For the first time in years, I did not celebrate St Patrick's Day with a visit to DogTown. I did not pull down my customary driveway in the dark to park behind the house with the Gazebo. I did not greet the yearly group of old-timers with hugs and my special brand of sarcasm. I did not make the rounds through a two block-radius of houses - all of which stock their freezers with some form of Irish Whiskey for me. I did not sober up in the early afternoon so that I could drive everyone home in the evening. Instead, I took my brother's kids to the Magic House while the Hub worked on beginning the bathroom redux.
Last night, the ONLY thing I wanted in the world (aside from that pesky world peace) was a Pepperoni Pizza (well done with crispy pepperoni) with Pepperoncinis on half of it. Seriously. It pained me. Instead, I was good and I cooked as the menu designated: Curry Chicken and Caramelized Brussel Sprouts.
This morning, every single shirt I tried on make me feel fat. Recently, I made the enormous mistake of purchasing several new shirts with one thing in common: STRIPES. They are "in", people! Or, at least that is what has been intimated to me. When I tried them on in the store, they looked good. Maybe it was just the crazy clerk who was pumping up my ego? At home, I look like a very upset Puffer Fish. The Hub insists that I look good. I just feel like they are highlighting my rotundity. (Is that a word? Spellcheck thinks so!)
I have an appointment April 12th. I am currently 6:6 today.
Tuesday, March 19, 2013
Thursday, March 14, 2013
STUFF NOBODY TELLS YOU.
As a filler for the time, I have decided to talk about some of those things that nobody talks about. I'm not talking about farting on the train on your way to work - but sure, gas can be shitty. Really. I'm talking about those things that happen while you are pregnant or afterwards that are mentioned in books but not to the satisfaction of people like me. I don't need a four words blurb. I need details. I want to know how much, how long, why, when, what does it look like, what does it feel like?!?$!?$ Use some fucking adjectives, people?!#?!%%(#
So, here are some of my favorites that I experienced either during or after pregnancy that weren't adequately addressed in the books. . . .
1. When you are pregnant, you will often stop the regular shedding of hair. You know what I mean. All of that hair in your brush or comb isn't there because you yanked it out. Your hair naturally sheds between 100 and 200 hairs per day. Once pregnant, I found that I was no longer clogging the drain with my luxuriously Rapunzle-esqe locks. But, that didn't last. About two months after our daughter was born, the evacuation of follicle-town began. I felt like I was losing large clumps at a time. But, in reality, I was just losing all of the ones I had retained. Because when your body is working hard to grow a baby, it doesn't need the added work of growing a few hundred new hairs. Seriously.
2. Post-Partum bleeding ain't no joke. I have never been so thankful for mesh panties (procured from the hospital) and giant post-partum pads. Seriously. I have never been so secure feeling over nights than wearing the equivalent of a twin mattress stuffed against my crotch and held there by white fishnet hot pants. Mine lasted about four weeks. Our daughter was very early but it still felt like I made up for all of the "missed periods" Lochia, which is the blood that is draining out, isn't like menstrual blood. It's what I have affectionately nick-named, "death blood" It does not smell like period. It also seems to "decompose" faster than period. Change frequently, ya'll. Mine started BLOODY RED and morphed over time to a rust and then finally to light brown spotting color. Then, one day, it was finished.
3. Gestational Carpal Tunnel will wane. But it takes time. Mine took two months (post partum) to resolve itself. And by resolve, I mean stop hurting when I put pressure on my wrist and bent my hand forward or back. Yeah. It goes away.
4. Two days into post-partum-ness, I began running a low-grade fever. I didn't have to ask. My boobs looked like they had been overinflated and no one bothered to do the skin stretches after a boob-job. Don't know what I mean? I'm not going to show you. Go Google "Bad Boob Job" You will figure it out. My milk came in. Like a tsunami. And it was awful. Psychologically, I was sad because I had two enormous containers of food and no one to eat it. Physically, I was in more pain than my then recent memory could recall. I toughed it out with some REALLY FUCKING TIGHT sports bras. My amazing Hub even ran out and bought a head of cabbage, but I just couldn't bring myself to make coleslaw in my bra cups. I hear it helps, though. The major pain went away after three days. But, I can't tell you how many times after that for WEEKS that I would randomly dribble. It's sexy.
. . . I will post more as time passes. You can count on me to talk about the shit nobody else wants to talk about.
So, here are some of my favorites that I experienced either during or after pregnancy that weren't adequately addressed in the books. . . .
