2013 Review, 2014 Adventures

It's Sunday afternoon. The husband is at the Bengals playoff game. Laundry is going. I really need to shake out the tablecloth in the kitchen, which I've been procrastinating from for no good reason. And it's 2014. We're on countdown- 35 days (more or less) until the due date: Baby laundry half done. Cloth diapers in the process of being prepped (so many washes for those damn organic/natural material ones!). People have told me I will start "nesting," and I suppose these activities are "nesting" but for some reason I don't love the term. It sounds so gendered and 50's housewife-esque. All this work is pretty practical preparation for what's to come, and hopefully will make the first few months less insane and stressful.

I'm trying to keep nervousness at bay about labor, and of course the fact that in a short period of time, we're going to be wholly responsible for a new little life. This year is going to be full of new things: parenthood, husband's new job in April, new responsibilities at work, and getting healthcare through the government exchange! I'll keep you posted on how that goes.

The weather so far has not been dropping to subzero temperatures and snowing as predicted. I will never cease to be amused at how people in Cincinnati flood and pillage the grocery stores at the sign of some snow (and ransack the milk aisle, of all things). The likelihood of being snowed or iced in for more than 24-48 hours is so slim here it's laughable, and I promise you, if that did happen, you won't be kicking yourself for not having milk. 

2013 Review: high and lowlights, lessons learned- in List Style, of course:

• Baby miscarriage to start off the year. Hard to believe an entire year has passed. A lesson in grief, loss, keeping faith, and awareness of a hardship that happens to so many mommas.
• Job promotion of sorts.
• Had some actual juvenile cases, and went to trial (and won!).
• Chairing a committee for the local bar association Young Lawyers Section- after pulling back from leadership for a while, I'm back in, for better or for worse.
• Volunteering at the long awaited Citylink Center. 
• Growing baby J. Pregnancy is a weird experience. You have a little alien growing inside of you. Everything feels uncomfortable. You have pregnancy brain (it's a real thing.) Your body stretches more than you thought it ever could. People feel free to talk about your body without invitation. I am not one of those mothers who love pregnancy, and am quite okay with that.
• Finding out my little brother's baby will be due just a month after baby J!
• Two wonderful trips to Colorado (minus the part where we spent 30 some hours between airports). Second trip, baby J came with us, so she's been hiking, already! Hope she'll love outdoors and hiking as much as mom and dad.
• DOMA mostly struck down! Hurray for love!

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.

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....

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.

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.

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.

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: