Poop.

I was supposed to start calorie counting again today, but after working for ten hours, rushing the the post office right before it closed, and coming home to find out that my email had been freaking hacked...yeah, I needed some caloric therapy. The email hacking thing was the cherry on top of the poop sundae. Not only did it hack and send to my contacts, but it sent to literally every person I've ever emailed. That includes publishers (some of whom are still considering my work...probably not after being hacked. eff.), coworkers, ex-bosses, and people I don't even remember.

Even though I experienced a caloric swan dive later on in the night, at least I was good during the day despite temptations of various sorts. I ate veggies without dip at the staff meeting and drank diet soda rather than regular. I'd like to cut soda altogether, but I'm not there yet. I need to get my body back on track though, and as soon as possible. While I really don't think we'll get pregnant right away, we are technically trying now. I'm back up to how much I weighed in August of 2010 (which was like 40lbs above where I was in the spring of 2011). I'm not going to regret getting pregnant right away if I happen to be so lucky, but I do think it's important to attempt to get my body back under control while we start trying. The healthier I am, the easier the pregnancy will be when it eventually happens. And aside from that...my pants are way too tight...and these are my fat pants.

Two Things

Two things happened this evening...

First, I got really excited about the prospect of beginning the trying to conceive journey. I don't know why it just hit me all at once tonight, but I was sitting on the couch and thinking about buying pregnancy tests for the next cycle and I was all of a sudden overcome with a wave of euphoria. I get to become a mommy all over again. That prospect is scary, but it's also really really exciting. I'm filled with hope about the second time around, but mostly I'm just excited that I'm able to depart once again. This is the only time I've ever been happy to see my period.

Secondly, I reached my fill of cute freaking babies on facebook. Facebook becomes an uncomfortable place in your mid to late twenties I think. All of a sudden everyone is posting wedding photos, changing their statuses, posting pregnant belly photos, posting cute videos of their kid's first steps. And if you aren't where you want to be (in any respect), that can get to be a little much from time to time. My cousin is teaching her baby the word "yes" and there's a video. Yippy. My high school friends' kids all look super cute in knit caps. Awesome. I sound bitter, and I guess I am. The trick is to not be jealous, and to just close facebook for a little while and do something else. In time, I'll be one of those annoying people, too. I personally can't wait. But for now I just have to focus on me.

In other news, I'm still meat free and I haven't smoked in five days (which is great considering my post-loss relapse). I'm hoping that some warm weather tomorrow will give me some walking opportunities, but I got in 1.9 miles of walking downtown today. It felt good to get moving again; I've let this wallow in your own self pity crap go on for way too long.

Flashbacks

Don't get me wrong; I'm totally ecstatic that I'm cycling once again and ready to get back up on the old horse, but now I know why some women say it's hard to have their first period post miscarriage. Every time I...well...wipe...it's like a flashback to that bathroom in Vegas all over again. I remember waking up in the middle of the night and seeing that bright red color, the sheer volume of blood, and knowing right then and there that it was over. Overall, my period is certainly a good thing. But it's gonna take a while to not associate blood with loss in my brain.

In good news, this vegetarian thing is working out really really well. I had morningstar chicken nuggets for dinner tonight, and they were totally edible. Earlier in the week I had nachos with morningstar fake ground beef. This was also totally fine to eat and cured my craving. It's been making me feel good that no creatures had to die to feed my fat butt, and I think I have the capacity to become really pretentious and condescending about this...but I'll attempt to stay accepting. lol.

Lastly, it's time to get back to my other blog as well. I've been neglecting it lately. Check it out here.

Sappy Sucker

It might not look it, what with my black wardrobe and emo glasses, but I am a sucker for a good heartwarming tale. That dolphin's tale movie? Yeah, I almost went to go see that by myself...on a weekend...night. I'm lame like that. One of my favorite chilling at home movies is Eight Below, so maybe it's just really a heartwarming animal thing I have. Whatever.

Last night my husband took me to go see Big Miracle at the local movie theater (after our vegetarian dinner!). You know, that's the movie with Drew Barrymore and that dude from The Office where they save the whales trapped underneath the Alaskan ice. Long story short, it was everything you thought it would be, pretty mediocre but also good for a few tears. That's all I was looking for.

