worry wart

I've gained some extra weight thanks to a bad habit...no, not the bags of fun size chocolate that has me addicted. But the juice I consume when I think the baby is not moving enough. I've always stayed away from fruit juices except for in moderation since just a few glasses can add a whopping 1000 calories a day. I can't help that I am paranoid about movement. Rafa and I listen to the baby's hb every night with the doppler. Still, I get paranoid about the kicking. I expect this child to kick my ass all the way until he comes out screaming. I cannot escape my fears of the sudden absence of life within me. Everyday I work on staying strong and not driving myself crazy...I just want to make it to the finish line this time without the earth shattering disappointment of a loss.

the girl in the plastic bubble

It's a new day, a time for change and refresh the mood of this blog for a bit. After the big fat positive it is time to move on to the beat of a new drum. I miss my daughter every day, I will always wonder what she would be like at this stage of her life, what she would look like and what happened to her. As difficult as this new unknown road may seem, I must accept with blind faith that all will prevail and everything will go exactly as planned.
Once again I have given up martinis, hot tubs, swimming in the ocean, sushi, rollercoasters, and all the potentially harmful stuff I did last time. It seems like worthwhile sacrifices if it is going to result in a happy healthy baby. Yes I did feel cheated last time. I did everything I could and made it to the finish line only to lose so badly.
Other people are happy for us, yet some are fearful. Obviously, I can't live my life in a bubble but sometimes I wish I could. I could save my baby from all the chemicals, additives, sickness, swine flu, etc.
All I could do is make the best choices possible and believe in my spiritual nature.

BFP

On Aug 17, my period was nearly 2 wks late so I took a pregnancy test. The night before I knew I was going to test the following day I couldn't sleep at all. My mind kept wandering to the single Target brand box under the bathroom sink. I could only imagine what the outcome. In some ways I was expecting the inevitable outcome. That morning as soon I awoke I quickly tore open the target box and retreived the test. My need to pee was so urgent I nearly peed all over my hand and in the process of meticulously aiming my stream on the absorbent tip, a speck of urine splashed in the air targeting poor franghino. It is usual for him to stalk me the moment I get out of bed in hopes that I will let him outside.

There it was- a slightly faded blue cross. Well that explained my relentless exhaustion, sore growing boobs, and missing Aunt Flo. 

After countless hours of research on the internet and dead ended calls to Dr.s. I've had to deal with insurance issues.  the current political debate over health care reform could not be happening at a more ironic time for me.   Even if I had maternity coverage, they will be punishing me for losing the last baby. But i suppose if I smoked crack and didn't work I would have full coverage.
I really don't know what to think, it seems like no matter what they do there is still the issue of huge costs of pharmaceuticals and profits of hospital administrations. No matter how you slice it, the middle class is getting screwed royally...especially those of us who are self employed and have to shell out money for insurance that costs 3x as much.
By the time DH got home I broke the news and he melted with a sweet smile and a hug. He said he has been needing this to happen to renew his faith. Losing Julia has been a terrible assault on our believe system. The BFP is a new hope that we will be parents. A hope that we fear to rise too high, but it is some kind of miracle that we were not expecting, and that is sometimes the best kind of surprise.

could it be?

I'm freaked out. Some part of me is amused, shocked, and freaked out. Could it be? I'm about a week late and not sure what is going on. I've had some possible signals and I wonder if they were valid. Not only the usual sore breasts, train-wreck tiredness, and occasional nausea but also back pain and sudden anxiety.

I am dealing with so many mixed emotions at the thought of being pregnant again. I know how hard it is going to be to focus on keeping my mind and body as healthy as possible. Not that I didn't do all I could last time, I think there were times when I was ignorant. I've spend countless hours rehashing the last weeks of my pregnancy. Was it the time I went swimming in the ocean, ate sushi or did too much cleaning in my nesting frenzy? I've spend the last two years pondering these kind of wonders and have tried so hard to not let them drive me crazy.
My husband has been wonderful in giving me the time I have needed to recover. He has been ready to try again for sometime. We've gone through this rollercoaster of emotions for sometime now and it has been at times very difficult. Even in moments when he would feel angry or let down by Spirit, he has always maintained the strength to be supportive and encourage me that we must not let this loss defeat us from trying to have another baby. Without a partner like him, I don't know where I would be today. While tempting the idea to try again, there really has been no definitive plan. After the loss, there is a new normal. For me, there is no planning, it's whatever happens by chance will be.

