringest person alive, and I can't think of anything interesting to say about my life. Isn't it sad that I only think I'm even vaguely interesting when I'm sad or grieving or dealing with hard stuff?
At any rate, for the most part things have been better lately. There's been a big shift in my overall mood since I decided to make the leap to self-publishing and got serious about my writing again. I think it's because I basically have two things in my life that I want so badly it hurts. One is to be a mother, and as the past year and a half has taught me, I don't have a lot of control over that.
The other is to be a full-time novelist. That has been my dream since I was at least 14 years old, but life kept putting that dream on hold, and it got subsumed by the motherhood dream, and it got to a point where it just felt unrealistic and unattainable. But things have changed. The market's changed. I'VE changed. And this dream, I have some control over. It might look different than it did when I was 14 -- back then it involved fame and fortune and an industrial loft in Manhattan; now it just looks like being able to pay the bills doing what I love to do most -- but it feels achievable again.
I feel like I'm back on the right track. There for a while, I was wrapped up in trying to become some kind of Internet Marketing Entrepreneur, all with the goal to generate some passive income so I could feel free to get the rest I'll need when I finally become pregnant again. I was building my mailing list, I was creating products, I was out there on the social networks, marketing my little heart out, but it never felt comfortable, and I didn't get very far, because that's just not me. I feel like that was all wasted energy that would have been better spent writing.
I can't undo any of that, but now that I've given my writing prominence in my life again, I feel like I've found a part of myself that was lost. I don't think I'll ever feel truly whole again after the miscarriages, but I feel like I've got part of my old self back, and I have to say, that feels really good.
At any rate, for the most part things have been better lately. There's been a big shift in my overall mood since I decided to make the leap to self-publishing and got serious about my writing again. I think it's because I basically have two things in my life that I want so badly it hurts. One is to be a mother, and as the past year and a half has taught me, I don't have a lot of control over that.
The other is to be a full-time novelist. That has been my dream since I was at least 14 years old, but life kept putting that dream on hold, and it got subsumed by the motherhood dream, and it got to a point where it just felt unrealistic and unattainable. But things have changed. The market's changed. I'VE changed. And this dream, I have some control over. It might look different than it did when I was 14 -- back then it involved fame and fortune and an industrial loft in Manhattan; now it just looks like being able to pay the bills doing what I love to do most -- but it feels achievable again.
I feel like I'm back on the right track. There for a while, I was wrapped up in trying to become some kind of Internet Marketing Entrepreneur, all with the goal to generate some passive income so I could feel free to get the rest I'll need when I finally become pregnant again. I was building my mailing list, I was creating products, I was out there on the social networks, marketing my little heart out, but it never felt comfortable, and I didn't get very far, because that's just not me. I feel like that was all wasted energy that would have been better spent writing.
I can't undo any of that, but now that I've given my writing prominence in my life again, I feel like I've found a part of myself that was lost. I don't think I'll ever feel truly whole again after the miscarriages, but I feel like I've got part of my old self back, and I have to say, that feels really good.
May 16, 2011
PCOS, I Has It
I finally had my annual checkup to renew my BCP today, and as much as I griped about it, I'm glad I went. When I asked the doctor for information on testing for PCOS, she went over my symptoms and told me that I meet enough diagnostic criteria that I don't need any testing. Then she went ahead and made the diagnosis official.
But then she also told me that PCOS doesn't cause miscarriages, which, a whole lot of Internet sources and women in the RPL community beg to differ. And then she went on to say that the only treatment for PCOS is the BCP, which, all of the holistic web sites where I researched PCOS said that traditional doctors always say that, and when I asked her about controlling or reversing it through a low-glycemic diet, she said that it wouldn't cure the PCOS but it would cure any insulin resistance that would be causing it. Which may be a case of same difference, but: this might be one of those areas where sometimes the Internet knows more than doctors.
Anyway, she wanted to do a glucose test, but since I'm uninsured she left it up to me. I checked the cost with the lab and it's only $42, and if I get it and it confirms that I'm insulin resistant, then she said we can talk about putting me on Metformin. But she also said that if I just keep up my diet and keep losing weight and getting in shape, I'll most likely turn it around without medication.
So I'm a little torn. The whole plan for Project Oven Repair was to do just that--turn my (rightfully) presumed PCOS and insulin resistance around with diet and exercise. Now I have confirmation that I'm on the right track. But, I've read really promising things about Metformin preventing miscarriages. As much as Matt and I both prefer natural remedies over medication when possible, if I have an opportunity to start taking Metformin, should I seize it? I just don't know.
Right now, I think my feeling is that I should just stick with the diet, and let that do the work of turning all of these complications around, and then TTC again after I reach my goal weight. And then if, God forbid, I have another MC, I'll try the Metformin route for our fourth (and most likely final, regardless of what happens) attempt. Of course, if it goes that way then I'll end up hating myself for not taking the Metformin right away.
And this is where I get angry and frustrated at how unfair it is that just thinking about trying to get pregnant has to be so confusing and complicated. Bleah.
At any rate, they finally renewed my BCP prescription. I'm going to wait until the next cycle begins to start taking it again, which gives Matt and I a little longer to decide if that's really what we want to do. We had a heart-to-heart about it yesterday, and he's not as sure that I should stay on it as I thought he was. But I'm also not as sure that I'm ready to go off of it as I thought I was. I think probably the wisest thing is to keep taking it until I reach my goal weight, which should also give us some time to stash some money in the bank to cover the inevitable days (or weeks) when I'm too overcome with pregnancy fatigue to get any work done.
All in all, I came home from the exam feeling good about things, and hopeful for the future of my oven. Chalk today up in the WIN column.
But then she also told me that PCOS doesn't cause miscarriages, which, a whole lot of Internet sources and women in the RPL community beg to differ. And then she went on to say that the only treatment for PCOS is the BCP, which, all of the holistic web sites where I researched PCOS said that traditional doctors always say that, and when I asked her about controlling or reversing it through a low-glycemic diet, she said that it wouldn't cure the PCOS but it would cure any insulin resistance that would be causing it. Which may be a case of same difference, but: this might be one of those areas where sometimes the Internet knows more than doctors.
Anyway, she wanted to do a glucose test, but since I'm uninsured she left it up to me. I checked the cost with the lab and it's only $42, and if I get it and it confirms that I'm insulin resistant, then she said we can talk about putting me on Metformin. But she also said that if I just keep up my diet and keep losing weight and getting in shape, I'll most likely turn it around without medication.
So I'm a little torn. The whole plan for Project Oven Repair was to do just that--turn my (rightfully) presumed PCOS and insulin resistance around with diet and exercise. Now I have confirmation that I'm on the right track. But, I've read really promising things about Metformin preventing miscarriages. As much as Matt and I both prefer natural remedies over medication when possible, if I have an opportunity to start taking Metformin, should I seize it? I just don't know.
Right now, I think my feeling is that I should just stick with the diet, and let that do the work of turning all of these complications around, and then TTC again after I reach my goal weight. And then if, God forbid, I have another MC, I'll try the Metformin route for our fourth (and most likely final, regardless of what happens) attempt. Of course, if it goes that way then I'll end up hating myself for not taking the Metformin right away.
And this is where I get angry and frustrated at how unfair it is that just thinking about trying to get pregnant has to be so confusing and complicated. Bleah.
At any rate, they finally renewed my BCP prescription. I'm going to wait until the next cycle begins to start taking it again, which gives Matt and I a little longer to decide if that's really what we want to do. We had a heart-to-heart about it yesterday, and he's not as sure that I should stay on it as I thought he was. But I'm also not as sure that I'm ready to go off of it as I thought I was. I think probably the wisest thing is to keep taking it until I reach my goal weight, which should also give us some time to stash some money in the bank to cover the inevitable days (or weeks) when I'm too overcome with pregnancy fatigue to get any work done.
All in all, I came home from the exam feeling good about things, and hopeful for the future of my oven. Chalk today up in the WIN column.
May 8, 2011
Mother's Day
Today is a tough one, I won't lie. There's just so much to be sad about today: missing Matt's mom who's no longer with us, missing our babies who never got to be with us, and that heartbreaking longing that I battle every day seems to be cutting just a bit deeper.
