This will be quick.
Sometimes I feel like I mourn for Mira so hard because I am the only one.
Thursday, February 7, 2013
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.
Thursday, September 13, 2012
PIT STOP REVIEW!
First off, please let me apologize for the lack of picture on this one. I don't really talk about my professional life and prefer to keep it under wraps. Therefore, if you do not already know me and where I work, I would like to keep it that way. I'm sure you understand. . . being the capable and empathetic people that you are. . .
So, without further rambling, I bring you the latest PIT STOP REVIEW!
RESTROOM LOCATION: The Closest Ladies Restroom to my office
# of VISITS: Seriously? I'm beyond counting at this time. Make that 3 in the past two hours. I'm living in the mother-fucker.
RESTROOM STYLE: Several stalls. Standard partial wall and door.
DECOR: Standard business style. "Get your business done and get out!"
REVIEW: Despite being cleaned two times a day (these cleaning ladies can only do so much!), this bathroom always manages to remain questionable. Whether it be a mass of wet toilet paper clogging up a whole basin or the invisible stanky remains of some one's most recent meal. . . it's GROSS. Who are these dirty women?
To help identify the skanks, I have put together a little quiz. It will, without a doubt identify a person as a nasty hose-beast. Let's do it!
1. Have you ever, in an attempt to shield your bottom from someone else's bottom crud, used a toilet seat cover (Made from tissue? Not really protecting you from anything?) and then LEFT it on the seat rather than flushing it down?
2. Have you ever manually manipulated your waste product and left evidence of such on a privacy structure? For you slow folks, have you ever handled your own poop and then smeared it on the wall?
3. Have you ever attempted to discard of your menstrual accessories and failed? Let me reword that, too. . . have you ever dropped your used tampon or pad on the floor? And left it or evidence of its presence there?
4. When you leave a stall, does it smell rosy fresh like the air freshener in the bathroom? Or, do you leave it smelling acrid and rotten?
5. Do you leave the restroom without washing your hands? Keep in mind, ladies, washing your hands does NOT simply entail running your hands under the sprinkle of water. You need soap. And copious scrubbing. Don't just rinse off the chunks. Go ahead and lather off a few layers of skin. Really.
If you answered "YES" to any of the above - even just ONE, you are a dirty skank. Change your evil skankstress ways!!
REVIEW: I use the restroom at work sparingly. If it weren't imperative, I wouldn't go. But, for fear of bladder infections, I suffer the stank and outright disgusting environment.
So, without further rambling, I bring you the latest PIT STOP REVIEW!
RESTROOM LOCATION: The Closest Ladies Restroom to my office
# of VISITS: Seriously? I'm beyond counting at this time. Make that 3 in the past two hours. I'm living in the mother-fucker.
RESTROOM STYLE: Several stalls. Standard partial wall and door.
DECOR: Standard business style. "Get your business done and get out!"
REVIEW: Despite being cleaned two times a day (these cleaning ladies can only do so much!), this bathroom always manages to remain questionable. Whether it be a mass of wet toilet paper clogging up a whole basin or the invisible stanky remains of some one's most recent meal. . . it's GROSS. Who are these dirty women?
To help identify the skanks, I have put together a little quiz. It will, without a doubt identify a person as a nasty hose-beast. Let's do it!
1. Have you ever, in an attempt to shield your bottom from someone else's bottom crud, used a toilet seat cover (Made from tissue? Not really protecting you from anything?) and then LEFT it on the seat rather than flushing it down?
2. Have you ever manually manipulated your waste product and left evidence of such on a privacy structure? For you slow folks, have you ever handled your own poop and then smeared it on the wall?
3. Have you ever attempted to discard of your menstrual accessories and failed? Let me reword that, too. . . have you ever dropped your used tampon or pad on the floor? And left it or evidence of its presence there?
4. When you leave a stall, does it smell rosy fresh like the air freshener in the bathroom? Or, do you leave it smelling acrid and rotten?
5. Do you leave the restroom without washing your hands? Keep in mind, ladies, washing your hands does NOT simply entail running your hands under the sprinkle of water. You need soap. And copious scrubbing. Don't just rinse off the chunks. Go ahead and lather off a few layers of skin. Really.
If you answered "YES" to any of the above - even just ONE, you are a dirty skank. Change your evil skankstress ways!!
