Under Construction

After a good year and a half of silence, I am coming back!  I had to focus on the real world, so I did not have time to mental energy to blog about life.  With a new blog makeover, courtesy of Always in Bluhm, and some new pages to explore my interests, regular blogging should commence in a few weeks!

....And It Continues

Without further ado, MAY!

5/3/2011

LADIES.  You have been lied to.  All those doctors and books and Hollywood movies that talk about “morning sickness” like it is just a passing nuisance are definitely involved in a conspiracy to get women to continue to have babies.  “Morning Sickness” does not exist.  “24/7 Sickfest” does .   You see, I was naïve and thought “okay, so for a few weeks I wake up, throw up, eat a cracker, and then get on with my day.”  AND THE UNIVERSE LAUGHED.  I now know that you wake up nauseous.  You are nauseous ALL DAY LONG.  There might be a small, 20 minute window where you feel like eating at all—that’s when I try to eat more whole days’ worth of calories—then it is back to Sickfest.  Outside that window, NOTHING sounds good.  Just thinking about food, even foods that I normally love, makes me sick.  Even the food that I ate last night—which I HAD TO HAVE—today makes me want to vom.  And crackers, ginger ale, sea-sick bands, you name it, I’ve tried it.  The only time I am not sick is when I am asleep and for about 10 minutes right after I wake up. 

Lots of people tell me, “oh, that’s a great sign, means the baby is healthy.”  Which is a little comforting, but of course the flip side of that is if the next day I do not feel as sick, I worry that it means something bad has happened.  It’s a vicious cycle.

I know in the previous post I was all “whatever it takes for a healthy baby.”  That’s still true, but I am exercising my right as a human incubator to complain about how unfair the “whatever” part has become.  I will have my revenge, though.  Someone is totally eating lots of strained peas and beets.

5/10/2011

The interwebs are a dangerous place for a paranoid pregnant lady like myself.  There is just too much information out there about “avoid this, don’t do that, don’t eat that OR YOUR BABY WILL DIE.”  Yikes.  I am pins-and-needles enough as it is, and now you tell me that the Subway I had last week might give my baby LISTERIA? 

There are good and bad side to the internet.  On the advice of many friends, I found a website that I liked with a message board community where other expectant moms can talk things out and support each other.  I like Babycenter.com more than some of the other sites.  This has helped in that I found a small group who have experienced an ectopic and another group for girls expecting in December who have had a previous loss.  These December babies are our “Rainbow Babies,” which I think is a great term for the miracle that has occurred after the darkest days.  I like these groups, but again they sometimes give me a lot to worry about.  Members drop out every now and then as they experience another loss.  They describe their experience, and then I compare everything I am feeling to that and start to FREAK OUT OH MY GOD.  I’ve stopped reading those posts—just for my own sanity.  It does give me a lot to pray about, however, both lifting up these women that are suffering and thanking God that today, I am still pregnant. 

AND THEN there are the women in the regular December Birth group that have never had a problem and are so cute and naïve like I once was.  Like asking for name opinions at 5 weeks pregnant.  Taking pictures of their stomachs because they are “showing at 6 weeks.”  All optimistic and cheery, believing that their whole pregnancy is going to be a walk in the park.  Oh, to be that person again.  To not worry at every cramp, over analyze whether your symptoms are less than yesterday and WHAT DOES THAT MEAN, to just be blissful and happy.  To be able to answer a simple question of “When are you due” with just “December” instead of “if all goes right, December.”

Kurt is threatening to turn off my internet until 14 weeks.  Maybe not the worst idea ever?

5/19/2011

What does early pregnancy feel like?  Imagine your worst hangover.  Like that one time in college when you went to the Jungle Juice party but it’s college so it was pure Hawkeye and you drank about half the cooler and then thought it was a good idea to go to the bar at 1AM for shots and then somehow made it home with a gyro in hand only to pass out on the second floor landing with your pants half off?  Remember the next morning?  When you puked so much that at one point you thought you saw your appendix come out and then proceeded to just lay on the floor for the next 6 hours just begging for death?  And friend offer you a wide range of supposed hangover foods—Jimmy Johns, McDs, burgers, etc—but the thought of each just sends you back in to the toilet stall?

Yeah, like that.  For about 10 weeks straight.

5/20/2011

If wearing maternity pants at 10 weeks is wrong, then I don’t want to be right. 

Most women want to stay in their tiny pants as long as possible.  Ladies, there is no award for making yourself pointlessly uncomfortable by shoving your bloated belly into your old pants.  LET IT GO.  Embrace the maternity pants.  Make out with them.  Let them get to second base.  Trust me, it’s worth it.

First, maternity fashions have come a long way in the past decade.  You can’t even tell what are or are not maternity pants unless you see the top.  So you can wear them undetected.  And you stomach will thank you.  The best part is there is no zipper or buttons, so you can pee in record time. 

I had to make the switch because my pants were already tight pre-pregnancy.  I admit freely that I gained about 12 pounds after losing the first baby.  I’m a mood eater.  I was working on losing them, but still had a few to go when I got the positive.  Then I started bloating like the Goodyear Blimp, so my tight pants were bye-bye till next year pants. 

Come on, this is your chance to be comfortable for once!  Relish it early and often.  I know I am!

Early Pregnancy Hysteria

So, I did blog back at the beginning of the pregnancy, but I did not post.  I wasn't ready to tell the world.  Then once I was ready, I realized that I was so anxious and worried that my posts were just not going to be entertaining at all.  So I stopped for awhile.

I feel like I am finally relaxed enough to write like my old self.  Roo is doing well, kicking and punching me at the same time, so I know baby is happy.

Below is what I had saved.  It's maybe one months worth, before I had to step away from writing for fear of just spinning my wheels on the same stuff.

