Checking in- Third Trimester (Already?)

After a prolonged summer and strange short fall, winter seems to be creeping in stealthily and rapidly. I can't tell if the sniffling haze my head is in is a continuation of allergies or if I'm finally, truly, succumbing to a cold. I suppose I will find out soon. Our due date is also rapidly approaching, if not quite stealthily since it seems every day I am newly surprised at how much further my stomach can stretch. The books and online baby websites tell me I have some 4-6 pounds of baby growth to go, though I can't currently even imagine this. 

When February comes, it will just be a little over a year after the loss of the first little friend I had growing inside of me. I've been incredibly blessed so far this time around with a relatively easy pregnancy, though it's still been a constant fight to balance caution and self-care with rampant paranoia and fear. The amount of potential problems and dangers in pregnancy that can be discovered on the internet is endless and ridiculous. Some days it's hard to keep faith that just because things went badly once, that they wouldn't go badly again, and also hard to comprehend how even more devastating it could be if things went badly this time. I just had a really bizarre week of crazy dry eye and a tiny possible case of the shingles?? 

Most days, though, I try to live in the now- things are good, I am healthy, the baby is healthy and kicking, and it's all gone by so very fast. It's been interesting to go through the pregnancy experience, with unexpected (or totally expected) feelings about my changing body, and things I can't do or eat or drink. The nearing holidays herald my last trimester, and for me and this baby girl, I'm committing to taking a step back from the usual stressors of gifts, shopping, and family, and just trying to focus on gratitude.

Generally, when people ask me if this is my first, I say yes. While technically this is my second pregnancy but my first child, who really wants to know that backstory? At the same time, I feel torn because I want more people to know about how common and difficult pregnancy loss is. I want them to know that even though I am having a fairly breezy pregnancy, it came after a really hard time. I want other women who are trying or have gone through pregnancy loss to know that it's not just them, and all those awful ugly emotions you go through happen to a lot of us. So, for all of you, I wanted to share this great blog post (that has links to a few other great posts): http://www.lipstickandpolitics.com/lipstick/why-cant-we-talk-about-miscarriage. I'm thinking of you.

This Shouldn't Happen in the United States

The Atlantic posted this article two days ago: "Half a Life In Solitary: How Colorado Made a Young Man Insane." It's a seriously sobering look at one of the most inhumane practices we have in our country, and heartbreaking to see how mentally ill this person has become. What's the point? Why are we doing this?

The Wasted Privilege of Voting

Let me confess this first: I used to be apathetic and only voted for presidential elections. In the past few years, I've "grown up" about this important right. When I read news from around the world and see how people in other countries so cherish the right to vote and struggle for it, it almost feels like a moral duty to exercise my right to vote. 

This year, the city of Cincinnati experienced an extremely low voter turn out, with the approximate turn out rate of about 30%. Even worse, I'm convinced that informed and intelligent people are not the majority of those who show up at the polls. I'm concerned about us, America. All of us. Let me tell you why by describing my voting experience this year, even though this only touches the tip of the iceberg. 

Since we now live outside of the Cincinnati city limits, I sadly was not able to vote on city issues, but I can tell you about voting in a small "village" in Hamilton County. I was supposed to choose 4 village council members and some board of elections members. I got two fliers from candidates on the council that said essentially nothing substantial about what their vision was for our village prior to elections. One of the candidates came by in person with his wife and talked to my husband. I looked up every person on the ballot online and could not find any information about who I was voting for, except for one person on Facebook. When I went to the polls, two other candidates gave me their cards, which also said nothing substantial. 

I know this is a tiny example, but how is it that there is an expectation of voting blindly? I can't vote for people to represent me when I don't know who they are and what is important to them. But people do that every election. People need to care and demand that they are informed. 

Larger example: The big battle in the mayoral race for Cincinnati was over the Cincinnati Streetcar. There are claims that it would be worth it to deal with all the litigation costs of backing out of all the contracts already in place for a project that has already started construction, and that somehow this would be cheaper and better. There have been no real numbers to prove this, but people voted based on a candidate's position on the streetcar anyway (but only about 30% of the city voters). Now our mayor elect wants to scrap a project that is in line with all the up and coming cities across the country. That could be a whole long rant, but I don't want to ruin my Friday.

Shouldn't we want more- demand more? Doesn't the precious right to vote deserve more thought?

Silence

“When words become unclear, I shall focus with photographs. When images become inadequate, I shall be content with silence.”
― Ansel Adams

I've been driving to and from work largely in silence, lately. There are too many words and clutter and it really gets hard to see clearly sometimes. Too much about the ridiculous government shutdown. Talking points, talking points, talking points. No substance. 

Maybe it'd be more bearable if I haven't also been bombarded by a host of family issues. It's easy to retreat into my own little life here in Cincinnati, where the world still feels like my oyster, and it's for the most part, drama free. Unfortunately, the box of crazy that my mother has managed to open up following my dad's death over 10 years ago has been unrelentingly progressing down a course of total calamity. Dramatic words, I know, but you wouldn't quite believe me if I told you. And I've heard some crazy and sad stories in my line of work. One day I'm going to write a book about it.

If you have family members or other loved ones that are constantly in crisis, sometimes it feels like a boulder from which you'll never quite be able to extricate all your limbs. It's a lifetime of practice to be able to separate yourself from the smothering hopelessness to preserve yourself. It is a lot of work.

So, I've been driving in silence to drown it out. I tried something different this week. I committed to lighting a candle each day and just praying for my family. Nothing huge or crazy, but it was something more than what I've really done before. No harm to it, really, when it seems like there's nothing else to try. Some really great friends even fasted a day for me. *Somehow the rest of this post didn't get saved! Redo*. That same day, I got connected with a great resource and some referrals for my mom and sister. Nice.

Trying to savor the time I have for silence- I know there might not be a lot in the months to come, but I hope can can hold on to the memory of the peaceful nothingness, at the very least.