REVIEW: I use the restroom at work sparingly. If it weren't imperative, I wouldn't go. But, for fear of bladder infections, I suffer the stank and outright disgusting environment.
Wednesday, September 12, 2012
PITFALLS OF PREGNANCY
Of the many dangers associated with but never discussed about pregnancy is the sudden appearance of a large but invisible HOLE in the bottom of one's lower lip. It is through this new orifice that many drinks of water and delicious nibblies and morsels come tumbling out.
Be forewarned, oh those with empty uterus! The sloppy hole in the lip has many nasty side-effects in and of itself!
BEWARE! the stains where no stains lived before! Like new clothing will suddenly be acursed with chili spills and apple juice remains!
BEWARE! the desk top at work sprinkled with miniature puddles of iced water! Careful where you set your papers - you risk turning them into translucent sheets muddled with rainbows of gel ink!
**Brought to you today by a concerned pregnant citizen and "Shit They Don't Talk About"
Be forewarned, oh those with empty uterus! The sloppy hole in the lip has many nasty side-effects in and of itself!
BEWARE! the stains where no stains lived before! Like new clothing will suddenly be acursed with chili spills and apple juice remains!
BEWARE! the desk top at work sprinkled with miniature puddles of iced water! Careful where you set your papers - you risk turning them into translucent sheets muddled with rainbows of gel ink!
**Brought to you today by a concerned pregnant citizen and "Shit They Don't Talk About"
Monday, September 10, 2012
THE UN-POSSIBLE
In the past week, I have finally given in and accepted that I am simply not a giant ball of methane and otherwise putrid gas. Instead, I am opening my arms and saying "YES" to the fact that all of the motion I have been detecting in my abdomen has not been waste product - but rather, THE BABY.
There has been so much movement that I have been able to track my future daughter's awake hours. And let me tell you. . . she keeps my insane hours. Crazy? Crazy, indeed.
Of course, I have taken great strides to ensure that the Hub doesn't feel left out. Every time the Spitfire stirs, I make a point of letting him know. Some times, I even force his hand against my belly and hold it firmly until he feels the movement. That's gratuitous, but I'm pretty sure that mowing the lawn isn't that important!
What? You're eating? Our child is dancing on my bladder! Come feel this!??!%*(^@#!
All of this time, the Hub has been so quiet and confused every time he felt the movement. "Clearly that can't be a real kick?" I assured him that it was and that I was assured several times over by the ladies at work that farts don't kick back.
So, I let it go thinking that he was basking in the surrealism of becoming a father. . or feeling over-joyed with first contact. . or waltzing blindly through wonderment.
No. This was not the case. As we were reading our weekly pregnancy guide last night, as we do every Sunday before sleep, I think it finally sunk in. Our baby, measuring 7.75". . . from crown to rump. I have read something similar to the Hub every Sunday night for nearly 20 weeks. And last night, it finally sunk in. All of this time, my Hub has been mystified that something measuring only 7.75" could be making such significant knocks from the inside of my belly.
I love my Hub. He's so damned attentive. ;)
There has been so much movement that I have been able to track my future daughter's awake hours. And let me tell you. . . she keeps my insane hours. Crazy? Crazy, indeed.
Of course, I have taken great strides to ensure that the Hub doesn't feel left out. Every time the Spitfire stirs, I make a point of letting him know. Some times, I even force his hand against my belly and hold it firmly until he feels the movement. That's gratuitous, but I'm pretty sure that mowing the lawn isn't that important!
What? You're eating? Our child is dancing on my bladder! Come feel this!??!%*(^@#!
All of this time, the Hub has been so quiet and confused every time he felt the movement. "Clearly that can't be a real kick?" I assured him that it was and that I was assured several times over by the ladies at work that farts don't kick back.
So, I let it go thinking that he was basking in the surrealism of becoming a father. . or feeling over-joyed with first contact. . or waltzing blindly through wonderment.
No. This was not the case. As we were reading our weekly pregnancy guide last night, as we do every Sunday before sleep, I think it finally sunk in. Our baby, measuring 7.75". . . from crown to rump. I have read something similar to the Hub every Sunday night for nearly 20 weeks. And last night, it finally sunk in. All of this time, my Hub has been mystified that something measuring only 7.75" could be making such significant knocks from the inside of my belly.
I love my Hub. He's so damned attentive. ;)
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)