A time to weep...

What some people (namely my dear supportive husband) don't understand is that sometimes my grief, my mourning is, for lack of a better term, stuck. It is stuck inside of me making it very difficult to breathe at times. And sometimes it becomes so much that I fear I might lash out in anger at someone who is not deserving of the anger.
And so I have taken to watching shows or movies that insight feels. Anything that allows me to open the floodgates for a bit.
Perhaps for some it feels counterintuitive. If you are overwhelmed with sadness, try to cheer yourself up. But the reality is, I have tried to do that for years. And I know me. I know I will slip into anger and then guilt over the anger and then, eventually, depression...
And I don't want that anymore. So I am trying something different. I am trying grief. I'm not going to (nor can I actually) force myself to cry. But I am using media (shows, movies, books) to help bridge that gap between sad angry me who wants to be numb and a healthier me who admits she has feelings. I can, in the privacy of my own home, get mad at characters being infantile; rage against those who are ugly; laugh at the funny moments; cry (or even sob) at the sad moments.

In April we found out we were expecting again. Or, rather, we found out we were pregnant again. I hoped with all my heart that we would actually be expecting. In late April we found out it was twins. And in early May their hearts stopped beating.
I decided to let things happen naturally this time. And, 3 weeks later with levels only dropping to what they were at 7 weeks, I decided I would the ante just a little bit with drugs to induce labor. Big mistake. Huge.
For roughly 18 hours I had all the pain of labor completely devoid of any happiness on the other end.
It was hell. And weeks later, my hCG levels are still rather high. So tomorrow I see the doctor. I may still need a D&C... if so, that is fine.
Next time I will try natural and IF that doesn't work, I will opt for surgical.
But in the meantime, I will try my best to roll with it.
This bitch called Life keeps on throwing punches, and, man, let me tell you... it is taking all my inner strength to keep on standing. (Though, oft times I find myself kneeling and begging for miracles.)
But for now, I will live and laugh and cry and rage however I can because it helps me.
And while you may not understand the how or why, you don't need to.
Because this is my life and these are my complex feelings and when the time comes I don't want to be numb or devoid of hope.
To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven:
A time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted;
A time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up;
A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance;
A time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together; a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;
A time to get, and a time to lose; a time to keep, and a time to cast away;
A time to rend, and a time to sew; a time to keep silence, and a time to speak;
A time to love, and a time to hate; a time of war, and a time of peace.

learning to love me…

so, i, like most other women, have always suffered from the effects of comparing my body to others'.
my legs were never slim or long enough. my torso was too long. my ears too big and they stick out. my nose was a bit too wide and had a slightly upturned end. i always have circles under my eyes. my arms are too hairy. i break out whenever i am unhealthy, which is often. i have always had a big arse and wide hips. even as a kid.
these were flaws (are flaws?) that i saw in myself for ages.
nothing has really changed.
in fact, my hips and arse are bigger. and my stomach is, too.
my skin has lightened over the years allowing all my scars to show and it seems to highlight the excess hair even more.
but one thing has changed.
bit by bit i have been able to not only own, but be proud of each of these once perceived flaws.
those big sticky-outy ears? my husband lovingly calls me Fivel (from An American Tale) and i love it! Fivel was a scrapper and an adorable one at that.
and he likes my arse/hip size/shape.
no. i am not saying that i only like these things because he does...
rather, i decided to embrace these things before i met him. i decided to not worry about them and to own these as features that make up me... that set me apart as me.
and he, too, has done the same.
the eye circles? meh, a sign of my health. the darker they are, the more i know i must take care of myself. 
my nose? i cannot imagine my face with a different nose. i would not be me. i would hate to look in the mirror and see a stranger's face.
my torso is still a long torso, compared to the average measurements, and my legs are still short and curvy... but they are my torso and my legs. anything else would be weird.
i do want to lose a few pounds. but not because i want to change my shape as much as because i want to breathe easier and run more and be able to carry a child to term.
what i want from my body is health.
not someone else's determination of beauty or fitness, but strength and health.
i am a true believer of inner beauty.
i look at people and see what they are. not necessarily how they look.
it is a gift.
ugly people, to me, are those who hate and judge and are vindictive and mean and assert their power over others for kicks.
beautiful people seek to love and understand themselves and others. they spread love and joy and have a peace. they strive to see the beauty in others which, ultimately, serves to increase their own beauty.
i have been reading posts by a beautiful woman, Erin Brown, who seeks to build others up while sharing a bit of herself.
i find her brave not because she is a woman doing this, nor because of her shape or fitness level or beauty. i find her brave because sharing so much of one's self leaves one so very open and exposed. and to open and expose yourself to others is brave.
regardless of whether you are man or woman or gay or straight or bi or the shade of your skin or the amount of hair you have on your head.... regardless of whether you are round or slim or short or tall proportioned like a model or like me... sharing so much of yourself is just brave.
i cannot do that, but i love that some can. and i find it brave and empowering that they do because people like Erin make me look at me and say, "you dunce. why do you hate on yourself?! you are you for a reason! don't change that. love it. make you stronger and more beautiful from the inside out as you are meant to."
i need to remind myself of this each time i go shopping or try on my clothes to go out in public. but it gets easier to do each time. 
the more i do it, the more i accept me for me, the easier it is to ignore the negative self-talk.
the more i exercise this self-acceptance, the more it becomes a habit and not an exercise.