BEHOLD, APRIL!

4/11/2011

Those Two Lines.

Excited, happy, terrified.  One of those things does not belong.

For most pregnant women, those two lines mean that you are going to have a baby—the best thing in the world.  You are excited, happy, and can’t wait to start your journey towards becoming a mother.  For a few of us who have suffered pregnancy losses, those two lines can stir other emotions.  Mixed in with the excitement and happiness is a little relief, lots of terror, and a healthy dose of fear.  You know that those two lines do no promise you that a baby will pop out in 9 months.  YOU KNOW.

A lot of people’s reaction to that is probably “Oh, you just need to THINK positive, and everything will be fine!” but I know all too well that positive thinking does not keep a baby in your belly.  For most women, the risks or chances of something going wrong are just a fleeting thought in the doctor’s office when they give you the mandatory run-down of all the ways this could go wrong.  Then you forget them and go on with your happy, healthy pregnancy.  When you’ve been through it, though, YOU KNOW.  YOU KNOW that a baby got stuck in your tubes, and could very well be stuck in the other one now.  YOU KNOW that nothing guarantees that this one will be a success and that in 9-10 months you will hold your child.  And YOU KNOW that it can happen to you.  Because it did.

I have never been so happy and so scared in my life.  The first time, I never considered that I would not be holding a baby in August.  Then my life changed.  As we struggled to conceive again, I thought that this would help me get past the pain of losing the first one.  And in my heart, it has.  But my head keeps reminding me that ectopic pregnancies are more likely once you’ve had one.  And that almost half of all women will have a miscarriage sometime in their life.  There are no rules that say “One and Done;” it could happen to me again just as much as it could happen to someone who has never suffered a miscarriage. 

How do you deal with those competing emotions?  How do you reconcile your belief in God’s Plan, and that you will have a baby when he means for you to, with the terror of what can happen?  Shouldn’t I not be scared because He will take care of me regardless?  To be honest, if I thought losing the first pregnancy was faith-shaking, I am in for a wild ride with the second one.  I am afraid to get my pregnancy books out of storage, I am afraid to start planning again, and I am afraid to believe that I will have a baby in December.

Despite all this, I AM hopeful—reserved, but hopeful.  I feel better than I did last time, no cramps hinting at a tragedy to come, my HcG levels were good yesterday (rechecking tomorrow), and I feel some symptoms, which I did not last time.  If I can just get past the first hurdle—ultrasound to make sure baby is in the right place—I feel I will be able to breathe a little easier.  Then we’ll take one day as it comes.

Oh, and let’s not pretend like I don’t spend 10 hours a day on Google looking up my HcG levels, development, symptoms, etc.  I might be terrified out of my mind, but I am still me and can’t let things be—I have to know what every little tic might be!

4/15/11

I’ve been pregnant for about 10 minutes and I’ve already spent about 485 hours online in baby forums, Mayo Clinic, and WebMD.  Every little cramp or twinge freaks me out.  This is going to be a long nine months.  Don’t worry, I’m mostly kidding.  And most of the cramps turn out to be gas.  Which is good news in this scenario.  Not good news for Kurt, but good news for me.

My “numbers” are good, though.  According to the Doc.  Not sure what numbers these are, maybe the lotto?  That’d make this whole baby thing a lot easier to afford. 

4/19/2011

How the bathroom becomes the most terrifying room in the house

When you suffer a pregnancy loss, the next pregnancy instantly sends you in the psycho paranoid mode.  You undulate back and forth for sheer excitement to sheer terror.  Every little twinge or cramp sends you off you rocker with worry and concern.  Trips to the bathroom become a nightmare.

When you’ve suffered a loss, you fear the bathroom.  That is where you likely got your first indication that the pregnancy was ending.  You cramped and went to the bathroom, only to discover blood.  I know that for many pregnancies, a little bit of spotting is perfectly okay.  And just because you are spotting this time does NOT mean you are miscarrying again.  But that does not stop you from running to the nearest bathroom any time you feel the slightest trickle.  You go, wipe, and inspect for the tiniest indication of trouble.  If you are like me, you convince yourself that the spot in your underwear is CLEARLY tinged pink, and proceed to freak out for the next few hours, expecting at any moment to discover the beginning of the end. 

That’s why I go to the bathroom so frequently.  Not because I have to pee (which most of the time I really do), but because I am so afraid that while I was typing this, that little cramp was my baby dying, again, and I need to check and see for sure.

Pregnancy after a loss is hard.  Some people, with much more confidence and faith than I, breeze through it, not letting the previous troubles affect them.  I am not those people.  I obsess.  I freak out.  I am CONSTANTLY VILIGANT on the baby front. 

Also, a confession: I am afraid to fall in love with this baby.  I just got so horribly burned last time when I fell head over heels the moment I peed on that stick, and then got my heart ripped out just like my tube.  Maybe after I see the ultrasound.  Maybe after I feel the baby’s movements.  Maybe not until I am holding my brand new baby in my arms.  Is that normal for second-tryers? 

4/22/2011

This baby hates dairy.  Which is a problem, because I LOVE dairy.  Cheese, yogurt, milk, ice cream—YUM YUM YUM!  It’s hard to get through the day without a piece of cheese or a yogurt.  And ice cream?  REALLY?  I can smell ice cream from a block away but I can’t have it.  Sad.  So far this baby seems to be doing its job of making me completely miserable!  I am nauseas alllll day, and healthy foods repulse me.  Don’t even talk to me about vegetables, HURL.  Toast is popular with me right now, and pasta.  Maybe a steak too.  Not really balanced!  I want to eat well, I really do, but most foods just make me want to gag.  So I do what I can, eat what my body will take, and make sure to take my prenatal vitamin and calcium supplement. 