Oh, it's fall.

St. Mary's Glacier

Fall is the most wonderful season in the Midwest. The air is crisp, it's still warm enough to be comfortable, and it's usually sunny. It feels like the world has finally snapped out of the languid late summer haze and stepped into action. Plus, college football is back!

We had a lovely vacation in Colorado over Labor Day weekend (and then some). It was nice to mosey around our old haunts, see our friends, and to see some mountains. We were even able to hike up to St. Mary's Glacier. While it was a terribly slow hike between me being pregnant and neither of us having our mountain lungs anymore, the view by the lake and glacier was worth it. It's impossible not to feel a sense of renewed wonder when you are in the midst of perfect natural beauty. 

I (we've) made it halfway through this pregnancy! I still have moments when I'm sure something will go wrong and am scared, but really, I've been blessed and I know it. It hasn't been a particularly difficult pregnancy. It's been an interesting challenge to experience this radical change to my body. I'll just be glad to get to the other end and meet- her! 

As I am wont to do- here's a random list of my life, lately:

• In the middle of a great book (on tape) about introverts: Quiet: The Power of Introverts in a World that Can't Stop Talking. Really fascinating. I am realizing more and more that I am an introvert (that loves people).
• Loved this amazing article in the Huffington Post about Generation Y: Why Generation Y Yuppies are Unhappy. It's so on the nose.
• Training mania at work. 
• Made a scrumptious flourless chocolate cake. 
• Enjoyed a small harvest of pretty tomatoes from the garden, and a relatively large harvest of jalepenos and green peppers.  Yum. Meanwhile, the garden has grown rather wild.
• Jumped back into Breaking Bad for second half of the final season. Don't regret at all just reading Wikipedia to catch up from seasons three and four, and glad to catch these very fantastic last episodes.

Serving "the Other Man"

You can only protect your liberties in this world by protecting the other man's freedom. -Clarence Darrow

When I left the Colorado Public Defender's Office, my beloved colleagues gave me a plaque with this inscription, thanking me for my time defending "the other man." I think a lot about the other man, both in the legal context and outside of it, because that "other" is often the same. Minority. Poor. Mentally ill. The least of these brothers and sisters. I really believe that if I care, then my life should reflect it.

Recently, I served dinner to the Over-the-Rhine community at Nast Trinity Church with my bar association. Nast Trinity serves dinner to the OTR community every Sunday evening. I'll be honest: I was tired from traveling and dreading going, even though I knew it was for a good cause. When I walked up to the church steps, right outside of beautiful Washington Park, there were homeless men and women scattered in various doorways. One person was curled up under an archway sleeping. Just inside the doors, the kitchen and dining area awaited. 

The small group of volunteers set up tables, made lemonade from powder in huge coolers, put together salad, heated up food, and then we served about 200 people in three groups. Most of our diners ate silently, the majority of the noise coming from us, the volunteers, chatting with each other or asking if anyone wanted seconds. I thought about this, compared to when I go somewhere to eat and get served. I thought about what it would be like to go eat somewhere out of necessity and not necessarily out of pleasure. I thought about how I have no idea what it would be like to sleep on a church step, or to plan your meals around the time there is free food available somewhere. 

It felt right to serve, though I don't know if my being there meant anything to the people I served. It certainly meant something to me. It meant that the other work I do, either volunteering at places like the CityLink Center or through my career, no matter how little change it seems to bring at first, does mean something for anyone I am able to push forward just a little bit out of poverty. It also seemed right to be of service to those who would never be treated the same way I am when entering a store or restaurant, and perhaps in most other times in their day walk around as the "other"- the lesser. I suppose in the end, all I'm saying is, for those of us who are more fortunate, it does our souls good to remember those who are not, and to see them face to face. 

Who Makes Up "National ______ Day?"

Today is National Book Lovers Day. I often wonder who comes up with these days and how it is that some mechanism out there wastes time on propagating "National" days. Not that I'm opposed to celebrating the love of books, since I love books. 

In honor of the day, I thought I'd list my top reads/recommended fiction from the last year, in no particular order.

1. The Cove, by Ron Rash
2. We Are All Completely Beside Ourselves, Karen Joy Fowler
3. Where'd You Go, Bernadette, Maria Semple
4. Wonder, R.J. Palacio (Young Adult)
5. The Perks of Being a Wallflower, Stephen Chbosky (Young Adult)
6. The Book Thief, Markus Zusak (Young Adult)
7. Winter's Bone, Daniel Woodrell
8. This is Where I Leave You, Jonathan Tropper
9. This is How You Lose Her, Junot Diaz

In other news, I think I finally feel safe enough to type the words: I'm pregnant (again). 14 weeks tomorrow. Took us about 3 months again. It's been going pretty well, though I still feel like I'm holding my breath a little (or a lot). It's a little scary, and a lot is changing already. I'm happy but scared to be too happy. So many of our friends have had heartbreak after heartbreak. Then again, I feel guilty to be less excited than I should, because if this kiddo makes it to birth, we're pretty damn lucky. For those of you out there that are trying, so much love to you.

Deep breath. Here we go....

Inequality, Racism, and Individual Responsibility

There has been so much talk the past month or two about the Trayvon Martin verdict. I've been thinking about this a lot and discussing with my husband and close friends. So, disclaimer before I tell you what I think: I'm not an expert, though I have a public defender background that informs a lot of my perspective. This only reflects my personal views and not of any organizations I am employed by or affiliated with. In no way am I trying to minimize the tragic circumstances of Trayvon's death, his family's loss, and the larger issues of racism (which is still alive and well!!) and what this incident represents to the black community. These are just my thoughts on a really tough case and what this should mean for each of us, who are not directly involved. 

