I'm trying to figure out if this blog will remain private or not--I'm already running into issues with only being able to allow access to 100 people (plus some important people that I have no idea how to contact).
I have a feeling that once I get over having people that I know in real life read this that I'll make it public again. And when I do, please forgive me for having to give you access to get you here. And for those who didn't get access and are reading this after the fact--please forgive me. I'm just... I don't know. I'm not "all there" right now.
I have this quandry because I want to keep coming here and being honest but it's hard sometimes. You want to be able to put things in writing, release them and walk away--and it's hard when it follows you.
I feel like every time I share this story that a little piece of me goes with it. I feel like sometimes on the miscarriage/loss board that there are people watching and lurking who haven't experience loss, which makes me feel like I'm an animal in the zoo being watched and analyzed in my native habitat.
On the other hand, I know that this blog has helped people--I know this because I've been told so by lurker and anonymous commenters. They say they happened upon my blog by accident or that they found my blog through the message boards and that my story has helped them to cope with theirs.
These are the people I can't reach and give access to. And hopefully I won't just be talking about loss forever, but with any luck, they won't either. And then we'll be able to share our stories about moving on.
I'm just really sensitive right now and very emotional. I know that I'm not the best decision maker and sometimes I'm not even that great of a friend.
There have been days that I've not responded to emails because at the moment I didn't want to talk and then forgot to reply completely. There are friends of mine who have suffered loss as well and when they check in on me, I forget to ask about how they're doing. That's shitty. I know it. I hate it and all I can say is that I'm trying.
And then I tell myself that it's only been two months. Shit. Two months tomorrow.
Heck, I know people who weren't over breakups in two months--and the other person didn't die! So I guess expecting me to be over it and ready to deal with things like I used to is a bit much to ask, isn't it?
I'm still standing on my own two feet, so I guess that's good. But I just feel like bad things keep happening to the people that I love and I'm exhausted by it. I've led such a charmed life--why all of this at once?
Maybe once I get a grip on a few of these things, I'll be able to get a grip on the blog. Just hang in there and be patient and understanding with me please.
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
Sunday, October 25, 2009
My birth story, courtesy of me madre...
My mom posted this on her blog as a tribute to me, so I thought I'd share it here with you guys. I think it's an interesting story with a happy ending!
Happy Birthday, #2!
[This is a couple of days late but still, very heartfelt...]
Wow, I can't believe it...MSC is 30. Three-zero. Zero-to-thirty in the blink of an eye.
You know, it's funny--I recall the early portions of my labors with #1 and #3 with relative ease. However, with MSC, her birth was so outstanding of an event that some of the early moments seemed to have faded. Yes, there are colorful graphic slides of this birthing experience safely tucked away in their special carousel...more slides than anyone should have. But MSC's arrival was one helluva trip and I'm glad there's some documentation because, frankly, sometimes I have trouble believing that it really happened!
I was due to deliver on September 30, 1979. Yet in August, because of my ballooning belly, the doctor hinted that I "couldn't get much bigger" and that I might deliver sooner than we thought--maybe even in August. Then throughout September, I continued to grow and was told the same thing: "soon, very soon." I had outgrown most of my maternity clothes, which were summer-y, and in the cooler fall, began to put together strange combinations of turtleneck sweaters that barely stretched to the top of my big belly, strappy voluminous maternity sundresses, knee-high cableknit socks, and Dr. Scholl sandals.
I was quite a sight. I clearly remember walking through a mall with my mother-in-law who was delighted in noting the stares of people walking by us--"Did you SEE how that person looked at you???" Well, having the appearance of a person who was very likely to drop a monster watermelon from between her legs at any given moment *did* get me out of paying some library fines. (She [looking straight at my huge belly]: "OH! When are you due?" me: "Today." She: "OOHH! OOOHHH!!" me: "I have some fines to pay on these books I'm returning." She: "No, NO--nevermind! Please. You should probably just GO HOME!!")
In mid-October, I was given a "non-stress" test to be sure that all was well with the baby--the verdict: "unbelievable, but still cooking." Late at night, I had visions of scenes from the movie "Alien" in which the creatures came bursting out of the humans' abdomens...I mean, how else was this child going to emerge?? Finally, on the evening of October 17, I felt the welcome labor pains. Woo hoo! We were going to have a baby!!
The details of the labor were a little clouded behind the 3 hour transition--especially since the transition phase is supposed to last about--oh, 45 minutes! But once I was "cleared" to push, it was like the heavens parted and the sun began to shine and I could hear choirs of angels rooting me on: "Push, PUSH!"
