Stress Ball - Being One, not Having One

Do you ever go through times where everything going on is stressful? I feel like our life is stress glued together by stress. Boy has been looking for a new position for months now, and nothing is working out. He keeps interviewing at churches, having them tell him they really like him, he's their best candidate, etc, but - they can't hire him, because they don't have peace about it. How many lines of work can use that as a valid reason for not hiring someone, eh? (insert half sarcastic laugh) Well, the rest of you non-ministry families, thank your lucky patooties, cause it's an incredibly frustrating place to be. In a way it's easier, since it doesn't reflect on personality or a lack of skills on his part, so it doesn't hit his self-esteem in the same way, but on the other side, it can also be harder, since there is nothing he can work on or improve in order to have a better chance at the next one.
This last "no" that came through was our last chance to have a job lined up for when his current one ends at the end of November. So, now we are facing the reality that he will unemployed, and we have no idea for how long, since there is nothing else on the horizon.
We are continuing to try for a baby, but it seems like poor timing right now with this situation. We have no idea when a new job will work out, when we will have to move, and I can't even begin to think about trying to find a care provider in the middle of a pregnancy. That freaks me out the most. Midwives here fill up quickly and if you don't call right away, there is a good chance you won't get in. Having a hospital birth might not be horrible if I could find a doctor who would work with me and all that I want for my next birth, but such people are difficult to find anywhere, and almost completely impossible in a health system that gives little or no room to choose your own doctor. Heck, it's hard enough to find a doctor - period, let's not even contemplate finding one who is natural minded.
Have I mentioned that we're potty training? Although, can you call it training when you aren't actually making any progress? At this point, it's more like poorly working ECing. We don't go through a day without at least one pair of wet pants in the laundry, and more likely two or three. Bug is gaining the control - he can hold it for quite a while when he tries, but he doesn't yet have the self-control to get to the toilet. If Mama and Daddy remember to get him there on a regular basis, we do ok, but that becomes useless when it gets to the pooing. Sometimes, I look at him and realize what is going on, but lately he's started refusing to let me take him to the bathroom, so he just poos in his underwear (or, you know, where ever he happens to be standing pants-less. Which was on my desk chair earlier. I'm typing away on Boy's computer and notice a smell. At first, I think, "Bad fart." Then I begin to realize it's not going away. Turn around, and there is my beloved Bug standing on my chair, straddling a puddle and poo while futzing around on my computer. Awesome. He's, like, completely oblivious to the fact that he just pooed. On my chair. Did I say that part yet?)  I know he's just not ready to full on train yet, and we've talked about going back to diapers, but I haven't been able to bring myself to do it. I wonder how long it will take him to finally learn if we keep up with what we're doing. I wonder if there is anything else I can do to help him get there faster.
Anyone want to trade lives for a little while?

On Keeping My Mouth Shut

How do you know when to say something? I keep running into mothers and hearing or seeing things that make me want to speak up. I mentioned, on an earlier post, one mom I know who was sure her baby was not getting any breast milk, because he cried every time she tried to nurse him, and pumping was producing next to nothing. I'm far from an expert, but I've read enough articles to know that there was a good chance that lack of milk wasn't her problem, but - her boy is now four and she stated she won't be having any more kids, so what would be the point of letting her know she may have been wrong? I didn't know her that well, and as mothers, nursing our babies usually ends up being a very sensitive subject.
A few days ago I met a mom with a cute little five month old. Somehow the subject came around to breastfeeding, and she shared that she had quit nursing at two weeks, because he had "sucked her dry." She continued explaining that she ended up with one breast producing extremely little and one producing gushes. I wanted to tell her that likely she had just been nursing too much on the full side, and needed to work on switching it around so that the emptier side knew that it needed to start producing more. A fairly simple fix, although it would take some patience. But, I didn't know this mom at all. It was too late for her to go back, so do I say something and make her feel bad that she "didn't try hard enough?" Or do I risk it, so that she might have more info for next time, if there was to be a next time?
This morning I went to a program at our local library. As it was breaking up, I watched a mom buckle her tiny daughter into a car seat. I noticed afterwards that the straps seemed loose, but it was hard to tell without actually checking them. I wanted to say something to her, but what? How do you tell a mom that her baby isn't properly buckled in without insinuating that she is being a careless mother? I really wish that I had figured out what to say, but once again I didn't know this mom at all. The group is new and I'm really hoping to make some friends there, and I'm sure I'm already singled out as the freak who comes in barefoot and breast-feeds her two year old. Plus, I'm always waay too nervous about offending or upsetting people. So, I chickened out. I've thought about it a lot today, and I still can't figure out how to approach something like that.
Occasionally, I will approach topics like this with friends, but even then I feel like it's a guessing game on how they will respond. There are these things that I think are so important, and a lot of the time people just don't have good information. I want to share what I have, but I don't want to damage relationships at the same time. Any topic involving how we mother has the potential to become completely unintentionally, hurtful. Ugh, how do we know when to share, how to share, and when to just be quiet?