1. We should be respectful of the jury's decision, even if we might disagree. I still believe our justice system, though eternally flawed, is still the best in the world. I also know that what the media portrays and what actually happens through the course of the trial can be very different. I truly believe that most jurors take their charge to find someone guilty or not guilty very seriously. I believe that the jurors in this case took this seriously and made a decision based on the evidence presented. They are asked to lay aside emotion and all other circumstances and decide a specific issue: whether or not George Zimmerman committed the crime he was accused of. Even if they wanted to convict, they did not feel the prosecution proved its case based on the universe of law they had to operate within. 
2. George Zimmerman is responsible for creating the situation, but that does not necessarily mean he is guilty of the crime charged. Of course Trayvon's death should never have happened. Of course it would not have happened, had he not been unfairly profiled due to his race, gender, and appearance. However, that in and of itself is not a crime, according to the laws in Florida.
3. Vilifying does not solve the problem. Vilifying a defendant in cases like this does not further a solution to the very deep-rooted and on-going race issues in our country. It only serves to increase tension and strife, and in reality, perpetuates the unfortunate and insidious type of assumptions about another person that led to Trayvon's death in the first place.
4. Acknowledging humanity in others goes a long way. George Zimmerman failed to recognize the individual humanity of Trayvon Martin when he became "suspicious" of his behavior. I wonder what could happen, if he just acknowledged his own human failing in that situation- that he fell prey to his own biases. And what would happen if we ourselves acknowledged to ourselves that we all have our biases and extend forgiveness to each other for them? I think it might open the door for meaningful and life changing conversations- because I truly believe that most real change in perspective and understanding of others comes from direct, honest, and one-on-one conversations with a person that seems "other" to you. Maybe this means for us to make progress in racial healing, we have to extend the acknowledgment of humanity to George Zimmerman as well, even if he failed to do so for Trayvon. It means to set an example to him of what it means not to judge someone you don't know, and not to make assumptions about someone's entire person because of one action they take. 
5. If we purport to care about racial issues, we should act on this in our own lives, every day. There has been a fair amount of outcry and outrage over the verdict. I think it's important that this case is a catalyst for conversation, but the conversation has to be meaningful. It is not meaningful to label someone else a racist. It will not change that person's views or biases. It is meaningful to form relationships with people who are different than you, and to practice respect and extend dignity to everyone you meet, regardless of how deserving or undeserving you think they are. I think that genuine relationships or extensions of kindness are how you ultimately change hearts and minds.

I'm trying to remember to find the humanity in the people I encounter every day. (Read this great opinion article in the Washington Post by an amazing defense attorney about finding humanity in "society's worst").

Thoughtful discussion welcome.

Simple Gifts

On Monday evening, we had a half sky of rain and half sky of sun and a perfect rainbow and produced an amazing gift of weather for a July in Ohio. It's beautiful and not a drop of humidity in the air. I've never walked outside during this time of the year and been able to enjoy the sun without working up a sweat before. It fills me with a little awe every time I walk outside. I suppose we might as well enjoy the fruits of global warming if we have to. 

Today, my co-worker and I took a short walk break around the block and stopped in the Cathedral Basilica to look around on a whim. It is stunning. You must at least look at this 360 degree photo here: http://rackphoto.com/pp/prayerplaces/st-marys-cathedral-basilica-of-the-assumption/. I had no idea that Covington, Kentucky was home to a church with the largest stained glass windows in the world. It reminds me that religion can bring beautiful expression out of people, and not just the ugly that it seems we are exposed to daily. 

Apropos of Nothing

I just love this song- it's so beautiful and it really gets me every time, so since it's Friday, I thought I'd post. Enjoy.

In the Name of Love

I've been thinking of this post since the U.S. Supreme Court struck down the Defense of Marriage Act and Prop 8. Marriage equality is the source of such strong, impassioned opinion. Growing up in a conservative Christian home, I can't say that I always fell on the right side of this issue, though in my heart I always knew what felt right. My mother and I had a rather terse conversation about marriage equality, which resulted in her exclaiming aghast, "But you are a Christian!". Yes, I do consider myself a Christian. I believe in loving your neighbor as yourself. In loving all people the way Jesus did. I also consider myself American, and celebrate the freedom we have as Americans to believe as we will and do as we will (though lately, it seems with greater restriction). Here's what I believe deep in my heart about sexual identity: it is not something most, if any, of us choose. I also believe that if two people love each other and want to be committed to each other for life, it makes absolutely no sense not to honor that. How wonderful it is. I guarantee you that the vast majority of gay and lesbian couples that decide to adopt or choose other means to have children, that they will probably be equal or better parents than 80% of straight couples. They have to work much harder and show much more dedication to become parents. And, in the end, I simply don't understand why people of a certain religious belief feel so threatened by marriage equality. First of all, I fail to see how this is harming others. Secondly, we live in a country where we are blessed to believe what we wish about religious, and it is hypocritical to insist on your own beliefs and taking away that choice from others. Finally, this doesn't take away from marriage- it elevates how special it is to some of us, and honors that choice of commitment.

Which brings me to my second thought on love: real, sustaining, committed love is a choice. While there are some out there who may fall in love a la Romeo and Juliet (all consuming, desperate, dramatic, throw all caution to the wind kind of love), that's not reality for most of us and there's nothing wrong with that! I think it's a great shame when people let go of great partnerships because they've been led to believe that if you don't feel that Romeo and Juliet love about someone, then it must not be meant to be. The husband and I went to see Before Midnight yesterday. It was by far the best of the three movie series, because it was so real. I read a review where the reviewer regretted seeing this side of the relationship between Celine and Jesse, after the loving romance of the first two movies. I feel the opposite: gone is that young, generalized, self-indulgent love, and instead it's reality: love can be work, love might mean making a choice at the end of a hard day or ugly disagreement that you will stay and continue to accept the other person. That you will choose to remember all the things that make you great together. I think that kind of love is the most beautiful. But that's just my opinion.