We're trying to stay distracted and keep our minds occupied with less upsetting things, treating this like just another day. Matt's reading, and I've caught up on my shows for the week, and I have writing and housekeeping to keep me busy for the rest of the day. And yet I still have to call my mom and wish her a happy day and thank her for being awesome.
I received a really touching text message from my Big Sis, saying that she thinks it's appropriate to tell me Happy Mother's Day, that I am and will be a great mom. It made me cry--just typing that is making me tear up all over again--but in the good way. Well, in a mixed-feeling kind of way, really, but mostly good. It definitely feels good to have someone acknowledge my children. I might not have given birth to them or had the opportunity to see or touch them, but that makes them no less real to me. It always helps when other people acknowledge them as real, too.
So here's to the moms out there today, but here's also to the forgotten, those who have lost their moms, and who've lost their children, who are still fighting their own personal hell in the battle to become mothers, and those who have retreated from the battlefield to nurse their wounds and find a way to carry on in the face of shattered dreams. You are not forgotten, and you are not alone.
We're trying to stay distracted and keep our minds occupied with less upsetting things, treating this like just another day. Matt's reading, and I've caught up on my shows for the week, and I have writing and housekeeping to keep me busy for the rest of the day. And yet I still have to call my mom and wish her a happy day and thank her for being awesome.
I received a really touching text message from my Big Sis, saying that she thinks it's appropriate to tell me Happy Mother's Day, that I am and will be a great mom. It made me cry--just typing that is making me tear up all over again--but in the good way. Well, in a mixed-feeling kind of way, really, but mostly good. It definitely feels good to have someone acknowledge my children. I might not have given birth to them or had the opportunity to see or touch them, but that makes them no less real to me. It always helps when other people acknowledge them as real, too.
So here's to the moms out there today, but here's also to the forgotten, those who have lost their moms, and who've lost their children, who are still fighting their own personal hell in the battle to become mothers, and those who have retreated from the battlefield to nurse their wounds and find a way to carry on in the face of shattered dreams. You are not forgotten, and you are not alone.
April 23, 2011
365: 14 and Birthday Party Blues
About to run to the store:
Yes, that is the old school (middle school?) Burton/Keaton era Bat signal on my chest, and yes, I have had this shirt since high school. *is old* *so is shirt*
Stats:
Weight - 176
Mood - tired & headachey
It appears I was right about weighing over an hour later than usual throwing off my results. I weighed today at my usual time and came out at 176 -- the weight I was expecting. I know it must seem silly, and possibly vain or even heading into eating disorder territory, to get so discouraged over a one-pound difference, but hopefully it seems less so when you remember why I'm losing weight: to get my BMI to a point that's healthy enough to start trying for another baby. I've got a lot of hopes pinned on being able to get it down by at least two pounds a week. If that rate slows down, then that means I'll have to wait that much longer before we dare start trying again. And I'm so baby-crazy right now that I just might have to punch somebody if that happens.
Speaking of which, I'm missing my eight-year-old nephew's birthday party today, and I hate myself a little for it. I wrestled long and hard with the decision of whether to go, but in the end I knew that I'm still too fragile to put myself in that sort of situation. Of course nobody in my family has ever said anything to make me feel like they don't understand (at least, not to my face), but I still feel a need to explain, just in case somebody's thinking that my last MC was over a year ago now, and it's time for me to let it go and move on.
Well, first of all, you never let it go and completely move on. I've learned that from spending some time in the online MC community--this is normal, what I'm feeling, and there's really no way to rush the healing. It takes a long time. But also, related to but separate from the grief of the miscarriages is the grief of still being childless. And I don't think that goes away unless and until you, y'know, have a child. Or three.
It's the latter grief that I'm mostly dealing with right now, and the jealousy that comes with it of pretty much every mother on the face of the planet. That's why I'm avoiding these parties -- it's not being around the kids and babies that sends me into a downward spiral tailspin so much as it's being around all of the young mothers and pregnant women who'll be there. It feels like this secret club that I'm barred from being part of, and it hurts, and that's, of course, nobody's fault, which makes it even harder.
It's gotten so bad that I can hardly even stand to watch TV or movies that feature mother-child relationships. Not even older mothers with grown or teenage children, and ESPECIALLY not mothers and daughters. It sends me down this rabbit hole of thinking about everything I'll never get to have with Emma Grace, who I don't even know for certain was a girl, but my heart doesn't particularly care one way or another.
Oh good, I've made myself cry just writing this.
Anyway. As I said yesterday, I'm also hormonal right now, so that plus the lack of sleep and headache and ALL OF THE ABOVE is a bad enough combo without adding a kid's birthday party to the mix. I most certainly would have spent the whole party either locked in the bathroom and crying or hiding in a corner consoling myself with too much cake.
And that's why I didn't go. I'm sorry, Ash. I hope you had a good birthday and the weather didn't keep you from getting to have your bouncy castle, and I hope you know how much your Aunt Jeanie loves you.
Yes, that is the old school (middle school?) Burton/Keaton era Bat signal on my chest, and yes, I have had this shirt since high school. *is old* *so is shirt*
Stats:
Weight - 176
Mood - tired & headachey
It appears I was right about weighing over an hour later than usual throwing off my results. I weighed today at my usual time and came out at 176 -- the weight I was expecting. I know it must seem silly, and possibly vain or even heading into eating disorder territory, to get so discouraged over a one-pound difference, but hopefully it seems less so when you remember why I'm losing weight: to get my BMI to a point that's healthy enough to start trying for another baby. I've got a lot of hopes pinned on being able to get it down by at least two pounds a week. If that rate slows down, then that means I'll have to wait that much longer before we dare start trying again. And I'm so baby-crazy right now that I just might have to punch somebody if that happens.
Speaking of which, I'm missing my eight-year-old nephew's birthday party today, and I hate myself a little for it. I wrestled long and hard with the decision of whether to go, but in the end I knew that I'm still too fragile to put myself in that sort of situation. Of course nobody in my family has ever said anything to make me feel like they don't understand (at least, not to my face), but I still feel a need to explain, just in case somebody's thinking that my last MC was over a year ago now, and it's time for me to let it go and move on.
Well, first of all, you never let it go and completely move on. I've learned that from spending some time in the online MC community--this is normal, what I'm feeling, and there's really no way to rush the healing. It takes a long time. But also, related to but separate from the grief of the miscarriages is the grief of still being childless. And I don't think that goes away unless and until you, y'know, have a child. Or three.
It's the latter grief that I'm mostly dealing with right now, and the jealousy that comes with it of pretty much every mother on the face of the planet. That's why I'm avoiding these parties -- it's not being around the kids and babies that sends me into a downward spiral tailspin so much as it's being around all of the young mothers and pregnant women who'll be there. It feels like this secret club that I'm barred from being part of, and it hurts, and that's, of course, nobody's fault, which makes it even harder.
It's gotten so bad that I can hardly even stand to watch TV or movies that feature mother-child relationships. Not even older mothers with grown or teenage children, and ESPECIALLY not mothers and daughters. It sends me down this rabbit hole of thinking about everything I'll never get to have with Emma Grace, who I don't even know for certain was a girl, but my heart doesn't particularly care one way or another.
Oh good, I've made myself cry just writing this.
Anyway. As I said yesterday, I'm also hormonal right now, so that plus the lack of sleep and headache and ALL OF THE ABOVE is a bad enough combo without adding a kid's birthday party to the mix. I most certainly would have spent the whole party either locked in the bathroom and crying or hiding in a corner consoling myself with too much cake.
And that's why I didn't go. I'm sorry, Ash. I hope you had a good birthday and the weather didn't keep you from getting to have your bouncy castle, and I hope you know how much your Aunt Jeanie loves you.
April 22, 2011
365: 13
No time for a workout today, so these are just my hanging around the house clothes:
Stats:
Weight - 177 :(
Mood - Discouraged
According to today's weigh-in, I only lost one pound all week. Of course, the fact that I almost forgot to weigh and when I did it was over an hour later than my usual weigh-in time might be a factor. But then again so might the fact that I indulged in some Chinese takeout last Sunday, and let Matt talk me into some fried catfish last night. I'll try weighing again tomorrow at the usual time to see if that makes any difference. At any rate, at least the scale's still moving in the right direction. I just hope this isn't a sign that I'm about to plateau.