But at the end of the day, whatever it takes for this to be a healthy, happy baby if fine by me.  I’ll be sick for 9 months.  I’ll give up dairy.  Anything it takes for me to hold my baby in December.

Coming soon, the May edition.

I heart Vignette

I don't pay for apps.  Hardley ever.  I've paid for maybe 3 of them.  One was Plants vs. Zombies, but that was TOTALLY worth it.  Recently I paid for another one.  Vignette for Android.  I. LOVE. IT.  I can take vintage-y pictures and look like a pro.  Here are some of my faves so far:

Foggy Chicago Town

Stormy Evening

Opening Day at the White Sox

 

Opening Day at the White Sox

More to come.  I love SPRING, and all the flowers are making me photo-happy!

Update: The mandatory downer post

I am still struggling with The Loss and The Trying. It is hard to want something so bad but know that there is nothing you can do about it. I can’t study harder, practice more, or work faster. For now, there is nothing I can do but wait. It’s hard. It’s hard to wait each month, pray hard, but ultimately be disappointed that my body has failed me yet again. It’s hard to watch each month as friends experience the joys of pregnancy, especially those due around when I should have been, knowing that I should be experiencing those milestones along with them. It’s just plain hard. Women are supposed to have babies. And so far, I can’t. Last month was the worst—I got my official “no baby” notification on my freakin BIRTHDAY. And now for April, if it didn’t work this month, then I will not be a mother in 2011. I am dangerously close to not being a mother before I am 30. And I know these are arbitrary time frames, and the big picture is that who cares WHEN I do, just as long as I do. It still hard to see dreams you had for yourself slipping away a little more each month.

I’ve never been a wholly optimistic person to begin with, so adding trials like this does not do good things for my emotional health. I just can’t get myself to a place where I feel like “it will happen.” How early is too early to resign yourself to the fact that it will probably require expensive treatments to have a baby? And how do you become O.K. with being, essentially, a broken woman?

I promise the next post will be an upper--I got a new camera, so I'll share my day in pictures!

Can You Imagine What It Is Like Living In My Head?

Can I get an AMEN for husbands working late and giving me the run of the house?  The TV is off, I had a small dinner (including some Ritz/Nutella sandwiches), and now I am tucked in bed to read some magazines (like Rachel Ray's crack-fest)(spell check just corrected "crackfest" to crack-fest.  I guess I did not know it was hyphenated!) and then turn in nice and early. When Kurt's not home, I can go to bed at 8:30 with no judgments.

Let's talk about Nutella.  You know, that spread in the commercial where the mom tells you that you can put it on all kinds of heathly things, like toast.  And that's it.  Apparently this mom can only come up with "toast" as something to spread Nutella on.  HELLO, RITZ CRACKERS!  Probably not a "healthy" "breakfast," but whatever.  I love Nutella.  I eat it out of the jar.  Although less so now that I actually read the label and discovered that it has just as many calories at PB, and it therefore NOT a healthier alternative.  It's probably still better than pouring chocolate syrup directly in my mouth, so YEA LIFESTYLE IMPROVEMENTS.

Okay, pause, American Idol is kinda lame now....Steven Tyler is too nice.  He's the Paula.  I bet everyone thought that J-Lo would be the Paula, but she seems to have grown a pair.  Steven is just too nicey-nice.

Also, do not read "The Thousand" by Kevin Guilfoile.  I just can't get into it.  It's along the Da Vinci code-lines of a ancient secret society wreaking havoc today.  And there is something in there about math.  I don't know.  I am probably going to finish it skimming-style because I hate wasting time on meh books, but I have a hard time abandoning them.  I've only given up on like 5 books my whole life.  I'll just read then end and move on with life.

OH, have you seen "How To Train Your Dragon?" LOVED. IT.  I think someone from Toy Story 3 was sleeping with the Academy.  Dragon was way better than the toys.  I guess that's just my opinion.

That was a lot of information for 5 minutes.  Things just fall out of my brain like this.  I'll pause to let you absorb and reflect.

Highlight of your Monday

OMG, people. This is better than the rapping Southwest flight attendent.
Richard Simmons + Air New Zealand = Best In-Flight Safety Video Ever.
Get the Biebs to do the US one, and kids everywhere will always know how to find their nearest exit in the event of an emergency!

The Day That Brucie Died

YOU GUYS. I killed my fishie yesterday. And I am like, beyond sad. I mean it. I bawled harder than when my cat ran away in high school. BAWLED. OVER. A. FISH.

Bruce was awesome. In the 6 weeks I kept him alive he was like my little buddy. Every morning, “HIIIIIIII BRUCE!” as he would come to the surface for his meal. Which he would eat out of my hand. Seriously. He knew my voice. When I came in the door, he’d swim over to that side of the tank and just twirl and whirl for me. I guess, yes, he was my baby substitute. I can’t have a cat or a dog, so this was my “something to love until I have a baby” fish. I bet there are some psychoanalysts that would LOVE to delve into that one.

I mean, come on. It’s a fish. These things have an average life span of like 5 minutes, especially in my household. But I miss that fish. Sad face.

I was changing his water, and I don’t know what happened. Maybe the temporary bowl’s water was too warm, or too cold. GEEZ. Everyone says betta fish are supposed to indestructible. Unkillable. But there he was, slowly slowing down in his little mixing bowl. Then I put him back in his clean tank and he just went down. I panicked, was crying, Kurt was trying to convince me that he was okay, but he just laid there on the gravel, looking at me, ACCUSING me of killing him. Kurt handled the burial at sea.

I locked myself in the closet for 20 minutes.

OVER A FISH.

Heaven help me.