My Uterus = None of Your Business

This will not be an unfamiliar rant to any woman, so why are women the most common offenders?

I don't get how, you, a little known acquaintance, feel the right to ask me questions about my uterus, or perhaps, my sex life. Oh, you say you did no such thing? Really. Well, let's go back a little. There we were sharing a little conversation, commenting on how cute my son is, typical small talk topics, and then, out of the blue, "No more kids yet?" Hmm, well since you don't see any more kids kicking around me, haven't noticed the presence of a tiny being attached to my hip, shoulder, or any other visible body part, I have to assume you are asking about my uterus. Any kids in there? Essentially, you are asking, "Are you pregnant?" But some sort of common sense tells you that that is not an appropriate question to ask someone you barely know, so how does it fail to tell you that your chosen phrasing is still not ok? Seriously.

And you, yes, you, the one who never says more than, "Hello. How are you?" The one time you stop to comment on Bug and ask his age, is not the one time it becomes ok for you to ask if we are going to have any more. Or, decoded, "Are you having, or planning to have, unprotected sex with your husband?"  Sure, that's not what you intend to ask, but really, it's not that much different. It's still personal and not something you should be asking an almost stranger.

And then, my all time favorite, you have known me for a little while, we talk occasionally about children, jobs, the weather, but nothing bellow the surface, except now you decide to ask, "When are you having more?" For some unknown reason you have no idea that this might not be as casual a question as, "How's your weekend?" Well, let's see... first of all I would have to give you the information that my husband and I have indeed decided that we want more, and then of course would be the information that we have chosen to "get it on," and knock me up. Too much info? Wait, I'm not done. Next comes the information that we have been "doing it" for the past year and the result so far has been two miscarriages. Finally, I would need to tell you that we continue to mate on a regular basis, but who knows if the next one will end in miscarriage as well. It could even turn out that I may not be able to have another baby. (God grant that this is not true.) More than you wanted to know? Deeper than you wanted to go? Think before you ask.

If you really feel the need to ask something, try, "Do you want to have more kids?" This question doesn't touch timing - "Are you pregnant now? Will you be soon?" It doesn't inquire into my sex life or personal choices, require me to explain anything, or figure out how to avoid unwanted intimacy with you. I can simply say, "Yes."

Little update on me

Offering a little update for those who might care -

I've just started a Twitter account for those little things I want to express but aren't big enough to blog about. Hopefully, it won't be a flash in the pan for me, but I make no guarantees on how often I will use it. You can find a link in my sidebar if you are at all interested in following.

For those who have been following my baby journey, Boy and I have decided we are ready to start trying again. I've started using a progesterone cream, because I think there is a really good probability that that has been a issue, although it's not entirely certain. We've never had trouble getting pregnant (one or two months trying has always done it), and I may be already. Eeee. So, all prayers, baby dust, best wishes, and good luck will be accepted. Thanks!

