babylust

transition

I'll still be posting here occasionally, but for the most part, I will be writing on my other weblog - clearframe.

Stop by to say hello and to see baby Thea updates!

deep breath

For some time, I've been pretty comfortable talking about my experience with miscarriage. At first, I was so lost in my grief and overwhelmed with my personal tragedy that I needed to talk about it all the time.  Having this weblog has been an important outlet for me, and it has been quite therapeutic, really allowing me to sift through the layers of my emotions, helping me to make sense of the highs and lows and in-betweens of this journey. For the most part, I think my life has pretty much been an open book.

Yesterday, the spine on book of my life was stretched a little further when I received a copy of our city's magazine - Richmond Magazine - in the mail. The supplemental issue - Richmond Health - that came out with this month's magazine contains an article that I wrote on finding peace and healing after my losses.

It's there for the whole city to read.

I hope that by reading my essay, even one person will feel less alone. I hope my words can bring comfort and understanding to someone, and maybe even just a little hope.

spot and a new start

Today, I read Sara's post about letting herself get excited. I felt exactly that way last week - I really was hopeful. I was having all the sypmtoms, breast tenderness and cramping and lots of other signs too. But no, I'm not pregnant. A new cycle has started, cycle #15. My body had me fooled.

I didn't expect to have more pregnancy "symptoms" using only prometrium than when using it in combination with clomid - that's what really threw me off. By the time I started spotting on 12 dpo, I was pretty sure that this cycle hadn't worked. I had spotting even using 200 mg of prometrium twice a day, so I'm not sure if using only prometrium is keeping my progesterone level high enough. I'm waiting to see how my period is before calling the RE to see if we need to reevaluate our plan.

I'm feeling surprisingly okay with things. I think this is mostly due to all of the energy I've been putting into my creative pursuits. In fact, I've started another weblog to document the journey of soul expansion I've embarked on during the past few months.  I debated about whether or not to simply expand my writing topics here at babylust, but I decided that I the best thing for me, for now, is to start from a fresh place. I'll still be posting here, but, if you choose, you can get to know me in new ways here.

back to blogland

Atter being away from blogland for so long, composing a post feels quite daunting . Nevertheless, I'll give it my best. First, let me express my gratitude to all of you who have checked in on me to see how I have been doing and who have continued to look for posts when there have been none. I've missed all of you fellow bloggers very much, and, despite my absence, you have been in my thoughts and in my heart. I have a good deal to catch up on, and I hope that I will find that the Universe has been kind to you.

For me, the past few months have literally been a blur. Work has become increasingly overwhelming, and the stress of it has nearly pushed me to the brink of collapse on several occasions. For a while, the business and deadlines were a welcome distraction after the loss of Lucas, but lately, it has just become too much to manage. The past year has been exhausting.

I've also had another big thing brewing, to which I've been devoting much of my free time. I haven't blogged about it because, until now, I haven't been ready to shout it out on the world wide web. As you may remember, John and I have been taking an intentional break from our parenthood pursuit, and during that time, I started working with a life coach. The long and short of it is that I'll be leaving my job at the end of the year. I told my direct supervisor last week and the big boss this past Thursday, so it is now starting to feel more real. I'm hoping that the break will allow me to establish a strong foundation of self-care and that it will free up some energy for me to explore interests that have emerged over the past few years. I've wanted to do this for quite some time, and over the past year, John and I had planned for me to leave once the baby arrived. But, as you know, there is no baby (yet), so those plans kept getting put on the back burner. I would have been due to deliver Lucas just after the new year, so it feels empowering to be making this change at the end of the year, even without a baby on the way.

About a month ago, John and I met with my OB/GYN, who will be providing our prenatal care once we find ourselves pregnant again. She was fantastic, and I feel very confident about working with her. We discussed how often I would see her, first trimester screening recommendations, and the protocol for our next pregnancy attempt. She recommened sticking with the clomid and prometrium for our next try. I'm not certain when the RE will release me from his care during our next pregnancy, but she said I could come in right away to see her, and that I could come in as often as I needed to for reassurance. That felt really good to hear.