Things that made last week AWESOME

• Sweet potato fries (homemade!)
• Hot Hot Hot baths--like legs turned lobster red on impact hot.
• It was 67 on Thursday.  Ahhhhhh.
• Writing down what I eat, and emailing it to my mom. It's hard to eat junk food when I know I have to tell my mom!
• Speaking of which, Cuties--where have you been all my life!  I eat two a day!
• Kurt got a book called "A Sketch A Day" where he draws something everyday.  It's my favorite book.
• Also good: Swamplandia! by Karen Russell.  Read it.  Trust me.
• Cupcake dates with Sara Bee.
• Cleaning the house while watching greats like The Hangover and Animal House.
• Babysitting our cousin's baby.  Nothing better than seeing my husband with a sleeping baby on his chest.
• Speed was on TV last night.  Keanu = awesomeness.  
• Dark and stormy Sundays.  Perfect for doing nothing.

See?  Life's not so bad these day!

Impatience is not always a BAD thing

Some people chide me for my impatience--I can't just wait things out.  I have to know NOW how the movie or book will end or what's going to happen next in life.  I know that patience is a virtue, but sometimes it is important to listen to your gut and not your head.

I found out I was pregnant way too early last time. I took the test after like 3 days and got a positive. Really, when the ectopic ruptured, I should not have even known I was pregnant yet because it happened the same time I would have gotten my Aunt Flo, and I had no symptoms of the pregnancy between the time I found out and when we lost it. Had that been the case, when I had the cramps and bleeding, I would have thought it was just AF, not something more serious. Then I would have continued to bleed internally, and my situation would have been much worse by the time I actually got to a hospital. But because I listened to my instinct that told me to take the test that morning, when it happened I knew something was wrong and immediately went to the ER. My impatience probably saved my life.

Also, I ate a McD's fliet-o-fish on Friday.  Sorry Lent.  Well, 50% sorry, because at least it was fish.  But I am keeping the other one, promise.

For Public Record

First off, I had to write the second word in that title three times before I could spell it correctly.

What I gave up for Lent are things that were hurting me physically and emotionally:

I gave up Fast Food (classified as anything with a drive through) because we've been using those places too much lately when we are too lazy to make dinner.  It's got to stop for both heath and financial reasons.  So hopefully we can cleanse the craving for those foods in the next forty days and my pants can gain a little dignity back.

I also gave up my crutches in the baby-making department.  No thermometers, no meters, no test sticks, nothing but good old fashioned nature for the next 40 days.  They always say "It happens when you quit trying," so we'll see.  If anything it will give me time to relax and untie myself from all the tracking I've been doing.  I think my soul needs a little break as well, so we'll just let things ride until after Easter.

Hopefully the combination of these to things will help me get through the season with a renewed spirit and mind.  I plan to use this time for what it was meant for--to reconnect with my faith focus on the blessings that we do have, not that which we do not have.

I have not blogged in awhile.  My mom always taught me that if you cannot say anything nice, do not say anything at all.  And I just have not had anything nice to say lately.  No one really wants to hear me go on and on about our fertility troubles.  No one wants to hear me wax poetic over and over about losing a pregnancy.  Unfortunately, those topics still dominate my world.  I am still struggling a lot with what happen, and what continues to not happen.  And I just have not felt like writing the same post over and over and OVER again. So I've been silent.  And guess what....the world did not end when I did not post!

I think I also have lost sight of what I wanted to do with this blog.  It was meant to be my everyday observations about life, as I see it.  I think I put too much pressure on myself to write deep, witty, and interesting posts--pressure to the point where I just gave up.  I am going to try to return to the heart of that idea--short posts with one thought at a time.  Posts that I can write over my lunch break or in the time before Kurt gets home at night.  Nothing polished, nothing deep, just thoughts, observations, probably the occasional book recommendation or recipe idea.

Today's Post:
Read "Unbroken" by Laura Hillenbrand.  One of the best World War II stories I have ever read.  And I've read a lot.

Short and Sweet.

Snowmaggedon, Snowpocalypse Now, SnOMG, Take Your Pick.

So we got a lot of snow last night.  Like 15-18 inches (that's what she said).  Both our offices wisely decided yesterday that we would be having a Snow Day today.  There is absolutely NO reason to leave the house today.  The roads may be passable, but us being out there just hampers the job of the plows and emergency crews.  I mean really, do you want to go for a drive just to end up in the ditch and become part of the problem?  My PJs seem like a better plan that sitting in a frozen car in a ditch for 5 hours before they can come get me out.

Outside our place

There is a row of houses that are normally visible across this field

This is the normal view of the above photo.  Yikes.

We just burrowed in, made pizza, and got drunk.  Look at that picture and tell me it doesn't make you wanna reach for a nice, hot toddy.  I thought so.  We also experienced some lightning and thundersnow.  That was kinda cool, not gonna lie.  But MAN, I have never seen a storm like this before!

Our screen door.  On the third floor.  Snow was whipped all the way in to the upper corners of the door!  That's some powerful wind!  It was literally snowing sideways, sometimes even snowing UP! 

So today is going to consist of cookie dough, more homemade pizza, and Netflix instant play!  We are super thankful that we never lost power last night--our heat is electric!  We are also thankful that both our workplaces let us go early so that we were home before it got bad.  A lot of people got stuck in their cars or on Metra trains coming home, and we are fortunate that we were all snuggled in by then!  Okay, I gotta post this before the internet goes down again!

Put the Egg in the Coconut, Knock Elissa Up

We’re officially TTC again. I plan to be as open and honest as I can during this process. Partly because there is healing in writing and sharing—my friends have become great supporters throughout all of this, and some have even taken comfort in my experience as they struggle through trials as well—but mostly because it totally grosses my sister out to have me sharing this sort of thing “on the facebook,” as she said.