My Great Lack of Like Minds

One of these days I might just start my own commune or something, I don't know. I've just been longing to find like minded mama's in my area. Just one would be great. One other mom who wouldn't find it odd that I still breastfeed my little one, or that he still sleeps in our family bed. One mom who cloth diapers her babes, carries them around in a beautiful carrier, chooses for their health not to vaccinate them, and speaks gently to them when they "misbehave." Occasionally, I can find someone who fills one or two of these criteria (baby wearing is becoming a popular trend), but never all. I know you are out there somewhere - "hello, lady." I see you roaming the internet, commenting on some of my favorite sites, writing your own blogs, or even reading this one, but when it comes to real life, you are as elusive as the unicorn.
This morning, I was at a play group Bug and I regularly attend, and a few of the mamas with littles under a year started to chat about formula, which ones they bought, which ones their babies would eat, how much they cost, etc. There was one other who mentioned she hadn't used formula, but pumped when she wanted to give a bottle, but at the same time, you could tell that no one thought it was at all strange that these babies were given formula as just a normal part of their lives. It's just another perfectly acceptable option for feeding your baby.
From there the conversation turned to videos and how much their little ones love to watch certain baby geared shows. One mom expressed her excitement on how a video of animals entranced her ten month old daughter and gave her twenty minutes of peace.
As I listened to these conversations, I realized how little I understand these mothers. I don't get how you can choose processed foods over natural ones. I think formula is a valid and needed choice for a mama who has no other options, who has worn her butt out trying to provide breastmilk for her little one and come up empty handed (although I see far too many mamas who feel they have done this, but are unaware of simple information that would have helped them out, such as: your baby crying every time you nurse does not mean he's not getting anything - it may be reflux, pumping is not indicative of what your baby is able to get - babies are designed to work the breast in ways pumps never could, and, reflux is most commonly a reaction to dairy - consider taking it out of your diet.) Back on track - even if  formula was the only option I felt I had, I would prefer to find an organic or homemade formula rather than buy the chemical filled cans that fill most grocery store shelves. I don't mean to write that I am some how better than these other moms because I breastfed exclusively for at least six months, but simply that I don't understand them. I can't get inside their heads, and I can't relate to them at all. Sometimes it feels like they are speaking a foreign language.
I don't understand how it can be such a hardship to spend time with your baby either, to be so desperate for twenty minutes of peace from her that a baby video is exciting for you. I mean, I could understand it intellectually if she was a really fussy or needy little one, but the (admittedly brief) time I see her, she seems to be a very happy, content, independent girl. Even for a fussy baby, I'm not sure I could emotionally understand the need for a break. A break from the fussiness, yes; a break from my baby, maybe not. Maybe I'm remembering through rosy glasses, but I do know that I always felt a little bit hurt when someone or something other than me was able to calm Bug down. Anyway, it just never occurred to me to put him in front of the tv to get him out of the way for a bit, so I have no understanding of how this mama mind works.
In the end, I just felt lonely. I had no way to connect with these mothers. No one to chat with about how my changing hormones might be affecting Bug through my milk, or how little sleep I've gotten lately due to him having a few very nurse-y nights, tossing and turning in my bed, or what cloth diapers might pull down easily for night time toilet training, or ideas on how to teach him how to be sorry when he hits his cousin, instead of just forcing him to say "sorry," or how to show others that just because I'm not yelling at my son, doesn't mean I'm not teaching him how to treat others with love.

(Sigh) I just need one or two like minded mamas, who I can sit down with and have a chat about being a mama, someone who gets they way I think, who understands where I'm coming from, and who can connect with my mama spirit.