Right now, we're planning on trying again during my next cycle, which should start in the next couple of weeks. I'm going to call the RE to have the clomid ready, and we'll see what happens. It was a little strange to realize that, should we be successful with this attempt, I will probably be due within a few days of my EDD if I had not miscarried on Christmas eve last year. But it has been nearly 5 months since we lost Lucas, and I'm feeling strong enough and ready to try again.

I have much more to write about, but for now, I must go. I'll write more soon.

six things

I was tagged by Momma Bee and then by One Half, so here are the first six quirky things about me that popped into my head...

1. I often break into hysterical laughing fits just before bedtime. I’m convinced it’s some sort of stress relieving mechanism, but my husband thinks it’s just plain weird.

2. When my husband proposed to me, he gave me a gorgeous ring made of sterling silver and red sea glass, which was made by our friend Nancy, who designs and creates jewelry. The sea glass is from the Chesapeake Bay, whose waters we both grew up swimming in. It’s absolutely my favorite piece of jewelry.
3.   I started my period when I was in 4^th grade, just after my 10^th birthday. We hadn’t even had that chapter of family life education yet! It took me almost 10 years after that glorious event to use a tampon, when a friend locked me in the bathroom during senior beach week and told me I wasn’t coming out until I put the damn thing in.

4. I cannot stand the feeling of having fingernails that are shorter than the tips of my fingers.
5. For the first few years I wore contacts, my mom had to put them in for me. I just couldn’t bear the thought of sticking a plastic disk into my eye (cut me some slack—I was in middle school). Don’t worry; she doesn’t do it anymore—now I just wear glasses. And I am capable of putting those suckers in, if needed.
6. I have a rather large scar on my forehead that has thankfully grown faint over the years. There are conflicting stories about the origins of the scar, which is a result of an incident that occurred when I was three or four or five (hey, it was a long time ago). What I’ve always remembered is that my brother and I were playing hide-n-seek and that I chased him up the stairs to the second floor of our house. Thinking that he had already gone back downstairs, I was standing at the top of the stairs when my brother pushed me down. Head hitting floor = scar. My brother remembers the incident differently. His version is that we were indeed playing hide-n-seek, but that I, being the little klutz (and now the adult klutz) that I am, ran myself straight into the corner of a doorway and knocked myself out. I’m sure that Mom could clear this up for us straight away, but it’s much more fun to believe the version in my head. I mean, this wouldn’t be the only time my brother tried to get rid of me when we were growing up. It’s hard to believe that now we’re actually friends.

The next step is to tag six others, so here goes...

Agness

MoMo

Jennifer

Watson 

Vivien

and lastly, my husband, John.

the oracle speaks

I was cruising the blogs of women I’m rooting for, when I found the link to the Gaian Oracle on Calliope’s site. The site advises you to “Breathe deeply, focus on a question, set your intention . . . and when you are ready, click on a card below.” Any guesses on what my intention might be?

The Oracle gives you three readings on the “opportunity,” the “challenge,” and the “resolution.” Here’s my reading for my opportunity, which revealed the "gardener" card...

It is a time of great fertile and abundant opportunities for you. You are pregnant with new creations—an art form, a book, a project, even a baby...

Really?

I know it’s absurd to think that this computer program may actually have any idea of what is going on in my uterus, but it’s a nice thought.

37 things

I've been inspired by the recent disclosures of fellow bloggers (Ornery, Kath, and Stephanie, as well as Momma Bee's Thursday Thirteen), so I thought I'd share a little about myself...

1. My Myers-Briggs profile is INFJ.

2. I work in state government, coordinating a statewide grant program that provides services to survivors of domestic and sexual violence and stalking.

3. Generally, I sleep wearing at least 4 pairs of socks. And a stocking cap.

4. I like my routine.

5. I am learning how to sew using a machine.

6. I knit, but I like to keep it simple.

7. I recently started making jewelry.

8.   My husband is 10 years older than me.

9.   I am a graduate of online dating.

10.  When I got married, I dropped my last name completely. I took my mother’s maiden name as   my middle name and my husband’s last name.