There are a lot of emotions surging through me right now. Is it possible to be completed excited and completely terrified at the same time? I think my head is going to explode. Or implode. Some kind of   –ploding is about turn my head into a ball of mush. On the positive side, we are trying again. We are so excited to become parents that we cannot wait to try again. I think what happened last time was that Kurt’s Polish boys got confused and went the wrong direction once they met up with my egglet.  This time, I will make sure that my German genes do what they are best at and oppress the Polish genes and march them into the warm, safe babycradle that is my uterus. What, too soon?

On the negative side is the terror, the raw terror, that something will happen again. I’ve only got one tube left. If I lose that one, our only option will be turning to expensive, invasive IVF. And if the egglet makes it to the basket, that still does not guarantee that something won’t go wrong again. I AM SO SCARED OF LOSING ANOTHER PREGNANCY. There, I said it. Just last night I had my version of a ‘Nam flashback, but my personal hell involved an emergency room and the worst ultrasound tech ever, who left me alone in a room for over 15 minutes without telling me what I already knew, thus forcing me to spend the first 15 minutes mourning my pregnancy completely and totally alone. Not cool, lady. 

In the end, the benefits outweigh the risks. I have two options: try again or never give birth. That’s it. I can either take a deep breath and give it another shot, or I can give up now and never know the joy of carrying and delivering my children. In the end, I cannot NOT have a baby. I cannot let one tragedy scare me off of every trying again. I have to believe that it will turn out okay this time. Despite the deep, dark feelings that try to convince me that I will never be successful at this, that I will only cause myself more heartbreak, I know that I can only forge ahead, and give this another shot.

What can I say, I’m a sucker for misfortune and pain.

New Year, New E

New Year’s Resolutions.  I make them just like everyone else.  And I could not tell you what my resolution was last year, or the year before, or the year before.  That’s how much effort I put into achieving my goals.  So this year, I am not calling them resolutions.  I am calling them goals.  Life goals.  2011 goals.  Whatever.  They are ways that I want to change my life for the better in 2011.

One.  BE HEALTHY.  That could mean eating better.  That could mean losing weight.  That definitely means moving my butt more.  I just want to be healthy.  To feel good most of the time.  I want to have a better mental state, and that comes from having a healthy body.  I am starting with losing the weight I gained in November and December.  When I found out I was pregnant, I kind of let myself have what I wanted.  I put the scale away.  I gained 4 pounds.  Yea for pregnancy excuses.  Then I lost the baby.  Unlike a miscarriage, the ectopic required surgery.  I literally could not move for a week.  The second week was very limited as well.  I was eating, but sleeping and sitting most of the day.  Then Christmas and New Year’s happened.  So I gained another 5 pounds.  That’s not okay.  I want to get this weight off before we try for another baby.  And even once I get pregnant again, I will not let myself “have at it” with food.  I will be controlled, I will be smart, and I will do everything it takes to ensure a healthy pregnancy.

Two.  I will watch less TV and read more books.  We watch way, way, WAY too much TV.  On weekends, there is nothing on yet we sit there for hours on end watching it.  TV off.  I will limit our Netflix to two per week.  We don’t need to sit around watching movies all weekend either.  I have over 120 books on my goodreads list to get through.  Maybe I can only watch TV if I am on the elliptical.

Three.  Make a baby.  That seems pretty obvious.

Four.  Find a method for stress relief.  My job gets the better of me most weeks.  It’s stressful and it’s hard work.  I have a 7-month-and-counting muscle spasm in my neck to show for it.  I need to find an outlet.  I guess that links back to being healthy.  Yoga classes are expensive.  If I have a home DVD, I won’t do it. 

Five.  Disconnect.  Dude.  Seriously.  Like I need to know what is going on on Facebook every 10 minutes.  I need to learn to let it go.  Both Kurt and I are way too plugged in.  Our phones are out and on all the time.  He even plays games on his phone WHILE watching TV.  Good lord.  There will be “Technology-Free” nights at our house.  I promise that.  Although this seems to contradict my next resolution, which is....

...Six.  Better blogging.  Maybe not necessarily MORE blogging, although my goal is to write at least once a week.  I also want to write better blogs.  Be more honest and tell better stories.  Especially as Kurt and I start to try for a baby again.  I want to be as open as possible about the process, setbacks, and emotions that come along with trying again after a loss.  Mostly though, I just want to entertain my readers better and give them a reason to come back.  And follow me.  Cause 4 is an awesome number of followers, but I'd like to try to increase my readership by writing more blogs that others want to read and share.

Six.  Take a class for fun.  Maybe photography, maybe a cooking or pastry class, maybe creative writing.  Our community college has some pretty good offerings, and I need to find a good hobby to really develop.  Otherwise I’ll just keep skipping from thing to thing. That's a good theme for 2011: FOCUS.  

For now, I am going to go FOCUS on the elliptical for a while.  Three weeks into January, and I haven't broken that one yet.  AWESOME JOB ME.

Disclaimer: This post is dark. And was written about 4 weeks ago.

So the story I am about to share was actually written about 4 weeks ago.  I had just ventured out into the world for my first "Post-Loss" shopping.  It did not go well.  Things got ugly.  My emotional, depressed brain went to some dark places.  I've thought about not posting this, because I don't want people to think I am about to go snatching babies from people.  I'm not.  It is very hard to explain the feelings that come with losing a pregnancy.  I guess you have to experience it to really, truly get it.  
*********

So far, the worst side-effect of this experience has been the “Why Me?” Syndrome.  Most of the time, when I start to wallow in the grief and sadness, I use my Thankfulness list and pull myself together by asking “Well, Why NOT Me?” and trying to focus on the fact that it could happen to me just as much as it could happen to anyone else.  This brings us to the ugly, dark side of my journey.