Yay, me! FINALLY!! Bloooop--there SHE was: MSC! (And they told me to expect a boy--HAH! WE don't do boys in this family--at least, not yet!) MSC with the chubby cheeks--well, chubby everything!--long straight silky black hair and eyes so very dark brown they looked black instead of regular "new-baby-blue." With no signs of being overdue, she weighed ELEVEN pounds THREE-and-a-half ounces--a hospital record-breaker! The pediatrician who examined her told me: "Ma'am, you've just given birth to a perfect three-month-old!"
Here is where I should probably explain myself. I had MSC naturally--no drugs and no anesthetics with the episiotomy. My parents were with us, as was my mother-in-law, dear sister-in-law, a friend who was a midwife and toddler #1, who handled the proceedings like a seasoned champ. So when you have an 11# 3.5 oz. baby under those circumstances, you say it just like that: "my largest baby weighed ELEVEN pounds THREE-and-a-half ounces and I had her naturally." That's how I say it. You want credit for every single bit of baby that emerged. Just saying "more than eleven pounds" just doesn't cut it. See, just 11 pounds might've been a bit easier--3.5 oz. easier. But she weighed ELEVEN pounds and THREE-and-a-half ounces!
The day we brought her home, the leaves were in "fall peak" yet it was unseasonably warm and sunny...a perfect golden day to bring home a perfect baby!
We were incredibly lucky that she was so large and healthy at birth because at 3.5 months, she was Ohio's first case of Infantile Botulism, a rare neurological disease. She was in the hospital, paralyzed, for four weeks. For the first week the doctors were stumped--they had never seen such a thing and it wasn't until later that a resident read about it in a medical journal. With no muscle activity, her face dropped like she'd had a stroke, her heart stopped at one point and her lungs collapsed, along with other related problems. All we could do was wait and hope--there were no antibiotics to help MSC fight it. But she was a fighter! Happily, after 4 weeks of waiting, MSC began to move and was released to go home soon after she began nursing again.
Following MSC's illness, she was a bundle of movement. She would wake early in the morning and sing with the birds. Too early, actually, and after singing her jibberish songs, she would fall back to sleep until a more reasonable hour. She walked early--she talked early--and having had quite enough time at home with Mom and Dad--she began preschool early. As we expected, she endeared herself to her preschool teachers--she was the bright, cheerful girl with the open face and deep dimples with pretty black hair that curled uncontrollably around her face as the day went on.
She was my "Little Chairman" who turned into a beautiful woman. MSC always fights for what she believes is right, she has a sensitive streak that remains close to the surface, she is extremely loyal to her family and friends, and she believes that being 'different' is more-than-okay. I am so proud of her--as I am of her sisters. And truth be told, the three of them helped make me into who I am today. I am always grateful for their company and their love.
So, happy birthday, MSC--you deserve it. And, of course, I'm so happy you're here...
xo mummy
Happy Birthday, #2!
[This is a couple of days late but still, very heartfelt...]
Wow, I can't believe it...MSC is 30. Three-zero. Zero-to-thirty in the blink of an eye.
You know, it's funny--I recall the early portions of my labors with #1 and #3 with relative ease. However, with MSC, her birth was so outstanding of an event that some of the early moments seemed to have faded. Yes, there are colorful graphic slides of this birthing experience safely tucked away in their special carousel...more slides than anyone should have. But MSC's arrival was one helluva trip and I'm glad there's some documentation because, frankly, sometimes I have trouble believing that it really happened!
I was due to deliver on September 30, 1979. Yet in August, because of my ballooning belly, the doctor hinted that I "couldn't get much bigger" and that I might deliver sooner than we thought--maybe even in August. Then throughout September, I continued to grow and was told the same thing: "soon, very soon." I had outgrown most of my maternity clothes, which were summer-y, and in the cooler fall, began to put together strange combinations of turtleneck sweaters that barely stretched to the top of my big belly, strappy voluminous maternity sundresses, knee-high cableknit socks, and Dr. Scholl sandals.
I was quite a sight. I clearly remember walking through a mall with my mother-in-law who was delighted in noting the stares of people walking by us--"Did you SEE how that person looked at you???" Well, having the appearance of a person who was very likely to drop a monster watermelon from between her legs at any given moment *did* get me out of paying some library fines. (She [looking straight at my huge belly]: "OH! When are you due?" me: "Today." She: "OOHH! OOOHHH!!" me: "I have some fines to pay on these books I'm returning." She: "No, NO--nevermind! Please. You should probably just GO HOME!!")