11.   Much to my mother’s dismay, I have two tattoos. I also had my nose pierced in college.

12.   The two bands I’m currently obsessed with are bright eyes and the Shout Out Louds.

13.   I need to eat pretty much every two hours or so. If I don’t, I get weak and lightheaded, and very, very grumpy.

14.  When I took the World's Smallest Political Quiz, I scored 100% liberal on social issues and darn close to the libertarian line on economic issues.

15.  I’m strongly opposed to the death penalty.

16.   I absolutely adore flowers—my favorite is the ranunculus, but the peony comes in a close second.

17.   I have asthma.

18.   I worry way too much about what other people think about me.

19.   I always worry that I’m not smart enough.

20.   I was born on the Ides of March, making me a very typical Pisces.

21.   I have a difficult relationship with my father.

22.   My mother is my hero.

23.   Some of my favorite things to do are to work in and enjoy our yard and garden.

24.   My favorite magazines are The Sun, Bitch, and Orion.

25.   My favorite novels from the past year are Kafka on the Shore, The Time Traveler’s Wife, and the His Dark Materials Trilogy.

26.   I try to eat organically is much as possible.

27.   As much as possible, I use all natural products, including cleaning supplies and personal care products.

28.   I’m really interested in holistic approaches to healing and wellness.

29.   I hope to go back to school to pursue a dual masters degree in social work and public health and work towards licensure as a therapist.

30.   The thing about my appearance that makes me the most self-conscious is my skin, which often looks like it belongs to a teenager rather than a woman approaching thirty.

31.   I’m a sudoku addict.

32.   I’m fascinated by dreams and figuring out what my subconscious is trying to tell me.

33.   My hair is actually much shorter than it appears in my photo—I just haven’t had any pictures taken recently.

34.   In college, I majored in Women’s Studies and Sociology.

35.   Having 3 miscarriages has helped me to find strength and confidence in myself that I have never had before.

36.   I am endlessly grateful for the friendships and support I have found through this online community of amazing, strong, and courageous women.

37.   For no particular reason, 37 is my favorite number.

sweet (and sour) Simon

It's amazing how quickly a weekend can go by. Part of me is glad that it went so fast, because it means that tonight is that last night John will be away. I had been looking forward to some quiet, reflective time, and I did get some, just not as much as I had planned. I spent much of the weekend doing the regular things that need to be done to keep life moving along: going to the market, doing the wash, vacuuming up the hairballs. Today, I mowed the back yard and finished expanding our herb bed. I even gave the kitty room a thorough cleaning, emptying the litter boxes and giving the floor a good scrub. This is a necessity in any cat owner's house, but especially in a house where one of the feline residents feels that the entire laundry room floor is his toilet. Wouldn't you know it, almost on cue, I hear Simon scratching, pretending to cover up the mess he just made on my sparkling clean floor.

I feel that I must provide a little bit of context to explain why this behavior hasn't gotten the cat booted. And before I begin, I will add that we have two cats, both of which moved in with me when John and I merged households. John was never really a cat person. He's actually allergic.

Anyhow, here we go...Simon, the floor-pooping (and sometimes floor-peeing) cat, had a very rough beginning. I rescued him from a troubled household at a very young age (this is another story altogether). I was in college, and home on summer break, so I brought him home to my mom's house. I had gone to the bathroom when I heard the loudest kitten cry. I came out to find little 4-week-old Simon on the floor, in shock, blood pouring out of his nose. Apparently, Simon had gotten too close to the family dog's water bowl, and the dog showed Simon who was boss. I feel awful, awful, awful telling this story. I know I should have been more careful, but I really had no idea that anything like this would happen.

It was a Sunday afternoon, so I drove Simon 30 minutes into the city to the closest emergency vet. The vet took a look at him and said that he had suffered massive head trauma and had fractured his skull, and that they didn't think there was much they could do. Amazingly enough, he made it through the night. For the next couple of nights, I carted him back and forth from the emergency vet at night to the regular vet during the day. Thankfully, one of the staff at the regular vet took a liking to little Simon and offered to take him home with her at night so she could monitor him and check on his IV. Within two weeks, he was ready to be back in my care. I fed him with a bottle, taught him how to walk in a straight line, and helped him use the bathroom (I'll spare you the details). He still walks with a swagger, but over all, he's doing pretty well for a cat who suffered severe head trauma at 4 weeks.