Sometimes these mental tricks just don’t work.  Sometimes I just want to SCREAM “WHY ME?” and collapse into a fit of tears and anger.  The worst case of the Why Me Syndrome came during a trip to the mall.  There were just so many pregnant women and babies out that day.  Every time I saw one, the barometer inside my head crept up a little more until we had to leave the mall because I was sobbing “Why me and not her, or her, or her.”  I was willing to trade someone else's baby to get mine back.  Now, after the fact when rational thoughts took back control, I know that I don’t know what these random women had been through to have their children.  I know that.  But when you are faced with it, in the heat of the moment, all you know is that SHE has a baby on the way and you don’t.  And it’s hard.  I am a good person--I help others, I taking care of people, and I don't lie, cheat, or steal.  So why did I deserve to go through this and not some one else?  Jealousy, resentment, dislike for these women that I do not even know.  It’s hard to control.  Work is difficult as well.  I manage a program that sends books to kids under five.  I enter registrations every day where one woman has three kids within as many years (and usually with different last names, but that's a whole other issue).  Why does she get three and I lost my one?  These thoughts are one of the lasting effects of pregnancy loss.  I do not think any woman who has gone through a loss could truthfully say that they never looked at other pregnant woman and thought “Why me and not them?”  It’s an ugly thought, but it’s the truth.

99% of the time, I can control this ugliness by remembering that I don’t know their story, I don’t know their past, and that they too may have suffered losses (although then I think they’d understand my attitude, right?  Maybe not).  I think the reality of the situation is that this is one of the biggest hurdles that someone who suffered a loss must overcome.  For me, overcoming the physical pain was easy; overcoming the grief over the loss is getting easier.  But to overcome the “Why Me” Syndrome will, I think, be a battle that I continue to fight.  Maybe a successful pregnancy will cure it; maybe just time itself will heal it.  Who knows. 

It’s taken me a while to be able to even write about this, because I hate myself for feeling this way. ***********

So there you go.  For one day at Woodfield Mall, I hated every pregnant woman in sight.  It was terrible.  I was so judging and spiteful.  As I said, this post took a while for me to be ready to post it.  It's here mostly because I've finally turned that corner where, although I still get sad sometime, I am no longer mad at the world.  And I am again thankful for all my friends and relatives who continue to share their own stories of loss with me.  No words can really take away my pain, but it is comforting to know that I am not alone in this.

Next time I promise a post about new books I am reading, why I love Nutella, and why I secretly love the new TV my husband bought.

I'm still here!

Yes, I still exist.....I've just been taking a break from it all for a week.  With recovery, Christmas, and life things have been both wonderful and not-so-wonderful, but I am taking it all day by day.  I have a few other posts written, but I am not sure about what I will ultimately share and not share.  I had some dark, dark days after the surgery, and wrote some things that reflect those feelings.  Some of it even I can't re-read, because it takes place in a such depth of despair that I'm not comfortable revisiting just yet.  So we'll see.

Physical, my recovery is going very well.  I got a very encouraging...visit from good old Aunt Flo this past weekend, which means my body is cycling back to normal again.  This is a good sign for trying again in a few months.  My scar is healing perfectly, not that anyone but Kurt will ever see it, but it's nice to know that the visible reminder will be minimal.  I just have to go back one more time next week for a post-op and then I will be free to return to my regularly scheduled life.

Mentally, I am getting there.  More good days than bad now.  Sometimes I worry that I am grieving too much, and sometimes I worry that I am not grieving enough.  Something in my soul tells me that it is okay to move on now, to laugh again, to start thinking of the next baby--one that will hopefully be healthy and happy.  Christmas is my last major hurdle, because Kurt and I were planning on sharing the baby news with his family then.  I even had a shirt to wear on Christmas Day that said "Tis the Season to be Pregnant."  Thankfully, that is one of the many items Kurt cleared out before I came home.

All in all, life is moving on and I am going with it.  I am cashing in all my prayers, goodwills, and karmic positives in 2011 in hopes that we end next year with the birth of our first child.  Hopefully.

Thankfulness

This morning was a bad morning.  I was just consumed with sadness and tears.  That’s the hard part of recovering from something like this—some days you think you are really through it and doing fine, then all of a sudden that sadness just washes over you.  Most of the time I am doing good, but every now and then I just get that feeling where all I want is to just be pregnant again and just be progressing along like I was supposed to.  And those are the moments that are the hardest.

So this morning was one of those times.  I just about let myself go completely over into the sadness.  Then I decided that I wanted to try and make a list of all the things we have to be thankful about, both during this ordeal and for life in general.  I am so lucky for all the blessing that God HAS given me, and this list reminds me to be joyful for what I DO have, and not to focus on what I lost.

