Monday, June 29, 2009

Cycle Day 1

those words have never sounded so sweet...

AF has finally showed up, and although I am very uncomfortable, I am so relieved. I can't remember ever having a period like this. Heating pads are my friend.

In other news, my peace with God was short-lived. My grandfather had a heart attack Saturday night. He had surgery today. When it rains, it friggen pours.

I don't know how much more I can handle. I find myself wondering what the fuck I did to deserve all of this shit. I am seeing the shrink this afternoon, I bet she will have a field day with this shit...

Friday, June 26, 2009

A death, a birth, and a few scorpion bowls

I went to church yesterday for the first time since the miscarriage. My great-aunt died and my family and I went to the funeral. I didn't forsee this being one of the things that sparks an all-out breakdown. Alas, it did. Here I was sitting in church, sandwiched between my dad and brother when it was time for communion. For anyone who hasn't gathered it from my previous blog posts, I just haven't been that happy with God lately. After receiving communion I knelt and prayed. I prayed for Aunt Rita's soul, I prayed for my Uncle Jack, I prayed for her children, grandchildren, and anyone else who is greiving. And then I realized that I never prayed for my baby. I never prayed for Baby Rootbeer's little soul. I started to cry a little but managed to hold it together until the service was over. When everyone had finally filed out of the church, I snuck off to light a candle and pray just for my little Rootbeer. I cried harder than I have cried in a few weeks. I have been holding it all in and trying to be strong, and this was my moment to let it out and do what I should have done a long time ago. I made peace with God. I asked him to take care of my little one until I got there. I begged him to bless Mr. Rootbeer and I with children, if that is his plan for us.

After the funeral I headed over to the hospital to welcome the newest addition to our family. My littlest cousin, "Baby Izy" was born Wednesday night. I was nervous walking in. I didn't want to cry or look upset, and take anything away from her day. But when I walked in, I couldn't have been any happier. She is so tiny and precious. I sat there holding her for about an hour, talking to her proud parents about the birth. I kissed her little nose, rocked her, and told her how much I loved her and how happy I was to finally meet her. I knew my entire family was watching me and exchanging nervous looks, and secretly gauging my reaction.

After the hospital I went home to let the doggies out and take a nap. I slept for about a half hour, and then the fun began. My friends and I try to get together once a week for dinner, it usually works out to twice a month due to scheduling conflicts and such. Last night four of us went out to a Japanese grill. The food was delicious, the scorpion bowls were strong, and the conversation was highly inappropriate. After we had had our fill we couldn't bear to leave each other yet, so we continued the festivities at a favorite local hangout. 4 beers, 4 cigars, and 4 drunk girls later...we finally left. I stumbled home and Mr. Rootbeer took advantage of me :) It was a fantastic night.

Tuesday, June 23, 2009

I'll Have You Know...

that I still have those damn pregnancy pimples on my chest, even though I have been officially un-pregnant for almost 5 weeks now

that I ate an entire 1/2 gallon of pinstripe brownie ice cream on Sunday night

that I have a blister on my heel from the stupid shoes I stupidly decided to wear yesterday and today

that Mr. Rootbeer made dinner for the first time ever last night

that I have about 13 loads of dirty clothes lying all over my house

that I have zero inclination to wash any of those clothes in the near future

that I would get another puppy in a second if only Mr. Rootbeer weren't so mean/sensible

Monday, June 22, 2009

CD 32

Today marks cycle day 32. This is the longest cycle I think I have ever had. I can only compare the anxiety I am feeling about getting my period to the way I felt when I got my first period. It is unknown. When will it come?

Your guess is as good as mine.

Tuesday, June 16, 2009


I did not cry once today. This is BIG. I have cried at least once a day since losing Baby Rootbeer. Granted, there are still 3.75 hours left in the day, however, I think I can make it. I am healing and finally getting back into a "normal" routine.