What Matters

One of the nicer things about getting older is gaining perspective. If you haven't found that age has been helping you gain perspective, I highly recommend looking into it. What mattered on my 31st birthday was different than say, my 21st. No need to get a large group of friends together to celebrate- I love my friends and feel loved all the time. My husband does nice things for me and shows his love regardless of the day. Like when I've been cranky and sick for the past two weeks and he has taken care of me. Like the day he got home from work early and made a huge pot of chili. I'm just generally happy to be me, and though there will always be room for improvement and growth, I am aware of who I am, who I used to be, and it's all good.

Another happy symptom of age or growth is the ability to let things go. I'm certainly not perfect at this, but it's much easier now to understand that many people I've invested in during my lifetime are just going to be temporarily part of my life. They were there and I learned what lessons I could, and then it's time to move on. I used to agonize over this (and still do some), about what it all means, about what cutting of ties would mean about my investment, or about who I am- but, as my best friend and I discussed recently, it's not a statement of any of that. We learn from each other (hopefully), and then we continue on with those lessons to hopefully be better than we were before. I think for most people, the scope of your social world starts to narrow as you become an adult, and that's not always a bad thing. You just hang on to the friends that you can pick up with at any point in time and enjoy what time you have with each other.

I worry that social media unhealthily makes us linger rather than moving on. (Read a great piece from the Times on how social media diminishes the quality of our social connections). The temptation to know what happened to people after your intersection with their lives is huge. Connections that really have ended a long time ago are still holding on by fragments through Facebook and the like. Not that it's bad to "keep in touch" this way, but it can also become the breeding grounds for showing off, comparing, and passive cyber stalking. It makes it hard to say what needs to be said (implicitly) sometimes: "I care about you and wish you the best, but we don't need to keep tabs on each other anymore. I free you from this obligation so you can live your own life more fully. I've learned from you and I hope you have learned from me."

ING sent me this video for my birthday, which I know is an advertising gimmick, but all the same, I thought it was sweet. Plus the paper tears are cute. So I'll end  this random rambling on this note:

Play

By a fluke of scheduling that didn't work out, I had about a half hour to spare before volunteering today. I ended up at Washington Park, and it was just a perfect half hour. In the water fountains, little kids were running around with perfect glee and fearlessness. Parents basked in the sun or helped their younger children partake in the water play.  Sounds from the packed playground wafted over to my bench. A young dad and his little girl left their stroller and bag next to me, with weird implicit trust that I would watch it while they played. I don't play enough- not in a way that is as happy and uninhibited as these children, but I think I need to.

Rhythm, Rest, Movies

listening to: Teagan and Sara (coming to Cincy this July for Bunbury Music Festival!)

I've been totally out of the church loop the past few weeks, though I still manage to catch up on the service messages. The series has been focusing on life rhythms, which I think has a really nice applicability no matter what you believe in. It's too easy to fall out of rhythms, and so much harder to get into to them. The principle of building in rhythms in your life makes a lot of sense: you want to rest when it's time to rest so you can work when it's time to work. I'm terrible at resting/playing in a focused way. So I thought I'd spend a little time thinking of activities that feel restful to me:

1. Dancing
2. Reading
3. Writing
4. Hiking/Walking in the park
5. Walking around a city with no agenda
6. Findlay Market trips!
7. Savoring delicious food

Here's to hoping I will build this into my weekend rountine. I've been feeling pretty tired.

In other news, I went to see Girl Rising last night. This is probably best described by some reviewers as a "PSA" about the education of girls across the world. The concept of the film was great: each young girl from developing countries was paired with a woman writer from their country to write their stories about how they  fought to receive education. The stories are interspersed with sobering statistics of the inequity of education between girls and boys globally, as well as statistics making a case for the great return on investment from education girls. It isn't exactly a documentary, since the stories are reenacted/reimagined by the girls and their writers. The stories seemed to end abruptly with a call to action, which is to say, a screen with a number to text donations. Something in the end left me a little wanting, though in the end, this is a great way to raise awareness to an important issue. I think it would be a great film for young women to watch and discuss, and certainly is a great reminder to Americans of the privilege we have to be afforded the right to free and appropriate education in our country. Worth a watch- you can request a screening in your community through Gathr. 

Reasons

I'm starting to hate the phrase "Everything happens for a reason." I know I've been guilty of using it. It's not that I don't believe that many things happen for a reason, or that things often will work out in the end. It's just that people seem to employ it as some sort of comfort when terrible things happen. I've been hearing it a bit, recently, in response to my miscarriage. It's really not that comforting. At all. In the context of my recent struggle, these are my thoughts: I understand there is a scientific reason for my miscarriage. But there's no other great "reason" for why it happened, or why it happens to anyone. I think that most crappy things happen because of the human condition- our frailties, our mistakes, our choices- not on an individual level, necessarily, but on a macro scale. Everything we do affects everyone else around us. The things others do affects us. And I'm going to take a few seconds to talk about my beliefs, with the disclaimer that this is just what I think, and you can think whatever it is you think!

I don't personally believe that God puts misery in your life for some divine reason that you will figure out later. I do believe that my faith helps me get through those difficult times and helps me put a context to my life. But the proposition that, for instance, I had a miscarriage, and some day all this sadness will "make sense" seems silly to me. Has it helped me be more empathetic to women trying to conceive? Sure. Will I be able to talk to others about it who go through it in the future? Sure. But how does that make me feel any better about having the loss? It's no less sucky. And please, tell me some more compelling possible reasons as to why it happened (other than the science). I'm dying to know what is in store for me.

Is it horribly cynical to believe that sometimes bad things just happen and we learn to survive them? That not all terrible things have some big picture meaning? I'm not saying there's no hope of healing and feeling better, because we will heal and feel better in time. Just don't tell me that one day I will have an ah-ha moment that will help me somehow be glad it happened, or some nonsense. Seriously.