In mid-October, I was given a "non-stress" test to be sure that all was well with the baby--the verdict: "unbelievable, but still cooking." Late at night, I had visions of scenes from the movie "Alien" in which the creatures came bursting out of the humans' abdomens...I mean, how else was this child going to emerge?? Finally, on the evening of October 17, I felt the welcome labor pains. Woo hoo! We were going to have a baby!!
The details of the labor were a little clouded behind the 3 hour transition--especially since the transition phase is supposed to last about--oh, 45 minutes! But once I was "cleared" to push, it was like the heavens parted and the sun began to shine and I could hear choirs of angels rooting me on: "Push, PUSH!"
Yay, me! FINALLY!! Bloooop--there SHE was: MSC! (And they told me to expect a boy--HAH! WE don't do boys in this family--at least, not yet!) MSC with the chubby cheeks--well, chubby everything!--long straight silky black hair and eyes so very dark brown they looked black instead of regular "new-baby-blue." With no signs of being overdue, she weighed ELEVEN pounds THREE-and-a-half ounces--a hospital record-breaker! The pediatrician who examined her told me: "Ma'am, you've just given birth to a perfect three-month-old!"
Here is where I should probably explain myself. I had MSC naturally--no drugs and no anesthetics with the episiotomy. My parents were with us, as was my mother-in-law, dear sister-in-law, a friend who was a midwife and toddler #1, who handled the proceedings like a seasoned champ. So when you have an 11# 3.5 oz. baby under those circumstances, you say it just like that: "my largest baby weighed ELEVEN pounds THREE-and-a-half ounces and I had her naturally." That's how I say it. You want credit for every single bit of baby that emerged. Just saying "more than eleven pounds" just doesn't cut it. See, just 11 pounds might've been a bit easier--3.5 oz. easier. But she weighed ELEVEN pounds and THREE-and-a-half ounces!
The day we brought her home, the leaves were in "fall peak" yet it was unseasonably warm and sunny...a perfect golden day to bring home a perfect baby!
We were incredibly lucky that she was so large and healthy at birth because at 3.5 months, she was Ohio's first case of Infantile Botulism, a rare neurological disease. She was in the hospital, paralyzed, for four weeks. For the first week the doctors were stumped--they had never seen such a thing and it wasn't until later that a resident read about it in a medical journal. With no muscle activity, her face dropped like she'd had a stroke, her heart stopped at one point and her lungs collapsed, along with other related problems. All we could do was wait and hope--there were no antibiotics to help MSC fight it. But she was a fighter! Happily, after 4 weeks of waiting, MSC began to move and was released to go home soon after she began nursing again.
Following MSC's illness, she was a bundle of movement. She would wake early in the morning and sing with the birds. Too early, actually, and after singing her jibberish songs, she would fall back to sleep until a more reasonable hour. She walked early--she talked early--and having had quite enough time at home with Mom and Dad--she began preschool early. As we expected, she endeared herself to her preschool teachers--she was the bright, cheerful girl with the open face and deep dimples with pretty black hair that curled uncontrollably around her face as the day went on.
She was my "Little Chairman" who turned into a beautiful woman. MSC always fights for what she believes is right, she has a sensitive streak that remains close to the surface, she is extremely loyal to her family and friends, and she believes that being 'different' is more-than-okay. I am so proud of her--as I am of her sisters. And truth be told, the three of them helped make me into who I am today. I am always grateful for their company and their love.
So, happy birthday, MSC--you deserve it. And, of course, I'm so happy you're here...
xo mummy
Thursday, October 22, 2009
My evening update
Lindsy passed away a little before noon today. I ended up leaving work and got to say goodbye to her before they took her to the funeral home, though. We spent the afternoon/evening with her boyfriend and family.
*sigh*
It's just weird. I can't believe she's really gone, but the stillness in her room and body was one of the craziest things I've ever experienced. Apparently I'm sort of over my fear of dead things since losing Jude and being able to hold her, so I was able to sit by Lindsy and hold her hand. Crazy how things change.
But it's crazy-- since she hasn't looked like herself for awhile and she looked so weird this afternoon, it's like it wasn't her. I don't think this has really sunk in at all.
DH isn't home yet, but my cats are snuggled into bed with me to keep me company. I feel like I'm going to have nightmares tonight. Ugh.
*sigh*
It's just weird. I can't believe she's really gone, but the stillness in her room and body was one of the craziest things I've ever experienced. Apparently I'm sort of over my fear of dead things since losing Jude and being able to hold her, so I was able to sit by Lindsy and hold her hand. Crazy how things change.