This plus PMS plus another nephew's birthday party that I'll be missing tomorrow are all conspiring to put me back in the sad place. And I just plucked another whisker-like hair from my jawline, which means my PCOS is still raging strong. Fortunately, my work is keeping me too busy to dwell on any of it for very long, but I'm struggling, and I have a feeling it's going to be a long, hard weekend.
Stats:
Weight - 177 :(
Mood - Discouraged
According to today's weigh-in, I only lost one pound all week. Of course, the fact that I almost forgot to weigh and when I did it was over an hour later than my usual weigh-in time might be a factor. But then again so might the fact that I indulged in some Chinese takeout last Sunday, and let Matt talk me into some fried catfish last night. I'll try weighing again tomorrow at the usual time to see if that makes any difference. At any rate, at least the scale's still moving in the right direction. I just hope this isn't a sign that I'm about to plateau.
This plus PMS plus another nephew's birthday party that I'll be missing tomorrow are all conspiring to put me back in the sad place. And I just plucked another whisker-like hair from my jawline, which means my PCOS is still raging strong. Fortunately, my work is keeping me too busy to dwell on any of it for very long, but I'm struggling, and I have a feeling it's going to be a long, hard weekend.
April 8, 2011
Oven Progress, Week 3
Let's talk about my diet, aka the most positive thing happening in my life right now. This is the end of the third week of Project Oven Repair, and I think I've lost about six or seven pounds so far. I say I think because I forgot to gauge my "Before" weight when I started. But I seem to be averaging about two pounds a week, which makes sense. Doing the Zone diet alone, you can generally expect to lose about a pound a week, and I've been combining it with regular exercise, so two a week sounds about right.
I've increased my workouts from three or four days a week to five or six days. Three of those days, I combine walking and jogging, and I've increased my jogging intervals to 140 paces (I started out at 100). I plan to keep increasing that by 20 paces every week until I'm jogging the entire distance. The other days, I either just walk the whole way, or I do Pilates or some combination of weights and calisthenics.
Well, that is I plan to do Pilates. But right now my house is so cluttered that the only place I can spread out my mat and do them properly is in my back yard, and I don't fancy having my neighbors watch me doing them. So I keep chickening out. I need to get over it, though, because they're about the most effective thing I've ever done for strengthening and toning.
According to my scale, I've got 15 to 20 more to go before I reach the high end of the healthy BMI range for my height. Of course, my scale usually registers about ten pounds lighter than doctor's office scales, which means it's probably more like 25 to 30. So if I keep on at this rate, I'm probably looking at about four more months before I really start to see a reversal in my insulin resistance and PCOS symptoms.
But in the mean time, I'm feeling better and my clothes are already starting to get baggy. Last year, before I realized that my size was causing so many health and plumbing problems and I decided I was perfectly happy being a size 14, I went through my closet and pulled out all of my "skinny" size 12 and 10 clothes to give to charity. Thankfully, I never got around to dropping them off, so they're still bagged up and sitting in my garage. I'll probably need to dig them out in another month or so.
I've also managed to cut my coffee intake back to two cups before switching over to white or green tea for the rest of the day. I think starting Monday I'll go ahead and try reducing the regular to decaf ratio from half to one quarter, and see how that goes. I'm also weening myself off of ginseng, and I've already cut out all sweets and alcohol, except on special occasions.
My secret weapons are taking my fish oil with my supper, and pistachios. I'd read in one of our many Zone books -- pretty sure it was Toxic Fat
-- that taking fish oil with your evening meal will reduce late night carb and sugar (and chocolate) cravings, and I'm hear to tell you that doing this pretty much eliminated those pesky cravings for me. When I do get a craving, it's usually for something salty, and that's where the pistachios come in. They're satisfying and they also take work, so a small handful of them also takes care of the whole needing to occupy my mouth and hands while I watch TV thing. Plus they make a pretty healthy snack in small doses, so I have nothing to feel guilty about.
All in all, this is all helping me feel like I'm doing something for any future oven occupants, to prevent said oven from being a death trap instead of a place to grow life. And I keep telling myself that if I'm wrong about the PCOS and it turns out that all of this does nothing to prevent another miscarriage, at least I'll be healthier and I'll feel better, and that will better equip me to deal with whatever our future holds.
I've increased my workouts from three or four days a week to five or six days. Three of those days, I combine walking and jogging, and I've increased my jogging intervals to 140 paces (I started out at 100). I plan to keep increasing that by 20 paces every week until I'm jogging the entire distance. The other days, I either just walk the whole way, or I do Pilates or some combination of weights and calisthenics.
Well, that is I plan to do Pilates. But right now my house is so cluttered that the only place I can spread out my mat and do them properly is in my back yard, and I don't fancy having my neighbors watch me doing them. So I keep chickening out. I need to get over it, though, because they're about the most effective thing I've ever done for strengthening and toning.
According to my scale, I've got 15 to 20 more to go before I reach the high end of the healthy BMI range for my height. Of course, my scale usually registers about ten pounds lighter than doctor's office scales, which means it's probably more like 25 to 30. So if I keep on at this rate, I'm probably looking at about four more months before I really start to see a reversal in my insulin resistance and PCOS symptoms.
But in the mean time, I'm feeling better and my clothes are already starting to get baggy. Last year, before I realized that my size was causing so many health and plumbing problems and I decided I was perfectly happy being a size 14, I went through my closet and pulled out all of my "skinny" size 12 and 10 clothes to give to charity. Thankfully, I never got around to dropping them off, so they're still bagged up and sitting in my garage. I'll probably need to dig them out in another month or so.
I've also managed to cut my coffee intake back to two cups before switching over to white or green tea for the rest of the day. I think starting Monday I'll go ahead and try reducing the regular to decaf ratio from half to one quarter, and see how that goes. I'm also weening myself off of ginseng, and I've already cut out all sweets and alcohol, except on special occasions.
My secret weapons are taking my fish oil with my supper, and pistachios. I'd read in one of our many Zone books -- pretty sure it was Toxic Fat
-- that taking fish oil with your evening meal will reduce late night carb and sugar (and chocolate) cravings, and I'm hear to tell you that doing this pretty much eliminated those pesky cravings for me. When I do get a craving, it's usually for something salty, and that's where the pistachios come in. They're satisfying and they also take work, so a small handful of them also takes care of the whole needing to occupy my mouth and hands while I watch TV thing. Plus they make a pretty healthy snack in small doses, so I have nothing to feel guilty about.All in all, this is all helping me feel like I'm doing something for any future oven occupants, to prevent said oven from being a death trap instead of a place to grow life. And I keep telling myself that if I'm wrong about the PCOS and it turns out that all of this does nothing to prevent another miscarriage, at least I'll be healthier and I'll feel better, and that will better equip me to deal with whatever our future holds.
April 6, 2011
38
You guys have no idea how much I wanted to be able to write a positive post today, about this being my new New Year and starting over with a clean slate and looking forward and blah blah blah happy birthday cake.
But instead today I'm full of grief and sadness. One of the first things I did after I got up was to burst into tears in the kitchen, standing there bawling over my coffee while my husband is at the other end of the house, oblivious to my little breakdown. I finally had to log in to blog about it because that was the only way I could get myself to stop crying.
Part of the problem is that, for some reason, Matt decided to get me up at nine. I stayed up till two this morning and was counting on being able to sleep in till at least 10, because it's my birthday. He said he thought I'd want him to get me up because we need to start turning our sleep schedules around so we can start going to church again, but BIRTHDAYS ARE NOT DAYS FOR DOING THAT! I'd have dealt with it better if this wasn't the third or fourth night in a row that I didn't get more than six or seven hours of sleep, but it is, and it's all catching up to me and making me feel really fragile.
And part of it is that it hit me that I didn't get my yearly birthday card signed "Mom, Rob & Bobo," and that I'll never get that card again, and my mom-in-law won't be calling me to wish me happy birthday and make plans to get together to give me my gift. That's actually a big part of it. I miss my in-laws, and their cat, and I hate hate hate that they're all gone, that half of our family just doesn't exist anymore.