i recently ran into an old co-worker of mine. some ladies at my old job had taken to e-mailing each other about her eating habits and shape/size and she stumbled across one such exchange.
what their own issues are, we cannot say. but their spiteful discussion of this ex-coworker brought tears to my eyes. angry tears.
how could anyone judge her in such a harsh light?! she is a beautiful person with a ton on her plate and a huge heart. she loves her friends loyally. and takes excellent care of her family. when she really smiles, the room lights up a bit more. when she is  truly happy, you can feel it.
how dare they judge anything else about her.
if she is happy with herself, why should anything matter to them?
but their words cut her to her core.
they were ugly and it got to her.
she says it encouraged her to lose weight.
...but i fear it caused her to change her appearance for them. for others she feared might think the same.
and that makes me sad and angry.
she is losing weight. but i hope not too much. and i hope she finds her happy self. her healthy self. and i hope she can just be content with all her body parts and features as i am learning (bit by bit, piece by piece) to be.

as for you?
look at yourself. if you must, write down all those flaws you perceive. imagine yourself with your perfect body. now think really hard. is that still you that you are imagining? or is it a model with your head and face (and a little bit of work done on the face too)?
don't change you. you are loved by someone who would hate to see you change too much.
strive to make yourself beautiful on the inside. strive to be a healthier and stronger you.
but please don't change you too much.
chances are, you are a beautiful person who needs naught more than a good hug and a perfect day to put things into perspective.

we need to stop comparing our looks to others. we need to stop comparing our gifts to others.
if we see something we admire in others, strive for it. but know that our realization may not take the exact form. because we are all so different and beautiful in our own ways.
and we need to learn that for ourselves before we can expect to pass it onto our kids.
this can be our legacy. for better or for worse.
what will yours be?

…yeah, about christmas

the gut reaction
my initial reaction to the holidays (as our baby was due the on january 2nd) was to just forgo the holiday festivities.
yeah, i know. how very bah-humbug of me.
we were counting on being so close to delivery that celebrating was the furthest thing from my mind.

the history
i have always been a lover of the holidays.
from halloween straight through the new year.
i love the autumn colors, the rich palette of colors.
i love the bounty of thanksgiving, the cooking and making of the feast.
i love the searching for *a* perfect gift (no matter how small) for each recipient, the lights and decorations. i love the family gathering.
i love the idea of starting our new year together, no work, no big parties. i love our quiet evening with our boys (the three dogs and two cats) by the fire, a nice movie to watch.

what i think i might do
so, i guess this year i might opt for things to go a little differently.
as i have a new job at a convenience store i will likely end up working on thanksgiving and maybe even christmas, so no big commitments. and i am okay with that.
i may make a few casseroles and even some stuffing for just me and the hubby for thanksgiving. (as my mother is buying the turkey and she can hardly be trusted to find safe food for me -allergies- to eat, i will have to forgo the turkey this year. it's just not in our budget.)
so maybe a small dinner by the fire with our boys and some good music or a movie. and i am okay with that!

for christmas i would love to tone it down.
just stocking gifts and one regular-sized gift to exchange with the hubby.
nothing big. for the stockings small tokens, essential oils, soaps, clementines and lemons... that would be perfect for me. (for him, coffees, sugary treats -i never buy them, popcorn and stuff.)
instead of looking for a tree (honestly, my favorite to date was our little charlie brown tree a couple years ago. it cost $11. i loved it.)

i don't know why, but the smaller and more sparse the tree, the more i love it.
but instead of trying to find a tree i love, instead of taking that time and energy, i am looking at just stringing up lights. ...maybe into a christmas tree like pattern. ...and maybe i'll hang some ornaments off the lights.
like this, but smaller and with some decorations:

maybe i will use some of the new essential oils and the new diffuser and my extensive music collection to create a relaxing atmosphere that smells and sounds like christmas.
maybe i will do less, but try to enjoy more.
i love wrapping gifts. it is my absolute favorite thing to do. but maybe this year i will volunteer to do that for my mother. 
maybe i can get to the library and get some books to read by the fire with my music and incense.
maybe i can get some fancy tea or make some extravagantly flavored hot chocolate to sip.
maybe i can spend a bit more time cooking meals for us, and less out finding that gift or decoration.
maybe this year we can scale down everything.
and maybe this will satisfy my craving for christmas spirit while allowing me time and privacy to weep for what almost was, if need be.
maybe this will help remove the pressure of the whole big happy christmas festivities!
...maybe...