But it's crazy-- since she hasn't looked like herself for awhile and she looked so weird this afternoon, it's like it wasn't her. I don't think this has really sunk in at all.
DH isn't home yet, but my cats are snuggled into bed with me to keep me company. I feel like I'm going to have nightmares tonight. Ugh.
You know that "good stuff" that I mentioned yesterday?
Yeah. I don't have any today. UGH, WTF?!
Our friend Lindsy has been battling cancer for the past 4 years or so and sadly she is losing her battle--very quickly. A few weeks ago they sent her home from the hospital, saying there was nothing more they could do. When we saw her shortly after that, she was swollen and in pain. It was hard to see her like that.
Well this morning DH got the call that she's been out of it for the past day and they're expecting her to go soon. He went out to his hometown to be there and just called a little while ago and the picture he painted me was really upsetting.
Apparently she's laying in bed, not blinking but tears streaming down her face. Her tongue is hanging out like she has cotton mouth and she's panting/moaning.
I've heard people say how cancer is a vicious, painful disease, but I had no idea that this was what the end could look like. It's awful and I can't get it out of my mind. I feel sad and trapped right now in my little cubicle.
On one hand I want to rush out there and be there for her, but at the same time I don't want to see it--and I can't help but think that she's already gone. And in a weird way, I kinda hope that she is so that she isn't aware of any pain and anguish.
Ugh. I don't want her to die! This is just so awful. She's so sweet and kind and should have such a beautiful life ahead of her...
I want bad things to stop happening to the people that I love. Like, now.
Our friend Lindsy has been battling cancer for the past 4 years or so and sadly she is losing her battle--very quickly. A few weeks ago they sent her home from the hospital, saying there was nothing more they could do. When we saw her shortly after that, she was swollen and in pain. It was hard to see her like that.
Well this morning DH got the call that she's been out of it for the past day and they're expecting her to go soon. He went out to his hometown to be there and just called a little while ago and the picture he painted me was really upsetting.
Apparently she's laying in bed, not blinking but tears streaming down her face. Her tongue is hanging out like she has cotton mouth and she's panting/moaning.
I've heard people say how cancer is a vicious, painful disease, but I had no idea that this was what the end could look like. It's awful and I can't get it out of my mind. I feel sad and trapped right now in my little cubicle.
On one hand I want to rush out there and be there for her, but at the same time I don't want to see it--and I can't help but think that she's already gone. And in a weird way, I kinda hope that she is so that she isn't aware of any pain and anguish.
Ugh. I don't want her to die! This is just so awful. She's so sweet and kind and should have such a beautiful life ahead of her...
I want bad things to stop happening to the people that I love. Like, now.
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
I'm sorry.
I'm sorry, you guys. I've been using this blog only for venting and exploring this cornocopia of emotions that I've been having and not taking the time to talk to you about all of the good things that are happening in my neck of the woods.
Maybe it's time for a little "State of the Union," oui?
Things are good. Really, despite my mini-meltdown this weekend and despite the fact that I've posted lengthy diatribes about my feeeeeeelings, I'm okay. Really. This has been hard, but it hasn't broken me or my DH. We are indeed stronger than ever and working every day toward this goal.
I have plenty of days that I think of my baby and smile. I have days that I'm grateful to have had her at all. And some days I actually do feel like me.
But for some godforsaken reason, on those days I apparently decide not to blog--maybe I've been only looking at this as an outlet for the sad. You're stuck with the short end of my emotional stick--and that really isn't fair, is it?
So here's my commitment to you--I promise to share some fun stuff soon. I promise that as more good stuff happens, I'll make sure you're at the top of the list to hear about it. I just don't want you to worry your pretty little heads in the meantime...
xoxo
Maybe it's time for a little "State of the Union," oui?
Things are good. Really, despite my mini-meltdown this weekend and despite the fact that I've posted lengthy diatribes about my feeeeeeelings, I'm okay. Really. This has been hard, but it hasn't broken me or my DH. We are indeed stronger than ever and working every day toward this goal.
I have plenty of days that I think of my baby and smile. I have days that I'm grateful to have had her at all. And some days I actually do feel like me.
But for some godforsaken reason, on those days I apparently decide not to blog--maybe I've been only looking at this as an outlet for the sad. You're stuck with the short end of my emotional stick--and that really isn't fair, is it?
So here's my commitment to you--I promise to share some fun stuff soon. I promise that as more good stuff happens, I'll make sure you're at the top of the list to hear about it. I just don't want you to worry your pretty little heads in the meantime...
xoxo
Sunday, October 18, 2009
Happy birthday to me
I was supposed to be pregnant for my 30th birthday.