Of course, the bulk of it is simply that birthdays are hard when you're over 35 and you're having reproductive problems and you want kids more than anything else in the world. Every day that you're not pregnant you're aware of that clock ticking away, that little whisper that you're running out of time, and birthdays are the stroke of twelve on the clock, the big bong clanging in your ear and screaming that your risk factors just multiplied and your chances of having a healthy baby before time runs out completely just went down a percentage.
I keep reminding myself that my mom had my little sister at 38, and everything was fine. But mom didn't have my history, and she'd already had three healthy children by that point, which keeps that from being as comforting as it could be.
I see birthday messages piling up on Facebook. It's helping me feel cared for and loved, but it's also making me feel bad that I can't say, "Yes, I AM having a happy birthday, thanks!" But maybe it's not too late for that. Writing all of this has already helped me feel a little better. I was going to do some work on my blogging course today, but I think I'm just going to take the day off and read a book or something. I haven't had time to read a book in ages. We've been debating whether to do my birthday sushi night tonight or wait for the weekend, but I think I'll push for tonight. And maybe later I'll take a nap and then work out, and then my outlook will be better, and I can get to that Happy Birthday New Year Clean Slate place. Maybe.
But instead today I'm full of grief and sadness. One of the first things I did after I got up was to burst into tears in the kitchen, standing there bawling over my coffee while my husband is at the other end of the house, oblivious to my little breakdown. I finally had to log in to blog about it because that was the only way I could get myself to stop crying.
Part of the problem is that, for some reason, Matt decided to get me up at nine. I stayed up till two this morning and was counting on being able to sleep in till at least 10, because it's my birthday. He said he thought I'd want him to get me up because we need to start turning our sleep schedules around so we can start going to church again, but BIRTHDAYS ARE NOT DAYS FOR DOING THAT! I'd have dealt with it better if this wasn't the third or fourth night in a row that I didn't get more than six or seven hours of sleep, but it is, and it's all catching up to me and making me feel really fragile.
And part of it is that it hit me that I didn't get my yearly birthday card signed "Mom, Rob & Bobo," and that I'll never get that card again, and my mom-in-law won't be calling me to wish me happy birthday and make plans to get together to give me my gift. That's actually a big part of it. I miss my in-laws, and their cat, and I hate hate hate that they're all gone, that half of our family just doesn't exist anymore.
Of course, the bulk of it is simply that birthdays are hard when you're over 35 and you're having reproductive problems and you want kids more than anything else in the world. Every day that you're not pregnant you're aware of that clock ticking away, that little whisper that you're running out of time, and birthdays are the stroke of twelve on the clock, the big bong clanging in your ear and screaming that your risk factors just multiplied and your chances of having a healthy baby before time runs out completely just went down a percentage.
I keep reminding myself that my mom had my little sister at 38, and everything was fine. But mom didn't have my history, and she'd already had three healthy children by that point, which keeps that from being as comforting as it could be.
I see birthday messages piling up on Facebook. It's helping me feel cared for and loved, but it's also making me feel bad that I can't say, "Yes, I AM having a happy birthday, thanks!" But maybe it's not too late for that. Writing all of this has already helped me feel a little better. I was going to do some work on my blogging course today, but I think I'm just going to take the day off and read a book or something. I haven't had time to read a book in ages. We've been debating whether to do my birthday sushi night tonight or wait for the weekend, but I think I'll push for tonight. And maybe later I'll take a nap and then work out, and then my outlook will be better, and I can get to that Happy Birthday New Year Clean Slate place. Maybe.
April 1, 2011
Emma Grace
It shows a fetus about 7.5 weeks along. Much too early to be able to recognize facial features, and we know that that hint of an eye and nose and cheekbone are tricks of the light and shadow, but that doesn't stop Matt from insisting that she looked like me.
I never told anyone that her name was Emma. Emma Grace. I didn't tell because we had no idea whether "she" was actually a she or a he, and because it was far too early to discuss names, and if she had gone on to be born there would most certainly have been disagreements and compromises made on the naming front.
But in my heart, this was my daughter Emma. Named for my grandma, Erma, which is a variant of Emma and much too old-fashioned and grandmotherish for a baby girl. Middle name Grace, because I knew it was only by the grace of God that she'd actually be born.
If I ever do go on to have a healthy daughter, she'll probably keep Grace as a middle name, if not a first name. But this name, as a whole, belongs to this baby, whose heart apparently gave out at only 7 and a half weeks, uniting little Emma with her namesake in Heaven, unbeknownst to Matt and I, who believed all was well.
I was 9 weeks along when the miscarriage symptoms started, and I had the ultrasound. They sent me for a D&C the very next morning, which was one year ago today. April fools.
My mom and sister went in together for a frame for the ultrasound photo. Mom took me to Hallmark to pick something out to remember Emma by. It was hard, and I broke down quietly in the back of the store, but ultimately I was pleased with my selection. The poem beneath the picture is a Chekov quote that reads:
We shall find Peace.Your mama misses you, Emma.
We shall hear Angels.
We shall see the sky sparkle
like diamonds.
March 25, 2011
Tearballs
Tomorrow will mark a full week of Project Oven Repair, a full week during which I've had no sweets and 95% of my meals have consisted mainly of vegetables and lean protein, I've been taking prenatal vitamins and tons of fish oil, and I've been working out consistently; and I have to say that, physically, I'm already feeling about a million times better. I have more energy, I'm sleeping better, and I'm pretty sure I've lost a couple of pounds.
And of course this is having a positive impact on my emotional state. I'm still weepy, but I'm feeling more hopeful about everything, and better able to cope. With everything that's happened lately, I expect that it will take more than a new diet to get past the sad days. There's just so much to be sad about, and it hits us both in waves. Like yesterday, when out of the blue I started crying over Bobo, which led to more crying over Rob, which led to still more crying over Mom. It was a crying snowball. A tearball. Or maybe more like a snot ball. Anyway, I cried. A lot.
And then somebody compliments my song, or tells me that they're praying about the baby situation, and that makes me weepy, too. And next week, of course, is the anniversary that I'm struggling with. I'd make plans to do something nice for myself on that day, but I'm not sure which day to do it on, since it was drawn out over 4 days. On the 29th I started spotting, on the 31st I got the ultrasound that confirmed the miscarriage, and on April 1st I had the D&C. Talk about April Fool's.
So which of those days actually counts as the anniversary? I guess if I have to pick one it would be anniversary of the D&C, since that finalized it. So I'm going to try to do something nice for myself that day, although I don't know what yet, since our funds are still pretty limited. Maybe I'll give myself a home pedicure. Lord knows my feet could use it.
You know, when this post started it was going to be all about my diet and what I'm doing to get healthy, but then it turned left at Albuquerque and headed straight for the sad place. Sigh.
And of course this is having a positive impact on my emotional state. I'm still weepy, but I'm feeling more hopeful about everything, and better able to cope. With everything that's happened lately, I expect that it will take more than a new diet to get past the sad days. There's just so much to be sad about, and it hits us both in waves. Like yesterday, when out of the blue I started crying over Bobo, which led to more crying over Rob, which led to still more crying over Mom. It was a crying snowball. A tearball. Or maybe more like a snot ball. Anyway, I cried. A lot.
And then somebody compliments my song, or tells me that they're praying about the baby situation, and that makes me weepy, too. And next week, of course, is the anniversary that I'm struggling with. I'd make plans to do something nice for myself on that day, but I'm not sure which day to do it on, since it was drawn out over 4 days. On the 29th I started spotting, on the 31st I got the ultrasound that confirmed the miscarriage, and on April 1st I had the D&C. Talk about April Fool's.
So which of those days actually counts as the anniversary? I guess if I have to pick one it would be anniversary of the D&C, since that finalized it. So I'm going to try to do something nice for myself that day, although I don't know what yet, since our funds are still pretty limited. Maybe I'll give myself a home pedicure. Lord knows my feet could use it.