Stars

While looking for some inspiring videos to Tweet for work, I came across this dance performance on Dancing with the Stars. I don't watch this show much, but am happy to be inspired by this 17 year old girl who is legally blind but can dance so beautifully. It reminds me to be in awe of the human ability to overcome.

And incidentally, seeing the video reminded me of my recent discovery of this Grace Potter song.

I lit a fire with the love you left behind, 
And it burned wild and crept up the mountainside.
I followed your ashes into outer space
I can't look out the window, 
I can't look at this place, 

I can't look at the stars, 
They make me wonder where you are
Stars, 
Up on heaven's boulevard
And if I know you at all, 
I know you've gone too far
So I, I can't look at the stars

All those times we looked up at the sky, 
Looking out so far, 
We felt like we could fly.
And now I'm all alone in the dark of night, 
The moon is shining, 
But I can't see the light, 
And I can't look at the 

Stars, 
They make me wonder where you are
Stars, 
Up on heaven's boulevard
And if I know you at all, 
I know you've gone too far
So I, I can't look at the stars

Stars, 
Stars, 
They make me wonder where you are
Stars, 
Up on heaven's boulevard
And if I know you at all, 
I know you've gone too far
So I can't look at the stars.

Nashville

I shouldn't just post when I'm having my anxiety-whatever-this-is moments. I really do have a great life, great friends, and a great career. And I'm pretty pleasant to be around, usually. 

I went to Nashville last weekend with some girlfriends- it's always nice to explore new cities. I imagine Broadway in Nashville is almost always noisy on weekends. Live music is blasting from every bar and people bustle around on the sidewalks, pack the balconies, and just seem to be having a great time- day and night. 

While I can't say I liked the Farmer's Market better than our own Findlay Market in Cincinnati, it was pretty decent. The building is huge, and has a flea market, restaurant, local farm/food, and plants section.

   

 There are a ton of lovely historic buildings (many have been repurposed.. or have been bars for a very long time).

 

Ryman Center

Hatch Show Print Shop

Hatch Show Print Shop

Patterson House (Speakeasy)

Patterson House

The Worst Version

Today I've been struck with a fear that I have become that crazy woman that I don't want to be!  It's a slippery slope. After the miscarriage, I read some books on fertility. Really liked Taking Charge of Your Fertility because it was really great information in general about the woman's reproductive system. Then I decided after last month's disappointment of getting my period that I would start charting my temperature. I know, what is happening to me? Then, I spent a good two hours this morning obsessively wondering about why my temperature is spiking up and down and hasn't stayed up after I should have ovulated. Then thinking that I will start using the pee strips. This all seems so ridiculous since it only took 2-3 months to get pregnant the first time. Obviously, I can, right? Who is this person?! EW!

I can't help but wonder how many more months I will have a mini meltdown when I get my period (which also seems to coincide with being suddenly inundated with pregnant women, babies, people talking about babies, people with babies, babies, babies, babies). I hate it because suddenly I feel like the worst version of myself. I don't want people to know about this worst version: she's jealous, angry, resentful, and miserable. It doesn't last long, at least in its more extreme forms. But it's there. You try living with her.

That Little Heartstring

My latest musical obsession has been Badly Drawn Boy. We watched Being Flynn the other day, mostly by accident when it was on TV. About 5 minutes into watching it, I had a feeling that the movie would be tugging on one of my heartstrings, and it did. The kind of tugging that feels painful but cathartic, like you might need to have a cleansing cry about it. It's a somewhat heart-wrenching but wryly written film about parent child relationships and coming of age. You should watch it. Anyway, Badly Drawn Boy wrote the entire soundtrack, and this is the song I particularly loved. There's something about a song that can reach deep down inside of you and make you feel some stiff and seemingly unreachable piece of your heart.

I'll Keep the Things you Throw Away, Being Flynn, Badly Drawn Boy

How would it feel to never exist 

And how did it come to this 

Save your thoughts for another day 

I'll keep the things you throw away 

If you love something, if you love something 

Don't hide it away, don't hide it away 

I'll keep the things you throw away 

And you know you will never be me 

Save it all as a memory 

It's in the things we do and say 

I'll keep the things you throw away 

If you love something, if you love something 

Don't hide it away, don't hide it away 

I'll keep the things you throw away 

It would-a-been something, maybe nothing 

Maybe something, I don't know 

How there you lovers 

Welcome to this world 

Do not forsake your brothers 

Promise you my girl 

This is something you'll learn 

See those words, watch them fade away 

Now I have nothing to a-say 

Come on wait for another day 

I'll keep the things you throw away 

If you love something, if you love something 

Don't hide it away, don't hide it away 

I'll keep the things you throw away 

I though we were better than this 

Thought we'de be stronger than this 

I though we were better than this 

Thought we'de be stronger than this 

I though we were better than this 

I hoped we'de be stronger than this 

..... 

I though we were better than this

A Strange Count

"Because the only thing worse than losing something that meant the world to you is pretending that you lost nothing."

The words from the article above are so true. To not tell friends that this has happened to me feels terrible. I'm glad I've shared it, even if I'm still throwing it out there as flippantly as I can with a cheery face, as if I could make someone feel less awkward or sad about the news.

It's been two months since the miscarriage. I had been feeling more evened-out emotionally about the whole thing. The physical trauma of it feels far away, but I'd be lying if I didn't experience small to large twinges almost every day: another friend on Facebook announcing a pregnancy, a baby catalog from the site I started a registry on, the hospital bills, seeing other people's babies, being around so many friends with new babies or are expecting. The past week has been one long twinge. Twinge is probably too light of a word. Maybe it's the March gloom, or hormones..

My best friend sent me this blog, and I couldn't describe it better myself: http://mylifeaftermiscarriage.wordpress.com/category/anger/.