We had planned this trip to Las Vegas to visit my brother in law and see a few shows. We checked and double checked the dates and talked about what we'd do if I couldn't go because of any pregnancy complications, but again--I was confident that everything would be great and I'd be waddling myself around Sin City 28 weeks pregnant.
Earlier this trip we went to see The Beatles Love Cirque de Soliel (which, by the way, was FABULOUS!) but all of The Beatles music was getting to be a bit much for me to handle--and of course the nagging fear that if they did Hey Jude that I'd cry (which they did, and I did) but it seems like these feelings and sad thoughts are brought out by a ton of songs--Something in the Way, Yesterday, etc. So yeah. I teared up a bit, but held it together.
Then there was the Divine Miss M, Bette Midler (WHO IS FAN-FUCKING-TASTIC!) Now anyone who knows me knows that I can be brought to tears by seeing someone perform that I adore, even if they're not particularly famous, so I knew tears would fall... but here I was again tearing up all of the way through The Glory of Love, The Rose, and Wind Beneath my Wings.
So here I am in Vegas, seeing great shows, drinking lots of beer and having a great visit, but inside I'm just so fucking sad that I'm here, having fun and drinking beer.
I knew it was the reason that I wasn't getting excited about leaving for Vegas, but it all came to a head last night. We had been out to the Hoover dam during the day, visited a brewery, and then decided to see the pirate show at Treasure Island and play around on the strip a bit.
At first I just felt a little bad about myself--how I look right now--and we were all just wearing shorts and t-shirts and we kept walking past people dressed up, waiting to get into clubs. You want to roll your eyes at them but inside you know you're a wee bit jealous, even if you'd never be caught dead dressing like that.
Then a few pregnant bellies waddled past me, the clock clicked midnight and here I was--30. Looking like shit, not pregnant, drinking beer in Las Vegas. Not how things were supposed to go.
Yeah. I lost it. I teared up walking through the casinos, so we headed for the car where I proceeded to bawl the entire drive home. This morning I still feel on the verge of tears and will probably have another good cry in the shower.
Further proof that when everyone thinks you should be all better, you aren't. It's been 7 weeks but passing a milestone like this has brought me to my knees and it feels like it was yesterday.
The good news is that today will be over soon and we head home tonight.
We had planned this trip to Las Vegas to visit my brother in law and see a few shows. We checked and double checked the dates and talked about what we'd do if I couldn't go because of any pregnancy complications, but again--I was confident that everything would be great and I'd be waddling myself around Sin City 28 weeks pregnant.
Earlier this trip we went to see The Beatles Love Cirque de Soliel (which, by the way, was FABULOUS!) but all of The Beatles music was getting to be a bit much for me to handle--and of course the nagging fear that if they did Hey Jude that I'd cry (which they did, and I did) but it seems like these feelings and sad thoughts are brought out by a ton of songs--Something in the Way, Yesterday, etc. So yeah. I teared up a bit, but held it together.
Then there was the Divine Miss M, Bette Midler (WHO IS FAN-FUCKING-TASTIC!) Now anyone who knows me knows that I can be brought to tears by seeing someone perform that I adore, even if they're not particularly famous, so I knew tears would fall... but here I was again tearing up all of the way through The Glory of Love, The Rose, and Wind Beneath my Wings.
So here I am in Vegas, seeing great shows, drinking lots of beer and having a great visit, but inside I'm just so fucking sad that I'm here, having fun and drinking beer.
I knew it was the reason that I wasn't getting excited about leaving for Vegas, but it all came to a head last night. We had been out to the Hoover dam during the day, visited a brewery, and then decided to see the pirate show at Treasure Island and play around on the strip a bit.
At first I just felt a little bad about myself--how I look right now--and we were all just wearing shorts and t-shirts and we kept walking past people dressed up, waiting to get into clubs. You want to roll your eyes at them but inside you know you're a wee bit jealous, even if you'd never be caught dead dressing like that.
Then a few pregnant bellies waddled past me, the clock clicked midnight and here I was--30. Looking like shit, not pregnant, drinking beer in Las Vegas. Not how things were supposed to go.
Yeah. I lost it. I teared up walking through the casinos, so we headed for the car where I proceeded to bawl the entire drive home. This morning I still feel on the verge of tears and will probably have another good cry in the shower.
Further proof that when everyone thinks you should be all better, you aren't. It's been 7 weeks but passing a milestone like this has brought me to my knees and it feels like it was yesterday.
The good news is that today will be over soon and we head home tonight.