1. My husband, who never left my side and took care of everything while I was going through the surgery and recovery.  He even came home before I did and took all the books, clothes, and other things we had started to buy and put them in a box and put the box away.  He has been the rock through all this.  I know he is suffering and hurting too, but he has never put any of his worries on me.  He just takes all my pain and sadness on himself and lets me be free.
2. My family.  My dad drove out just to help both Kurt and I with my recovery, making dinner and cleaning the house.  My mom made tons of meals to send with him, so we have stuff to make this week when I don’t feel like cooking.  They both also gave me the comfort and support throughout the whole ordeal.  My sister was ready to jump in the car and drive 6 hours to just visit me.  She would call just to chat about other things, to help get my mind off everything else. 
3. Kurt’s family:  My sister-in-law came to the hospital to sit with Kurt when I got out of surgery and was groggy.  She helped Kurt help me in the beginning when I could not walk or go to the bathroom by myself.  She ran errands with him, and brought me fun treats to help get through the recovery.  I also got some lovely lilies that are still blooming a week later!  She was great throughout this whole thing, not just helping me but helping Kurt as well.  My father-in-law was great as well, coming over to visit and have dinner when my dad came into town, and calling just to make sure I was doing okay. 
4. My friends—Kurt and I are blessed with a great network of friends who came to visit, brought treats, and just sat with me for awhile.  It was hard to get out of the house in the first week, so we were lucky to have people willing to come over and just hang out.   I was also very touched by many friends of mine who opened up about similar experiences with losing a pregnancy.  Knowing their stories, and seeing how strong they were and how everything worked out for them in the end has been a great help in allowing myself to think about the future and to lift some of the fears I face about trying again.
5. We are also both blessed to have very caring co-workers.  Kurt’s job gave him a place to go and talk to people about his own feelings.  After having so many people just asking about me, it was comforting to me to know that he had a place where people were concerned about him and how he was doing.  Plus they were very understanding with his time off so that he could be home with me.  My job was also very caring—I was told multiple times not to worry about work, and that I did not need to feel bad about being gone.  They’ve also been great about letting me take half days this first week back, to kind of help me ease back into the routines of work.  We are also lucky to have the sick leave available so that we are not losing a paycheck to this ordeal.
6. My health—the doctor believes that I will have no problems trying again and having a successful pregnancy in the future.  I just need to overcome the fear of a second miscarriage to be ready to try again.  This could have easily lead to other serious problems, but I am healthy and young and should not suffer any lasting physical effects from this.  Other than a bitchin scar on my abdomen.  That last thought has also makes me thankful for my mental health as well.  Although this has been difficult, I am lucky to have escaped a deep depression or other emotional trauma.  I still want to laugh and be funny and just enjoy my life going forward, even with bouts of sadness.  These too shall pass.
7. I am thankful that I was even able to get pregnant.  At least know we know that I can.  I know a lot of people try for years without success, and I was able to get pregnant after just 2 months of really trying.  I know that this event may change things a little, but I am reassured in knowing that I was able to get pregnant in the first place, taking that weight off my shoulders.
8. Finally, I am thankful that throughout all this, from the words of friends and family, I have not lost my faith in God.  It was hard at the beginning not to blame Him and be angry for what I was going through.  But what I found was that I really do believe that His plan for my life is perfect, and that whatever happens is part of the plan.  I believe that when He means for it to happen, we will get pregnant and have a baby.  It was hard to get to this point, but what I found was that I did not have to work at it.  I recall having peace during the hospital ordeal, like I knew that I was being looked after even though emotionally and physically I was in turmoil.  It is a hard feeling to explain.  

This is by no means an exhaustive list of what I have to be thankful for, but these are the most important ones that came to mind this morning.  I appreciate everyone who reads this blog and send thoughts/prayers my way.  They are much needed, and I believe they are working to help me recover.

What happens when you think you are in control of your life......

This is just the raw story of what’s been happening with Kurt and I this past week. We appreciate the thoughts and prayers of those who know, and I wanted to share the story with others so everyone knows what happened and that I am doing okay.  I also wanted people to know that it is okay to talk about it.  I know some people keep things like this private, but I wanted to share my story so that anyone else who may have gone through or goes through in the future will know that it happened to me, and I am okay talking about it and giving support to others who might need it.

On Sunday, November 28^th, at about 9pm, I lost my baby.   I guess some would argue that it was not yet a baby, since at just 5 weeks it had not even had time to develop a heart yet.  But from the moments those two lines appeared on the stick, it was my baby.  No matter what stage, it was more than just a ball of cells.  That was my baby, my dream of becoming a mother, the happiest experience of my life.  In two weeks I went from the happiest I’ve ever been to the absolute saddest.

Let me back up.  Exactly two weeks earlier, on Sunday November 14^th, I woke up and just decided to take a pregnancy test.  I was not having symptoms, mind you, just a feeling like I should do it.  So I did.  And when those two lines appeared, my world changed forever.  I was in such disbelief that I took a different brand test just to be sure.  Both test confirmed that we were going to be parents.  I called Kurt in and told him.  I’ve never seen him light up more.  We could not have known that our baby was already nestling itself into my left fallopian tube, not my uterus where it was supposed to be.  We had no idea that already, this pregnancy would not last.  All we knew was that we were going to be parents.

We spend the next week trying not to explode with the news.  It was hard.  Very, very hard.  We wanted to shout it from the rooftops.  I peed on a stick every day after that, just to be sure, to be absolutely sure that this was real.  It was.  We bought book upon book, started signing up for e-newsletters, and evaluating my eating habits to make sure we were getting the baby everything it needed. 

Finally, we told our families.  We told Kurt’s dad on a Monday night.  He was thrilled beyond belief to become a grandpa.  We planned on telling his siblings at Christmas.  We told my family on Thanksgiving.  Thrilled, thrilled, thrilled.  Everyone was so excited for this baby.  My sister was giddy at becoming an aunt.  She bought me my first maternity top at the mall the next day.  It said “Tis the Season to be Pregnant.”  I was going to wear it to Kurt’s family’s Christmas as my way of telling them.