You know, when this post started it was going to be all about my diet and what I'm doing to get healthy, but then it turned left at Albuquerque and headed straight for the sad place. Sigh.
March 24, 2011
About that song, part 2
Here's the melody, with caveats:
1. I had to play it on my bass, because my acoustic is out of tune and needs strings. Imagine it about an octave higher.
2. I'm still learning said bass, so I had to slow down the tempo. Imagine it a little faster.
3. I didn't have a mic or an amplifier, so I had to put my laptop's built-in mic right up to the fretboard, and pluck really hard to get the recorder to pick it up. So... imagine it sounds less weird and totally amateurish.
But anyway, I think this will help you get the gist of how the song goes. And if you missed it, the lyrics are in the post right before this one.
Oh, and also I left out the second verse. So the tune here goes verse one, chorus, bridge, chorus.
Here you go.
1. I had to play it on my bass, because my acoustic is out of tune and needs strings. Imagine it about an octave higher.
2. I'm still learning said bass, so I had to slow down the tempo. Imagine it a little faster.
3. I didn't have a mic or an amplifier, so I had to put my laptop's built-in mic right up to the fretboard, and pluck really hard to get the recorder to pick it up. So... imagine it sounds less weird and totally amateurish.
But anyway, I think this will help you get the gist of how the song goes. And if you missed it, the lyrics are in the post right before this one.
Oh, and also I left out the second verse. So the tune here goes verse one, chorus, bridge, chorus.
Here you go.
March 22, 2011
So about that song...
I done went and wrote it.
It's been percolating in my head ever since I got the notion to write one, and when I finally sat down this morning to get started on it, the whole thing came to me. Lyrics, melody and all. I waited all day to post it to step back and make sure it doesn't suck. I don't think it does. I mean, it's definitely not the best song ever. It's full of song cliches, yes, but it would be hard to convey the fairy-tale imagery I was going for without those cliches. And it's still a little rough, even though I've been tweaking and polishing it all day. At any rate, it says what I feel, and that's what important. It's also the first purely creative writing I've done since NaNoWriMo, and that sure felt nice.
I came thisclose to also posting an MP3 of me singing it, just so you'd get the melody, even though I can't sing, but the last thing I need right now is haters coming here to make fun of me and tell me I can't sing, LIKE I DON'T KNOW ALREADY, so I chickened out. But the next step, if Matt doesn't think it sucks (he's not up to reading it yet; I think this has been a tough day for him), to get him to help me compose a guitar arrangement for it. And maybe in another day or two I can pick out the melody on my old acoustic guitar so you'll get a better idea of how it goes.
Anyway, here it is. Remember: ROUGH DRAFT
###
UNTOUCHABLE
by Jean Marie Bauhaus
© 2011
Tower of glass
(unbreakable)
Atop the highest mountain
(unscalable)
Across the deepest chasm
(unreachable)
Behind the tallest fortress
(unbreachable)
Where you sleep
Where you dream
Where you wait to feel my touch
(CHORUS)
And I would climb the highest mountain
I would swim the deepest sea
I would slay the fiercest dragon
To have you here with me
I would raise the mightiest army
To knock down Heaven's door
I would gladly lay my life down
If it could give you yours
Just to touch you...
But you're untouchable.
Cradle of wood
(unfillable)
A room that's still a guest room
(unlivable)
A dream that's lost forever
(unbearable)
Two hearts go on without you
(so breakable)
I can't sleep
But I dream
And I long to feel your touch
REPEAT CHORUS
One kiss upon your sweet brow
to wake you from your slumber
One caress of your tiny hand
falls through my grip like sand
REPEAT CHORUS 2X
###
There you have it. If nothing else, writing it was very therapeutic.
It's been percolating in my head ever since I got the notion to write one, and when I finally sat down this morning to get started on it, the whole thing came to me. Lyrics, melody and all. I waited all day to post it to step back and make sure it doesn't suck. I don't think it does. I mean, it's definitely not the best song ever. It's full of song cliches, yes, but it would be hard to convey the fairy-tale imagery I was going for without those cliches. And it's still a little rough, even though I've been tweaking and polishing it all day. At any rate, it says what I feel, and that's what important. It's also the first purely creative writing I've done since NaNoWriMo, and that sure felt nice.
I came thisclose to also posting an MP3 of me singing it, just so you'd get the melody, even though I can't sing, but the last thing I need right now is haters coming here to make fun of me and tell me I can't sing, LIKE I DON'T KNOW ALREADY, so I chickened out. But the next step, if Matt doesn't think it sucks (he's not up to reading it yet; I think this has been a tough day for him), to get him to help me compose a guitar arrangement for it. And maybe in another day or two I can pick out the melody on my old acoustic guitar so you'll get a better idea of how it goes.
Anyway, here it is. Remember: ROUGH DRAFT
###
UNTOUCHABLE
by Jean Marie Bauhaus
© 2011
Tower of glass
(unbreakable)
Atop the highest mountain
(unscalable)
Across the deepest chasm
(unreachable)
Behind the tallest fortress
(unbreachable)
Where you sleep
Where you dream
Where you wait to feel my touch
(CHORUS)
And I would climb the highest mountain
I would swim the deepest sea
I would slay the fiercest dragon
To have you here with me
I would raise the mightiest army
To knock down Heaven's door
I would gladly lay my life down
If it could give you yours
Just to touch you...
But you're untouchable.
Cradle of wood
(unfillable)
A room that's still a guest room
(unlivable)
A dream that's lost forever
(unbearable)
Two hearts go on without you
(so breakable)
I can't sleep
But I dream
And I long to feel your touch
REPEAT CHORUS
One kiss upon your sweet brow
to wake you from your slumber
One caress of your tiny hand
falls through my grip like sand
REPEAT CHORUS 2X
###
There you have it. If nothing else, writing it was very therapeutic.
March 20, 2011
Good Grief
I'm skipping my great-nephew's 1st birthday party today. I feel bad about it, but not as bad as I know I'd feel if I went. There is no doubt in my mind that if I went I'd end up spending most of the party locked in the bathroom, sobbing my guts out. Because I just cannot deal with babies right now. Not even family babies who I love.
I'm still mystified by how hard and heavy this MC grief has settled back on me. Yes, the anniversary of #2 is coming up, but I got through the anniversary of #1 with only a vague feeling of sadness and wistfulness. Otherwise, I was fine. I have to wonder if this anniversary would be affecting me so deeply if I wasn't so freshly primed for grief by recent events.
Or maybe it's because the second loss hurt so much more than the first one. Don't get me wrong--my first MC was devastating. But I was able to accept it more easily, as if it was simply a due I had to pay before going on to have a family. And I thought that was exactly what I was doing when I got pregnant with #2. When I lost that one too, it felt personal, like a slap in the face, adding insult to injury. I had anger with the second one that I didn't feel with the first. Or maybe it's just that the second pregnancy and MC happened before I got to finish dealing with #1. Who knows?
All I know for certain is that everything feels fresh again, for some reason, like this loss just happened. My eyes constantly burn and my chest constantly aches from all the crying I keep doing. I'm really tired of it, all this grief and sadness and crying. I'm tired of being the girl who brings all the sad stuff to the table. But I'm not allowing myself to stifle it, or ignore it, because that just isn't healthy. I'm allowing myself to feel what I feel, and I'm trying to work through it constructively instead of letting it take over.
Part of that involves reading blogs from the Adoption, Loss & Infertility community (ALI for short). This is helping a lot (except for when one of said bloggers suddenly gets pregnant and then I can't deal with all of the conflictedness of wanting to be happy for them but being envious and sad for me instead, and all of the fun, fun guilt that that entails; seriously, I had to weed through this list to find blogs by women who weren't currently pregnant or had just had babies, and just in the week since I found the blogs I really like by women in more or less the same boat as me, TWO of them have discovered that they're pregnant. I mean, damn!) and helping me feel less alone and like the universe is picking on me.
It also involves listening to emo music and sad songs to help me connect with the pain and cry it all out. This list from Invisible Mother has some especially sob-inducing songs, particularly the ones by Kellie Cofffey and Avril Lavigne, of all people (since I'm not really a fan of either country music or of Avril). And blogging here, of course. And praying on a deep, intimate level, pouring out my heart to God in total surrender and giving all of my tears and sorrow over to Him.