I went to see a shrink yesterday. I call her that because I don't know what else to call her. I went because my parents wanted me too. I am not one to do things because others want me to, but I secretly thought it was a decent idea. She was very nice, she asked me a lot of questions, and she said some things that make a ton of sense. I am going back next week. I think she can help me get to a place mentally where I am ready to try to get pregnant again.

I have learned that everyone deals with pregnancy loss differently. Some can't wait to try again, and some need to take time before they can even fathom the idea of being pregnant again. I fall somewhere in the middle of the two. Of course I want to get pregnant again. I yearn to be a momma more than I ever thought possible. But at the same time, I am scared. Scared of pregnancy, scared of ultrasounds, but most of all scared of losing another one. Many women go on to have success after a miscarriage, and many miscarry again. I need to be prepared for whatever hand life is going to deal me next. It is entirely possible that my feelings on this will change as soon as my period shows up. That's when we officially have the green light from the Dr. But for now, I am concentrating on making myself as strong as possible. Physically and emotionally. I am concentrating on making my marriage as strong as possible. And I am enjoying as much of life as possible.

Life can be so funny. It can be so good but yet so bad at the very same moment. As hard as that can be sometimes, it is also amazing. Because in our darkest hours, there is still something positive to focus on, even if we cannot see it at the moment. I have an incredible husband, who adores me.

Thursday, June 11, 2009

Just Those Few Weeks

This poem was posted by a fellow nestie. I thought it was perfect and could bring some comfort to someone.

Just Those Few Weeks

For those few weeks-
I had you to myself.
And that seems too short of time
To be changed so profoundly.

In those few weeks-
I came to know you...
And to love you.
You came to trust me with your life.
Oh, what a life I had planned for you!

Just those few weeks-
When I lost you,
I lost a lifetime of hopes,
plans, dreams, and aspirations...
A slice of my future simply vanished overnight

Just those few weeks-
It wasn't enough time to convince others
How special and important you were.
How odd, a truly unique person has recently died
And no one is mourning the passing.

Just a mere few weeks-
And no "normal" person would cry all night
Over a tiny, unfinished baby,
Or get depressed and withdraw day after endless day.
No one would, so why am I?

You were just those few weeks my little one
You darted in and out of my life too quickly.
But it seems that's all the time you needed
To make my life so much richer-
And give me a small glimpse of eternity

By Susan Erlin

Wednesday, June 10, 2009


My Dad hired me a personal trainer. This is fantastic and friggen horrible at the same time.

It is fantastic because I am dropping weight like pigeons drop shit. It is horrible because I have to get up at 4:00 am every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday so I can get my ass kicked.

I wish I would just get my period already, so Mr. Rootbeer and I can get back into the baby making business. The anxiety of not knowing when it will show is driving me insane.

I feel pretty good lately. I know the excercise is helping. It feels good to lose weight. My clothes fit better, my face looks slimmer. I feel amazing. It also helps me focus on something else besides getting pregnant again. I need another goal. Becoming a mommy has been my goal for the past 8 months, and now that I have been forced to move that to the back burner, I need something new to focus on.

I went to my parents house last night to jump in the hot tub, since I could barely walk due to the 36 flights of stairs I ran up and down on Monday morning. While I was there my mom gave me a pile of mail that had come to their house for me. Inside the pile sat a ticking time bomb. I know she knew it was in there, because she had gotten one too. An invitation to my cousins' baby shower. I opened the envelope and rolled my eyes when I saw the cute little stork on the front of the card. I winced when the registry card for Babies R Us fell into my hand.

I am so happy for my cousin, she has been trying to concieve this little one for over 4 years. I was so elated when I first found out she had finally gotten pregnant. And now I am just an asshole. My joy for her is gone. I am dreading the day of the shower. I will die if they make me play those stupid baby shower games. I know I will struggle watching her open gifts. I know my time will come and GOD willing, I will have my baby. But, I want that baby. I want that baby more than anyone will ever understand. I want back all the bloating, all the nausea, the puking. I want it all back, because it meant I was pregnant and it was nothing compared to the pain I am feeling right now.