Things were good for Simon until it was time to get his annual vaccinations when he was one. Everything seemed fine, until I looked in the rear view mirror and noticed that he was panting and had some white foam around his mouth. I was almost home, so when I pulled in the driveway, I took him out of his cage, thinking that he might have been overheating in the car. He started vomiting blood, so back to the vet we went. It was a Saturday morning, near noon when the vet closes. They gave him a shot to stop the vomiting and told me to take him home. Later that afternoon, he began vomiting blood again, so we headed back to the emergency vet. He was having a severe allergic reaction to the vaccines (although I'm still not sure which one). Again, they told me that there was a good chance that he wouldn't make it. Thankfully, he pulled through.

I hope you can understand my attachment to this cat. We have a little history.

Despite my deep love and devotion to Simon, the floor pooping and peeing really gets to me, and you can only imagine how John feels. We've tried everything I can think of: different litter, different litter boxes, more litter boxes... I really think he's trying to tell us something. We just can't figure out what.

Simon's habits of have been a bit of a sore spot between John and I. I relinquished my litter-box (and floor cleaning) duties last summer when we decided to get pregnant. We figured he would stick with it until I had the baby (which would have been the middle of June). Needless to say, John has been stuck with cat duty for almost a year, and there's no end in sight. It's really frustrating for both of us (but certainly more so for him).

So, this weekend, I realized that this week I'll be starting some heavy-duty antibiotics, which I figured would kill off any kitty bacteria I might encounter while doing cat-duty. With John gone, the litter boxes hadn't been cleaned really well, so I decided to just give the whole room a good scrub. Hopefully, I won't be doing that again for 10 months or so.

I had logged on to write about the little ceremony I did yesterday morning, but now I realize I've written a short story about my cat and probably bored you all half to death. Besides that, I'm pooped, and I'm calling it a night.

Tomorrow morning, I'll call the RE and hopefully have more information about my anticardiolipin levels, clomid, and all that jazz. Until then...

anonymous acts of kindness

At times, I am completely bowled over by the sheer kindness in people's hearts. Yesterday, I entered my office after a meeting, and I was met by the sweetest little flower arrangement. I searched all over my desk for a note, for anything to indicate who left this little bouquet of happiness; I found nothing. There are angels among us. Thank you, thank you, whoever you are, for gracing me with some much-needed sunshine.

And many thanks to all of you lovelies who are reading my story, leaving me encouraging words, normalizing the insanity I feel I'm living in, catching my tears. How could we get through this alone?

pardon me, please

Today I’m feeling downright ornery. So far, I haven’t had a whole lot of outright anger or general pissiness while living the life of a miscarrying woman. Until today. I even considered running over a stubborn pigeon in the parking deck this morning. I didn’t actually do it. But the thought did cross my mind. Poor pigeon. Apparently my grief is not only making me cheerless and angry; it’s also making me a bit irrational.

Last week, I wrote about the general feeling of sadness that settled around me, just when I felt like I was getting back into the swing of things. Again, there’s nothing in particular that happened to trigger my foul mood, it just seemed to sweep down out of nowhere and grab hold of me. Whatever the reason, I now feel stuck.

I’ll take this opportunity to apologize to anyone who may cross my path today. I’m really a nice person. Really.

Here are some of the thoughts that have been racing through my brain:

I feel consumed with my grief and with figuring out where we go from here. I feel angry that I have to go to work, when I feel compelled to spend all of my time processing my grief, reading, researching, commiserating. I feel frustrated that virtually all I think about is pregnancy--getting pregnant, staying pregnant, miscarrying.

I feel paralyzed. I want to make some big changes in my life, and I feel like where I go from here depends on what may happen (or not) with getting and staying pregnant in the near future. I’m trying to make decisions based on something that has proven to be completely unpredictable and uncontrollable. What is one to do?

I feel guilty for not returning phone calls, for not wanting to participate in social engagements, for feeling so darn tired. I mean after all, life is hard. Not just mine—everyone goes through really hard times. But most people keep going. Why can’t I be one of those people who always have the energy for others, no matter what space they are in? I want to give back to everyone around me who has been loving, supportive, and compassionate. I think I’m starting to wonder why I can’t just get over it already.