Tiny

I haven't written in a long time, mostly because I knew I needed to write about this, but it still feels too difficult. It's hard to know what to say - do I write about events, facts, the practical side? or about the emotions and feelings? It's a major part of my life, especially as I'm getting to the point where I have to think about the future and make decisions, but mostly it's background noise, a subtle buzz, and really, I want it to stay there. I don't want to bring it to the front and tune it in so I can hear it clearly. I lived there, I've done that, I want to not feel the sadness anymore. So, I suppose this will start as more factual, to keep the emotions at bay, but eventually it will deteriorate to the personal side - maybe sooner rather than later, as I can feel the tears pressing on my eyes already.
Shortly after I last posted with all the hope my heart could drum up, I lost my baby. I didn't know it yet, wouldn't for two more weeks, but she was gone already. It took two ultrasounds for my heart to catch up to my brain, and seven weeks for my body to catch up to my baby. The bruise still hasn't caught up to my life, which is so far beyond the loss, that it's old news replaced by old news.
The waiting in between was the worst, knowing that she was gone, but not gone; feeling pregnant without being pregnant; ready to move on, but not able to; wondering when, when, when? Some people didn't understand why I didn't just end it with a d&c, some were concerned that I was endangering myself, few understood that I just couldn't do that to my baby. She was still my baby after all, tiny and lost to me, she was still mine, and it was my job to protect her for as long as I could, even if all I could do was protect the little body she left behind.
(And, that doesn't even get into the risks for myself with a d&c. Why must people be so eager to jump on the medicine bandwagon? This is natural and right - leave it alone! I'm not stupid, I know the signs of danger; let me take care of myself!)
When she was finally birthed (what else do you call it? I still can't find a good word for bringing a lost tiny into the world), we could see a tiny, little, bright, white spot in one of the brilliant red clumps. It was her hand, reaching out as if to say, "I'm here, Mama. Come get me."
We got to see her, her tiny inch long body. Fingers the size of candy sprinkles, ears smaller than a freckle, tiny feet to match her hands, and eyes bluer than the sky.  We don't really know if she is a girl, but to us it just seemed fitting. We named her Sayuri, "tiny lily." We took pictures to remember her by, and placed her on a piece of velveteen, in a small box we had.  Tonight we will bury her, underneath a potted bush that used to be in the yard where I grew up, a bush that blooms beautiful pink flowers every summer, a bush that will now be a reminder of my precious "Tiny" Sayuri.

"Consider how the lilies grow. They do not labor or spin. Yet I tell you, not even Solomon in all his splendor was dressed like one of these."  Luke 12:27

Fear and Hope

Almost nine weeks now. Thinking about that, I can't help but smile, but it's a rough road. You might nod sympathetically and comment, "Yes, I see how it would be a bit scary to be pregnant again after a miscarriage," but you don't get it. Really, you haven't a clue. Unless you've walked this path, you probably haven't begun to comprehend what it's like to be here. So let me give you a tiny glimpse - You wake up. Begin to be aware of your world again. Your first thought, accompanied by a stab of fear, "Do I still feel sick this morning...? Oh, yes, there it is." Breathe.
Get out of bed. There's a stab of pain in your side. Fear. "What is that? Is it a good pain? Bad pain? Ok, ok, I'm pretty sure that's ligament pain. That's ok. That's supposed to happen." Breathe.
You head to the bathroom. "Ok, ok, it's going to be ok." Wipe. Check. "No spotting. No spotting. Thank you, Jesus." Breathe.
Eat. The nausea abates while you reassure yourself that it will come back in a little bit.
Intersperse this all with minor heart attacks anytime anything changes, and I mean anything- the nausea, the need to pee, the desire to sleep, the pain in your back/side/arm, "wait, wait, the arm pain's not connected. That one's ok. Breathe," your appetite, mood, bowel movements, no new pimple today, your nursing toddler's sleep habits, mood, desire to nurse... anything.
Repeat entire cycle approximately 10-12 times, until you finally fall asleep at night praying that tomorrow will be as good as today.
You can't possibly know what it's like to be overcome with dread every time you have to pee (which is once an hour), unless you've been there. To be constantly weighing the way you feel, judging your aches and pains. To be truly thankful for nausea.  To feel yourself give up and try to accept that you're going to lose this one too - for whatever random reason your mind has currently settled on. To breathe fear in and out.
And, you are so alone. Because, nobody understands this. My family knows I'm afraid. They know it's hard for me, but they don't get this. This day to day, moment to moment torture. So, they don't call but once in a while and they probably don't think about it all that often. But, I don't blame them. Their babies were all born, crying, into their arms, and I thank God, that they have never had to walk this path.
The only one who can begin to understand is my Boy, because he's been there, holding my hand and going through it all with me. Sharing the losses and the fear.  I'm so grateful for his voice and his arms.
As time goes on, the frequency and intensity of the cycle abates, but never ceases. Each milestone you pass helps your spirit calm a tiny bit more. As the nausea grows stronger and my pants grow smaller, I grow slightly more confident that Tiny is going to make it.