We came home from Thanksgiving in Minneapolis on Sunday.  I had been having some very small cramps, but all the books said that it was normal as long as they were not severe and there was no blood.  There wasn’t, so I was not worried.  Sunday night, we were just settling down to watch TV and plan our Monday—we had both taken it off to do some Christmas shopping—when the first cramp struck.  This was unlike anything I had ever felt.  I went to the bathroom, hoping, PRAYING it was just gas.  It wasn’t.  The cramp got worse.  I called for Kurt.  I was terrified that something was wrong.  Neither one of us knew what to do.  Kurt made the call that he was taking me to the ER.  He got me to the car, somehow, as the lightening in my belly was not allowing me to move very fast.  He got us there, got me checked in, then we had to wait.  A lot of waiting.  Which is not good when your belly is screaming and your intuition is telling you that things are not okay.  A lot of that night is a blur to me now.  I remember the ER doc, blood being drawn, and my first ultrasound.  I remember the tech told me going in that she could not give out any information.  But I could tell by her face, by the length of time she was looking in me, that something was wrong.  Something was very wrong.  Kurt was not allowed to accompany us to the ultrasound room, so I was all alone when I realized for the first time that my baby was gone. 

The rest of the night consisted of waiting for doctors to get to the hospital.  It was about midnight when the OB-GYN came in.  For some reason, my regular OB could not come to the hospital we were at—I still don’t understand the story, but something about not have privileges at the hospital we were at. We went to the closest hospital, not the one that my doctor was at.  We were panicked and just went to the closest one. But they called in their OB, and he became my guardian angel.  He was honest but positive with us.  He gave us the diagnosis.  Ectopic Pregnancy.  That meant that the baby had implanted in my tube, not my uterus.  I knew that this meant the pregnancy would not be viable.  On top of that, it turns out that the pregnancy had ruptured (likely that first cramp I felt at home) and I was bleeding internally.  I had to have surgery immediately. 

I did not really have time to process all this information.  The only thing I knew for certain was my baby was no more.  My dream was not to be.  Everything turned surreal.  Kurt called my parents at 12:30AM Monday morning to tell them.  He then called his dad.  They prepped me for surgery and wheeled me in at about 1:30AM.  It took a while because they had to gather the surgical team from home.  It also meant that rather than an easier laparoscopic surgery (tiny incisions and going in through the belly button) they had to do old style, with a cut across my belly.   Kurt was there the whole time—he went home for a few things right when they wheeled me in—so he was there when I went under and there when I woke up. He slept in the most uncomfortable chair every made to stay by my side.  I think we both learned the true meaning of those marriage vows that night.  Despite his own hurt and pain, he never left me and focused all his attention on me and my recovery. 

The OB came in and explained everything to me.  There was too much damage, so he had to take the left tube completely out.  My prognosis is good, though—he said everything else about me was perfectly healthy, and he was sure we’d go on to have as many kids as we want in the future.  I am sure that will be comforting in the future, but for now, I am still mourning this pregnancy.  I can’t begin to think about the future just yet.

So that is the basic story.  Right now, the physical recovery is my main goal.  It physically hurts too much to cry, so I think that I have not fully begun to deal with the emotional side yet.  We are both devastated by this loss.  I know that I will be okay one day, but right now, I am a mess.  I know millions of women suffer losses like this each year, but that is not comforting right now.  I think that any woman who has gone through this would agree that at that moment, you are the only one in the world suffering like this.  This was my loss.  This was Kurt and I’s baby.

I will write more about the healing process later.  Writing is cathartic for me.  It allows me to put the feelings down into words, which helps me to clear my head.  I am still trying to get my head around a lot of emotions—anger, sadness, despair, pain, guilt, and fear.  I will deal with these as honestly as I can.  I know that this type of this is not often talked about—we tend to suffer in silence, but celebrate in public.  I’m not much for silence, those of you who know me can attest, so hopefully this blog can become my journal of loss, healing, and hopefully one day, celebration of a new life.

My Rules For Flying

• Pack all make-up and hair products in your suitcase.  No one cares what you look like on the plane.  As long as you smell relatively clean and are not a walking SARS poster child, NO ONE CARES if your eyeliner is a little smudged.   Plus it prevents me from getting stuck behind you while you wail and beg the security guard to let you keep the $40 can of hairspray that you just couldn’t bear to pack in your luggage. 
• Bring an EMPTY water bottle.  They won’t let you bring water from outside the airport, but there is no rule on empty bottles.  I just bring whatever one is in my car and fill it up at the FREE water fountains.  Suck it, $10 bottle of water on the plane.
• Bring lots of snacks.  That’s allowed, because apparently the terrorists have not yet developed the technology to put explosives in granola bars or foot-long Subway sandwiches, but LORD HELP YOU if you forget about the 4oz contact lenses solution in your purse.  Besides, everyone else bring their own snacks, so there are always trade options.  It’s like an airborne prison where snacks are the currency of choice:  “You got fruit snacks?  I’ll give you a pack of Oreo Cakesters, plus protection from Timmy the Bull up in row 14.  He rules the forward cabin with an iron fist.  Don’t forget to put your tray table in the upright and locked position for landing.”
• Wear socks.  I don’t care if you are wearing flip flops—BRING socks to put on for the inevitable March of the Foot Fungus through the metal detectors.  Think about how many people have barefooted it across that threshold.  Think about how many of them actually SHOWERED today.  Bring socks.
• For the LOVE OF ALL THAT IS GOOD, do not find the absolute largest carry on legally allowed and haul it on board.  First, that makes everyone else hate you.  Second, you end up taking up more than your fair share of overhead bin space.  Third, you are a douche.  Fourth, suck it up and pay the $25 bag fee if you are going away long enough to necessitate a lot of stuff.  Fifth, seriously, I hate you.
• Lastly, give yourself plenty of time to get through security.  There is nothing worse than sprinting from one end of LAX to the other in brand new sandals.  I lost a lot of good skin cells that day.  So get there early, and bring a book just in case you get through quickly and have a lot of time to waste.  On my Vegas trip, I violated both parts of this rule.  I got there a little late and had to hustle to my gate.  Of course, the plane was then delayed for 6 hours.  So I got to spend about $40 for a new books and some magazines to keep myself from becoming a security threat.