And I've been thinking about writing a song. I've never written a song before, and I haven't written any poetry in years, and my instrument is a backup instrument that's not really suitable for melodizing, and I sing about as well as the people on American Idol auditions who make you cringe with embarrassment and pity. But in spite of all of this I'm feeling a powerful urge to write a song for my babies. It doesn't have to be good, and I don't have to show it to anybody. But I think I have to do it, and I think I'll get some healing from the process.
Happy Birthday, Aedan. I'm sorry Aunt Jeanie's dealing with all of this on your special day.
I'm still mystified by how hard and heavy this MC grief has settled back on me. Yes, the anniversary of #2 is coming up, but I got through the anniversary of #1 with only a vague feeling of sadness and wistfulness. Otherwise, I was fine. I have to wonder if this anniversary would be affecting me so deeply if I wasn't so freshly primed for grief by recent events.
Or maybe it's because the second loss hurt so much more than the first one. Don't get me wrong--my first MC was devastating. But I was able to accept it more easily, as if it was simply a due I had to pay before going on to have a family. And I thought that was exactly what I was doing when I got pregnant with #2. When I lost that one too, it felt personal, like a slap in the face, adding insult to injury. I had anger with the second one that I didn't feel with the first. Or maybe it's just that the second pregnancy and MC happened before I got to finish dealing with #1. Who knows?
All I know for certain is that everything feels fresh again, for some reason, like this loss just happened. My eyes constantly burn and my chest constantly aches from all the crying I keep doing. I'm really tired of it, all this grief and sadness and crying. I'm tired of being the girl who brings all the sad stuff to the table. But I'm not allowing myself to stifle it, or ignore it, because that just isn't healthy. I'm allowing myself to feel what I feel, and I'm trying to work through it constructively instead of letting it take over.
Part of that involves reading blogs from the Adoption, Loss & Infertility community (ALI for short). This is helping a lot (except for when one of said bloggers suddenly gets pregnant and then I can't deal with all of the conflictedness of wanting to be happy for them but being envious and sad for me instead, and all of the fun, fun guilt that that entails; seriously, I had to weed through this list to find blogs by women who weren't currently pregnant or had just had babies, and just in the week since I found the blogs I really like by women in more or less the same boat as me, TWO of them have discovered that they're pregnant. I mean, damn!) and helping me feel less alone and like the universe is picking on me.
It also involves listening to emo music and sad songs to help me connect with the pain and cry it all out. This list from Invisible Mother has some especially sob-inducing songs, particularly the ones by Kellie Cofffey and Avril Lavigne, of all people (since I'm not really a fan of either country music or of Avril). And blogging here, of course. And praying on a deep, intimate level, pouring out my heart to God in total surrender and giving all of my tears and sorrow over to Him.
And I've been thinking about writing a song. I've never written a song before, and I haven't written any poetry in years, and my instrument is a backup instrument that's not really suitable for melodizing, and I sing about as well as the people on American Idol auditions who make you cringe with embarrassment and pity. But in spite of all of this I'm feeling a powerful urge to write a song for my babies. It doesn't have to be good, and I don't have to show it to anybody. But I think I have to do it, and I think I'll get some healing from the process.
Happy Birthday, Aedan. I'm sorry Aunt Jeanie's dealing with all of this on your special day.
March 15, 2011
750 Words
I read somewhere the other day that a 750-word (or three page) brain dump is just about right for emptying your head so you can get over feeling overwhelmed and focus on what needs to be done. I'm pretty sure I have more than 750 words' worth of overwhelming crap stuffed in my brain right now, but I'm not actually going to count. "750 Words" is a nicer-sounding title than "Brain Dump," at any rate.
I'm having trouble with the whole baby thing right now. The 1st anniversary of my second MC is coming up at the end of the month (I guess the anniversary of the day her heart actually stopped beating is any day now) (and that's right, I said "her," because after almost a year of not really feeling sure or being afraid to commit to a feeling in case I'm wrong, I suddenly, finally have a strong gut feeling that baby #1 was a boy, and #2 was a girl, and it doesn't really matter if I'm wrong, does it?). I don't know if it's because of that, or because I'm still shaky from the loss of Mom and Rob and Bobo, or if it's because I'll be 38 in 3 weeks and I'm a little panicky that time is slipping away and we're going to lose our window of opportunity. It's probably all of the above. But after months of having finally reached a place where I could be around babies and enjoy them, and read about other women's pregnancies and feel genuinely happy for them, suddenly I'm back at a place where I just CANNOT deal with hearing about other women being pregnant, or being new moms, and being around all my little grandnieces and nephews is really painful again.
I miss being pregnant. I really want to be pregnant again, but I'm terrified of trying again without getting tested for PCOS first. And I'm frustrated over our insurance situation, and the fact that even if we could afford insurance, it would be another year before the maternity coverage kicked in, plus it's doubtful if it would cover PCOS treatment anyway since I'm pretty sure that goes under the Infertility Treatment category, and did I mention that I'm about to turn 38?
One thing I do not want to hear ever again from anybody is that hey, at least I know I can get pregnant, isn't that great? Because no, it's not great to know that you can get pregnant but that for some reason your body can't keep a baby alive, and besides, THIRTY EIGHT, so who knows what my aging ovaries are going to decide to do once we're finally ready to try again?
So there's that.
I also feel like my work is split in too many directions and nothing is really getting off the ground and I really need to pick one project and stick with it until it's done; but I also need to get paid, which means other people's projects take precedence. But I just want to block off about 5 days to get the blog class up and running, but then I'll need time to market it, and I have these other blogs that I've committed to, and trying to build my mailing lists and keep them happy, and I'm really not in love with the whole Internet Marketing thing right now, and every day I wish I could be writing instead. Writing fiction, that is.
Because suddenly I keep thinking about Dominion of the Damned and how it needs to end and how I can improve what I've already written, but how the hell am I supposed to find any time to write right now? And I really wish I could because it would do wonders for my sanity.
I didn't sleep at all last night, mainly because the plot of this book I don't have time for kept playing itself over and over in my mind. And also a whole plan for publishing and marketing it all indy-style.
I have too much on my plate, and everybody in my life really needs to stop dying right now, and I'm seethingly jealous of every mom in the history of ever, and I just want to write, and I also just want to go watch TV, and I want to go lie down, and I want to do all three of those things on a beach in the Yucatan while being served ice cold cervezas and margaritas and having my feet rubbed. Oh yes, I can dream.
And now you all know just how insane I am right now, but yes, it does feel better to get all of this down and out of my head. I think if I can get a good night's sleep tonight, then tomorrow I might actually be useful and somewhat less crazy. Here's hoping.
I'm having trouble with the whole baby thing right now. The 1st anniversary of my second MC is coming up at the end of the month (I guess the anniversary of the day her heart actually stopped beating is any day now) (and that's right, I said "her," because after almost a year of not really feeling sure or being afraid to commit to a feeling in case I'm wrong, I suddenly, finally have a strong gut feeling that baby #1 was a boy, and #2 was a girl, and it doesn't really matter if I'm wrong, does it?). I don't know if it's because of that, or because I'm still shaky from the loss of Mom and Rob and Bobo, or if it's because I'll be 38 in 3 weeks and I'm a little panicky that time is slipping away and we're going to lose our window of opportunity. It's probably all of the above. But after months of having finally reached a place where I could be around babies and enjoy them, and read about other women's pregnancies and feel genuinely happy for them, suddenly I'm back at a place where I just CANNOT deal with hearing about other women being pregnant, or being new moms, and being around all my little grandnieces and nephews is really painful again.
I miss being pregnant. I really want to be pregnant again, but I'm terrified of trying again without getting tested for PCOS first. And I'm frustrated over our insurance situation, and the fact that even if we could afford insurance, it would be another year before the maternity coverage kicked in, plus it's doubtful if it would cover PCOS treatment anyway since I'm pretty sure that goes under the Infertility Treatment category, and did I mention that I'm about to turn 38?