Alas, I am going to go. I have to. I will have my mom go shopping for the gift. I will hide in the bathroom while she opens them and everybody ooohhhs and ahhhhs. And I will sit outside and smoke an entire pack of cigarettes while my aunts and cousins play "Guess Mom's Belly Size."

This miscarriage has made me so bitter. Which in turn makes me sad. I want to be happy for my cousin, I want to play the games, and gawk at the onesies and crib bedding. I know that deep inside I am happy for her, it's just that my coping skills are currently a work-in-progress.

Ohhh, I almost forgot, I went to a Dave Matthews Band show on Saturday night and some pretty amazing shit happened...more to come later. It deserves its own post. A post with not one single mention of babies.

Wednesday, June 3, 2009

finding the peace within...

I think I am finally starting to really deal with the miscarriage. The D&C was exactly two weeks ago today. I am actually processing everything that has happened and is still happening. Things were blurry at first. Maybe I was in shock. I think I was so overwhelmed with greif and anger that I was unable to feel anything else. I also don't think the xanax was doing me any good besides helping me fall asleep. So I stopped taking it a week ago today. I was thriving on the low it made me feel. I could sit and stare at nothing and speak to noone for hours and not care. I didn't want to leave my house. I didn't want to take calls or visitors. That is not me. I am friendly and outgoing. I am vibrant and fun. And I refuse to allow this unfortunate happening to change me completely as a person.

I had a sickening moment last Friday, which made me realize that I needed a break from the xanax. I was watching TV with Mr. Rootbeer when a commercial came on for some new show on MTV about pregnant teenagers. Girls who get pregnant by accident in the back of a Civic. My knee jerk reaction took over me. I flipped the double bird at the TV and I yelled out "Fucking Whores." And then it hit me. I AM one of those babies. My parents were 18 when they got pregnant with me, and I have always thought my mother so brave for not taking the easy way out and stepping up to her responsibilities. My father as well I should add.

I immediately started to cry hysterically. I was hyperventilating. At that moment I realized what I had allowed to happen. I allowed myself to be changed by the miscarriage. It hurt so bad to realize what I had become. I would have NEVER reacted like that before. Those girls are brave women. They are taking responsibility and accountability for their own actions and their decisions, and I truly commend them for that. It is not their fault that my baby died. It doesn't work like that.

Tuesday, June 2, 2009

I am so sick of everyone looking at me and treating me differently, so I have just been pretending nothing happened. I go about my daily routine, I smile fake smiles, and everyone is happy. And it really is much better than wallowing around in my misery all day, it feels pretty good actually. I feel like things are going back to normal, as normal as things can be right now. I also stopped taking the Xanax. I think it is making me worse and it is making the grief last longer than it has to.

I realize that I will always be sad on some level about losing this baby. But, I am ready for the gut-wrenching grief to go away. For the moments that I find myself curled up in a ball, crying on my floor to become less and less common. I am ready to heal. I want to find peace within this unfortunate situation so badly. And I think getting back into a routine is the way to get there. I really do. The problem comes when we go to bed. I still CANNOT sleep without the Xanax.

Here's how last night went down...

10:30 pm...Mr. Rootbeer falls asleep on the couch

11:30 pm...I wake him up, drag his ass upstairs into bed, and crawl under the covers

11:32 pm...Mr. Rootbeer is OUT COLD snoring and sprawled out, I am watching the tonight show

12:00 am...I turn off the TV and attempt to fall asleep

1:00 am...I am still not really sleeping, I am drifting in and out of conciousness, tons of thoughts going through my head.

sometime around 1:30 am...I finally fall asleep

4:00 am...I am up again

I am not used to this. I LOVE to sleep. I used to come home from work, take a nap, and then go to bed at 9pm. This sucks. I am a zombie today. This isn't good for anyone. Tonight I may try taking 1/2 of a Xanax before bedtime.