to be blunt...

do you know what multiple miscarriages can do to one's sex drive?

here's a hint.
that whole feeling female empowerment seems to wither with each loss.
i feel anything but sexually empowered when my body keeps killing our babies.
i feel like i am broken inside.

but by all means, jump my bones.
what's the worst that could happen?

i could get pregnant [and lose another baby] again. that's what.

but hey, maybe that's just me.
maybe i just need to not think about it anymore. ever. at all. 
except, i don't think i am wired that way. it is always in the back of my head.

so, yeah.
i think i am broken inside.
and i'm not sure how to fix me.



#miscarriage  #multiplelosses  #femaleimpotence  #impotenece

wishes and the wall

having no idea about what to write, i asked a friend.
his suggestions were wishes and walls.
to that end, i will take this as i would have taken an assignment from a favorite teacher or that professor in college and run with it.
and i will make it mine.

wishes
we all have them.
some are outlandish; others are attainable.
some are for material things, some for wealth, standing, position, love, sex... the list goes on.
mine are for children and a comfortably simple life off the grid.
children who grow up seeing people for who they really are.
for the beauty, or lack thereof, inside.
children who see and seek the truth in all things.
my wish was for 5 such children.
as luck would have it (or perhaps it was the universe in a sick display of fate) i have had 5 miscarriages.

i had one wish. it started years and years ago, and grew... and i let it grow... and nurtured that desired. and my husband and i worked toward that end. ...all to no avail.

wall
...and now i feel that wall, the one i had built up around my heart when i first met him, being built up brick by brick once again.
i tore it down.
i let him in.
i let myself dream. hope. wish.
i let myself believe.
and with each failed pregnancy, i felt another brick, another stone put in place.
and i want so badly to tear down this wall.
to let him in.
but part of me thinks he may be more comfortable with the wall than he is with my raw emotion.
some of me believes the wall is giving him some sort of respite from dreaming of children (and the expenses that come with them) and a happy houseful (and the cost of maintaining it)...
sometimes i fool myself into thinking this wall is just as much for him as it is for me.

...but i know,
i know deep down,
that this wall is for me.
it keeps me safe from hope and dreams and so i sit back and watch as the stones are placed carefully, for the strength and integrity of the wall must withstand much at this point.

maybe one day down the road, it will come down.
maybe one day i will feel like i can let emotion back in.
but for now,
for now i am okay with logic, facts, and reality.
nothing else need intrude for the time being.
my wall will see to that.

in defense of my [self-imposed?] misery

i cannot seem to shake the cloud.
it is dark and seems to block the happiness.
there is enough joy and beauty in the world that some sneaks through every now and again.
but every kid, every mention of family vacations or holidays seems to remind me how much stock we can place on the promise of something to come.
and if that never comes?
what then?
most people try to [politely] tell you to just let it all go.
just accept that it was never meant to be.
but when is that magical moment that the promise of seeing your kid grow and become an adult and have kids of their own, when does that go from a ridiculous assumption to something that others can recognize?
is it at birth?
is it when they reach the age of toddler and start to exert their own free will?
is it when they are older?
if not when you have that little picture of them growing inside you, if not when you first hear their heartbeat, then when?
because i challenge anyone to try and tell a parent who has lost their [born] child to just get over it.
and (this i know from experience) it matters not if that child is 12 or is 34. 
parents will always miss that child and the promise their child had... even if they are an adult when they passed.
so then, why is it so hard to understand that someone with a child on the way might have had plans for the upcoming holidays that had nothing to do with them and everything to do with that promise?
why can people not see that every time they see parents holding new babies and parents playing and laughing, and even struggling with their willful children, that it might cause some pain to someone who was looking forward to all of it. the good, the bad, and the ugly?
why can people say to an expectant mother that this was nature's mercy, but won't dare say that to parents who just lost a 12 year old?
why can people say that that baby was probably deformed or disabled and would have had a difficult time in this world, but if an adult with disabilities passes, everyone is in agreement about the hope and joy that person brought us all?

these are inconsistencies i cannot wrap my head around.

as i face the first christmas* on record that i do not look forward to, how can i make it clear to others pestering me to be happy and joyful that this christmas was supposed to be so much more? it was to be days away from the birth of our promise.
as that promise is gone, memories still linger and [unwittingly] pop up at the most inopportune moments.
and we are reminded how little our promise meant to anyone else.
or so they would have us believe.



*note - traditionally, i start my countdown to christmas in august... because then only two months to halloween which is almost thanksgiving which begins the christmas everything....