Monday, October 12, 2009
Welcome Aunt Flo!
Never thought I’d say that, but I guess never say never, right?
While I expected this to be a bittersweet moment, I’m doing okay today. In fact, I feel pretty darn good. My body’s working within a reasonable amount of time and while I didn’t temp since I had the baby, I did temp this morning, so I’m starting from CD1.
Also, this gives me a little breathing room to have a fresh cycle (or two… or more…) until we start to try again. In a way, AF arriving on her own in a reasonable amount of time has made me feel optimistic about moving forward and less stressed.
But I still feel like in a way I’m going to be playing hopscotch for the next few months. If we try in early December, I could end up with a due date close to August 29th (uuummm, NO!) You don't want your kid's birthday to be celebrated around the anniversary of a sad occasion.
I'm willing to try later in December/Jan/Feb, but then I'd want to quit for most of March/April/May so that I don't end up with a similar due date to the one that I had with Jude. Having similar appointment dates would be like déjà vu, which would freak me out a little.
So that kinda leaves a narrow window, doesn't it? I mean, I know I’d be thrilled to have a happy, healthy baby at any point, but from everything I’ve read it just seems like the smart thing to do for now. Who knows? Maybe I’ll throw those ideas out the window later in the game, but for now that’s my plan.
While I expected this to be a bittersweet moment, I’m doing okay today. In fact, I feel pretty darn good. My body’s working within a reasonable amount of time and while I didn’t temp since I had the baby, I did temp this morning, so I’m starting from CD1.
Also, this gives me a little breathing room to have a fresh cycle (or two… or more…) until we start to try again. In a way, AF arriving on her own in a reasonable amount of time has made me feel optimistic about moving forward and less stressed.
But I still feel like in a way I’m going to be playing hopscotch for the next few months. If we try in early December, I could end up with a due date close to August 29th (uuummm, NO!) You don't want your kid's birthday to be celebrated around the anniversary of a sad occasion.
I'm willing to try later in December/Jan/Feb, but then I'd want to quit for most of March/April/May so that I don't end up with a similar due date to the one that I had with Jude. Having similar appointment dates would be like déjà vu, which would freak me out a little.
So that kinda leaves a narrow window, doesn't it? I mean, I know I’d be thrilled to have a happy, healthy baby at any point, but from everything I’ve read it just seems like the smart thing to do for now. Who knows? Maybe I’ll throw those ideas out the window later in the game, but for now that’s my plan.
Friday, October 9, 2009
Wasted
I feel like I've wasted the entire year of 2009. I've wasted the last year of my 20s.
I spent the first part of the year hanging out on the interwebs and counting down the days until I ovulated. I read, researched alternative treatments for long cycles, talked to my e-friends, and stalked Fertility Friend religiously. I avoided contact with friends and family because I pretty much couldn't think of anything else to talk about... And if I was in the 2ww, I had to hide out because I wasn't drinking.
Then the BFP came--a little more hiding before we told people, as well as counting down the days/weeks until I was out of first tri and "safe." Lots of reading and researching, shopping (but not buying), journaling, and carefully navigating and obeying all of the pregnancy "rules." Then counting down to the big ultrasound and being able to shop.
And now here I am--counting down the days again. But not just until I can try again, but until I feel better and every day doesn't hurt so goddamn much. Until the day that I can tell someone the news of what happened without crying. Until the day that I can put away my baby's mementoes and not instinctively reach for her photo in a folder on my headboard because I need to feel her near me or have a sudden desire to see her cute little button nose. Until I stop tearing up at my cube at work writing effing blogs!
To add to this, I feel ridiculously boring lately, which makes me feel like I'm wasting time again. I mean, I don't mope about or anything like that. I don't cry all of the time. I mean I have my moments, but generally I'm in an okay mood. I'm just not as talkative and have a hard time answering the question, "Hey--what's up?" Because really? I don't have much to say if you're expecting me to carry the conversation.
Weeks are flying by as I look forward to each weekend so that I can be with my husband. I go to work, come home, hang out or watch Grey's Anatomy... But nothing is really going on. It's so quiet.
P.S. - I've decided that Monday's the day. I woke up this morning and after hitting snooze once, thought about temping. It'll give me time to bring it up to DH over the weekend so he knows and isn't awakened to the beeping sound and caught offguard. So there. All decided.
I spent the first part of the year hanging out on the interwebs and counting down the days until I ovulated. I read, researched alternative treatments for long cycles, talked to my e-friends, and stalked Fertility Friend religiously. I avoided contact with friends and family because I pretty much couldn't think of anything else to talk about... And if I was in the 2ww, I had to hide out because I wasn't drinking.
