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.
1.12.2013
1.11.2013
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:
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:
1.01.2013
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:
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.
11.08.2012
Unapologetic
I voted for President Obama and I'm not ashamed. I voted for President Obama and I'm not ignorant, uneducated, uninformed, or lazy. In fact, I have a law degree, am well-read, and I stay informed on current events. I don't live off the government. I work hard and so does my husband. We pay taxes. We are "responsible" for our lives. So are many of my friends and colleagues who also re-elected the president. Some of the smartest and kindest people I know.
I don't expect government handouts but my experience tells me that there are people in our country much less fortunate and in many ways through no fault of their own who do need help. My career is dedicated to serving the underprivileged. While it is true that some poor people take advantage of government benefits, it is also true that big corporations and the wealthy take advantage of them, too. Entitlement isn't just a poor problem. You might want to put all the blame on the President for economic state of the country, but how about taking individual responsibility, too? For example, stop supporting chains like Walmart that sell you mass produced products from other countries with terrible working conditions, and buy local. Don't spend beyond your means and then complain about paying taxes. You don't really need to spend $500 on the latest I-phone, do you? How about you volunteer to mentor someone who needs job training? And how about you give credit where it's due? If you bought a house this year, the record low mortgage rates are thanks to the government policies.
I'm not blind to the fact that our system is in need of reform and that our national debt is a problem. I just don't believe that cutting spending on important things like investing in sustainable energy and education is the way to do it. Investments are important- and all business-minded people should know this. I also don't believe that the private health care industry can be expected to provide reasonable health care for the average person, and I do believe that we are spending a lot of money on the uninsured. I believe it will take more than 4 years to get out of the mess that was made during the Bush years.
Besides all that, while Mitt Romney himself has led an impressive life, his party stands for the oppression of minorities- they support the "show your papers" law in Arizona, they want to force their particular brand of religion on gay and lesbian people who want to get married, and while they moan about government intervening in their lives, they are okay with the government interfering with women's lives when it comes to contraception and child-bearing. I could never get behind a party who operates in one exclusive world-view.
So the next time you decide to post some hateful comment about how stupid more than half of your fellow citizens are, consider that you are publicly pigeon-holing more than half of the county into a category that just isn't fair, and is not reality. No, I didn't vote for him "just because he's black." That is offensive. No, I'm not ignorant. No, I'm not stupid. No, I'm not blind to the problems that our nation is facing. I just have a different view on how to move forward, and I'm trying (perhaps too hard) to respect your differences by not belittling you on Facebook with rash and offensive generalizations about people who voted for Romney (and believe me, I have plenty).
Thanks,
Your fellow Citizen.
Good Reads- Fall 2012
When I was a kid, I read voraciously. I would read a book under my desk during class in grade school or read while walking in single-file line. (Do they still make kids do that?) In high school I would get busted for staying up late into the night reading, when blocking the light in the door crack didn't work so well. Fiction is and has always been an escape for me. A good story might be the only place my singular attention can be captured, and I can be fully absorbed. Since moving back to Cincinnati, I've had the luxury to have more time and more brain energy left to read on a consistent basis, and a kindle that makes it possible for me to get a book while sitting on the couch. I've also had some family drama that probably contributed to my desire to block out and escape. Plus the Cincinnati Public Library system is the bomb. It seems silly that I would make lists and not include one about books. So here it is, my current top book recommendations in no particular order, with a short description, to answer the commonly seen Facebook post: "Any book recommendations?" Enjoy!
- Last Night in Twisted River, John Irving: A dense, richly detailed novel about a cook and his son, who at the age of 12 mistakenly thought the local constable's wife was a bear. The two become fugitives, and the story tracks their progression from town to town and city to city. One of my favorite Irving books.
- American Salvage, Bonnie Jo Campbell. Gritty meth country short stories.
- The Devil all the Time, Donald Ray Pollack. A dark look into the lives of rural Ohio serial killers...
- Chemistry and Other Stories, Ron Rash. Great short story collection, very poignant.
- The Art of Fielding, Char Harbach
- In One Person, John Irving. A book about sexuality: transgender transformations, bi-sexuality, and relationships.
- Night Circus, Erin Morgenstern. Very beautiful and imaginative book about magic and the circus.
- Waiting, Ha Jin. A Chinese doctor caught between his wife and another woman, who exist in vastly different worlds- painfully beautiful book about betrayal, action and inaction...
- Lowboy, John Wray. A story following the journey of a mentally ill teenaged boy in New York.
- A Visit from the Goon Squad, Jennifer Eagan. Collection of intersecting short stories of characters in the music industry.
- 1Q84, Haruki Murakami. Bizzarely wonderful Japanese crime/mystery novel. Worth the long read.
- The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao, Junot Diaz. Another book that is worth the long read- rich in Dominican political history- follows the life of poor, overweight, hapless Oscar Wao. One of my favorite contemporary authors.
- The Bayou Trilogy, Daniel Woodrell. Amazing writing, amazing stories. Think The Wire set in Louisiana.
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