1. When you are pregnant, you will often stop the regular shedding of hair. You know what I mean. All of that hair in your brush or comb isn't there because you yanked it out. Your hair naturally sheds between 100 and 200 hairs per day. Once pregnant, I found that I was no longer clogging the drain with my luxuriously Rapunzle-esqe locks. But, that didn't last. About two months after our daughter was born, the evacuation of follicle-town began. I felt like I was losing large clumps at a time. But, in reality, I was just losing all of the ones I had retained. Because when your body is working hard to grow a baby, it doesn't need the added work of growing a few hundred new hairs. Seriously.
2. Post-Partum bleeding ain't no joke. I have never been so thankful for mesh panties (procured from the hospital) and giant post-partum pads. Seriously. I have never been so secure feeling over nights than wearing the equivalent of a twin mattress stuffed against my crotch and held there by white fishnet hot pants. Mine lasted about four weeks. Our daughter was very early but it still felt like I made up for all of the "missed periods" Lochia, which is the blood that is draining out, isn't like menstrual blood. It's what I have affectionately nick-named, "death blood" It does not smell like period. It also seems to "decompose" faster than period. Change frequently, ya'll. Mine started BLOODY RED and morphed over time to a rust and then finally to light brown spotting color. Then, one day, it was finished.
3. Gestational Carpal Tunnel will wane. But it takes time. Mine took two months (post partum) to resolve itself. And by resolve, I mean stop hurting when I put pressure on my wrist and bent my hand forward or back. Yeah. It goes away.
4. Two days into post-partum-ness, I began running a low-grade fever. I didn't have to ask. My boobs looked like they had been overinflated and no one bothered to do the skin stretches after a boob-job. Don't know what I mean? I'm not going to show you. Go Google "Bad Boob Job" You will figure it out. My milk came in. Like a tsunami. And it was awful. Psychologically, I was sad because I had two enormous containers of food and no one to eat it. Physically, I was in more pain than my then recent memory could recall. I toughed it out with some REALLY FUCKING TIGHT sports bras. My amazing Hub even ran out and bought a head of cabbage, but I just couldn't bring myself to make coleslaw in my bra cups. I hear it helps, though. The major pain went away after three days. But, I can't tell you how many times after that for WEEKS that I would randomly dribble. It's sexy.
. . . I will post more as time passes. You can count on me to talk about the shit nobody else wants to talk about.
Tuesday, March 12, 2013
LIKE DANCING.
February, despite being the shortest month has been the longest. Now that we are out of it, I feel like I can write about it. . .
In the beginning of the month, I had a really bad week. I'm talking a fucking-shit-ass bad fucking week. I was incapable of "being"
I couldn't get out of bed. Sleep was everywhere I could get it.
If I got out of bed, I couldn't get out of my PJs.
I called into work one day.
When that made me feel worse, I worked from home the rest of the week.
Even my work-aholism didn't help. That's when it's time to pull the plug.
Eventually, in an effort to give my Hub a "happier" me, I headed out to the St. Louis Mardi Gras parade on our Krewe's float - as is tradition.
MISTAKE.
When my Hub left me that evening to celebrate new niece's christening with his family, I had reached the point. That dangerous point. I wanted out. If it was so painful for him, then he wouldn't have gone. And, left me. If he really didn't want to see the baby, he wouldn't have. After all, when I don't want to, you won't catch me doing shit. I was finished. Like, "get me off this fucking train" and I'll "kill everyone who tries to stop me" finished. With my Hub. With his family. With everything.
But, I wasn't. And we weren't. And nothing stopped. It kept going.
So, we saw a grief counselor who specializes in pediatric loss. We were confronted with some things that we knew and some we needed to hear out loud (sometimes the shit you think you know materializes like bright shiny objects that hit you in the face when they are spoken out loud.)
These are the things we must keep sounding in our heads, even when times feel good ~ more when times feel shitty. .
1. As long as we are honest with each other about how we feel and where we are on this road together, there will be no fault.
2. Just because we mourn differently for our Perfect Girl doesn't mean that one of us is less grief stricken.
3. *WE* are a family. . . even if it's just us, our large retirement fund and our Schnauzer. A Family.
4. We must be more forgiving to ourselves when we begin moving backwards. One step forward, two steps back, 20 steps forward, 8 steps back. . . we are still moving forward. Backwards stepping is still movement. . . . is still healing.
5. We cannot throw out the proverbial baby with the bathwater. While one thing is horribly off kilter, our marriage is not.
We learned that we are doing the things we need to do. We just need practice. We will probably check back in with our counselor as we move along and encounter new waters (or old ones! But, we both came out of there (I love referring to therapy as a hole in the ground) feeling accomplished in our 4 1/2 months of grieving.