Then the BFP came--a little more hiding before we told people, as well as counting down the days/weeks until I was out of first tri and "safe." Lots of reading and researching, shopping (but not buying), journaling, and carefully navigating and obeying all of the pregnancy "rules." Then counting down to the big ultrasound and being able to shop.
And now here I am--counting down the days again. But not just until I can try again, but until I feel better and every day doesn't hurt so goddamn much. Until the day that I can tell someone the news of what happened without crying. Until the day that I can put away my baby's mementoes and not instinctively reach for her photo in a folder on my headboard because I need to feel her near me or have a sudden desire to see her cute little button nose. Until I stop tearing up at my cube at work writing effing blogs!
To add to this, I feel ridiculously boring lately, which makes me feel like I'm wasting time again. I mean, I don't mope about or anything like that. I don't cry all of the time. I mean I have my moments, but generally I'm in an okay mood. I'm just not as talkative and have a hard time answering the question, "Hey--what's up?" Because really? I don't have much to say if you're expecting me to carry the conversation.
Weeks are flying by as I look forward to each weekend so that I can be with my husband. I go to work, come home, hang out or watch Grey's Anatomy... But nothing is really going on. It's so quiet.
P.S. - I've decided that Monday's the day. I woke up this morning and after hitting snooze once, thought about temping. It'll give me time to bring it up to DH over the weekend so he knows and isn't awakened to the beeping sound and caught offguard. So there. All decided.
Thursday, October 8, 2009
Baby steps
Last night before I went to bed, I pulled my basal body thermometer out of my nightstand.
Then this morning when my alarm went off, I stared at it for a minute, thinking about temping.
And then I got into the shower.
The end.
Then this morning when my alarm went off, I stared at it for a minute, thinking about temping.
And then I got into the shower.
The end.
Wednesday, October 7, 2009
Kudos to my ute
I added my ticker to the top of the blog again, I haven't decided if I'm going to link it to my chart again or not. I'm not temping yet, so it doesn't really matter at this point. I was, however, shocked to log into Fertility Friend and realize that I had Jude 40 days ago. That's crazy.
I had my post partum checkup yesterday and my OB says that my ute and cervix are all healed and back to normal size/location. He also clarified on the timing in light of my long cycles--I don't have to wait two full cycles to try again, we should just wait about 12 weeks total. He said that's just a general timeframe that they give out for healing, but that I looked good already...
When I was in the hospital, I cracked a few jokes about having lady bits of steel because it took over 24 hours of cytotec doses and they kept having to up my dose... So it looks like I'm retaining my rockstar cervix status. I mean, I need *something* to be able to brag about, right?
So if I don't get AF by the end of the month, I can call for provera and after AF arrives would have me at the 12 month mark. I still don't know if we're going to TTC right away or not. At the moment my gut is yes, but things seem to change on a daily basis so I'm sorta reserving the right to change my mind. DH hasn't expressed his opinion other than this hasn't changed his desire to have children, but I know he has more issues to be working out right now.
The one thing I have realized and made clear is that I cannot have a similar due date to Jude--for a nice handful of reasons. In fact, I may need to block out a 3 month due date period (Dec/Jan/Feb) just to avoid it. So if we do try and don't get lucky right away, there will probably be a March/April/May break.
Granted, I understand that life has it's own funny sense of humor and could pull a fast one on me, but I just need to do anything in my power to not have similar pregnancy timing. I think it would just be too much for me. Jan 2011 should be Jude's 1st birthday and also? I was reading last night in one of my pregnancy/infant loss books about how it can make the 2nd child feel like more of a "replacement child" and that it's normal to be sad at that time of year, so it may make it hard to celebrate another child's birthday.
So... that's where I'm at with this whole "When will you have another baby?" conversation, so I just thought I'd share.
I had my post partum checkup yesterday and my OB says that my ute and cervix are all healed and back to normal size/location. He also clarified on the timing in light of my long cycles--I don't have to wait two full cycles to try again, we should just wait about 12 weeks total. He said that's just a general timeframe that they give out for healing, but that I looked good already...
When I was in the hospital, I cracked a few jokes about having lady bits of steel because it took over 24 hours of cytotec doses and they kept having to up my dose... So it looks like I'm retaining my rockstar cervix status. I mean, I need *something* to be able to brag about, right?