But...and tread no further if you don't want SPOILERS...the movie was just not the type of movie that one should watch five weeks after a miscarriage. Why, you may ask? Because of the three whales--the mama, papa & baby--it's the baby who doesn't make it. And not only does the baby not make it and the adults do, but it's like every bit of dialogue surrounding the death of the baby whale could have been applied to the loss of our baby. Of course, I can't remember any of the lines now, but there was all this stuff about how the parents stayed with him as long as they could. How he wasn't strong enough or healthy enough to make it, but they tried to help him any way. Needless to say, I was bawling. Thankfully it was an empty theater so no one was like "what's with that crazy lady?"...except maybe my husband. lol.

In the end though, despite the freaky similarities to my life situation, it was a nice movie. In fact, the final shots are of both the parent whales swimming out to sea together. Since I (tmi) just got my first post-miscarriage period yesterday and that signals the start of the next step in the journey, it was nice to think of my husband and myself as swimming out to sea and freedom together. We stayed with our baby as long as we could, but in the end we know she couldn't come with us and we're still swimming towards a better tomorrow.

A Note to Moms

At the risk of offending some of my friends who have said this to me in the past, there is one statement that mothers should really refrain from saying to childless women who aren't that way entirely by their own choice.

A number of times in my life I've had the mothers of children I'm pretty close with say in a mock baby voice (you know, where they attempt to mime what the baby's thinking?)..."Who's this person? I don't know them!" or "I don't know you!"

Look, it's meant to be cute and maybe it's true. Doesn't really matter. Mothers should know that, to their childless friends who wish they weren't childless, their children are thought of as honorary god children, neices, and nephews. When you act as though your child doesn't know us from the mailman, even when we've been around them like twenty times, it makes us feel so marginalized. You hear a cute statement highlighting your baby's lack of a memory...WE hear "ha ha ha ha. you don't have a baby and I do."

Don't know if that makes any sense, but I just thought I'd make a PSA. Moms...don't say this to your friends. It's never meant maliciously, but it makes us feel so unimportant and lacking maternal touch. Might be silly, but that's just how it feels.

Feverish

Being sick makes me super vulnerable and emotional.

I caught a bug from my students (one of those feverish throat/sinus things) and slept for 14 hours last night. At the request of my boss, I went to the doctor today for a strep test (which I'm pretty sure will be negative).

Going to the doctor again was rough. My primary care physician's office is in the same building as one of my ob/gyn's offices, and I hadn't been in that building since the miscarriage. As I pulled into the parking lot, I started getting all choked up and upset. Being sick made me super emotional and vulnerable to the pain of the memory, and the thought that I'd have to inform my primary care physician of the loss didn't make things any easier.

When I told him, he looked at me like some kind of wounded animal. He calmly said, "Are you okay?", but answering yes was so difficult. I didn't want to cry in front of the guy, so I choked back tears and said yes, but I'm sure he now thinks I'm an emotional basket case...which I'm not. It just wasn't the kind of thing I wanted to talk about when I was all sick and fragile. Ugh. Sucks.

I need my period. I want my period. I feel so useless and lost at times. I'm a person who loves to have control, and right now I feel like I've lost all ability to control my situation and my body. I know I never really had control in the first place; a miscarriage reminds you of that pretty clearly, but I'd like at least the illusion of control. And I hate being sick. I'd like to feel healthy and happy and productive again. I guess it's just one of those days.

What Women of Loss Want

I once saw this list of fifteen or so things that women who have experienced a loss want other people to know. Many of the things on the list were very true for me, but some didn't really apply, so it doesn't make much sense to share the list. But there was one thing on the list that is very very true. It went a little something like this...

I want you to know that I'm going to mention my loss...like not infrequently. And when I do, I don't want you to get all quiet or uncomfortable, and it doesn't need to be this moment where everyone looks at me like I'm broken. I had a miscarriage. We lost our baby. It happens. We're sad about it, but we're all going to be okay. At the end of the day, it's another moment in my life and to never talk about or reference it is to pretend like it's something shameful...which it isn't. So when I bring it up, it's okay to treat it like you would anything else I say. And it's okay for you to bring it up. You're part of my life and you went through it, too. We can talk about it. We need to talk about it. Sometimes we might even need to joke about it. I don't want to brush it under the rug.