I still feel as though I'm in a strange reverse world, where instead of eagerly counting the months until, I'm now counting the months since. And feeling a little resentful today, because even though I know too well that life isn't fair, and that even with my experiences I am still one of the very fortunate, I just don't want to have to endure this right now, and today I don't care it it's whiny and inconsiderate. I'm just having a day.. or a few days... I swear I'm not normally like this.

That being said, I think I'm doing pretty well with my Tiny Bucket List. The two things left are closet organizing (this weekend, maybe?) and the Happiness Project. We are technically back in TTC (trying to conceive) mode, but it doesn't feel the same anymore. No more excited anticipation. More pressure about whether it will happen or not. More fear about when it does happen. But, like with everything else, I will endure.

6 Years Ago Today...

I had a random dream about friends from college, which then somehow prompted me to revisit my old Xanga blog! No, I won't share the link with you, but I will share what I wrote Feb 11, 2007 for kicks. Things that apparently haven't changed: still love Regina Spektor, Real Simple, and "Mr. X" still circles around me dancing from time to time. 

Mr. X got me an awesome cd: Regina Spektor, Begin to Hope.  It's ridiculously catchy.  You should check it out.

While I find most magazines that are not a) scientific, b) literary (new yorker, atlantic monthly) or c) functional (cars, running magazines, etc.) are generally a waste of money... I got a subscription to Real Simple and I'm really quite in love with the magazine.  I guess you could put it under the "functional" category.

My room's finally clean enough to work in again.  It's nice.

And just for fun: we call this dancing.

No, this is how it works 
You peer inside yourself 
You take the things you like 
And try to love the things you took 
And then you take that love you made 
And stick it into some 
Someone else's heart 
Pumping someone else's blood 
And walking arm in arm 
You hope it don't get harmed 
But even if it does 
You'll just do it all again -Radio, Regina Spektor

Currently Listening Begin to Hope By Regina Spektor radio

Strange News: Amazing Story about a Russian Family

Weirdly enough, I found this article through GoFugYourself (a funny fashion blog I frequent and love): For 40 Years, This Russian Family Was Cut Off From All Human Contact, Unaware of World War II | History & Archaeology | Smithsonian Magazine. Kind of blows my mind.

30 Things I have learned in 30 years

Oh, it's true- I'm thirty. Three decades. Older and wiser? Who knows! Here's a random list of things I have learned:

On style:
1. Blow drying my hair in the morning makes my hair look way better.
2. Fashion that did not work for me: baggy clothes, midriff hugging or midriff baring shirts, too much pattern, too trendy, long skirts, open button downs with a shirt underneath.
3. How to apply make-up to my Asian eyes. (At least, I think I can)
4. Burt's Bees chapstick is the best chapstick ever.
5. I love A-line skirts and sheath dresses.
6. You can't go wrong with a pretty string of pearls.

On self:
7. I am a very hands-on person.
8. I must study in silence and in a cubicle so I can't people-watch.
9. I'm an extroverted introvert: I need my alone time.
10. I prefer small groups of people, or being alone in a crowd.
11. I am at my best when I feel I am being useful to someone.
12. I have a need for what I do to be taken seriously.

On relationships:
13. I'd rather invest in a small number of life-long friendships rather than many surface level friends.
14. In love, I need and have found a true partner who respects me and lets me be who I am, and is my best friend.
15. There might be no sweeter feeling than laying in bed laughing about something stupid with my husband.
16. You can't change someone who doesn't want to change.
17. You have to be able to take care of yourself to take care of others. Learn to set boundaries.
18. I like bonding with people by doing activities together. Or eating.

On career:
19. The bar exam is really as miserable as everyone says it is.
20. Going above and beyond what is required in a job will always be appreciated.
21. Too many adult professionals don't actually know how to be adult and professional.
22. I'm a pretty good networker.
23. I love being a lawyer.
24. I have to work for a cause I believe in.

On life:
25. You have to accept and let go of what you cannot control, or you will make yourself crazy.
26. Whatever it is, I can survive it.
27. Being 30 is pretty awesome. I know myself and can love myself better than I ever have before.
28. A nice raincoat is a really great investment.
29. Remembering to stop and be grateful is good for your health.
30. Try to take yourself less seriously.

Readers' Review: "The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao" By Junot Diaz

I had the luck to be driving to a meeting this afternoon and caught a segment of Readers' Review: "The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao" By Junot Diaz on the Diane Rehm show. It makes me miss college English classes where you could sit and discuss a book at great length. This was almost as good!

Good Deed of the Month: Support Second Chances

One of the big influences on my career path is David Singleton, executive director of the Ohio Justice and Policy Center. Read a recent article about their work. OJPC does remarkable work for one of the most marginalized populations in our country- those who have been involved in the criminal justice system. Work like this is so important to stop the cycle of incarceration and create more sustainable rehabilitation and reform in a system that just locks away people who we then pay for with our tax dollars. If you are looking for a great local organization to support or be involved in, here's one to consider.

How We Put Ourselves Back Together

1. Start doing laundry that is starting to overflow from the hamper.
2. Finally put away the clean dishes so you can put all the dirty ones away.
3. Clean up part of the kitchen.
4. Tidy the living room.
5. Pay a bill.
6. Put all the piles of junk mail in recycling.
7. Make a new pile of papers and mail to go through.
8. Finally donate some of the clothes that have been sitting in a trash bag in the closet.
9. Intend to tidy the bedroom and bathroom, but then decide to put it off another week.

NPR Discoveries

When I was a college student I liked to post or journal about fun things I learned on NPR. I don't know why I stopped! My favorite latest discoveries:

1) This interview with the head of the Red Baraat. Get this: bhangra meets New Orleans Brass band! What's not to love!