So if I don't get AF by the end of the month, I can call for provera and after AF arrives would have me at the 12 month mark. I still don't know if we're going to TTC right away or not. At the moment my gut is yes, but things seem to change on a daily basis so I'm sorta reserving the right to change my mind. DH hasn't expressed his opinion other than this hasn't changed his desire to have children, but I know he has more issues to be working out right now.
The one thing I have realized and made clear is that I cannot have a similar due date to Jude--for a nice handful of reasons. In fact, I may need to block out a 3 month due date period (Dec/Jan/Feb) just to avoid it. So if we do try and don't get lucky right away, there will probably be a March/April/May break.
Granted, I understand that life has it's own funny sense of humor and could pull a fast one on me, but I just need to do anything in my power to not have similar pregnancy timing. I think it would just be too much for me. Jan 2011 should be Jude's 1st birthday and also? I was reading last night in one of my pregnancy/infant loss books about how it can make the 2nd child feel like more of a "replacement child" and that it's normal to be sad at that time of year, so it may make it hard to celebrate another child's birthday.
So... that's where I'm at with this whole "When will you have another baby?" conversation, so I just thought I'd share.
Monday, October 5, 2009
Dear 2009, Screw you. kthxbai!
Yesterday my sister cracked a joke that 2009 needs to get the fuck over with before more bad shit happens. I cannot echo this sentiment enough.
For a year that started out so great, so full of possibility, it certainly has turned into a turd sandwich rather quickly. Not long after Jude's passing, one of our dear friends was rushed into the hospital due to complications from her cancer and cancer treatments and has now been sent home from the hospital with hospice coming in because there's nothing more they can do for her.
Are you kidding me? She's twenty-fucking-nine!! This battle with cancer has been going on for five years (it's a rare form) and if there was anyone I thought could beat it, it was her. All I can say is, "What the fuck?"
Really--Anything can happen to any of us, at any time. There's no rhyme or reason, no hiding from it, and nothing you can do to prevent it. This is disturbing yours truly (aka Polly Positivity) in a very deep way.
Last week we went to see a grief counselor for the first time. Unfortunately, neither of us liked her all that much and she said a few things that made me give her the ::sideeye::
First off, she didn't read any of my paperwork that clearly states that we're there for grief counseling. She was super weird with us in the waiting room like she didn't understand who we were or why we were there and then when we went into her office, she started to talk to us about what would happen if we got divorced--Yeah, um, lady? This is not an issue. Despite how hard this all is, we're openly communicating and madly in love. We're just really effing sad right now and want to make sure that we're moving through this all in the right way.
So that wasn't exactly a good start, but then throughout the rest of the appointment it just seemed like she wasn't following what we were saying, despite the fact she repeated every.single.thing. we said. It was really irritating. Plus, she said some kinda judgemental stuff to my husband, which had me annoyed on his behalf.
Anyway, today I called my insurance and got a new authorization to see someone new and cancelled our appt for this week with the old counselor. I'm not sure how someone goes about therapist shopping, but I guess it's something that I'll have to figure out on the fly.
For a year that started out so great, so full of possibility, it certainly has turned into a turd sandwich rather quickly. Not long after Jude's passing, one of our dear friends was rushed into the hospital due to complications from her cancer and cancer treatments and has now been sent home from the hospital with hospice coming in because there's nothing more they can do for her.
Are you kidding me? She's twenty-fucking-nine!! This battle with cancer has been going on for five years (it's a rare form) and if there was anyone I thought could beat it, it was her. All I can say is, "What the fuck?"
Really--Anything can happen to any of us, at any time. There's no rhyme or reason, no hiding from it, and nothing you can do to prevent it. This is disturbing yours truly (aka Polly Positivity) in a very deep way.
Last week we went to see a grief counselor for the first time. Unfortunately, neither of us liked her all that much and she said a few things that made me give her the ::sideeye::
First off, she didn't read any of my paperwork that clearly states that we're there for grief counseling. She was super weird with us in the waiting room like she didn't understand who we were or why we were there and then when we went into her office, she started to talk to us about what would happen if we got divorced--Yeah, um, lady? This is not an issue. Despite how hard this all is, we're openly communicating and madly in love. We're just really effing sad right now and want to make sure that we're moving through this all in the right way.
So that wasn't exactly a good start, but then throughout the rest of the appointment it just seemed like she wasn't following what we were saying, despite the fact she repeated every.single.thing. we said. It was really irritating. Plus, she said some kinda judgemental stuff to my husband, which had me annoyed on his behalf.
Anyway, today I called my insurance and got a new authorization to see someone new and cancelled our appt for this week with the old counselor. I'm not sure how someone goes about therapist shopping, but I guess it's something that I'll have to figure out on the fly.
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