Whatever plan the great Spirit in the sky has chosen for me I will accept with grace. I know that I can only manifest a positive outcome by being positive. As difficult as it may be to understand, I believe our destiny is predetermined, yet we have the power to attract miracles.

1.8mos

After 1 yr 8mos people will think you should be "over" it. The most important key to coping is to allow yourself to deal with in your own way. Provided that you are not in any way harming yourself! Some beating up on yourself is expected, but it is a victimized way of looking at things.
Today I had to finally come to terms with obtaining my medical records from the hospital and the doctor. While time dragged on forever in the beginning of the end....it all seemed like an oxymoron now. The end of Julia's life was the beginning of my suffering. Not knowing why she died is even more of a grief sentence. There is no closure, no fact of the matter.

young & restless

Restless. That's what you become after any pregnancy. Whether or not my child is with me, I still awake in the night to think about her. For some reason I take comfort in waking during the morning hours. I can think, no one can call me for work, and cry if I want to. Usually I read, ocassionally blog. It's a quiet time, the earth is sleeping.
It is those times that I am able to look into myself. Although always self evaluating, and often with judgement, I think about how I have been dealing with the loss of my pregnancy.

Most people would say that I appear to be doing well. I have sold my self confidence to others many times. But then I wonder, how honest have I been? I've done my best to keep busy even though there is not a day or hour when I don't think about my child. Losing her was to really lose aprt of myself. Not my mind, but a sense of innocence of myself. Author Elizabeth Mccracken said it best in her book, " An exact replica of a figment of my imagination" (she tells her own heartbreaking story of her stillborn baby boy affectionately called Pudding) how earth shattering it is to lose this kind of innocence. It is a numbing process.

The damage that this underlying hurt of grief does activates itself when we are stressed. I cannot handle stress the way I used to. The little things in life no longer matter, and the people who worry over trivial, material things suddenly become an annoyance. Even more annoying, are the ones who assume you've lost your marbles right along with the baby. The only way to deal with this to keep walking, rest when tired but do stop to appreciate the roses. The things in life that really matter.

The crap lottery

n the past year since I have overcome my loss there have been good days and bad days. I had to learn to take one day at a time to maintain my sanity. I've had to overlook thoughtless comments from people, consider their inconsideration, and accept many physical changes in my body that are permanent.
Without thinking about it, I've come to realize that the 30th is the most difficult day of the month. I have nightmares, weird pains as if I'm experiencing labor all over again and not to mention sadness. When I feel like I no longer bear the sadness, I realize the suffering in other people. While I've always been empathetic- I can feel others pain at times, my work gives the opportunity to meet many courageous people. People who have endured suffering like we cannot imagine.

Some have been born with disabling conditions, some have been victims of crimes, tragedies and survivors of deadly accidents. One I know was run over by an old woman and was pronounced dead on the scene. After several brain surgeries, breaking nearly every bone in his body, he learned how to walk again after years. Today he is promoting his own juice tonics at whole foods. He is a positive person and doesn't seem to express anger or resentment- he has forgiven and let go of negative emotions. He is grateful to be alive- and as a result of his gratituity to spirit (or whatever you want to believe in) he is successful.

The same goes for a screenwriter who left a positive impression on me about my writing. Many of this guy's movies that we all have seen (but I cannot name due to confidentiality). He expressed a lot of pain he experienced in his life from a terminal illness at a young age- and then lost the love of his life in a car accident- all this suffering he poured into his movies. Those movies are stories that reach out to others that really came from someone's heart.
I can go on and on with examples. In the midst of a fucked up world, miracles are all around us. We just need to see them in the smallest things. Thank some higher power that put us here in the first place for our food, our air, our shelter. That gratitude will continue on to another kind of blessing. To take it all for granted is to win the crap lottery.