NPR Interview

2) Freakonmic's episode on weird recycling. I love recycling. Fun fact: the U.S. exports 300,000 metric tons of chicken paws a year, mostly to Asia. Incidentally, chicken paws is one of the few Asian foods I don't care for. Just doesn't seem like there's much there to make eating them worth it.

A Sunnier Day

It's a beautiful, cold day. The sky is clear and blue. I feel a bit more hopeful, if not a little tentative. I think for the most part, I've "let my wallow out", as a good friend put it. There will still be sad moments, but I've visited the doctor and it looks like there's only a faint amount of HCG left, so it seems that last week was the worst of it. I feel pretty lucky. The best news is that their initial suggestion of waiting 3 months was more cautionary to allow for emotional recovery, so we won't have to wait as long as I thought. Don't worry, though, I'm still going to cross off the tiny bucket list, but maybe a little quicker. 

Feeling gratitude for:

• really great friends who know just how to grieve with you
• a husband who is my best friend and such a great partner
• sunshine
• the ability to grieve, feel, and bounce back
• health
• sushi and red wine

A Tiny Bucket List

Do you like my revamped blog? I've decided that I want to commit to writing more, among other things. It didn't feel like the blog had a theme or focus, exactly, in the name, and I wanted to give it more meaning. I was reminded of a conversation I just had with my best friend about how I once thought being 30 would seem old or less exciting, but now it seems just the opposite. 30 is not to be feared! For me and many of the women I know, 30 has meant that I know myself better, am more comfortable with myself, love myself better, and am much more self aware. All in all, this decade seems much better than the last.

So along with my little makeover of this blog, I want to share my tiny bucket list. One of the hardest parts about the loss we've experienced, for me, is how I am still tracking my weeks. I think about how I would be so far along, that I would be seeing the first ultrasound, be starting to show. I still catch myself thinking about how different the next few months will now look. I catch myself thinking that the three months we have to wait to try again seems so long. In an effort to try and move away from this thought process, I've made a list of things I will do for myself in the next three months:

• Go to the gym or an exercise class at least twice a week.
• Journal, write posts, write poetry.
• Consider my own Happiness Project.
• Finally schedule a visit to the acupuncturist to deal with my shoulder pain. 
• Eat lots of sushi and drink red wine. 
• Plan at least one out of town trip.
• Organize at least one closet in the house.

This Made me Smile

I found the blog "Things People Said After My Miscarriage." Particularly loved the post about Facebook.

Television Loves

A little reprieve from moody posts. I suppose having some angst in my life always makes it easier for me to write. Despite my ongoing hatred of Time Warner Cable, the husband and I are hopelessly hooked on cable television. I'm not saying that TV is all that we do- in fact we read a lot of books and do a lot of fun things- but we do enjoy a good show. Here are my recent favorites and some critiques:

• The Walking Dead: If you love zombie movies, you will love this show. If you are like me and hate zombie movies, you will probably still love this show. It is highly entertaining, great acting, and interesting take on post-zombie apocalypse life. Yes, there are gory, creepy zombies, but what really keeps you glued are the interactions between the survivors and the slow unraveling of the humanity and morality that the characters thought they had. The downside is you will need wind-down time before going to bed because your adrenaline will be off the charts.
• Boardwalk Empire: This has been a solidly and beautifully written and directed series based on the gangsters in Atlantic City (and other major cities) during the prohibition era. Steve Buschemi is brilliant, as are many of the support cast and characters. An added plus: awesome costuming and incorporation of real historical characters. Unlike a lot of series, Boardwalk has managed to stay consistently strong through the seasons. 
• Girls: I don't care what critics might say about this show, but I think Lena Dunham is remarkable. As her character proclaims to her parents in the pilot episode, Lena Dunham is "a voice of a generation." Girls is funny, poignant, brave, and smart. The characters are flawed but lovable, and the actors are beautiful, but not in the sense that they are remarkably fit, thin, or have faces built for modeling. 
• Downton Abbey: Who would have thought that a series about British aristocracy in the World War I era could be so captivating? Though there are a few characters and bits of plot that I could do without, this show has a great cast of characters and really is a fascinating portrayal of the decline of class system. I'm enjoying the tongue in cheek British humor quite a lot. 
• The Mindy Project: I love Mindy Kaling. She is a funny woman. In her show, she's a OB/GYN, which her late mother was in real life, who is great at her job but struggling a little with life. If you enjoyed Kelly Kapoor humor in The Office, you'll enjoy this show. I just love seeing an Asian American woman doing comedy! And being the star of a show!

Chinese Cures

Some of my family came to visit today. My mother and aunt came, arms laden with a combination of Chinese comfort foods (steamed buns, ba-wan, tofu and fish) and dishes that are allegedly fertility inducing. Bitter herbed chicken soup, ginseng, sesame chicken soup, eight treasure rice... Asian mothers are funny this way. They will give you plenty of advice about conceiving that borders on superstitious and fret about you being too tired. It might be one of the few times where this doesn't irritate me at all. I don't even bother to try to tell them that most miscarriages occur because it essentially was a faulty batch of ingredients that made the fetus abort itself. I'm finding right now that I am more comfortable with receiving help from those close to me than I usually am. I think it's a healthy thing. Maybe that's the lesson to learn at times like this- just to be able to receive and be taken care of a little. Let that rod of inner strength heal a little after taking a beating so it is ready to move forward again and dare to hope. 

I'm trying not to let the little voice in my head that is calculating the months take over. It likes to obsess about how now a 2013 baby is no longer a possibility, how things simply can't go according to its plans. I'm trying, every day, to be kinder to myself, and remember to be grateful that I have all the support that I need.   