And so, we have continued to move forward. We continue to acknowledge that solace isn't gained by sling-shotting ourselves through grief - though we wish it were. Instead, we rock on the water, back and forth. And, we rise and fall on the barf-tastic roller coaster that a wise G-ma talked about on Parenthood (the movie, kids, not the TV show.) And, we are dancing with that flourished give-and-take we have been practicing for six years. . . it keeps getting better.
In the beginning of the month, I had a really bad week. I'm talking a fucking-shit-ass bad fucking week. I was incapable of "being"
I couldn't get out of bed. Sleep was everywhere I could get it.
If I got out of bed, I couldn't get out of my PJs.
I called into work one day.
When that made me feel worse, I worked from home the rest of the week.
Even my work-aholism didn't help. That's when it's time to pull the plug.
Eventually, in an effort to give my Hub a "happier" me, I headed out to the St. Louis Mardi Gras parade on our Krewe's float - as is tradition.
MISTAKE.
When my Hub left me that evening to celebrate new niece's christening with his family, I had reached the point. That dangerous point. I wanted out. If it was so painful for him, then he wouldn't have gone. And, left me. If he really didn't want to see the baby, he wouldn't have. After all, when I don't want to, you won't catch me doing shit. I was finished. Like, "get me off this fucking train" and I'll "kill everyone who tries to stop me" finished. With my Hub. With his family. With everything.
But, I wasn't. And we weren't. And nothing stopped. It kept going.
So, we saw a grief counselor who specializes in pediatric loss. We were confronted with some things that we knew and some we needed to hear out loud (sometimes the shit you think you know materializes like bright shiny objects that hit you in the face when they are spoken out loud.)
These are the things we must keep sounding in our heads, even when times feel good ~ more when times feel shitty. .
1. As long as we are honest with each other about how we feel and where we are on this road together, there will be no fault.
2. Just because we mourn differently for our Perfect Girl doesn't mean that one of us is less grief stricken.
3. *WE* are a family. . . even if it's just us, our large retirement fund and our Schnauzer. A Family.
4. We must be more forgiving to ourselves when we begin moving backwards. One step forward, two steps back, 20 steps forward, 8 steps back. . . we are still moving forward. Backwards stepping is still movement. . . . is still healing.
5. We cannot throw out the proverbial baby with the bathwater. While one thing is horribly off kilter, our marriage is not.
We learned that we are doing the things we need to do. We just need practice. We will probably check back in with our counselor as we move along and encounter new waters (or old ones! But, we both came out of there (I love referring to therapy as a hole in the ground) feeling accomplished in our 4 1/2 months of grieving.
And so, we have continued to move forward. We continue to acknowledge that solace isn't gained by sling-shotting ourselves through grief - though we wish it were. Instead, we rock on the water, back and forth. And, we rise and fall on the barf-tastic roller coaster that a wise G-ma talked about on Parenthood (the movie, kids, not the TV show.) And, we are dancing with that flourished give-and-take we have been practicing for six years. . . it keeps getting better.
Thursday, February 7, 2013
FOR THE LOT OF US
This will be quick.
Sometimes I feel like I mourn for Mira so hard because I am the only one.
Sometimes I feel like I mourn for Mira so hard because I am the only one.
Wednesday, January 23, 2013
TRYING TIMES
One day I will write about the horrible crap that a body suffers post-pregnancy. Today is not really that day. However, I will say that you don't really skip your period while you are pregnant, you simply save it up until you aren't. We'll get back to that in another post.
Today, I want to bitch about is the inconsistency of life.
I'm not talking about the ups and downs we experience every day. I'm not talking about the overcast view of the questionable future. I'm talking about the fact that my normal 28 day cycle is no longer. There is no more "starting" every fourth Sunday. There is no scheduled visit from Aunt Flo. There isn't even an inkling of even expectation.
So, I started using some ovulation test strips.
Yes. I have officially peed on more strips this month than a drunk frat boy walking home from the bars.
The bright side is that seeing a positive LH surge is nearly as exciting as getting that beautiful positive from a pregnancy test. Let the angels sing! Halle-frickin'-lujia! At least I know I'm still functioning.
That is where we are.
Today, I want to bitch about is the inconsistency of life.
I'm not talking about the ups and downs we experience every day. I'm not talking about the overcast view of the questionable future. I'm talking about the fact that my normal 28 day cycle is no longer. There is no more "starting" every fourth Sunday. There is no scheduled visit from Aunt Flo. There isn't even an inkling of even expectation.
So, I started using some ovulation test strips.
Yes. I have officially peed on more strips this month than a drunk frat boy walking home from the bars.
