Posted tagged ‘loss’

Keep On Movin’, Don’t Stop…

February 22, 2010

Yesterday marked Day 1 of my cycle, the first one since the loss of Blat.  Tomorrow is the baseline sonogram (or ultrasound… honestly, I can never remember which is which).  Remarkably, I feel okay about these facts.

I think I feared I wouldn’t be ready… that I would feel rushed or pressured (by no one but myself, honestly).  But I don’t feel those things.  I do feel a urge to move forward.  My therapist pointed out that there isn’t much use dwelling on the loss of Blat.  I can still process those feelings while moving on with my plans (and my life).  I believe that to be true.  So, onward!

And, I am remarkably enthusiastic about this whole process (when I figured I would be kind of meh about it… okay, okay, I figured I would be really meh about it).  I guess what I have is hope.  It feels pretty good.



February 8, 2010

Ever had anyone pray for you?  Not in the kind of abstract, “I will pray for you” sort of way, but in the hold-your-hands-and-address-your-specific-needs sort of way?  Yeah, I am not much for that, either.  Or I wasn’t, until the pain of the miscarriage crashed through the tolerable threshold.  So, on Sunday when the pastor announced that there would be healing prayer offered in the chapel, I called him on his bluff.  I mean, what did I really have to lose?

As soon as I got in the chapel and sat down with my two designated pray-ers, I started crying.  Looking at these two women, and seeing their genuine concern, I felt my guard crumble.  I told them how much it hurt; I didn’t justify my response or offer qualifiers about my faith… I was just honest.

And I immediately was flooded with relief.  And, as they prayed for me, I felt peace.  And I was sure that everything would be okay.  And, trust me, the way I have been feeling lately, that is an incredible gift.


February 3, 2010

I totally freaked out yesterday.  In my head, I was packing my belongings into my (very sensible) Civic, grabbing my (aging) boxer and heading out.  To where?  Don’t know.  Doesn’t really matter.  Just away from here.

One of the gifts of being sober (read: being able to think rationally on a consistent basis) is that I realize that, while these feelings are real, they are not reality.  I don’t really want to leave.  And, in the above scenario, I would have forgotten Monkito & Milo and would have had to turn around to come back and get them anyway.

This urge to run away directly relates to losing Blat.  I couldn’t control that loss. I saw it happening, and I couldn’t stop it.  I can’t control when (or if) I get pregnant again.  I am facing the typical (for me) concern over finding employment for the summer.  I want to move, but that goal seems to become ever more elusive each time I think I have it pinned down.

My life feels out of control.  I desperately want something look forward to.  I want something to go my way.


January 28, 2010

Turns out loss is not a one-stop grieving process… and some days are simply harder than others.  What bought me a ticket on the melancholy train today?  Not sure.  Maybe that a friend from elementary school announced her pregnancy via facebook; her baby will be born 2 weeks before Blat’s due date.  I think that reminded me that Blat was real.  Some days it feels like I was never pregnant at all.  But today the happy news of someone else’s pregnancy reminded me of all the hoping and planning that Monkito and I had done in anticipation of Blat… and of the void that now exists.

Runners Are Strange

January 26, 2010

One of the perks of living in Florida is 68 degree weather in January.  Of course, one of the downsides is the batshit politics, but we will ignore that for now…

Today I took advantage of the gorgeous weather and ran a 5K (3.2 miles).  My running habit should convince you that a) I am only marginally sane and b) that I enjoy pain more than the average person.  I am not a gifted runner.  I do not breeze through a 5K effortlessly.  But I am determined.  Hella determined.

I quit running during our last bout of trying to get pregnant.  I had run throughout the two week wait during all the previous attempts but felt as though I should try one cycle sans running… you know, just to see if it made a difference.  And, lo and behold, I got knocked up.  I walked the same 5K route during my 7 week rendezvous with pregnancy.  But walking just isn’t the same.  And one of the first things I thought after I found out for certain that I had miscarried was… holy shit this sucks.  But after that, it was… I can go for a run!

This enthusiasm clearly marks my teetering on the brink of sanity because I don’t really LIKE running.  Or I thought I didn’t.  I have always liked the post-run afterglow.  And feeling accomplished and strong, in a way that only running can instill.  But looking forward to running?  Not usually.

But, sure as hell, as soon as I deemed it physically possible, I tied on my shoes and headed out on my regular route.  The first run was intoxicating.  I had been experiencing wicked cramps from the misoprostol, and running made them disappear (at least WHILE I was running.  They came back with a vengance later).  I immediately was hooked.  In fact, I loved running so much that I totally would have married it (if that wouldn’t be super-strange, and if I wasn’t married to Monkito…).

I spent the past week working back up to a 5K.  I mixed walking and running, trying to ease back in without hurting myself.  Moderation has never been my strong point.  And today, today people… I ran the entire route.

And as finished up my sprint toward my imaginary finish line, I muttered, “F*ck, yeah” under my breath… just like I have countless times before.  It feels good run again.  It feels even better to know that, although the past few weeks have been shitty, I am going to be okay.  F*ck, yeah.

Dear Body:

January 21, 2010

I fancy myself a rather patient person.  And I don’t like to bitch.  Really.

But what the f*ck, body?!?

First, you didn’t notice that you were supposed to begin the miscarriage process.  For a week I had to wait around to find out from someone else that I had miscarried.  You could have at least given me a hint.  But, I can overlook that as a rookie mistake on your part.

But now, cramps for a full seven days?!?  I get that you are pissed about the two doses of misoprostol.  Fine.  But let it go.  We all have our own cross to bear in this situation.  Cramping at me when I am just starting to feel better isn’t doing anyone any good.  We would all like to move on as best we can after the loss of Blat.  The constant reminder that he was there, but now he is gone, is, frankly, starting to piss me off.  So cut the cramping bullshit, okay?

I know I am supposed to be kind to you and let you heal.  I will do that, if you will stop kicking my ass with these cramps.

Love, Pea


January 20, 2010

Today, sitting at my computer entering quiz grades, it struck me:

I feel grounded.

I don’t feel knocked about by life.  I am not constantly hurdling through excessive highs and lows.  I just … am.

I always thought this kind of serenity sounded boring.  Where is the excitement?  The drama?  But, I find random things exciting.  Little things.  I laugh a lot.  But I don’t feel frantic when I don’t get what I want, or even what I think I need.

I wondered today if I was numb.  You know, maybe I should be sadder about Blat.  Maybe I should be angry.  What if I am not processing?

But, truthfully, I am simply being honest with myself about how I feel.  I cry when I need to.  But I no longer need the drama to validate my feelings.  I can just feel them… and let them go.  No need to hang on and flail about.  Just move through them.

Hm… on second thought, I think I have identified the problem:  I am watching too much Biggest Loser.  I am channeling Jillian Michaels’ philosophy.  Well, I guess things could be worse… think I can get a major in Armchair Psychology?  Clearly, I am working it like a champ.