Needing Catharsis

It would be nice if humans could just channel all their grief or anger into one tight, glowing ball and just push it out of their systems. Perhaps some people can do this, and I wish that could. Instead, this event will just slowly leak out of me in fits and coughs. I will entertain myself by helping my best friend decorating a cake and feel next to normal, and then I will check Facebook and see that the cloth diapering class I had been considering signing up for is today. And a crop of my friends' latest baby pictures. Maybe gathering up all the sorrow sitting at the base of my chest would just be too much to expel all at once, but all the same, I wish I could be done with it. I don't pretend that this is the worst thing that has ever happened in my life, or close to the worst thing that I know of happening. I know it will ease in time. With every Eeyore post here I will perhaps feel just a little bit lighter. But I probably should stop checking Facebook for a little while.

Day 3

I don't usually get too personal on this blog, but I feel like I need to write about this, if only because I wish that I had heard more about some other woman's personal experience with this before I went through it myself. Before I tell you more, here are my two requests: 1) unless you are someone I know personally, or if I don't know you and you are going through it and want to reach out, don't send me messages about this post. I don't want advice and I don't want your pity. 2) if you are someone I know, please know that I appreciate your care and concern but I probably don't want to talk to you about this, and if I do, I will bring it up myself.

Today is Day 3 of my miscarriage. It is an early pregnancy miscarriage, which everyone says is quite common. Usually this happens because the fetus is simply not developing correctly and nature is correcting the problem. It was my first pregnancy, and at this point there's no reason that the next attempt won't be more successful. The science of this is somewhat comforting to me. Less comforting is the waiting for the process to complete itself.  The doctor refers to this as the "worst period" of my life. This means cramps, blood, clots, tissue- all the miraculous things that had been forming inside of me, have to come out. This means spending days or weeks wearing super absorbent pads, which always have felt like diapers to me. This means sleeping on a towel just in case and obsessively checking our nice sheets in the morning to make sure I haven't ruined them. I had always envisioned miscarriages as a sudden and brief event, where a woman in a nightgown suddenly doubles over in pain and there's a lot of blood and she goes to the hospital and then it's over. I had no idea that it could take weeks for "it" to "pass." And frankly, it's a gross experience. We referred to the ER room I went to as "the crime scene." Have to find humor where you can!

No matter how much I cling to my logic, and understand that things will be okay, each morning since we discovered we were losing the pregnancy, I have sat in my house and cried. It's hard to express the loss I feel. After all, it was so early, just a tiny clump of cells. I think ugly thoughts about how unfair it seems that sometimes women who don't even want to have children just fly right through and pop out beautiful babies, when others who want children so badly have so much trouble. I wonder whether it could have happened because I was still drinking a cup of coffee a day, or because I didn't eat enough and drink enough water one day, or if I jinxed myself by already starting to put together secret registries. My mother insisted I must have just been tiring myself out too much as if I were some delicate flower. (Ha!)

I'm not going to know why it happened, only that it does happen and it's not unusual. I know it's still early and I will go through my appropriate stages of grief. I also know that right now when people ask me if there's anything to do for me, I don't know what to say. There's just nothing to do about this. I'm a healthy person and while this is not the most physically comfortable experience I'm physically okay. I made a crockpot of Chinese chicken soup. I've done some laundry. I'm doing some work from home. Part of me just wants someone to come in and pick up my life and put it back in order, the way it felt just a week ago, before this happened. When I started bleeding a few days ago, I had this absurd hope that perhaps I was just having my cycle and in fact was not pregnant after all. Or I was just one of those women that would bleed throughout the pregnancy, as unpleasant as that would be. None of it was the case. The disappointment is smothering.

Grief is not a stranger to me. I know this will ebb. I know that there will probably be plenty of exciting and happy things coming up in the future. I know I am usually fairly resilient. There have been (and will be more) moments when I'm sitting in the warm sun at a favorite restaurant and feel peace and beauty. But right now, I just feel how I feel. A little flat and a little cynical. A little angry and resentful- at what or whom, I'm not quite sure. Super grateful for the wonderful support I have in my family, friends, and co-workers. I don't want to see a lot of people because I don't want to feel their sadness for me. It just feels like I would crumble if they treated me differently or too gently. We were given the news my body had already told me twice at the ER. First, a male doctor very clinically and kindly explained what my test results meant. We nodded. Then the female resident explained it again, in a very sympathetic way, but it made me feel so much sadder. I guess that pretty much sums it up.

My favorite bad day song:
 

2012 In Retrospect

"I guess I could be pretty pissed off about what happened to me, but it's hard to stay mad when there's so much beauty in the world. Sometimes I feel like I'm seeing it all at once, and it's too much. My heart fills up like a balloon that's about to burst. Then I remember to relax, and stop trying to hold on to it, and then it flows through me like rain, and I can't feel anything but gratitude for every single moment of my stupid little life." - American Beauty

I love those final lines in American Beauty- perhaps because I treasure those moments where I feel exactly as Lester Burnham describes. So much gratitude. Not because life is perfect, but because even in the midst of family strife, national tragedy, and international horrors, I am still blessed with wonderful moments and people in my life. Because even in the midst of the ugliness of American politics, I might still manage to hear about a moving story of people helping each other. I think I might be getting better at holding on to the good things and letting go of the bad. 

Blah blah blah.. anyway, a quick list for my 2012 highlights:

• Brought in 2012 on the beautiful beach of Samara, Costa Rica
• Became a first time homeowner
• Saw my friends in Colorado
• Planted my first vegetable garden
• Became an aunt
• Visited Asheville, NC
• Drove from California back to Ohio with my two best friends
• My best friend moved back to Cincinnati!
• Witnessed Cincinnati become even more beautiful and vibrant: Washington Park, Smale Park and the riverfront, OTR's many new restaurants and stores... 

I'm now 30 years old and it's 2013. I can't say I have any earth shattering wisdom, which I'm sure the me a decade ago would have expected, but I do think the past year has taught me to practice gratitude, to provide empathy without being drained or co-dependent, and to accept that each person in my life will make choices for themselves and the best thing I can do is to love but to set boundaries. That seems pretty great, actually.