One thing I do not want to hear ever again from anybody is that hey, at least I know I can get pregnant, isn't that great? Because no, it's not great to know that you can get pregnant but that for some reason your body can't keep a baby alive, and besides, THIRTY EIGHT, so who knows what my aging ovaries are going to decide to do once we're finally ready to try again?
So there's that.
I also feel like my work is split in too many directions and nothing is really getting off the ground and I really need to pick one project and stick with it until it's done; but I also need to get paid, which means other people's projects take precedence. But I just want to block off about 5 days to get the blog class up and running, but then I'll need time to market it, and I have these other blogs that I've committed to, and trying to build my mailing lists and keep them happy, and I'm really not in love with the whole Internet Marketing thing right now, and every day I wish I could be writing instead. Writing fiction, that is.
Because suddenly I keep thinking about Dominion of the Damned and how it needs to end and how I can improve what I've already written, but how the hell am I supposed to find any time to write right now? And I really wish I could because it would do wonders for my sanity.
I didn't sleep at all last night, mainly because the plot of this book I don't have time for kept playing itself over and over in my mind. And also a whole plan for publishing and marketing it all indy-style.
I have too much on my plate, and everybody in my life really needs to stop dying right now, and I'm seethingly jealous of every mom in the history of ever, and I just want to write, and I also just want to go watch TV, and I want to go lie down, and I want to do all three of those things on a beach in the Yucatan while being served ice cold cervezas and margaritas and having my feet rubbed. Oh yes, I can dream.
And now you all know just how insane I am right now, but yes, it does feel better to get all of this down and out of my head. I think if I can get a good night's sleep tonight, then tomorrow I might actually be useful and somewhat less crazy. Here's hoping.
January 18, 2011
Those 2011 Goals Are Starting To Come Along
Lately I've had my head down, hard at work on Goal #1 - making my business more profitable. I wish I could say it's already done, but all of the marketing stuff I've done so far is just the tip of the ice burg, and so far I don't have any new clients or increased web site traffic to show for it. That's a little discouraging. But it's still early, and there's still a lot to do, and I know it's going to take time. I need to stick with it. I know that if I do, by the grace of God, things will take off eventually.
Last week, I got started on Goal #5 - Run a 5K. That should really be renamed to Get My Body Ready To Make a Baby, because that's the true goal. I've been reading up on PCOS, and apparently that condition can be controlled, possibly even eliminated, with a low-glycemic diet and plenty of exercise.
Of course, I haven't been officially diagnosed with PCOS, thanks to my insurance running out before the OB/GYN at the clinic could test me. But I have several of the symptoms, and I just have a gut feeling that it's what caused my miscarriages.
Reading about women who've dieted their way to controlling it and having successful pregnancies has given me a lot of hope, and it's motivating me to get back on/stay on track. I've found that when I'm faced with temptation, I just need to ask myself, do I want a baby, or do I want fill-in-the-blank-temptation? Be lazy and don't exercize, or be able to have a baby? Cake, or Baby? I guess maybe that's not quite as clear-cut a choice for some as cake or death, but for me, it's working.
So I guess that also ties into Goal #2, although I still need to get health insurance. But that comes back around to Goal #1, upon which most of my other goals also rely. And so: I'm keeping my head down, working on making that one happen. So it goes.
Last week, I got started on Goal #5 - Run a 5K. That should really be renamed to Get My Body Ready To Make a Baby, because that's the true goal. I've been reading up on PCOS, and apparently that condition can be controlled, possibly even eliminated, with a low-glycemic diet and plenty of exercise.
Of course, I haven't been officially diagnosed with PCOS, thanks to my insurance running out before the OB/GYN at the clinic could test me. But I have several of the symptoms, and I just have a gut feeling that it's what caused my miscarriages.
Reading about women who've dieted their way to controlling it and having successful pregnancies has given me a lot of hope, and it's motivating me to get back on/stay on track. I've found that when I'm faced with temptation, I just need to ask myself, do I want a baby, or do I want fill-in-the-blank-temptation? Be lazy and don't exercize, or be able to have a baby? Cake, or Baby? I guess maybe that's not quite as clear-cut a choice for some as cake or death, but for me, it's working.
So I guess that also ties into Goal #2, although I still need to get health insurance. But that comes back around to Goal #1, upon which most of my other goals also rely. And so: I'm keeping my head down, working on making that one happen. So it goes.
November 4, 2010
Unbirthday
So. Today would have been Baby #2's due date. It's weighing on me, but not as much as I expected. I think having NaNoWriMo as a distraction is helping, and between that and work I just don't have time to sit around and dwell on what might have been, which is a good thing, because boy, do I know how to dwell on things. I can't completely avoid thinking about it, though, and it's hard not to imagine how different our lives would be right now if I hadn't miscarried. Either time.
For those who are wondering, we are planning to try again, eventually. I still need to get health insurance, and the only private health insurer with a maternity plan that I've been able to find is Blue Cross, and they make you carry the maternity benefit for a full year before you're allowed to actually use it. Which is frustrating, but it's probably ultimately a good thing. It will keep us from rushing into anything, and it gives us plenty of time for me to get the testing done to try finding out why the miscarriages happened, and if there's any way to prevent it from happening again. It also gives us both plenty of time to get both ourselves and our finances in good shape.
So for now, we're hopeful that a baby is still in the cards for us a little way down the road. I'm just going to hold onto that hope while I take the future one step at a time.
For those who are wondering, we are planning to try again, eventually. I still need to get health insurance, and the only private health insurer with a maternity plan that I've been able to find is Blue Cross, and they make you carry the maternity benefit for a full year before you're allowed to actually use it. Which is frustrating, but it's probably ultimately a good thing. It will keep us from rushing into anything, and it gives us plenty of time for me to get the testing done to try finding out why the miscarriages happened, and if there's any way to prevent it from happening again. It also gives us both plenty of time to get both ourselves and our finances in good shape.
So for now, we're hopeful that a baby is still in the cards for us a little way down the road. I'm just going to hold onto that hope while I take the future one step at a time.
September 20, 2010
Marketing & Miscellany
The Marketing:
I spent much of the weekend polishing up my online presence to appear a little more professional. Most significantly, this included updating my LinkedIn profile, changing my Tumblr blog into a portfolio for personal and practice projects, and launching JMBauhaus(.net), my new central hub which is now the easiest way to keep up with everything I'm doing online if you're inclined to do so (Big Sis).
I was forced to switch from .com to .net thanks to my stupidity in letting my jmbauhaus.com domain expire earlier this year. Dotster then wanted a hundred dollars to renew it; otherwise I had to wait 90 days for it to go back on the market. Which I decided to do, but before I could register it again some domain squatters snatched it up, and there's no telling how much they want for it, but they can just sit on it, because I don't want it badly enough to pay more than $10 for it, and I don't see anybody else wanting it, either. I'm perfectly happy being an $8 .net instead. So enjoy your worthless jmbauhaus.com domain there, squatters!
ANyway. Since I'm so enamored with the service that's hosting my new site, Flavors.me, I'm offering a very affordable Flavors.me customization package.
Another new service I'm offering is through Fiverr.com: $5 Typographical Logos. I enjoy logo design but I don't get a lot of opportunity to practice it, so hopefully this is a way to give me some practice and beef up my portfolio in that area.
I don't think I've mentioned it here, but I'm also running a contest to drum up "fans" for my Facebook business page. I'm offering a free custom Twitter background (a $60 value) to one random winner. All you have to do to enter is "like" my Task Wrangler page on Facebook and leave a comment in the discussion there declaring your entry. Click here for contest details.
So far it's working like a charm... not. Apparently nobody wants their own fancy custom Twitter background badly enough to bother clicking a "Like" button and leaving a comment. Which is to say that if you DO want your own fancy custom Twitter background, your chances of winning at this point are VERY good.
Of course, if nobody enters, that's less work for me to do, so win-win, I guess.