The bright side is that seeing a positive LH surge is nearly as exciting as getting that beautiful positive from a pregnancy test. Let the angels sing! Halle-frickin'-lujia! At least I know I'm still functioning.
That is where we are.
Thursday, December 27, 2012
Derp! Derp! Derp!
And . . . We're back.
While I am not currently carrying the world's next spitfire, the Hub and I are "trying."
Some of you may wonder just how hard people have to try to have a baby. Let me put it to you this way . . . If you are suffocating and are trying to breathe, something that is usually so easy to do can become a real struggle.
It is the holiday season and around us it seems that EVERYONE is having babies. We miss our daughter fiercely and still take everything day by day.
Fear kicks in as it is apt to do. Right now, I have fear that I'm not pregnant. I also have fear of what will happen if I am or do get pregnant. Pregnancy and trying to conceive after a loss are not easy.
I have been going batshit insane wondering if we did it this time. Or, if we will wait another month to do it. Did I mention that even when all conditions are optimum, there is still only a 25% success rate? Makes you wonder just how all of those teenagers do it!
For now, we wait. And try to fill in time. And feel crazy. And scared.
Stand-by, people. No one here plans to fail.
While I am not currently carrying the world's next spitfire, the Hub and I are "trying."
Some of you may wonder just how hard people have to try to have a baby. Let me put it to you this way . . . If you are suffocating and are trying to breathe, something that is usually so easy to do can become a real struggle.
It is the holiday season and around us it seems that EVERYONE is having babies. We miss our daughter fiercely and still take everything day by day.
Fear kicks in as it is apt to do. Right now, I have fear that I'm not pregnant. I also have fear of what will happen if I am or do get pregnant. Pregnancy and trying to conceive after a loss are not easy.
I have been going batshit insane wondering if we did it this time. Or, if we will wait another month to do it. Did I mention that even when all conditions are optimum, there is still only a 25% success rate? Makes you wonder just how all of those teenagers do it!
For now, we wait. And try to fill in time. And feel crazy. And scared.
Stand-by, people. No one here plans to fail.
Friday, October 19, 2012
LIFE ON PAUSE
On the morning of September 15, I awoke to a gush of fluid. I had been having Braxton Hicks contractions for the better part of a week. I knew that any gush of fluid wasn't good, so I dedicated 20 minutes of searching online for ONE explanation that might eliminate the fear that was building.
I never found it.
At the hospital, I was told that my cervix was 4cm dilated and that I had a bulging bag - which means that I was dilated enough and having strong enough contractions that my membrane was pushed down into my vagina.
Soon, I was started on Magnesium which was meant to stave off contractions but also had some endearing side-effects such as making it so that my muscles didn't work, slurring my words and erasing my vocabulary, double and sometimes triple vision, and a severe case of projectile vomiting.
Tuesday, September 18 at 405am, my water broke. 10 minutes later, I was in hard labor. At 439am, our daughter, Mira was born.
Two hours later, she died. It is our hope that she is with my Da, who died in 2006. If anyone, he will know best how to raise a Spitfire Baby.
Pre Term Labor affects many women every year. In 70% of the cases, there is no noted reason for it. Thus is ours.
The Hub and I have struggled this past four weeks to once again stand up, regain our balance and begin to step forward. It is possible we will try to conceive again. The numbers regarding Pre Term Labor in our future are not good. But, if we do head down that path, you can bet that our adventures will be told here.
The only thing that is certain is that for now, this part of our lives is on pause.
I never found it.
At the hospital, I was told that my cervix was 4cm dilated and that I had a bulging bag - which means that I was dilated enough and having strong enough contractions that my membrane was pushed down into my vagina.
Soon, I was started on Magnesium which was meant to stave off contractions but also had some endearing side-effects such as making it so that my muscles didn't work, slurring my words and erasing my vocabulary, double and sometimes triple vision, and a severe case of projectile vomiting.
Tuesday, September 18 at 405am, my water broke. 10 minutes later, I was in hard labor. At 439am, our daughter, Mira was born.
Two hours later, she died. It is our hope that she is with my Da, who died in 2006. If anyone, he will know best how to raise a Spitfire Baby.
Pre Term Labor affects many women every year. In 70% of the cases, there is no noted reason for it. Thus is ours.
The Hub and I have struggled this past four weeks to once again stand up, regain our balance and begin to step forward. It is possible we will try to conceive again. The numbers regarding Pre Term Labor in our future are not good. But, if we do head down that path, you can bet that our adventures will be told here.
The only thing that is certain is that for now, this part of our lives is on pause.
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