Writing for the Sake of Writing

So I promised myself I would write today. It's been two weeks which is a week longer than my goal for writing, but I just feel so tired tonight. Not just tired, a bit weary, you know what I mean? When it goes beyond your body to your soul. But, I will try to put something down, just to make sure I persevere on this blog. It's important to me that I don't give up on this. It's good to have some kind of creative outlet in your life, and while I used to have many - sketching, dancing, singing, occasional writing, it slowly dropped to um... nothing. All these things that I enjoyed so much, eventually became replaced with the more practical - a job, keeping a house, raising a Bug, and the more sedentary - spending almost all of my free time in front of the tv with my Boy. Don't get me wrong, I wouldn't give up the life I have for anything, and I love my chillax time with hubby, but sometimes I wonder where I lost my drive and passion for the creative things in my life. I am bound and determined not to give up on them entirely. I'm grateful for my son who daily demands that I put on a "dince" (dance, meaning song). I used to listen to music constantly. I was always singing, or dancing, along to something, but I'd gotten to the point where I basically never put on music. I don't know why, but I just didn't. Thankfully, Bug isn't too discriminate about needing his music to be children's, so he bops along to some of my old favorites. It's nice to hear them again.
I used to draw, not frequently, but every once in a while when something would really catch my attention, I'd sketch it out. I really enjoyed it. I liked that it was something I was half decent at. I haven't done it in ages, but every now and then I look at my son and think how beautiful he is, and I itch to put it on paper. I'm grateful I have many photos of him, because one of these days, I'm going to sit down and capture him in my own hand. Another promise I've made to myself.
I think most teens go through a poetry or song writing stage. Sometimes it's really the only decent way to express the feelings you go through. It certainly helped me through a lot of times when I felt overwhelmed with emotions, as a teenager and beyond. I'm not sure I ever wrote anything that you could make money off of, but I always thought my works were pretty decent. This is one area that I'm not sure if I will ever really get back to. Occasionally, I go through some phrases in my mind and try to put something together, but it doesn't seem to work out the way it used to. Perhaps I'm not angst-y enough anymore.
That's where the blog comes in. There are times when I just have emotions I need to get out. A need to express in more than just a conversation. A challenge to make my thoughts more linear and perhaps to even provoke emotion in someone else. So, I will not, will not give up writing. I need to keep posting, even if my posts are somewhat inane and pointless. I need to keep posting just so this door is always open. I need to keep posting to prevent another burnt out outlet.
So, I post! Yay me!



You'd have no idea that I meant to write about something entirely different tonight, would you? Just got carried away on a train of thought...

I've Got Sunshine On A Cloudy Day

This past week... I'm not even really sure what to say. It's been very up and down and frustrating and exciting and, ugh... 
Inigo Montoya: Let me 'splain.
[pause]
Inigo Montoya: : No, there is too much. Let me sum up.
(Who doesn't love "Princess Bride?")