The Miscellany
It's officially fall now, right? Or is that tomorrow? Either way, I'm ready for this late summer we're having to get lost and leave me alone. September started out promisingly enough with a nice reprieve from the ridiculously hot weather we had in July and August, but it's gotten hot again, and I couldn't be more ready for fall weather to get here. I'm just afraid that we'll have a repeat of last year, where it pretty much skipped right over the usual great fall weather and went straight from hot and miserable to cold and crappy. We're starting to gear up for another short camping trip in October, and I've a feeling Matt will want to go no matter what, so I'm really crossing my fingers for it not to be cold and crappy all month. Come on, October. Show me why you were always my favorite month.
To help beat the heat and get myself in a fall state of mine, I've been watching a lot of spooky stuff, i.e. horror movies and Ghost Hunters. I don't know why scary stuff puts me in mind of fall--I guess it's because for me fall = Halloween. At any rate, I'm in the mood these days for safe scares. This will probably come back to bite me when we're camping next month and I find myself having to go out into the darkness by myself in the middle of the night for a potty emergency.
It's also that time of year for me to decide whether I'll be doing NaNoWriMo, and if so, what will I be writing? Right now I'm kind of leaning towards giving it a pass this year. Last year I started out gang-busters, hitting about 20,000 words in the first week before I found out I was pregnant, and all of the baby drama ensued, and my focus went right out the window. If I do it this year I'll either invoke the Zokutou Clause and finish Dominion of the Damned, or challenge myself to write a collection of memoirs and personal essays all month.
If I do the latter, I figure I'll post them here as I go and then maybe collect the good ones into a chap book or see if any of them are good enough for the magazine market. The problem is that I just can't seem to get excited about writing -- which might be all the more reason why I should sign up for 'WriMo. It might also make a good distraction from the fact that baby #2 would've been due the first week of November, which I'm already starting to struggle with a little... which probably explains my current ambivalence toward writing, and toward NaNoWriMo in particular. I remember thinking that there was no way I'd be able to do it this year because I'd be busy taking care of a newborn baby, so the fact that there's really no reason for me not to do it makes me pretty sad.
In less depressing news, these past two weeks I've pretty much had my head down, brushing up on my web design skills and learning new software and new techniques to prepare for a web site overhaul for a new client. I've been learning a lot, but I haven't been doing much else, and the imbalance is starting to wear on me. I'm beginning to feel lethargic and headachey all the time, and I'm already putting the weight back on that I managed to shed over the summer. So starting today I've got to start forcing myself to make time for regular workouts again. Between the new TV season kicking off in full force this week and Matt's recent habit of spending his evenings holed up in the bedroom to study, it should be pretty easy for me to start parking myself on the stationary bike in front of the TV every night.
What about you guys? Are any of you doing 'WriMo this year? If so, do you know what you'll be working on?
I was forced to switch from .com to .net thanks to my stupidity in letting my jmbauhaus.com domain expire earlier this year. Dotster then wanted a hundred dollars to renew it; otherwise I had to wait 90 days for it to go back on the market. Which I decided to do, but before I could register it again some domain squatters snatched it up, and there's no telling how much they want for it, but they can just sit on it, because I don't want it badly enough to pay more than $10 for it, and I don't see anybody else wanting it, either. I'm perfectly happy being an $8 .net instead. So enjoy your worthless jmbauhaus.com domain there, squatters!
ANyway. Since I'm so enamored with the service that's hosting my new site, Flavors.me, I'm offering a very affordable Flavors.me customization package.
Another new service I'm offering is through Fiverr.com: $5 Typographical Logos. I enjoy logo design but I don't get a lot of opportunity to practice it, so hopefully this is a way to give me some practice and beef up my portfolio in that area.
I don't think I've mentioned it here, but I'm also running a contest to drum up "fans" for my Facebook business page. I'm offering a free custom Twitter background (a $60 value) to one random winner. All you have to do to enter is "like" my Task Wrangler page on Facebook and leave a comment in the discussion there declaring your entry. Click here for contest details.
So far it's working like a charm... not. Apparently nobody wants their own fancy custom Twitter background badly enough to bother clicking a "Like" button and leaving a comment. Which is to say that if you DO want your own fancy custom Twitter background, your chances of winning at this point are VERY good.
Of course, if nobody enters, that's less work for me to do, so win-win, I guess.
The Miscellany
It's officially fall now, right? Or is that tomorrow? Either way, I'm ready for this late summer we're having to get lost and leave me alone. September started out promisingly enough with a nice reprieve from the ridiculously hot weather we had in July and August, but it's gotten hot again, and I couldn't be more ready for fall weather to get here. I'm just afraid that we'll have a repeat of last year, where it pretty much skipped right over the usual great fall weather and went straight from hot and miserable to cold and crappy. We're starting to gear up for another short camping trip in October, and I've a feeling Matt will want to go no matter what, so I'm really crossing my fingers for it not to be cold and crappy all month. Come on, October. Show me why you were always my favorite month.
To help beat the heat and get myself in a fall state of mine, I've been watching a lot of spooky stuff, i.e. horror movies and Ghost Hunters. I don't know why scary stuff puts me in mind of fall--I guess it's because for me fall = Halloween. At any rate, I'm in the mood these days for safe scares. This will probably come back to bite me when we're camping next month and I find myself having to go out into the darkness by myself in the middle of the night for a potty emergency.
It's also that time of year for me to decide whether I'll be doing NaNoWriMo, and if so, what will I be writing? Right now I'm kind of leaning towards giving it a pass this year. Last year I started out gang-busters, hitting about 20,000 words in the first week before I found out I was pregnant, and all of the baby drama ensued, and my focus went right out the window. If I do it this year I'll either invoke the Zokutou Clause and finish Dominion of the Damned, or challenge myself to write a collection of memoirs and personal essays all month.
If I do the latter, I figure I'll post them here as I go and then maybe collect the good ones into a chap book or see if any of them are good enough for the magazine market. The problem is that I just can't seem to get excited about writing -- which might be all the more reason why I should sign up for 'WriMo. It might also make a good distraction from the fact that baby #2 would've been due the first week of November, which I'm already starting to struggle with a little... which probably explains my current ambivalence toward writing, and toward NaNoWriMo in particular. I remember thinking that there was no way I'd be able to do it this year because I'd be busy taking care of a newborn baby, so the fact that there's really no reason for me not to do it makes me pretty sad.
In less depressing news, these past two weeks I've pretty much had my head down, brushing up on my web design skills and learning new software and new techniques to prepare for a web site overhaul for a new client. I've been learning a lot, but I haven't been doing much else, and the imbalance is starting to wear on me. I'm beginning to feel lethargic and headachey all the time, and I'm already putting the weight back on that I managed to shed over the summer. So starting today I've got to start forcing myself to make time for regular workouts again. Between the new TV season kicking off in full force this week and Matt's recent habit of spending his evenings holed up in the bedroom to study, it should be pretty easy for me to start parking myself on the stationary bike in front of the TV every night.
What about you guys? Are any of you doing 'WriMo this year? If so, do you know what you'll be working on?
July 13, 2010
Due Date
I feel bad that I can't remember my first baby's due date. Somewhere, there's a slip of paper bearing a positive pregnancy test result with that date written on it, but I can't find it. I guess it's not vitally important - the due date is just a guess, after all. What matters is that, had the baby made it, it would have been born this month, some time in the second half.If that had been the case, then right now I'd be huge. I'd be overflowing with anticipation, and maybe a little fear at how drastically our lives were about to change. Matt's office would now be a fully-converted nursery, with a crib ready and waiting, full of toys, and a chest full of tiny clothes and tiny shoes and other tiny baby things. My hospital bag would be packed, and when people asked me when I was due, I'd beam and tell them "Any day now," or maybe groan in semi-mock agony as I pat my extended belly and say, "I know, I look like I'm about to pop, right?"
But that wasn't the case.
It's been over seven months since that first nightmare trip to the emergency room, after I felt my first baby, impossibly small, leave my body in a gush of blood and tissue and lost hope. It tends to be overshadowed by the second - the one whose tiny body lingered for weeks after its little heart gave out, only for an ultrasound to reveal the truth that broke my heart all over again, a mere three months ago. But the first is still remembered, as fresh as the second, and held in my heart as fiercely as I would hold it in my arms if given the chance.
This is the month - perhaps even the week - that we would have welcomed that baby home. But Matt's office is still just an office, and no bags are packed. That homecoming is never to be.
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