Since last week I've had a cold/sinus infection. It has finally been getting better, but I'm still dealing with an ache in my teeth and cheekbones that sets in for an hour or so around the middle of the day. Bug also had this cold at the beginning of the week, but thanks to breastmilk! he got over it much faster than I did.
Woman, Uncensored, followed by Dr. Momma hosted my post The Superior Choice on their amazing blogs. So incredibly exciting that they would think it worth sharing with their vast readerships. It's lead to a huge amount of positive support, moms who said I encouraged them, moms who thanked me for saying what they were thinking, and moms who judged me for judging other moms. (First - that's not what the post is about. Second - So... you're superior to me because you don't think you're superior to other moms? Third - Really, people? Do you read what you write? Perhaps I'm harsh, and maybe a bit of a snob [my sister did nickname me Snob when we were teens], but some of these comments just made me laugh out loud. "we're all superior... nobody is superior..." What? That... it... wh.... I can't even form a reply. Oh -NOT possible.) And, of course,  it lead to over 100 hits on my blog - woot woot! - and, count 'em, 12(!) followers. (Not one of which is me. I'm confused over why some people do that.) Thank you, everybody! It's so awesome to see you here!
We've been waiting and waiting to find out if my Boy (hubby)  has made it to the next step in the application process for a job we really, really want. This week, all we found out is that will be waiting at least a few more weeks. Urrr! Another rant in and of itself. So, so discouraging. 
Today it was confirmed that my cousin, who told me that she didn't want kids, is ten weeks pregnant. Thankfully, she is happy about it, and I'm sure when I'm in a better place I'll be happy for her. But right now, so soon after my loss, it just brings pain and feelings of unfairness.
With all the stuff that's been going on lately, including Boy's need to put in a lot of extra time at work, we've really felt like we need some time away. The IL's bought a "cottage" (read: seasonal house), and we planned to make a weekend getaway to it sometime in the next few weeks. (Hooray!) FIL let's us know today that there is no water hooked up, and won't likely be until May when the risk of freezing pipes passes. (sigh.)
My emotions are somewhat all over the place (or should I say hormones?), in part I'm sure from the miscarriage, and likely I'm getting close to ovulating again as well. So, I spent a chunk of the morning crying and wondering why something can't go right for me. (sigh, again)
But right now - this moment - my Boy has come home from work, my Bug has woken full of sunshine and kisses, and I have time to take a shower. What more does a woman need?

I Had a Baby

"I had a baby, and now I don't have it anymore. I feel sad."
A fairly simplistic quote from a tv show, but a fairly accurate summation of my life right now. In some ways it's hard to imagine that this is the truth. How could it possibly be? Two weeks ago, I didn't even know I was pregnant. A week and a half ago, I was celebrating the new life within me with my family. Just over half a week ago, I miscarried. Again. It was all so fast. So unexpected from beginning to end. It almost feel like it never happened. I was never pregnant at all. Life goes on the same as it was before I found out. My husband goes to work each day. My son demands his mama's attention and love. And I move on, taking care of the things that need to be done. There were no cards given, no flowers sent, no outside sign to acknowledge the living and passing of this oh so tiny life.
But, they were here. Oh yes, they were. I have only to remember the excitement and happiness I felt when it had truly sunk in. I was thrilled to be pregnant again. I was calculating and making plans. Figuring out decisions that would have to be made in the future months. Watching what I ate and considering how it would affect the growing life. Talking about names and guessing gender. For one week. One week. That was all I was given. And then they were gone.
How did this happen to me again? I don't get it. How did God decide that I was one who was able to handle this? Someone who is so empathetic that she never intentionally watches a sad movie and constantly finds herself crying over tv shows. Someone who becomes so hard and fast attached to things that she'll turn the house upside to find a missing alphabet magnet. Does that sound like the ideal candidate for multiple miscarriages? Not that there is one, I suppose, but, why me?
I don't know. I don't get it, but it is me, and who knows how many more times it will be me. And perhaps next time it will be a little bit easier, and the time after that will be easier still. Because this time was easier than the last. I don't entirely know why, but maybe because they were with us for a shorter time? Or because we knew how easily it could happen? Or simply because we'd been here before and the terrain was familiar? I know that it was at least in part because of my precious Bug, having a child of mine to hold and hug, and not being simply left with empty arms. I am so grateful for him. He reminds me that just as it's likely that I will have more miscarriages, it's likely that I will have more children to hug and cuddle, too.
And so, somehow my heart was protected from the gut wrenching, world ending, spirit crushing grief that it endured last time, and is working now to heal from the simple sadness and loss, and occasional door slamming anger that has left new scars on my soul.
"I had a baby, and now I don't have it anymore. I feel sad."